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Blazing away from 3 Alarm Coffee, Trevor Scrubb drove as cautiously as his employer would allow him. Pebbles hidden in rain puddles smacked the undercarriage of his mother's car. Debris splattered against the wheel wells and up the hood. The economy car's wipers could keep up with the rain, which had slowed to a mild dripping, but not with the mud that the bumper deflected onto the windshield.
Trevor could only imagine the amount of trouble he would be in when he returned the car to his mother. T.C. was focused only on getting to the Honey Pot Sheriff and then getting the sheriff to his wife and T.C.'s latest curiosity: Penny Nicols.
His boss' strange pull toward Penny disturbed Trevor. It wasn't normal, in Trevor's opinion. But then again, T.C. was far from normal. And so was Penny.
He set aside his concerns, as best as possible, and urged the car further down the road.
"What if Sheriff Everett and his team aren't at the bridge?” he asked. “I mean, how long does it take to catalogue a crime scene?” Trevor slowed to avoid another massive pothole puddle. "It's been hours since they found Serene. And the rain has to have washed away any evidence they could be collecting. Do we have any idea where to head next, if Willis Bridge is a big fail?"
T.C. took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his shirt. This was his habit when nervous. Trevor watched him clean his glasses at least three times since they'd left Flora’s. T.C. was panicking.
"Ashton P.D?" T.C. suggested.
"Do you know how far away that is?"
T.C. frowned. "Do you have any other suggestions?"
Trevor pumped the brakes and circled the steering wheel back toward Honey Pot. "My bet is that they're at the police station, right off of Main Street."
"That's backtracking!" T.C. argued. "We can't afford to lose the time."
"Willis Bridge is another twenty minutes away. Ashton is another forty past that. If we spare six minutes to pass by the station first, we could save ourselves over an hour."
T.C. frowned. "Why don't we just stick to the plan?"
"Because, this time, the plan is wrong. At least our part of it. Thankfully, it’s an easy fix.”
T.C. cleaned his glasses another time. “What if Penny is counting on us and we’re seven minutes too late?”
Trevor continued his drive toward the sheriff’s office. “What if she’s counting on us, and we’re an hour too late?”
T.C. closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer. “Carry on,” he told his assistant. “I trust you.”
***
PENNY NICOLS PULLED the lantern closer to Lydia. There was nothing dry to warm the injured woman or to help her stop shaking. Penny hoped the light would cast at least a smidgen of warmth over the brave lady.
Lydia's eyes closed in pain. Her crow's feet pinched together with each throb of alarm from her ribs. It made Penny ill to see Lydia hurting so badly. She had to do something.
Lydia hadn't given up before, when she'd sent Penny off to escape without her. Little had she known, Buck was already on his way to the barn with dinner for his prisoners. His sudden appearance at the smart car had startled Penny beyond comprehension. She hadn't been able to wriggle free of his grasp. Even as he tugged her with one arm to the barn, while his other hand carried their meal.
"Can you tell me what we're up against," she asked Lydia.
Lydia's eyes flickered open and set upon Penny's dirt streaked face. "Ten years ago, Honey Pot was homebase for the Petting Zoo Prowler."
Penny caught on quickly. "Serene was researching this Prowler?"
"Yes. She even interviewed me about it. Right before..." Lydia trailed off for a moment. "I didn't add it up at first. Not until we opened the box. And found that poster."
"You don't mean Buck and Mac are the prowler?"
Lydia grinned. "No. They were only children when the prowler was around. Teenagers at most."
"Then what do they have to do with it?"
"The Petting Zoo Prowler found his victims at birthday parties. At the time, people believed he was in charge of an actual Petting Zoo."
"Like the one in the poster?"
Lydia tapped Penny's hand. "Exactly the one in the poster."
"You mean, their father was the Petting Zoo Prowler?"
Penny's hands shook. She knew things were bad. Beyond bad. But being held captive by the kids of a serial killer was more than she could handle.
"Breathe," Lydia coaxed. "Breathe."
Penny pulled out her oils and desperately sniffed it without removing the lid. “Serial Killers, really?” she asked.
Lydia patted the top of Penny’s hand again. “Breathe,” she said, once more.
