Keeper of the Peace (Graveyard Guardians #2) (7 page)

Sheriff Davis gave a small nod. “I will talk
to your parents.”

“No!”

The cop narrowed his eyes, furrowing his
brows together. “Why don’t you want me to have a word with
them?”

The fact that his parents would find out he
was shoplifting wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that he had been
caught and that would send his father into a fit. “They don’t like
cops. Like I said before.”

“I won’t tell them what happened today.”

David shook his head again. “Look, I’ll
figure out a way, just don’t talk to them … please.”

After a moment of silent contemplation the
sheriff agreed. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone. But, if there is
something you need to tell me … something that I should know about,
I have an open door, all right?”

Relieved, David leaned back in his chair.
“I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

“Now, it’s about time for me to head home.”
He stood, grabbing his Stetson off of the hook near his desk. “Why
don’t you come with me and meet the missus and then I’ll drop you
off near your house.”

After that, he worked almost every day at
the Davis farm. His parents didn’t care where he was, since he was
bringing home food and staying out of their way. During the school
year, Mrs. Davis would make him sit down and do his homework at the
kitchen table before he could get his work done. While he was doing
his homework, she would give him a sandwich and a tall glass of
milk for an afterschool snack.

The Davis house became his second home and
he pretty much owed everything to the sheriff and his wife. His
life could have gone a completely different way, but instead, the
sheriff took pity on him and that small gesture was what provided
David with his dream of being in law enforcement.

With these thoughts thick in his mind, he
realized that he probably could have been nicer to the sheriff
earlier. But, he shook it off quickly and strode up to the first
cashier to see if she had seen the victim come into the store.

He didn’t get any hits at the market, so he
moved on to Brandy’s Café. “Hey Lisa,” he greeted the waitress
behind the counter with a slight wave.

“Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t
David Foster,” she teased “Left the big city to come back to the
little town of Summer Hollow.”

David smiled and took a seat at the counter.
“I’m not back. Just working on a case here.”

Lisa frowned. “You mean the murder? Oh,
that’s right, you’re a big wig detective now.”

“Yes, I’m here for that case and yes, I’m a
detective.”

She frowned again. “Where’s your partner? On
TV, the detectives always have partners with them.”

David turned over his coffee mug and pushed
it forward just a tad. Lisa got the clue and lifted the coffee pot
from the burner. She filled his mug, leaving enough room for cream
and sugar if he wanted it.

“I don’t have a partner yet. Things aren’t
always like television.” He told her.

“Well, I would have figured it’s like the
buddy system and all that. You know, safety in numbers.”

He nodded. “It is. The department is in
between personnel right now, so I had to take this one by
myself.”

Lisa smiled. “Ah, I see.”

Opening the file, David lifted out the
picture of the victim. “Speaking of the murder, you wouldn’t have
happened to see this guy lately?” He handed the photo over to her
so that she could get a good look at the guy.

“Oh, yeah. I did see him.”

Yes! Finally, a lead
.

“He came in here the other day, ordered a
Philly cheesesteak sandwich.” She extended the photo out to
him.

He replaced the picture into the file and
closed it. “Did he say anything about what he was doing in
town?”

She wrinkled her nose and tilted her head,
thinking back. “Hmm … he did say that he was looking for a better
place to stay. I don’t remember if he mentioned anything else.”

Smiling, David lifted his coffee and took a
testing sip. “Well, let me know if you think of anything. So far,
this has been very helpful.”

The doorbell jangled and she eyed the
entrance. “Well, in that case, I am happy to have been of service.
Now, I’d better get to work, it’s been nice seeing you, David.”

“Same here, Lisa.” He finished his coffee
and threw some cash on the counter for her. She had said that the
guy was looking for a better place to stay, which meant he had
probably been staying at the motel in town.

He roared into the parking lot of the motel
and swung into an empty spot in front of the office. Grabbing the
folder once again, he got out of his car and hurried up the small
stone steps into the minuscule office.

