“What do we do?” Nate’s hands hovered, fingers clenching as he fought the urge to wipe his hands on his jeans a second time. He was pale.
Ben watched him swallow. He's shaken. Really shaken. “You need to go back to the house.” Ben quietly sized up their surroundings. Why didn’t I grab a weapon when I had the chance? “Call emergency services. Tell them you need to report a suspicious death.”
“A suspicious death,” Nate repeated. He took a deep breath. “And you’re really sure he’s―sorry, stupid question. But you don’t expect to find a guy dead on your farm.”
Ben pressed his lips together. “No,” he agreed. “You don’t.” He looked down at the man at their feet.
He’d been a tall man just on the cusp of his prime, thick brown beard speckled with gray, long hair pulled back into a full ponytail. There were no obvious marks of violence on him, but he was dead all the same. Something about the way he sprawled on the ground that just said ‘wrong.’ What about sudden death isn’t wrong? Ben made a mental tally of the man’s high leather boots, worn jeans, and thick combat jacket. “Who is he?”
Nate shook his head. “No one local. I don’t think I’ve seen him before in my life.” His voice took on a puzzled note. “Why would a stranger die on our farm?”
Ben bit back the urge to ask Nate who he was expecting to die on his farm. “Mention that in your report. Male, late forties, dressed for the outdoors. Probably been dead for over forty-eight hours.”
“Forty-eight? And no one noticed him just lying here?”
Ben pointed. “See how his chest appears bloated? It’s filling with gas as he decomposes. And if you look at his skin color―”
Nate shuddered. “Forget I asked.” He wiped his hands on his jeans again.
Ben watched him closely. Nate was still paler than he should be. “Are you all right?”
Nate swallowed before he replied. “Just fine.”
“Ask Ma to give you something when you get back to the house. A hot drink. Coffee, maybe.”
Nate appeared to notice Ben’s use of ‘you’ for the first time. “And what will you be doing?”
“Someone has to stay here.” Ben motioned to their surroundings. “To make sure the coyote doesn’t come back.”
Nate sucked in a breath. “I can’t leave you out here.”
“Someone needs to call for help.”
“You can call. You know exactly what to say.”
Ben shook his head. “That’s not a good idea, Nate.”
“What if the guy’s not dead-dead? You’re human now, Ben! If there’s any risks to be taken, I should be the one taking them.”
“I’m not helpless, Nate.” That came out sharper than he intended. Ben pushed his hair out of his face. “If he’s a revenant, I can handle him.”
“But you’re not armed―”
“Combat trained. I can handle him.”
“It’s still a risk―”
Ben shook his head. “It has to be you who makes the call, Nate. This is your farm, right? When the police arrive, they’re going to wonder what he’s doing here.”
“But we don’t know what he’s doing here.”
“The police don’t know that. We’re all going to come under suspicion, but you―and your family―are going to come in for more of it, which is why I should be the one to stay with the body. As a stranger, I’ve got no reason to want to interfere with the body, but you―”
Nate’s head whipped up. It wasn’t nausea he swallowed this time, but anger. “Are you saying one of us did this?”
“I’m telling you how investigations work.” Ben’s reply was curt. “That’s all. Go, make the call. A delay will look even more suspicious.”
Nate looked like he wanted to argue, but a glance at the dead man decided him. Without another word, he strode back toward the house.
Ben watched him until he was almost out of sight. He looked down at his hands and was surprised to see they trembled. The discovery of the dead man hadn’t penetrated beneath his composure, but Nate’s anger left him shaking. What does it mean?
Not the time. Ben turned his attention to the corpse at his feet. The shadows were increasing. If Ben had an undead on his hands, he wanted to know what he was in for.
Careful not to disturb the corpse in any way, Ben knelt beside it. Using the fabric of the T-shirt to cover his hand, he drew back the man’s lip. His teeth were yellow, stained with nicotine, but clean and there were no traces of blood.
Not a revenant. The lowest form of vampire, revenants were mindless corpses possessed by pure, animal hunger. They lacked a vampire’s awareness, but imperviousness to pain and sunlight made them dangerous all the same. Ben was about to stand when something caught his nose.
