Authors: Natale Stenzel
Mina stared. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “It should work out that way. Call ’em.”
“Who would have thought a wall blowing up in my face would be nothing less than a stroke of good fortune? So to speak.”
Janelle shrugged philosophically. “Well, I’d better get back to my office. Take it easy.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Teague dropped a big hand on Janelle’s shoulder and followed her out the front door.
When the door closed behind them, Janelle glanced quickly over her shoulder, then turned back to Teague. She spoke quietly.
“Is she the one, then?”
“I don’t know. I think so, but I just don’t know yet. Hell, she’s
got
to be the one. Everything points to it. It looks like her. The house is right, too.” He eyed Janelle intently. “And she keeps
talking about voices. I thought at first she was just off her rocker . . .” He sighed shakily. “That head injury was damn
close, though. Scared the hell out of me. I seriously thought she was dead at first. What would I have done if . . .” He shook
his head.
“Hey, don’t think like that. Everything’s fine. And you’re so close to getting everything now. You’ve come so far.” She touched
his arm. “Just hang in there a little longer. You can do this. You have no choice.”
“Well, I’m damn sure going to try.” He met her eyes. “You’re sure she’s going to be okay?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“I need better than that. What can I do?”
“Not a lot, honestly. Stay with her as long as she’ll let you. Call her later tonight. If you see or hear anything out of
the ordinary, call me. If she loses consciousness or seems to freak way out, get her to the hospital. No arguments. Okay?”
“Okay.” Watch over her. He could do that. “Thanks, Nell. I owe you one.”
“No you don’t, you idiot. And if you find out she’s not the one you’re looking for . . . maybe you should ask her out anyway?”
She grinned. “Hey, I know you’re on a mission, but you’re still entitled to something of a life, aren’t you?”
“Will you please just give it up?” Like he wasn’t already tempted enough. For such a smart mouth, Mina looked like a frothy
dessert, with creamy pink skin, chocolaty brown eyes, and wild, strawberry blond curls dancing around her shoulders. All topping
off some lush curves that just begged for cuddling.
“I saw you looking at her, ” Janelle taunted, almost singsong. “Big, dazed green eyes. And you were hovering over her. Like
some mutt drooling over a juicy bone.”
He scowled down at her. “I was not.”
“You were.”
Was he? Crap. “Yeah, well, you’re annoying.” So he was reduced to the lowest common denominator around Janelle. Regularly.
She was like the bratty little sister he never had and maybe wanted just a little.
“And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Which means absolutely nothing other than that you were sticking your nose way into my business.”
“Somebody has to. You’ve been disturbingly monk-like in the past few years.”
“Oh, now that’s out of line.” He gave her a disgusted look. “One of these days, I’m going to overshare just as badly as you
want me to. Then you’ll be sorry. See if I care.”
“You couldn’t shock me if you tried. You see,
I
”—she raised her nose with great superiority—“am a doctor.” The pose, plus a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and
nose, made her look about twelve years old. “And I’ve worked the emergency room on a Saturday night. You know what that’s
like? I’ve heard and seen everything. Wanna talk overshare? You wouldn’t believe what some people do with rodents. Even vacuum
hoses.”
He groaned. “Oh, that’s just sick.”
“Nothing wrong with your imagination, I see.” Janelle cackled, blue eyes flashing wickedly. “How I wish you could see the
look on your face.” Shaking her head, she patted his cheek before trotting down the steps. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Oh, and by the way?”
“Yeah?”
“She was watching you right back.” Janelle raised her eyebrows above twinkling eyes, then jogged off to her car.
“Women.” But Teague was staring into the window now. Mina seemed to be . . . talking to herself?
At last, we are alone, my Mina with the filthy tongue.
Mina jumped at the disturbingly familiar voice. Not again. She turned her gaze from the window through which she was trying
not to watch Teague and Janelle, and gazed around the room. “Who’s there?” She didn’t see anything. Was that good or bad?
Yeah, it’s me again. And I know I promised to go away, but good
grief, woman. I’ve been waiting for contact with someone, anyone,
for well over a month now. Stupid death law bureaucracy.
“Oh, god.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “If I let them put a straitjacket on me and lock me up, will you go away?”
Nope. I can’t. You’re stuck with me.
“Stuck with you. Who are you? What are you? No—” She stopped herself, hand raised in a halting gesture. “Forget I asked. I
don’t want to know. But, like, are you another personality, coexisting inside my head? And maybe you just decided to introduce
yourself and, now that I’m weakened with a head injury, you’re going to take over the rest of my mind?”