Inside, a plump woman sat at a desk, tapping
away on a computer. “I’ll be right with you,” she mumbled without
looking up to see who had entered.

“I’ll be right here,” he responded, not even
trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice. He could clearly see the
screen of the computer had a social networking site pulled up, so
she obviously wasn’t working.

He turned and checked out the office while
he waited. There were two folding chairs up against the wall behind
him, a cactus sat on a wooden table in front of the window and
resting up against another wall was a rack which held brochures for
area attractions.

“There.” The woman pushed the keyboard back
and turned toward him. “Now how can I help you? Are you looking for
a room?”

“No ma’am. I’m Detective David Foster. He
flashed the badge attached to his belt. “I have reason to believe
that this man may have been staying here.” He slid the photo onto
the desk in front of her.

She peered down at the picture and then
lifted her gaze back up to David. “Why, yes. He actually has a room
occupied right now.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth a
look of concern washed over her face. “What did he do?”

“Don’t worry ma’am, he’s not a threat. He
was murdered sometime this morning.”

Her hands went to her face, covering her
mouth. “Oh my God! Really?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So, you said that he
has a room out with you now?”

“Um, yes,” she nodded.

“I am going to need to take a look at his
room, if you don’t mind.”

She stood and grabbed a key off the wall
behind her. They were actual keys too, not those plastic card jobs
that every other hotel gave you now days. “It’s room twelve. Do you
need me to show you where it is?”

David shook his head. “No, thank you, I
think I can find it.” He accepted the key she held gripped in her
extended hand, gave her a quick nod and headed out to find room
twelve. So far, what bothered him was that the guy didn’t have a
key on his body. If he was staying there, he should have been
carrying a key around with him.

Once he found room twelve he fit the key
into the lock and swung open the door. For a moment he simply stood
in the doorway, taking in the room and its contents.

The bed was neatly made, there weren’t any
clothes lying around, and everything appeared crisp and clean. This
told him the housekeeper had been in and done her job, but it
sucked because she may have cleaned up something that could have
been useful for the case.

Over by the bed, on the floor, was a small,
black duffel bag. He hurried over and grabbed the bag, unzipped it
and spread what was inside out onto the bedspread. All his hopes
were dashed when all he found was a pair of jeans, a tee shirt,
underwear, socks, deodorant and a toothbrush.

“Shit.” He shoved all the items back into
the bag and turned to look around the room. He bent down and looked
under the bed, he opened the drawer to the nightstand, he searched
the bathroom. Fucking nothing.

Who the hell was this guy anyway? The fact
that he wasn’t in the system was a huge red flag in itself. The
only people he came across that didn’t have prints in the system
were professional killers. The lack of evidence was certainly
leaning toward this guy having such a career.

He stood up and scanned the entirety of the
room again. “Dammit, fucking figures.” He pulled the key from his
pocket and shut the door behind him.

CHAPTER

7

AIDEN

Deep shit did not even begin to explain the
situation that Aiden was in.

He contemplated this thought as he sat at
the dining room table on his boat. The waves rocked the small yacht
gently, which should have been soothing, but Aiden’s worry only
grew with each day that passed.

His guns were spread across the table in
front of him with an open gun cleaning kit and a bottle of
Jack.

Jack.

His best friend … his brother.

Ever since the showdown in Napa, the Empress
had put him on all the shit details. He had been one of her most
trusted men in the Reaper Guard and then he had turned on her last
second and saved Jack. He really didn’t give a shit about all the
Keepers, they could have died for all he cared, but not Jack.

That presented the biggest problem though.
Jack was in love with a Keeper, and not just any Keeper, she was
the Chosen One. The one who was prophesied to bring an end to the
Reapers. Because of Jack’s treason, his mother, the Empress
basically disowned him.