Thank God Nate’s not here to see this. Ben leaned over the corpse, breathing in a putrid odor better left undescribed. For a moment, his mouth contorted, fangs that were no longer present longing to bare in a hunter’s grimace. The human in Ben wanted to gag. The investigator wouldn’t let him. Ben pushed past the stench of human decay. Alcohol. A lot of it. Either the man had been drinking, or someone wanted to hide another, more incriminating scent… There it is! A burnt smell. Sour, mingled with something rotten and acrid, something that stuck directly to the back of Ben’s throat. Sulfur. Brimstone.
Ben stood slowly. Demonic interference. He mentally reviewed what he had seen of the small town. Quiet, close-knit, god-fearing community could easily mask a cult. It was isolated enough…
You’re speculating. Ben shook his head. Facts first, then theories. He put his hands in his pockets, taking a step back to consider the man from a distance.
From this angle, the wrongness about how he lay was even more apparent. He didn’t fall like that. Rigor mortis had set in before he had been placed on the farm. That’s it―he was put here.
The man sprawled in the trench between two rows. An attempt to hide him? Ben looked around the field. It was planted in long lines of raised beds, green leaves just protruding from the top. There was no sign of trampled plants or any other evidence of a fight―but there were signs of something being dragged along the trench.
The forest is right there. With all that available cover to hide a body, who on earth would choose an open field? Ben bit his lip. Someone who didn’t think along common sense lines. Someone with no interest in or comprehension of other people. Someone like Ethan.
Nate’s words flashed into Ben’s head. Ma, Pa, and me, we knew we had to cover for Ethan.
Cover…cover for what? Ben looked after Nate, but he’d vanished out of sight behind the barn. Presumably he’d reached the house and was already telephoning the police. Or would he tell Ma first?
I should have gone with him. Leaving the three of them alone gives them time to concoct a cover story― No! Ben dug his nails into his arm. Nate’s not like that. Anyway, the man didn’t die here. He was brought here.
Why bring a dead body to a field? Especially a field by the road? Ben studied the road. So it would be discovered? Was the body visible from the road? He didn’t remember seeing it when Nate drove him to Little River, but he’d been looking out the window on the other side on the way there, and on the return journey, he’d been focused more on Nate’s obvious anger than the view.
At least the coyote seemed to be gone for good. Ben followed the drag marks towards the road, keeping an eye out for traces of footprints. There were occasional indents in the damper soil at the base of the trenches. One person taking care to cover their tracks. Which made their choice of location even stranger.
The grass beside the road was dry and dusty. There were no tire tracks, but Ben found a patch of grass that seemed to have been pressed down. A vehicle was parked here. Probably a truck. Looking up, Ben saw that the barn screened the house from view. Meaning unless someone drove past, you could pull up here unobserved and carry the body into the field. It was a risk but a calculated one. Someone who knew how little the road was used might feel confident in pulling it off.
Someone with local knowledge. Ben walked across the field, back to the body. Someone aware that Ethan is different. Ben put his hands into his pockets. In many parts of the country, just being supernatural was considered proof of guilt. This is not going to go well for Ethan.
He looked down at the man. Ethan had no interest in people. According to Nate, his brother rarely left the farm. His trip to New Camden to fetch his brother had been entirely out of character for someone who so enjoyed the peace and quiet of the farm he rarely ever left it. So why a stranger? Did Ethan know him?
It was tempting―really tempting―to pat down his pockets for ID. If Ben had still worked for ARX, he wouldn’t have hesitated. How long will it take the police to get here? Sure Little River wasn’t far away, but a death necessitated a homicide team. They’ll have to call in backup―
Ben paused. He crouched beside the man.
The breeze had blown his ponytail aside, revealing the tattoo on the back of his neck. It was a simple design, a stylized human eye. Among the supernatural community, it was known as ‘the third eye’ and, done by a gifted practitioner, could grant extra awareness to its recipient.
A hunter. A supernatural hunter dead on the farm. Ben turned, but the barn blocked his view of the house. He swallowed. First suspect in the supernatural killing is always the supernatural. They were in serious trouble.
