Graveyard Games (9 page)

"What can I get you, Dusty?"

"Hmm?" Dusty looked up at Nellie standing
behind the counter with her pen poised above her note pad.

"What can I get you?" she repeated.

"Root beer and..." She glanced up at the
list of prices written in chalk on a big black board and added,
"Fries."

"Up in a few, but I'm a bit short-handed
today," Nellie told her, bustling toward the kitchen to place the
order. Nellie was always short-handed, but it was worse in the
summer. Winter inevitably saw a drop in the tourist traffic because
of the cold and snow, but business at Nellie's was always
booming—she owned the one and only restaurant in Larkspur.

Dusty turned her swivel stool around. It was
the lunch time crowd, all regulars, sitting in booths and at
tables. Most were over from Adison, a small town to the west of
Larkspur where there were limestone and iron ore mines.

Dusty hoped her eyes and nose weren’t too
red from crying. Cougar had let her go on and on, just holding and
rocking her, and although she flushed now in embarrassment at the
memory, it had been good, just exactly what she’d needed. After
that, she couldn’t ask him what she’d planned, couldn’t delve into
his conversation with Mike and his speculations about the alleged
“animal attacks.”

But now Cougar's words
kept coming back to her, and the fear clutched and groped at her
belly. It went nicely with cramps. Tom had touched upon her
suspicions when she was in the florist, but Cougar, he’d added
something she’d been looking for all along, opening up a new
dimension. Cougar had presented proof—y
ou
know a bobcat who can open doors?

She shuddered. The thought
of Nick lying on the floor of the mausoleum
—like he got himself caught in a meat
grinder—
was too gruesome and painful to
imagine, but it was worse than that—
he
looked inside out—
it was deplorable. He
didn't deserve to die—not that way, in the middle of nowhere at the
hands of—
of what?
The violation of it heated her chest and filled her throat.
She recognized the desire, burning thick and almost comforting—it
was a lust for vengeance. She wanted retribution.

“
Dusty.”

Startled, she turned
toward the voice. “Billy…hi.” She remembered seeing him at the
funeral, his dark head bent next to Shane’s, so out of place in a
suit and tie. Today he was back in jeans, ripped and tattered as
usual, and looked more like she remembered him from high school,
although the
“Coldplay”
t-shirt was new.

“
Sorry I didn’t come by
after the funeral,” he apologized. “I had to work.”

That makes one of us, Dusty thought.
Although her career was dangling over the edge of a deep ravine, it
was actually the least of her worries, and that irony didn’t escape
her.

“
That’s okay. Where are
you working?”

Billy looked down at the front of his
t-shirt. “I’m a walking advertisement.”

“
Guitar lessons?” she
guessed, remembering that he’d had the typical high-school rock
star aspirations of any young male guitar player.

“
Guitar, piano, whatever
pays the bills,” he agreed, waving to Nellie and calling, “Pick
up!” She gave him an acknowledging nod, slipping behind the counter
and heading back toward the kitchen.

“
You still play?” she
asked. She’d only heard him on the few occasions Nick had allowed
her to tag along with them, but she remembering being impressed
with his talent. “I mean, for yourself…”

“
Don’t do much for myself
anymore.” He snorted. “Hey…I’m really sorry about Nick. Really
sorry.”

“
Thanks.” She nodded,
trying to ignore the pain blossoming in her chest at the mention of
his name. Part of her understood Julia’s need or desire to put
everything away. If people would just stop talking about
it…

“
I only just saw him the
week before, when I went to see my mom in the hospital.” Billy gave
Nellie a five when she set a brown paper bag stapled shut across
the top on the counter. “Thanks, Nell, keep the change.”

“
Oh the generosity,”
Nellie replied, rolling her eyes but pocketing the cash.

“
That was the last time
you saw him?” Dusty asked, remembering Chris’ denial that he hadn’t
seen Nick the night before he’d—
been
killed
—died.