Damn. Now there’s an imagination.
“Well, I do teach creative writing.” Or had, up until she was fired for moral objections. Leave it alone, Mina. Rage will
not help matters. Concentrate on the disembodied voice. The possibility of insanity. That kind of thing.
Gladys thought I was a genie.
“Are you? A genie, I mean? I can’t believe I asked that.”
Sure, I’m a genie. You rubbed your head, out I popped, and
now you got three wishes. Or not. Do I look like a damn genie?
“How would I know? I can’t see you.”
Try opening your eyes.
“I don’t want to.”
Weenie.
“For a disembodied voice, you are such a brat.”
So look at me. I haven’t had a body in . . . well, a long time.
Give it a gander. Tell me what you think.
Not a good idea.
Not
a good idea. She took a deep breath. Then slitted her eyes open. Shrieked. Squeezed her eyes shut again. “Ohgodohgodohgodnotagoodidea.
Badbadbadidea.”
“Mina?” Teague slammed back into the house and jogged over to the couch. “Are you okay? You didn’t try to get up, did you?”
“Nope. Not moving. Never moving again.” Irresponsible to move without looking. “Let’s go for a ride to the nice funny farm,
okay?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t happen to see anything over there, do you?” Still not looking—never looking again—she pointed to a spot in front
of her television.
She heard a rustling, as he presumably turned to face in the direction she was pointing. “A TV?”
“Other than that. Something you’d remark on, say,
immediately
.”
“It’s kind of a mess, but—”
“Never mind. Funny farm it is.”
Unless she was already there. Hooves belonged on the farm, didn’t they? She chanced a peek at where those hooves used to be.
But the hooves were gone now, and the voice was silent.
Meanwhile, Teague was staring at her like
that
again—a look no man she’d met just hours ago should be giving her with this kind of frequency. He seemed intrigued, despite
himself—right along with rattled and mildly repulsed. And she hadn’t even introduced him to her mother yet. A new record for
speed repulsion.
“Are you ready to knock off work now?” she asked brightly, and turned her attention to the mess she’d once called a kitchen.
As she’d requested, the guys had covered the damaged part of her wall and window with a sheet of heavy plastic. At least the
weather was reasonably mild today. They’d left friendly September well behind and cooler October was finally here and starting
to feel like it. Wasn’t it odd how weather was such a safe subject, both for polite conversation and for internal distraction
from minor hoof and voice problems?
“Is there someone I can call to stay with you tonight?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that. I’ll be fine.” Just her and the TV, blaring at each other all night. She’d drown out the voice
if necessary. She was not ready to deal with the implications of hooves and voices. Suddenly, she really, really didn’t want
to be left alone. At least, not until she felt a little steadier. There was a thought. Maybe this little problem would fade
away as her head got better. See? Something to look forward to. That and finding those papers, maybe.
She frowned. “Hey, did you happen to see a big rock on the floor anywhere?”
Teague paused, eyeing her oddly. “A rock?”
“Or a block, really. Made out of grayish stone and about so”—she held up her hands, about twelve inches apart—“big? The proportions
of a brick, just a little larger.”
“I don’t remember seeing anything like that around here.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Why? Is there something special about
this rock?”
“I was holding it when everything went boom.”
“Huh. Well, I could look around for it, if you want.”
“Please. I mean, I’d look for it myself, but I’m pretty sure my head would fall off and make a mess everywhere.” Besides,
if she did the looking herself, then he would go home—which was increasingly the last thing she wanted, fool that she was.
She was scared to be alone
and
scared to reveal her latent freakish side to the hot guy who was being so nice to her. Still, fear of confronting her psychoses
trumped fear of exposure, at least for now.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He smiled distractedly, already scanning the kitchen floor. “The guys did some sweeping in
here. I wonder if they chucked it into the can with some of the other stuff they picked up. Let me just check these boxes
first and then I’ll look outside in the bin.”
“My legacy chucked out with the trash. That’s logical somehow.” She watched him tilt up a corner of a box they’d used to collect
some of the larger debris.
“A rock is your legacy?” He spared her a glance as he shook the box slightly to shift its contents.
“That’s what I was told. Some distant relative I’ve never met left it for me in her will. Go figure. Anyway, I was carrying
it into the kitchen to get a better look at it when the window blew. It went flying about the same time I did. I’m pretty
sure that’s what clubbed me in the head.”