✩✩✩
The police arrived in a patrol car that had not only been around the block but managed to hit every puddle on the way. Ben waited for them on the road, waving them to park on the opposite side of the road.
Instead, an older woman with sandy-blonde hair stuck her head out of the window. “Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing, giving us directions?”
“Ben Hawick.” Ben kept his tone even. He motioned behind him to where the flattened patch of grass was. “It looks like someone parked there. I thought you’d want to look at it.”
The woman whipped her head around to look at the back seat. “You didn’t say anything about this, Nate.”
Nate shrugged. He sat straight in the back of the car, as if called to answer a question at school. “I didn’t know about them. Soon as I saw the guy was dead, I went back to the farm to call you.”
The woman―clearly the senior officer–exchanged a look with the younger man driving the car. “Might as well pull over here,” she conceded. “But I want to see what you think you’ve found.”
They all watched silently as Ben pointed out the flattened grass and explained how he’d found it.
“You see any truck, Nate?” The woman asked.
Nate shook his head. “Not me, sheriff. But it’s like Ben said. We wouldn’t, not from the house.”
The deputy walked farther up the road and whistled. “Strange place to kill a guy. Anyone who drove by would see it.”
“Maybe the victim thought that would protect him.” The sheriff swung herself easily over the fence. “All right. Let’s have a look at him.”
Ben was aware of Nate at his elbow as they followed, but to his relief, Nate didn’t try to talk. Ben shot him a tight smile. Later, he promised. Looking up, he was startled to find the woman’s eyes on them.
“Nate tells me you’re from New Camden?”
“That’s right. You’re the sheriff?”
She gave him a hard stare. “That’s right. Sheriff McCall, Castanea County. And this is Deputy Ray Legapsi.”
The deputy raised a hand in salute. He was lean, with hazel eyes and a smile that came easily. “Not the best introduction you could have to Little River.”
Ben fought the urge to smile back. “New Camden,” he said briefly. “This sort of thing happens a lot.”
Nate stood beside Ben as the officers examined the body. He didn’t take Ben’s hand, but carefully, making sure the gesture was screened from the officers, he rested his hand on Ben’s back.
The gesture was entirely unnecessary, but Ben found that it made him feel better. He brushed against Nate, lingering a moment before stepping away. He looked up to see the sheriff beckoning him. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Did you touch the body, or move it in any way?”
Ben shook his head. “I walked around it but didn’t touch it.”
She turned to Nate. “Would you agree that this is how you left the body? Take a moment to think about it.”
Nate approached with reluctance. “Looks the same to me.”
The sheriff and deputy looked at each other and then nodded. “Nate, Ray’s going to ask you a few questions. In the meantime, Mr. Hawick, I’d like you to tell me how you came across this body―”
“I already told you,” Nate interrupted. “Ben and I were coming back from the woods when―”
“We’ve heard your story, Nate.” The sheriff was abrupt.
Ben watched Nate tense with alarm. Getting defensive will only make things worse! “The sheriff wants to hear my version of events,” he said as casually as he could. “To compare our statements. It’s normal police procedure.” He offered Nate an encouraging smile.
The sheriff narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a background in law enforcement, Mr. Hawick?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then perhaps you can refrain from telling me how to do my job.” She pointed. “The car. Now.”
Sitting in the patrol car did not make for a comfortable interview, but that might have been the sheriff’s intention. Ben kept his hands resting on his knees as he answered her questions. He described the discovery of the body, and at her request, what he’d done while waiting for their arrival. She jotted it all down in her notebook and then paused, frowning at what she’d written.
“And you say this man, Harriet, was a stranger to you?”
Ben raised an eyebrow. Neither the sheriff nor her deputy had checked the corpse for I.D. “A complete stranger. How did you know his name?”
“He blew through town a week ago. Making some inquiries.” The sheriff fixed him with her stare. “Why?”
“I just discovered a dead man. I’m bound to be curious.”
“You’re bound to answer questions, not ask them.” The sheriff turned the page of her notebook. “Give me your movements for the last twenty-four hours.”