Wait, no, that wasn’t right. During the
battle Jack had renounced his family and everything that went along
with it, including his title to the throne. But that didn’t change
the fact that his mother basically didn’t give a flying fuck about
her son.

He set the gun he had just finished cleaning
on the table and picked up the whiskey. Tipping back his head, his
pulled straight from the bottle instead of filling his glass. He
shivered a little as the warm liquid flowed down into his empty
stomach and then picked up another gun.

There was no way in hell he was going to let
the Empress hurt Jack. But, there was no way in hell that Jack was
going to let the Empress hurt his Keeper, or her family,
apparently. He didn’t know what was going on with Jack and this
Keeper, but he knew that they had a bond and it appeared to be
unbreakable.

This whole situation was fucked up. It had
always been his intention for Jack to take the throne and make a
change among the Reaper society. Over the years he had covered for
him and gave him credit for multiple missions so that his mother
and father would see him fit to be Emperor. But, Jack had fucked it
up … again.

Bottom line was this. He couldn’t stay here
with the Empress now. The bitch had it out for him and severely
questioned his loyalty, with good reason. The way things were at
the moment, he knew he wasn’t safe in the Reaper society.

Back at the Napa compound, he had seen the
Empress fall completely off her rocker. She kidnapped a Seer, whom
she intended to kill and had some bullshit ideas about taking the
Keepers blood and doing all kinds of experiments with it. These
actions were of a desperate woman, not the deliberate,
well-thought-out plans of a leader.

He couldn’t leave either. She would send the
Reaper Guard after him and they would kill him.

So, what was a Reaper to do?

He finished cleaning his guns and put some
of them up in his closet with his other babies. Then, he took the
remaining weapons and shoved them into a black duffle bag. The
duffle was basically his grab and go bag. At this point, he didn’t
know if he was going to have to leave in a hurry one day.

Heading back to the dining table, he plopped
down into the cushioned seat and reached for his bottle. After
another long swig, he reached into his pocket for his cell and
opened his contacts. He had tried to call Jack’s cell once, but it
was no longer in service. He wished he could talk to him and get
some of this shit off his chest.

He chuckled sarcastically to himself. Even
if he was able to get ahold of him, what would he say to him
anyway? The events that went down between them weren’t the kind you
could just put behind you. He had taken Jack’s woman, kidnapped her
right off her own property, knocked her out, gagged her and then
taken her to the Empress for what he had thought was inevitably,
her death.

With a sigh, he set the bottle back on the
table and stood. Fuck this, he was going out. It had been too long
since he’d had a soul. A real soul, not the bits and pieces of them
that he was able to get from women.

Like Jack, he had learned that he could take
enough to sustain him for a while. But, unlike Jack, he didn’t mind
taking an entire soul. He was a fucking Reaper, it was his nature
to live off the souls of the recently passed.

Quickly, he shed his tee shirt, replacing it
with a black button up. He opted not to wear his holster, since he
may be hitting the club afterward, so he tucked his Glock into the
back of his jeans. He also selected a hoodie, but didn’t put it on
right away, it was too freaking warm outside to wear the thing
unless he had to.

After making sure he looked all right, he
locked up the boat and hopped down onto the dock. It was a muggy
Florida night and salty scent of the ocean was thick on the breeze.
The moon lit the water, while the waves gently broke against the
sides of the docked boats.

Damn, he loved living on the ocean. It was
one of the few things that truly brought him peace. Sort of like
therapy for the psychotic.

His black Mustang rolled to a stop in front
of the large iron gate that led into the graveyard. Through the
darkness of the night, he could see the glittering blue mist of the
souls. He could also see the one silver aura that was almost
identical to the mist of the souls except in color.

The Keepers had silver auras, so it was easy
to spot them, especially at night. Although, as a Reaper, his red
aura was a little bit easier to see, which was exactly the reason
for the hoodie. He grabbed it off of the passenger seat and slipped
it on over his button up. He zipped it up to his neck and then
lifted the hood just before he stepped out of the car.