“
I think so.” Billy stood,
frowning. “Days run together for me nowadays. My mom’s got lung
cancer and has been in and out of the hospital for the past few
months.”

“
I’m so sorry.” Dusty
squeezed his arm, wishing there was some other way to express
sympathy besides that pat phrase. She was tired of hearing it
herself.

“
Thanks.” He gave her a
small smile, his eyes veiled, and she’d given it to others enough
to recognize the look. He glanced at his watch and then said, “I’ve
got to run. Good seeing you. How long will you be in
town?”

She hesitated. It was a
good question. How long
was
she going to be in town exactly?

When she didn’t answer, Billy went on.
“Maybe I’ll see you around before you go?”

“
Sure,” she agreed as he
moved away, heading toward the door with a short wave. She blinked
after him, surprised how much he had changed. He wasn’t the Billy
she remembered at all, the extrovert, the flirt, the one who had at
least two girls hanging on him at all times. This Billy was a more
somber version.

Maybe Nick was right, she thought, turning
back toward the counter and taking a sip of the drink Nellie had
left for her. Maybe people do change. Or maybe we never really know
as much as we think we do about who they are…

"Hey, came in ’cuz I saw the Jeep outside.”
Shane took a seat on the stool next to her, the one Billy had
vacated just moments before. “Gave me quite a start for a minute
there."

Dusty faced him, startled herself, not ready
for another trip down memory lane quite yet. Instead, she just
looked at him, and when she didn’t reply, he asked, "What's the
matter? Cat got your tongue? No pun intended, of course."

She didn’t bother to answer him, and she
knew he didn’t really expect one. He looked pale, as if he’d seen a
ghost. The Jeep really had given him quite a shock and she was
glad. The burning in her chest was worse now with him sitting so
near.

"Here you go, Dusty," Nellie said, and Dusty
turned back to the counter where her French fries now sat. "Can I
get you anything, Shane?"

He grinned. "Not unless you recently started
selling alcohol."

"Not here.” Nellie frowned, tucking her pen
behind her ear. “Try the Starlite. Isn’t it about time you parked
your behind over there anyway?”

Dusty sipped her root beer, staying out of
what she knew was coming—Nellie was a teetotaler, an AA addict.

“
I could hop on over there
for you.” Shane taunted her. “Want me to bring you back a
beer?”

"Lee Williams ought to be fined, the way he
lets the kids drink." She patted at her hair, once a luxurious
blonde and now beginning to turn a soft white.

Dusty hid a smirk. It was true that they’d
been able to drink at the Starlite long before they’d turned
twenty-one, and everyone just looked the other way. Kids will be
kids. The “Just Say No” and D.A.R.E. campaign never made inroads
into their rural community.

“
I turned twenty-one a few
years ago, sweetheart.” Shane laughed. “Besides, you know that's
why he gets more traffic than you do from the locals. They prefer
beer with their chicken wings and fries. Why don’t you get a liquor
license, Nellie?”

"Shane Curtis," she said, hands on her hips.
"I happen to be the best restaurant in town, and at least I'm not
stooping to doing anything illegal."

"You're the
only
restaurant in
town.” Shane leaned casually on the counter. “And if Buck Thompson
is willing to look the other way if Lee lets eighteen-year-olds
drink, then why not? It's sure not hurting his business
any."

"It's just wrong, that's why not," Nellie
replied, her eyes blazing.

Shane snorted. “Come off it. So Buck
Thompson gets free drinks, and the guy who checks Lee’s liquor
license is shown a good time. It’s the way the world works.”

“
Not my world,” Nellie
retorted. Dusty was watching them, back and forth, like a tennis
match.

“
No?” Shane’s smile was a
small, cynical thing. “Then why do you hire kids under sixteen
without work permits? If I remember right, little Joe Turner’s just
thirteen, isn’t he? Wasn’t he working behind your counter all
summer?”

"That’s different," Nellie told him after a
moment's hesitation. Dusty saw her jaw working. "And it's none of
your business either."

"Uh-huh,” Shane replied. “Pot. Kettle.
Black. Ring a bell?”