“Nate and I were at my home in New Camden yesterday morning when his brother arrived to take Nate home.” Ben decided not to mention that Ethan’s appearance had been a complete surprise. “On the spur of the moment, Nate invited me to join them. I did.”
“That’s a long drive. What time did you leave?”
“Maybe about nine, ten in the morning? Neither of us was paying attention to the time.” Ben brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not sure when we arrived. It was dark, and I was tired.”
The sheriff pursed her lips. “Can you verify that?”
Verify…? Ben blinked. The man was killed while Nate and I were in New Camden and Ethan driving there. If we can prove we were on the road, we’ve got an alibi. “We stopped for gas and food a couple of times. I’m not sure where exactly―diners, mostly. Nate will be able to tell you, or Ethan.” Ben shrugged. “Twins tend to stand out. I’m sure you could find staff who remember seeing us.”
The sheriff shot him a glare. If she’d hoped to rattle him, she was out of luck. “Leave that to us.” She put her pen down but didn’t close her notebook. “What do you do in New Camden?”
Ben was prepared for this. “I was a student.”
“Of?”
“Paranormal Studies. Mostly Cryptozoology.”
“Isn’t that interesting?” The sheriff tapped the pen against the window glass. “Our dead man was also interested in the supernatural.”
“I know he was a hunter. I saw his tattoo.”
“But you’re not a hunter?” Ben shook his head. “What’s your relationship to the Granger family?”
“Nate’s my friend.”
“Did you meet him during your course of studies?”
Ben gave her a flat look. “No.” What had he told Ma? “A mutual friend was having a party. Nate and I discovered we had a lot in common. We started hanging out. When Nate invited me to visit and escape the craziness in New Camden, I jumped at the chance.”
The sheriff considered him thoughtfully. “And Ethan?”
Ben fought the urge to rub his arm. “I’m still getting to know Ethan.”
The sheriff’s mouth flickered, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she waved Ben towards the door. “I have some calls to make. You and Nate can go, but we’d be obliged if you stay close to home this evening. We’ll want to talk to you again. Rest of the family, too.”
Nate was chatting to Ray with what sounded like a good imitation of his usual upbeat manner. They paused for Ben to deliver his message.
Ray grinned, thumping Nate on the arm. “What did I tell you? Back home for dinner.”
“Not that I really want dinner now,” Nate complained.
“Put it aside for me.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Won’t the sheriff mind?”
Ray grinned. “Not if you save her some. Now go. Don’t let our―sorry, your―dinner get cold.”
“Ray seems cool,” Nate said, as they walked back across the fields. “Not what you expect from a police officer.”
“The sheriff on the other hand…”
Nate laughed. “She’s all right. She’s been deputy here for over thirty years. People are traditional. Didn’t feel comfortable with a woman sheriff, but she kept at it, and eventually people came around to her way of thinking.” He paused. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I get what you mean now.”
“It’s all right.” Ben looked back over his shoulder. The deputy was a small shape in the distance. No way he’d be able to see Ben reaching for Nate’s hand. “Supernatural death isn’t your area of expertise. It’s natural to be shaken.”
“Supernatural?”
“The man was a hunter.”
“Shit.” Nate looked blankly back across the field. “Is that what killed him?”
Ben remembered the faint smoky smell, undercut with bitter metal. “Yeah. It is.”
“Fuck me.”
Ben squeezed Nate’s hand. “Not under your mother’s roof.” And then, before Nate could respond, he continued, “If I’m right and he died forty-eight hours ago, then we all have an alibi. You and I were still being interviewed by Department Seven and Ethan was on the road.”
“And no one could possibly think Ma murdered anyone. She’s on the church council.” Nate frowned. “Ray was telling me that they’re gonna call in a special task force. That they’ll have to do a scene exam of the farm.”
Ben frowned. While the sheriff had interviewed him, Nate had apparently gathered a lot of info of his own. “That’s normal procedure in any homicide case.”
“What about supernatural homicides?”
Ben bit his lip. “They’re probably going to have to call in a specialist division. One with training in handling these sorts of cases.”
“Shit. This isn’t good, Ben.”