“How can you remain so patient when we’re being held by kids of a serial killer?” Penny wheezed between words.
“Because their dad wasn’t the Petting Zoo Prowler. Serene only wrote about falsely accused true crimes. She was tracking down the Ivers to give their side of the story. They’re not killers,” Lydia reaffirmed.
“Then,” Penny paused. She placed a hand on her sternum and counted the beats of her heart, regulating her fear. “If their father didn’t stalk Honey Pot, who did?”
Behind Penny, a shadow landed on the dirt floor. It approached the women, unseen just long enough to step into the lantern’s light..
“His business partner,” Mac said, hands on her hips as she glared down at Penny and Lydia.
***
T.C. WAS OUT OF THE vehicle before Trevor could pull the parking brake. He stormed inside the sheriff's office relieved to find it fully staffed and brimming with activity. He charged up to the receptionist and demanded to speak with the sheriff.
"Excuse me," Rachel, the long time secretary and dispatcher, growled. "Have you not heard we're dealing with a murder here? We don't have time for dramatics from out of towners. State your business, fill out a report, and move along. We're working here."
Trevor entered the busy office just in time. T.C. was about to reply to Rachel's outspoken hostility. Thankfully, Trevor had time to save them both.
"Hiya, Rachel," he said, using his small town familiarity to charm the choleric receptionist.
"Honey," She said, rising to her feet. "It's like I told this guy. We're swamped. Is this an emergency?"
T.C. frowned. Rachel hadn't asked him that. Nor had she used her slightly softer business voice with him. He scowled at Trevor, who ignored him.
"It's about Mrs. Everett. She's in trouble."
Rachel groaned loudly before turning to holler at the back of the office. "Ethan, your wife is at it again!"
The tired sheriff emerged from the group talking at his office door. He rubbed the furrowed skin between his eyebrows and rolled his shoulders. "What?" he asked, on his walk to the front desk. He looked over T.C. and Trevor. "You're not kidding, are you?"
Trevor shook his head. "No, sir, we're not. Flora sent us to find you."
"Flora? That means all the ladies are involved," Ethan said
Rachel snickered and returned to her ergonomic chair. "I could've told you that," she mumbled before swiveling her back to the three men.
"She was investigating on the other side of LittleLove Bridge when the storm hit. Flora says they haven't heard from her since."
Ethan tucked in his shirt and began patting his belt, checking for his equipment. "Any clue where she went?"
Trevor switched on his phone and held it out to the sheriff. "The old Iver's farm," he said.
"Of course," Ethan said. A tornado of annoyance, pride, and exasperation rolled through his tone. "She always did know how to get into trouble."
"Except, she's not alone," Trevor added.
"Penny Nicols, the new barista, is with her," T.C. said.
Ethan's men had already clumped around the front desk, eavesdropping on the conversation once they’d heard Lydia was in trouble. They needed very little instruction from Ethan on what to do next.
"Gus?" Ethan hollered.
"Coming," the deputy answered as he pulled on his coat and tossed Ethan his.
"Thank you, gentlemen," Ethan said. "If you'll excuse us."
Ethan and Gus headed out of the office. T.C. and Trevor stood staring at them.
"Where are they going?" T.C. asked.
Rachel cackled. "Where do you think, brainless? They're going to get Lydia. Just like I'm going to call for backup and EMT's to head toward the Iver's Farm."
"But what if she's not there?" Trevor said. "I mean, it's only a hunch."
Again, Rachel's smoker's laugh cut across her words. "If that's where the villains are, then that's where Lydia will be."
The rest of the crew mumbled in agreement before scattering to attend to their parts of the search.
"Let’s go," T.C. shouted as he flung open the front door. Trevor followed, nearly stepping on T.C.'s heels. "If we hurry, we can follow them."
"Are you serious? In my mom's car?" Trevor protested as he obeyed.
"I'll buy her another," T.C. snipped as he slid into the passenger seat.
Trevor glared at him. He turned the key in the ignition. "Seriously," T.C. said. "I'm good for it."
Trevor put the car in gear and careened after the sheriff's personal truck up toward the backroads of Honey Pot towards the thick of the battle.