Nellie was so angry she was turning red.
"Shane, I want you—"

"Out of here, and never come back, I know, I
know." He held his hands up in a warding-off gesture. "Don’t get
your panties in a bunch, all right?”

He slid off the stool, still smiling. “Be
seeing you, Dusty." He nodded in her direction and then strolled
out the door, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"That kid." Nellie made a face. “Him and his
brother—just like their father. Talk about pots and kettles.”

“
But it's true." Dusty
turned away from the door to look at Nellie. "Isn't it?"

Nellie stared at her and then sniffed.
“There’s true, and then there’s true.”

Dusty stared back at her until Nellie
averted her eyes, looking toward the kitchen as if she’d heard
something there to draw her attention.

“
I wouldn’t want the
Starlite’s clientele anyway.” Nellie narrowed her eyes as she
looked at Shane standing outside. “And you know, I wouldn’t put it
past Lee to hire someone underage to work for him, now that Honey
Moore’s got herself in trouble.”

"What happened to Honey?" Dusty asked,
referring to Lee's former often-sought-after waitress.

"Little bit pregnant is what I hear," Nellie
said in a stage-whisper. "Wouldn't surprise me that Lee himself is
the daddy, but she didn't stick around long enough for us to find
out, of course."

"Really?" Dusty asked, but
her interest turned toward the big picture window in the front of
the restaurant. She saw Shane outside in front of Cougar's talking
to Billy. He looked, except for his pale complexion, vigorously
healthy standing there in his leather. She found herself thinking
about what Cougar had said to Mike White, and then remembering the
last time she’d talked to Nick.
He was
with Shane that night.
She knew it was
true. Her instincts were always right, and the only time she found
herself in trouble was when she didn’t follow them.

"That boy is nothing but trouble," Nellie
said, following Dusty's gaze.

Dusty nodded, but she was smiling. It was a
genuine smile, but not without bitterness. She had an idea.

Chapter Five

Dusty guided the Jeep up into the driveway
and cut the engine. She sighed as she pocketed the keys and looked
up at the house. It was a typical two-story white farm house with
black shutters. The paint was chipping and, in some places. it was
coming off in long strips, as if someone had stood there and peeled
it.

There was a barn farther back on the
property. It had been red once, but it had turned gray from the
weather and time. There were acres of unused land behind the house.
It had once been for farming, but her father, unlike his father
before him, was no farmer.

Jay Chandler had decided that there was more
money in business and had gone to Babson College in Boston, where
he had met her real mother, Dustine—Dusty's namesake. Dustine had
still been in high school, but after she’d graduated they were
engaged, and when Jay had received his B.A. in accounting, they
were married.

Dusty knew her father had shifted gears
after a year or so of accounting, deciding to go into architecture.
He went back for a second degree and now owned his own, very
profitable, business. Her mother had never had a career, and Dusty
could remember her always being there—until the cancer. She’d died
when Dusty and Nick were only five. Julia had come seven years
later and a lifetime too late. No one could ever fill their
mother's place.

The house was surrounded by unused land,
most of it trees and woods. Even the barn went unused, except for
storage. Her father's black Range Rover was parked in front of the
garage.

Dusty sighed again, taking in her
surroundings, wondering what she’d been trying to prove, moving to
Chicago, becoming a cop. She’d tried so hard to put her small town
life behind her, to forget, except for Christmas and a few other
holidays, that it even existed. She’d worked so hard to become good
at what she did, eager to earn her stripes, work her way up to
detective. She wanted to prove to everyone—her father, Julia,
Shane, the whole damned town—that she was more than just…

Just Nick’s twin sister.

Stop! She snapped at the voice and it was
gone.

Funny thing was, no one had ever even come
to see her out in Chicago. Not even Nick. Not once. He’d been too
busy practicing law in California, not even in the same time zone
anymore, a million miles away. Her life, her work on the force, had
seemed so important at the time, as if she were building something,
proving something. And now…