Ben squeezed Nate’s hand. “The sheriff’s smart. I’m pretty sure she’s already noticed that things don’t add up.”
“Things?”
Ben detailed what he’d noticed. “Harriet was murdered elsewhere and moved here after the fact,” he said. “I’m positive.”
“But who would do something like that? And why?” Nate came to a halt. “Ethan. They want Ethan to get the rap for this.”
“It’s possible,” Ben allowed. “Who knows about your brother?”
“That’s the thing, Ben. No one.”
✩✩✩
Ben had thought lunch was uncomfortable. Dinner took things to a whole new level. Ma and Nate tried to keep conversation going but paused whenever a vehicle sounded along the road. Ethan chewed methodically, unaware or uninterested in the repercussions of the afternoon’s discovery. Ben tried to talk, but his attention was on the sheriff and the deputy and their silent companion.
“They got here awfully fast,” Ma said. “Almost as if they were expecting something.”
“Matter of fact, they were already heading over to Little River.” Nate stood at the kitchen sink, holding the curtain up as he peered down the road. “Can’t tell if the backups have arrived. The barn blocks everything.”
Just as I thought. The place was chosen on purpose. Ben frowned. Looking up, he met Ethan’s eyes watching him.
“Sit down, Nate. Things are bad enough without you jumping up every time you hear a car.” Ma mechanically started to wipe the table down. “You said the sheriff will be stopping by to see us?”
“She’ll want statements from everyone in the house,” Ben said. “And since this is a supernatural investigation, she’ll probably want to scan us too.”
Ma and Nate shared a look.
“Like the kind they use on CSI Paranormal?” Nate asked.
Ma shook her head. “What will the neighbors think! Nate, why don’t you take Ben into the living room and give him some coffee. I’ll do the dishes― No, I’d like to do it. Nothing like a full sink to clear your mind.”
Nate shut the living room door behind them. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Not glad you’re caught up in this, but glad you’re here.”
A good person wouldn’t be pleased by that. Ben fought but couldn’t suppress the warm glow that followed Nate’s words. “Glad I could help.” He elbowed Nate. “Please tell me you don’t actually watch CSI Paranormal?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Nate sat on the sofa, patting the seat beside him.
Ben took the invitation. “Everything! When the entire premise of an episode hinges on inaccuracies―”
The conversation that followed was fun―Ben rarely got to air his passion for supernatural investigations or his keen interest in mysteries―and by the time he realized Nate was teasing him, the damage was done. He’d well and truly outed himself as a geek, and Nate was laughing at him.
“This isn’t funny, Nate.”
“I’m not laughing.” Nate’s smile didn’t diminish in any way as he continued to stroke Ben’s hair.
“You’re grinning at me.” Ben folded his arms.
“I like it when you get passionate about something. Your eyes light up, and your entire attention focuses in on this one thing.”
Ben felt his heart twist in fear. Nate couldn’t know―could he? “Are you saying I’ve got a one-track mind?”
Nate shook his head. “It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it’s amazing.” His fingers lingered on Ben’s forehead, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I know why it doesn’t happen,” Nate lowered his voice. “It’s cool. I get it― You’re reluctant to let that side of you show till you know you’re safe, and you’re still getting used to everything. And why not? It’s a lot to get used to.”
Ben swallowed, suddenly aware that his mouth was very dry. Nate’s dangerous. No one, not even Hunter, had ever read him so accurately. The part of him that stayed cold and calculating, even in broad daylight. I can’t let Nate see that. But I can’t hide―
“Also,” Nate continued in that same, unhurried tone. “I’ve never seen an episode of CSI Paranormal in my life.”
Ben pinched his leg. “Jerk.”
Nate stretched out on the sofa, smirking at Ben. He had never seemed more pleased with himself and it was infuriating, even as it was somehow pleasant. “What are you going to do about it?”
Another good question. Ben couldn’t let this challenge go unanswered. He placed his hand on the sofa above Nate’s shoulder, leaning in so that he was not touching Nate, only by the barest of margins.
From the kitchen came the clatter of cutlery as Ma did the dishes, but Nate made no move to draw back.
