Cry Wolf (15 page)

Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just paint on the floor.

She fingered the silver cross hanging from a chain at her neck as she stepped into the room. Half-melted black candles were scattered throughout. An old dresser was turned on its side, scarred by candle wax and more brownish-red paint. Maybe it had been used as an altar of some sort? She snapped a few photos and turned around.

The wall behind her was littered with more graffiti. The words
God is Good
and
Satanists Repent
conflicted with the otherwise macabre setup. Obviously, someone besides occultists had been here. She also located the source of the foul, rotting odor. The decaying carcass of a small cat was hidden behind the overturned dresser. It looked as though it was missing its paws and had been dead only a week or so.

Andrea spun around and gagged as her hand found the wall for support.
Sick bastards
. It was all she could do to keep her feet from carrying her back to her car in record speed. Who would do such a thing to an innocent creature? She forced herself to turn back around, and lifted her camera to get evidence of the scene. Was Charlie Browder aware of such activity? Surely such animal cruelty warranted a criminal investigation.

She spent as much time in the room as she could stomach before retreating back into the hallway. She headed down the stairs but stopped when she heard a creak overhead. Her nerves were already frazzled, and the unexpected noise about did her in. She froze in place, eyes searching for the source. Her gaze fell on the overhead entrance to what she assumed was an attic she hadn’t noticed until now. Was she alone in the house? Was someone hiding up there?

“Andi.”

Andrea screamed and jumped. She glared at the man standing at the foot of the stairs looking up at her.

“Jeez, Hunter, are you trying to kill me?” She took a deep breath. And another. It took several deep breaths for her to recover. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a hunch you might do something stupid, so I followed you out here. You don’t seem to have the sense God gave a flea, lady.”

“Fleas have always struck me as intelligent creatures.” She smiled and nodded her head toward the upstairs. “But since you’re here, you can help me get into this attic.”

Andrea didn’t wait for his response. She turned and headed back the way she came. She needed a few seconds to recover her composure and besides, she was still mad at him. The professional in her understood why Sean had written about her sighting, but the woman who’d begun to feel something for him felt stung that he’d done it without first discussing it with her. She definitely needed to cool their relationship. Her response had been…irrational. People in love acted irrational, and she did
not
want to fall in love with this man. Should she apologize for storming off? Probably, and that pissed her off too. She couldn’t tell anymore who she was angrier with—Sean or herself.

“Andi, can we talk about—”

“Can we save personal talk for later? I want to check out this attic real quick so we can get the hell out of here.” She hoped he didn’t comment on how easily he’d startled her just now. Well, hell, this place would probably give Marilyn Manson the creeps. She heard Sean mumble something under his breath but then his heavy footsteps began to follow hers.

He’s here, so you might as well take advantage of his help…again.

She was glad she wasn’t alone in this house anymore. “You know, I thought this town was weird, but now I
know
it is. Werewolves and haunted houses. Now we can add satanic cults to the mix. Maybe the mayor should list these things on the town brochure. Great place to raise a family, don’t you think?”

“There are a lot worse places. You just haven’t seen the best this town has to offer yet.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that? Weekly exorcisms down at the community center?” She bit her lip. If she was going to get any help from Sean at all, she needed to tone down the sarcasm. With a sigh, she stopped at the top of the stairs, the attic entrance directly overhead, and turned to face Sean. She nodded toward the ceiling. “You ever taken a look around up there?”

“Unlike some people, I’ve never set foot in this house until now. My mama raised me to be more respectful than that.” His tone was firm but slightly boastful.

“Guess my mama raised a degenerate, then.” She reached for her belt buckle.

Sean raised his eyebrows and smiled. “If you’re taking your clothes off, I guess she did. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Get over yourself. There’s no pull chain, but I think I can—” Andrea took her belt and stretched on her toes toward the ceiling, trying to fit the end of it through the big loop where the chain should be. It slid through easier than she thought it would, and the wide clasp hung on the loop, acting as an anchor so she could pull the door down. “There…Got it on the first try and everything. Can you believe that? Watch your head.”

The attic stairwell came down with a tug, along with plenty of dust and dirt. Andrea slung her camera beneath one arm for safety and climbed into the dark, dank area overhead.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a flashlight, would you?” she asked Sean as he climbed up behind her.

“Gee, Daphne, I think I left it in the Mystery Machine downstairs.”

Once her feet were firmly planted on the floor again, she heard rather than saw Sean shuffling around somewhere beside her. A few seconds later, a burst of light from what had been a covered-up window illuminated the surprisingly spacious room. Sean cracked it open for some fresh air.

She smiled. “Thanks, Shaggy—you’re handy to have around.”

“Shaggy!” He looked offended. “If we’re playing Scooby Doo and the gang, I wanna play Scooby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gestured to his left. “Check that cabinet over there. See if anything has been disturbed.”

Now she could see, Andrea began taking stock of her new surroundings, searching for some clues of her own. The attic was full of old covered furniture, probably antiques, and plenty of books. She honed in on an old trunk marked
Personal Items
and knelt down to see what was inside it.

“The Martin family could have made a killing selling some of these old antiques,” she said. “It seems odd no one has stolen anything from up here.”

“Maybe they have. We just don’t know what’s missing.” She saw Sean wipe a finger along a piece of furniture, only to have it come back caked in dust and grime. “Then again, something tells me we’re the first people up here in a long, long time.”

“Know anything about the sickos that obviously use this place for socials?” Andrea sent him a sideways glance as she flipped through some old photo albums she’d found in the trunk. Sean was sifting through magazines sitting on an old dresser.

“There have been rumors of a cult for years, but there’s never been any evidence to suggest anyone’s breaking any laws other than trespassing,” he said. “Sheriff seems to think it’s just a bunch of kids experimenting. I suppose every town has a little of that.”