“Ouch. Rock that size.” He shook his head. “You’re lucky you weren’t hurt worse.”
“Probably just a glancing blow. And the rock wasn’t as heavy as it looked, either. It was hollow.”
“Yeah?” His voice rose with interest. “Was there something inside it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I never got the chance to see. The window blew in before I could finish opening it.”
“Bummer.” He grimaced. “Here’s a thought. If the brick was hollow, isn’t there a good chance that it shattered like your window
did?”
“It wasn’t
that
hollow.” She frowned, remembering again the blow to her forehead. “In fact, it felt pretty darn sturdy.”
“Well, it did hit your head and then the floor. I still think we could be looking for rock dust at this point.”
She made a face. “My head’s not that hard.” She heard mumbling. “What was that?”
He glanced back and grimaced ruefully.
She narrowed her eyes. “Something uncomplimentary, I take it?”
He cleared his throat. “Just one of those reflexive responses a guy should know better than to say out loud.” He turned to
another, smaller pile of debris the guys had dumped in a box and left in a corner.
“Uh-huh.” She raised her eyebrows. “Feeling a little passive aggressive, anyone? You know, if you don’t want to look for the
rock, then don’t. You’re the one who offered.”
He ignored her passively aggressive suggestion and strove for a change of subject. “Passive aggressive, huh? I thought you
said you taught English or writing or something. Not psychology.” He pulled a piece of wallboard out of the box, set it aside
and reached for more.
Mina watched him, feeling increasingly guilty. For all his muttering about hard heads and stubborn women, the man was still
going through the rubble for her. And that was after icing down her bruises and calling his doctor friend to help. Ungrateful
bitch that she was, she couldn’t seem to stop whining and complaining every time the man turned around. Teague was under no
obligation to root through trash for her.
And it certainly wasn’t his fault she’d experienced a hoof and voice problem.
She cleared her throat. “You’re right. I taught language arts, with an emphasis on creative writing, at the middle school.
But they let me go a couple months ago. I’m still looking for another job.”
“Teachers are pretty scarce around here, aren’t they? Seems like every public service announcement encourages ‘our young people
to invest in future generations’ by becoming a public schoolteacher.”
“It’s a campaign the Mason County School District’s been promoting. We’ll see if it works.”
“Still, if they have a shortage, you shouldn’t have any problem finding another job, right?”
“Sure.” Except for that whole moral grounds issue. Tiffy really needed to die. Preferably with Jackson’s favorite body part
wedged between her silicone-plumped lips—the exact position they’d assumed shortly before Mina discovered them together a
few months ago. In Mina’s own bed, no less. Tiffy was quite the hypocritical bitch.
“So that’s good, then, right?” Teague gave her a probing look, obviously realizing there was more to the situation than Mina
was saying. “You’ll find a job pretty easily?”
“Let’s just say it wasn’t a genial parting of ways between the school and me. I’ll probably have to move and start over somewhere
else.”
“That bad? What did you do, sleep with the school principal?”
Mina blinked in mild surprise. “No, the superintendent.”
“Oh. Well.” He choked back a laugh. “Guess you didn’t do that halfway, did you?”
“No, I left that to Tiffy, who happens to be the stepmother of a student of mine.
She
did him halfway. I was just stupid enough to cohabit with the man while she was half-doing him. Then she got me fired.”
“Over . . . ?” He looked amazed and confused and mildly . . . titillated? No doubt he was picturing a hair-pulling, girl-slapping
catfight in the school cafeteria. Pervert.
She scowled. “The school board objects to its teachers living indiscreetly with their unmarried lovers. Tiffy simply brought
my particular indiscretion to their attention, and that was that.”
“Seriously? That’s why they fired you?”
“Morality clause. Setting an example for the kids, blah, blah, blah. I could have stayed on, but they obviously wanted to
make me miserable enough to leave. So I left.”
“What about the superintendent? Was he fired, too?”
“Nope. He’s still superintending. Since his position is purely administrative, he’s not, technically, mingling with the kids
everyday. He’s less likely to contaminate them with his questionable morals.”
“And the stepmom he was screwing?”
“No proof of that, other than my immoral word. Meanwhile, Jackson and I signed our names to a single mortgage. Proof.”
“That. Really. Sucks.”
She relaxed and even managed a smile. “Yes. It. Does.”
“And so does she, apparently.
Tiffy
? Sure she’s not a dog? It sounds like a dog’s name.”