I’m dangerous, too. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
Nate’s breath caught. “You―”
A car pulled up outside. The kitchen fell silent.
Ben quickly stood up. “The sheriff?”
“Must be.” Nate followed Ben to his feet. “I guess we should go see what she has to say.”
The sheriff stood on the porch, taking down Ma’s statement in her notebook. “And except for the women’s bible study and the evening prayer group, you were home all day?”
“That’s right.” Ma dried her hands on the dishtowel she’d carried outside with her. “You’re sure you won’t come in?”
“Love to, Emma, but I’m on the clock.” The sheriff leaned comfortably against the porch railing. “Notice anything out of the ordinary today or yesterday?”
“Nothing at all. I put the car away when I got back from the prayer service, and I haven’t been out since. Except for feeding the hens and doing some gardening, I haven’t left the house.”
“Anyone to verify that?”
“The boys have been in and out of the house all day. As for yesterday, I got a phone call from Margaret Ross about noon, but nothing until the boys got home.”
The sheriff made a note. “Where’s Ethan?”
“Lying down,” Ma said. “He drove all the way to New Camden, and most of the way back. He’s tired himself out. I told him to rest after dinner.”
Ben kept his face carefully blank as he leaned against the wall of the house. Funny that Ethan had energy to tend his orchard and hide Ben’s shoes, but was too tired to talk to the police.
“I’ll have to talk to him too.” There was a faintly apologetic note in the sheriff’s voice. “One last question. The victim passed through Little River last week. Did Harriet call on you?”
“Harriet?” Ma frowned, turning her head to where Nate sat on the porch railing. “Nate, you told me the victim was a man.”
“His surname was Harriet.” The sheriff nudged the brim of her hat back with the end of her pen. “I take it you didn’t know him?”
Ma shook her head. “I’d remember a man named Harriet.”
The sheriff nodded, putting the notebook into her jacket pocket. It seemed to Ben that she hesitated. “In cases of supernatural death, it’s usual procedure to ask people in the vicinity for a scan.”
Ma stiffened. “The man died of magic?”
“I didn’t say that, Emma. But the man was a supernatural hunter. We have to do our due diligence.”
“You know perfectly well I hold no truck with that sort of thing―”
“It’s fine,” Ben assured Ma. “It really is normal procedure. Just like testing the clothes of a suspected shooter for traces of gunpowder residue.” Ben was the recipient of three blank looks. Does no one read mysteries? “I’ll go first if you’re worried about it.”
Nate shifted restlessly from his seat on the porch. “You sure, Ben?”
“It’s fine,” Ben stood, putting his arms out, like a passenger going through security screening at an airport. “Anything the scan picks up, the sheriff will learn when she does her background check on me anyway.”
The sheriff gave him a speculative look as she raised the scanner. “Hold still.”
The scanner worked on the same basic principle as dousing rods or scrying, but numerous police studies had found that the general public had more confidence in an officer holding a shiny piece of plastic that beeped and whistled than an officer wielding a forked twig or metal diving fork. The scanner was a joke amongst supernatural hunters―in the hands of nonpractitioners, it was about as useful as a Magic 8 Ball, and its evidence could not be relied on in court―but it did what it was meant to do: light up in the presence of magical residue.
The sheriff whistled. “You been exposed to magic recently?”
Ben nodded. “I’m from New Camden. Nate and I were at one of the sights where the necromancer was active. It’s no surprise that there’d be residue from that.”
“Nathan Granger!”
“I was going to tell you, Ma. But when you’d had time to get over being worried.” Nate reluctantly took Ben’s place in front of the scanner.
It lit up immediately. The sheriff snorted. “No wonder you need a vacation.” She beckoned Ma over. “You, too, Emma.”
“I don’t hold with this,” Ma said. “I’m a Christian, Alison. You know that.”
The sheriff did not look at all like an Alison as she held up the scanner. “If necessary, you can tell Pastor Whitlock to take it up with me.” This time, the scanner didn’t light up at all. A single beep indicated that it was working, and no more. “All clear. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, if I could just speak to Ethan for a moment.”
Ma’s mouth tightened, but all she said was “Nate, will you go wake your brother?”