“Still gives me the creeps.” She blew the dust off an old notebook. “And excuse me, but since when is animal cruelty not against the law?”

She explained what she’d seen. “We’ll tell Charlie about it, get him involved,” he promised. “What have you found over there?”

She sighed and concentrated again on the items in the trunk. “Just some old photo albums, financial records and notebooks.” She glanced up at Sean. “What do you know about Martin’s disappearance? Did he leave on his own or did the sheriff suspect foul play?”

Sean sighed and looked deep in thought as he considered her question. “No evidence to suggest murder. When the sheriff finally came to check on him after folks reported they couldn’t reach him, the sheriff found food waiting to be eaten on the table and the television blaring in the next room. It was as if he simply vanished one morning.”

“Sounds like the makings of a great urban legend,” Andrea remarked more to herself than to him. She looked back at the trunk and began replacing the books she’d pulled out. She suddenly realized she was holding some kind of personal journal in one hand and paused. “Hello, what do we have here?”

“What is it?” Sean moved closer.

“I think it’s Martin’s journal.” She skimmed over some of the pages. “Mostly entries about what livestock he’d bred on what day, but—no, I don’t believe this.”

“What?”

Andrea could hardly believe what she was seeing. Carefully drawn in pencil on a page beside the scribbled word
Monster?
was a sketch of what Andrea could only describe as a werewolf-like creature. “It’s dated January 13, 1983.” She quickly read aloud the passage accompanying it. “‘I saw the monster again today. It was out in the field harassing the cows when something woke me up before dawn, and I looked out the window. Thankfully something distracted it before it took another one of my stock.’”

“Now you’re the one making stuff up.” Sean leaned over her shoulder to inspect the journal himself.

“I’m not.” She handed him the notebook.

He frowned as he read the passage for himself, then flipped through the pages. Stopping on a page, he started to read.

“This is—”

“Unbelievable,” Sean finished for her. “You mean to tell me Martin was seeing this thing back in the eighties?”

Andrea moved to her feet and followed him over to the window, where he was trying to use the light to get a better view of the pages. “Not only that, but he disappeared mysteriously after writing that it was trying to get inside his house. Let me see that thing.”

“Just a sec.”

“Turn it over, Hunter.”

“Wait a second,” he insisted, holding the journal away from her by sliding it behind his back, out of sight and out of her reach. “I’ll share. Just give me a moment to look at something.”

Andrea considered the idea…briefly. Her old competitive spirit wouldn’t give an inch when it came to Sean, even now. “Come on, I found it first.” She reached around him for it.

Too late she realized the position she’d gotten herself in. As if he’d been waiting for just such an opportunity, Sean snaked a hand around her waist and hauled her body flush with his, taking her by surprise and tipping her off balance in the process.

“When are you going to learn to think before you act?” He smirked, holding her tight against him. “Look at the trouble it can get you in.”

Andrea lifted an eyebrow, too stubborn to admit her predicament. She struggled to get free. “Who says I’m in trouble?”

“I say.” He pressed her even closer. If her one hand wasn’t pressed between them, she would have no room to move. No room at all.

His head moved closer to hers.

Andrea relaxed her muscles. “Maybe this is where I want to be. Did you consider that?”

His eyes—so chocolate up close she could almost taste the sugar in them—betrayed a hint of both surprise and a flash of excitement at the suggestion. Andrea herself felt a thrill shoot down to the pit of her stomach remembering what it had felt like to kiss him. She swallowed, fighting the urge to do so again.
Remember why you’re here. Remember what a jerk he is for writing that story without your permission.

His eyes were hot and fixated on her mouth. Oh God. He was going to kiss her again.

Andrea used that split second of vulnerability to grab the thumb hooked around her waist, twist it upward and pull her body free from his grip. It wasn’t an amazing move by any means, but it had the effect she wanted. She was free and had managed to grab hold of the journal in the process.

She held the book up as she backed away from him, unable to resist saying, “Thanks.” Sean glared in her direction, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. “What? Well, you shouldn’t have grabbed me like that. I got…defensive.”

“No, you got scared.”

“Scared? Of course not. I just—”

He came toward her, effectively cutting off her protest. “Why are you so afraid to get close to me?” he asked gently, no hint of aggression or judgment in his tone, just genuine confusion. “Last night, it was…hell, it was amazing, Andi. I’ve had a hard time thinking of anything else all day.”

She took a step back. “It was a mistake.”

“Why?”

“You know why.” She bumped against something and had to stop moving. “The idea of us together is just—” She struggled to find an appropriate word. “Well, it’s just crazy. I’m not your type, and you aren’t the kind of man I’m looking to get involved with either.”

His eyes lit up with amusement. “Not my type? Lady, what planet are you living on?”

“Well, I wasn’t your type in college, now, was I?” He looked like he was going to argue, and she held up her hand. “Look, Hunter, I’m not planning to stay in South Carolina, and I don’t believe in long-distance relationships. I’m not interested in anything casual either, so it’s all just a moot point. Last night—” She stopped to take a deep breath. “Last night, I lost my head for a while. It won’t happen again. Now are you ready to get out of here or what?”

His eyes, his whole body was poised for an argument, but he managed to hold himself in check. She had the feeling this conversation wasn’t finished, but for the moment, Sean seemed willing to let it go.

“I never wanted to be here in the first place,” he grumbled, gesturing for her to lead the way. “After you, Sunshine.”

She sighed, grateful for the reprieve. Sean closed the window he’d opened, and she carefully maneuvered herself down the ladder, only to drop Martin’s journal on the way down. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to try to grab it before it hit the ground. The shift in her weight proved too much for the old, half-rotten ladder.

She felt the rung beneath her foot give way. “Oh!” she cried as she grappled for leverage to stop herself from falling.