Mina, who’d dropped the smile at the “so does she” part, snorted in amused surprise. “Wellll . . . sort of depends on your
perspective, I suppose. Although I have to admit she did seem to enjoy going down on all fours.”
“Ooooh, that’s bad.” But he was laughing.
“You know, I could really like you, Teague.” In a purely platonic manner, of course. After shenanigans between Tiffy and Jackson,
no way was Mina going to occupy a corner of yet another lovers’ triangle. Nope. An ethical woman observed dibsies, and apparently
Janelle—whom Mina had liked, damn it all—had dibsies on her hot neighbor. That meant paws off for Mina. “I wasn’t sure about
you at first, what with all the wench comments, but this woman or dog question gives me a whole new take on your personality.”
“Wench comments?”
She waved a hand, smiling generously. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just put it behind us.”
He frowned. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
When she groaned, he held his hands up in surrender. “Just asking. So how big was this rock again?”
“About—”
“Wait a minute.” He shoved aside a filthy pile that used to be kitchen curtains and reached behind them. “Is this it?” He
held out a chunk of familiar gray stone so she could see it.
“It sure is.” The corner was chipped and the seal was gone, but the brick was otherwise intact.
“Well, the thing’s empty now. Any idea at all what used to be inside? Papers, objects, anything?” He studied the rock, as
though looking for some fragment that might give him a clue. “Just so I know what else I should be looking for.”
“Like I said, I never got the chance to check. The attorney said there might be family papers or keepsakes inside. Like a
time capsule, you know? But he was only speculating. He didn’t really know either.”
“I see.” Moving closer to her remaining kitchen window, he held the rock out to capture the slanted rays of sunlight and peered
into the opening. He carefully poked a finger inside, skimming the interior. “There’s no sign that anything was ever in there.
No bits of paper or plastic or dust other than rock.”
She smiled ruefully. “Not a big surprise, I have to admit. It could be that there never was anything in there. And wouldn’t
that just figure. My inheritance from a mysterious relative: a hollow rock.”
“But you never know.” Turning back, he gave her a kind look. “It wouldn’t hurt to look around a little more just to see. I
mean, the rock’s not too damaged. Maybe the contents—if there were any—made it through the blast okay, too.” Carefully, he
set the rock down within her reach and turned back to the dusty heap he’d abandoned. “So, we’re looking for old paper, maybe?
Or just anything that didn’t used to be a wall.” His expression invited a smile.
The man was humoring her and then some. He didn’t have to do this. “Have I mentioned yet how much I appreciate you doing this?
I know I haven’t been very nice to you today, considering all you’ve done, but I honestly do appreciate it.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it. You should see Janelle when she’s on a bitch. Ugly.”
Mina laughed and watched as he continued to search. After twenty minutes of that, during which time she felt guiltier and
guiltier, she finally called him to a halt. “Hey, Teague? Really, thanks so much for everything you’ve done, but it’s probably
not worth your time to search anymore. For all I know this block was empty when they delivered it to me. A shame, but there
it is.”
Teague straightened and turned to her. “You sure? I don’t mind looking some more.”
“I know. And you’re making me feel like crap now.” She grinned at him. “You know, for the bitch part.”
“Not a problem.” After returning her smile, he glanced around, obviously a bit surprised to realize they were alone in the
tiny house. His men had left almost an hour ago. “I guess whatever it is will turn up if it’s meant to, right?”
“That’s how it usually works.” It was late. She’d imposed on the guy enough. “So, you probably need to go, don’t you.”
He paused, hand stuffed in his hip pocket. “Maybe I could get you dinner or something? To make you more comfortable?”
The guilt compounded. “No, really. You’ve done too much already. I’ll be fine.” Besides, it was time she worked up some courage
to face her demons alone.
“How’s the head? Any double vision or funky hearing or anything?”
“I’m fine. Just sore. So, I’ll see you in the morning, then?”
“I—yeah. Bright and early. Don’t get up. I’ll lock up after myself.” He eyed her window doubtfully. “Not that it does any
good.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He still didn’t look happy. “Please, just let me call someone to stay with you. A friend or a neighbor, even someone who could
just look in on you?” He sounded almost pleading.
Mina glanced away. Honestly? There wasn’t a soul she could call on for help—and not just because of her talking demon delusions,
although exposure of her insanity could be problematic. No, Mina might as well be living on a deserted island right now. Such
a switch from as little as six months ago, when she and Jackson were, as far as she knew, living the perfect little life,
with the house, the white picket fence, careers they loved, the future on a platter, even friends and co-workers who wished
them well.