“Sure thing.” Nate disappeared into the house.
Ma turned the dishcloth over in her hands. “What happens now?”
“We’re waiting for the specialized homicide unit.” The sheriff tugged at the brim of her hat. “They’ll want to set up shop on site. Is there anywhere we can put a trailer―”
“A trailer!” Ma was openly dismayed.
“It’s going to be noticeable one way or another,” the sheriff said quietly. “But put it right out in the open, and folks will know you have nothing to hide.”
Ma looked at her. There was color in her cheeks, but she said nothing.
Undercurrents under undercurrents. Ben wondered if the sheriff knew or if she guessed. Decades in law enforcement gave you an instinct for when people hid, if not what they were hiding…
“And here’s Ethan now.” The sheriff straightened, holding up the scanner. “This won’t take a minute.”
Ethan slouched over to the sheriff. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn earlier, and his messy hair all but covered his eyes. He approached the sheriff with a palpable air of reluctance.
The sheriff was evidently used to Ethan’s particular brand of friendly. “Now don’t be like that. This won’t take a minute, and then you can get back to your nap.” She beckoned Ethan to stand with his arms outstretched. “Your mother and brother have done it already. Nothing to worry about.”
Ethan obediently stepped forward. His eyes flickered toward Ben, just for a moment, but for that brief second, Ben saw a flash of fear. Then it was gone, replaced by Ethan’s usual wooden expression.
Ben felt a sense of incredulity. It can’t be. They wouldn’t– Too risky!
But Nate was willing to do anything for his brother.
“Exposure to magic.” The sheriff raised her eyebrows. “Your brother been leading you astray in New Camden?” she laughed, slapping ‘Ethan’ on the arm to indicate it was a joke. “Now, I’m going to need a statement. You had no idea that anything had happened on your farm?”
Ma shook her head. “You’ve known Ethan since he was an infant! The very idea―”
“I have to ask, Emma.” The sheriff shrugged. Her attitude indicated that the questions were mere routine, but Ben noticed that her eyes flicked back to ‘Ethan’ at regular intervals. “About that field. When was the last time you went down there?”
“Me? I can’t even remember. But Ethan planted it maybe a fortnight ago.” Ma wiped her hands on her apron, motioning the sheriff and to follow her indoors. “I don’t know why we’re standing around out here for the mosquitos to get us. Let’s go inside.”
Evidently Ma usually answered for Ethan. Which was lucky. Nate might be able to copy his twin’s facial expressions, but Ben doubted he could replicate Ethan’s flat tone. Already Nate was fidgeting far too much, and the speed with which he took the opportunity to disappear down the hall looked too much like haste.
“I’m on the job, Emma,” the sheriff protested.
“You’ve never let that stop you having a cup of coffee before.” Ma shooed her towards the kitchen table. “It’ll be an hour at least before anyone from Chinquapin arrives.”
For all her protesting, the sheriff pulled up a chair to the kitchen table readily. She placed her hat on the table. “True enough. And I don’t think anyone could grudge me one cup of coffee.”
“Your deputy might.” Nate wandered back into the kitchen wearing the same T-shirt he’d greeted the sheriff in. He leaned over the sink to look out the window. Concerned for Ray―or avoiding Ben’s eye? “You just left him out there?”
“Someone has to preserve the scene.” Ben slid into a chair.
“You should have said something!” Ma bustled around the kitchen. “I’ll make up a thermos.”
“Emma―”
“It’s no trouble, Alison. I won’t have people saying we’re not hospitable.” She reached for the coffeepot. “Shall I give you a thermos, too?”
The sheriff conceded defeat. “Might as well. Just need to take samples, and then I’ll be heading out.”
“Samples?” Ma paused, coffeepot in hand.
The sheriff nodded. “Routine. I’ll have to take one from everyone who produced a positive reading from the scanner. That includes you, Mr. Hawick.”
Ben had seen this coming. How many times had he said the same thing to people, made the same assurances? “Of course. Hair?”
“It’s preferred.”
The sheriff looked to Ma. “You happen to have any plastic bags or the like? I don’t really have much call for them on the job as a general rule, and I can save the forensic team paying you a visit.”
However Ma felt about the samples, she opened up the kitchen cupboards readily enough. Helpful? Or keen to avoid the forensics team?
Ben caught himself. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I react like a normal person? He tugged a hair from this head and held it out to the sheriff. “There. That’s my contribution.”
The sheriff nodded in thanks. “Mind calling your brother back, Nate? I’ll need one from each of you too.”
“One moment.” Nate turned back down the hall. “Ethan?”
It was as good as watching The Parent Trap. Ethan, wearing a much-maligned expression and the clothes he’d worn earlier in the day appeared beside Nate in the doorway. His expression plainly said, ‘What now?’
“The sheriff needs a hair. No, stop that–” Ethan turned away. “Don’t be such a baby.” Nate put his hand on his brother’s chest to stop him. He picked a hair off Ethan’s sleeve. “I’ll just give her this.”
Ben had trouble hiding his surprise. No way that’s Ethan’s hair. Nate was very resourceful.
“Thank you, thank you. Makes my life much easier.” The sheriff carefully bagged and labeled the hairs. “No doubt I’ll be back later to let you know how we’re getting on.” She stood, nodded to Ma, and replaced her hat. “Until then, you have our number.”
Country courtesy apparently demanded to see the sheriff off from the porch. Even Ethan stood to watch the patrol car turn back down the road.
“Well,” Ma said. “What Mitch would say to this all, I don’t know.” She put her hand on Ethan’s arm. “In all the excitement, no one’s fed the hens.”
Ben caught Nate by the sleeve before he could follow them inside. “Have you lost your mind? Nate, you can’t do this.”
Nate blinked. “Do what?”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You move too much, Nate. Ethan doesn’t get nervous.”
Nate froze. For a horrible second, Ben thought he was going to deny it. “You can’t tell.”
“Do I sound like I’m going to tell?” Ben drew Nate back down the porch away from the kitchen. “But this is insane! It’ll never work.”
“It has to.” Nate removed Ben’s hand from his arm. “Ethan… They figure out he’s not normal, you know what will happen. Department Seven said they were going to hook me up with a caseworker, that I’d have to stay in the city and be monitored―and that was being soft on me. They’re not going to do that for Ethan.”
Ben was silent. Ethan with his surly manner and unknown abilities was not going to be greeted with the leniency accorded his personable brother.
“You don’t know what being taken away from this place would do to him,” Nate continued in a whisper. “He could never handle living in the city. He can’t even handle New Camden for more than an hour. Jail… Jail would destroy him. And you know that’s where they’d want to send him.”
“Nate. I know. But I also know that you can’t cover for Ethan.” The fact that Nate had put distance between them hurt. Ben’s hands felt empty. He put them in his pocket so he wouldn’t have to think about them. “Yeah, he’s your brother. But this is an investigation―”
“Investigation? Or witch hunt?” Nate’s voice was low and insistent. “This isn’t like New Camden. There’s no Department Seven here. The police will see ‘hunter’ and look for the nearest, biggest source of supernatural power.”
“And that’s Ethan.” Ben tried to keep his breathing calm. “I understand, Nate. But this is a murder investigation. Everyone is going to get investigated. There are processes to make sure that the guilty party is found. You doing this won’t protect Ethan. It might even make things worse.”
“We don’t have any choice. This is the only way to protect him.”
“What about protecting you?” Despite himself, Ben reached out to put his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “What if they arrest you instead of him. What then, Nate?”
“They’ll have to let me go,” Nate said confidently.
“You don’t know that, Nate.”
“Trust me.” Nate set his hand on Ben’s arm. “No one could imagine Ethan had anything to do with this. The guy was left between two trenches, right? No way Ethan would have put a body there. Permaculture principles, you put your sources of fertilizer at the top where the rain will carry it down to the rest of the farm. You’ll see.” Giving Ben’s arm a brief squeeze, Nate walked into the house.
Ben looked after him with a sense of horror. He’s serious. That was the scariest part of this entire thing. God, Nate. Ben swallowed. You can’t fight a murder charge with permaculture.