Hunting Witches (7 page)

“Maybe,” Kevin shrugged. “You know how kids will press their face against a store door, something like that? It’s possible whoever did this looked into your front window to see if you were home. Might get a print off it.”

“Makes sense,” Mark said.

Nika warmed up Deputy Moon’s coffee, and put the coffee pot back on the warming plate. “So, what’s up with the sheriff?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Deputy Moon asked.

“He doesn’t seem like a cop,” Nika said. “And why does he wear that glove?”

“You’re very observant,” Deputy Moon told her. “It’s not something he likes to talk about, Mrs. Pendleton. But I’ll tell you, confidentially.”

Nika moved closer to the deputy. She liked secrets, and fancied herself quite good at keeping them.

“See, thing is, Sheriff Strahan never quite got over Michael Jackson’s passing. It hit him hard. He had all the albums, knew how to moonwalk, the whole thing.”

“Really?”

“He was devastated when they told him he couldn’t wear his sequined jacket on the job. He said he thought it would help children be less afraid of the police.”

Nika stared levelly at Deputy Moon. “You’re joking with me.”

“I have an odd sense of humor,” Moon said. “I didn’t always. But after working with the sheriff for a little over a year, that changed. I think it had to. I couldn’t have kept working with him if it hadn’t. The sheriff can be a little… dark.”

“But, really,” Nika said. “Why the glove?”

“No idea,” Deputy Moon. “He never talks about it.”

The sheriff came back into the kitchen with the brick in a plastic bag. He explained that there were some numbers on it that were probably some kind of Biblical reference. He would have to do some research to figure out what the message meant.

After that, the deputy left to get some heavy duty plastic to cover up the hole in the front window. He brought back a nail gun, too, and the men left Nika inside while they patched up the outside. Alone.

It wasn’t until everyone else was outside that the events of the evening began to sink in. Nika sat on the couch and pulled the sheet they had been using as a tent around her. She backed up against the arm of the couch, pulled her knees up to her chin and stared at the men outside through the layer of cloudy plastic they were nailing into place. It was flimsy, but then again, two hours ago, she had thought glass was strong.

Attacked in a deserted sub-division. Absolutely senseless. Nika briefly wrestled with the concept of safety being an illusion before sleep washed over her.

***

She woke up with a stiff neck and a slight headache. There was a smell of strong coffee in the air, though, and the mild vanilla scent of pancakes floated just under it. She slowly swung her legs over the edge of the couch and stood up. “Mark?” she called.

Mark came around the corner with a steaming mug of Fair Trade coffee in his hands. “Good morning, sweetness,” he said. “I took the day off work.”

Coffee or not, Nika was furious. “You let me sleep on the couch? By the big fucking hole in the living room? Could I have been any more unsafe? Why didn’t you just dump me in the fucking front garden bed?”

Mark pointed at the end of the couch. “Look,” he said.

Nika did, and at the end of the couch by her feet lay Mark’s two bed pillows.

“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said. “Every time the wind blew across the plastic, it was such a weird noise. Kept me up. But you were exhausted and it seemed stupid to wake you up just so you could go back to sleep. I just crashed out here with you.”

“What time is it?” Nika asked.

“Around ten,” Mark said. “Would you mind taking this coffee? It’s burning my hand.”

Nika scooted off the couch and took the mug from Mark’s hand. He sniffed the air, and then hurried back into the kitchen. “And I’m burning your pancakes!”

Nika giggled and followed him, taking a seat at their two week old kitchen table. Mark was cute when he cooked, stomping about the cooking space like he knew what he was doing. He would mumble at the pans and sweat. It was like watching a kid with a broken arm attempt to make a special treat for Mother’s Day.

Finally, Mark was able to plate three pancakes that weren’t burnt beyond recognition. He got some butter out of the refrigerator and put it on the table. Then he opened one cabinet, then another, then another. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the cabinets. “There’s no syrup. Goddammit. All this and no fucking syrup.” He closed a cabinet door, snorted, then punched it.

“Mark!” Nika came down off her chair and went to her husband’s side.

“It’s the simple things, you know?” Mark said. “Going to sleep. Making a decent breakfast, you know, without forgetting the fucking syrup. Keeping your wife safe in her brand new fucking house. You know, just easy shit, things you do without even thinking about them. And suddenly none of it makes sense, and it all seems incredibly fucking difficult, and I feel hamstrung, Nika. I feel helpless, and we’re in a fucking blast zone! There’s no one else here! I mean, we can’t really blame it on neighborhood kids. There aren’t any! It’s ridiculous!”

Nika slid around behind him, put her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m okay,” she said. “I am. I’m okay, you’re okay and everything is going to be fine. We’ll fix what’s broken and we will carry on from there. Okay? Together. We’ll do it together.”

Mark hung his head and breathed deeply until he was calm. It took a couple minutes. He wasn’t normally one to hit things, and he was a little embarrassed by his outburst. Also, his hand hurt from the impact.

“Feel better, big man?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little. Go on. Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold. I think there’s some apple butter in the refrigerator. That would be good instead of syrup.”

She kissed his shoulder with a loud smack. “I agree!” she said, and opened the refrigerator door to find the apple butter.

There were three sharp knocks on the front door. Nika’s brow furrowed. “Are you expecting someone, Mark?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah!” Mark said. “Before I attempted to make breakfast, I called a glass company for an estimate. I know the plastic curtains are fashionable, but I thought we could get a real window anyway.” He jogged into the living room while Nika ate her pancakes.

The man on the front step had a peanut butter tan and a perpetual squint. He smiled when Mark opened the door. “Hey, buddy!” he said. “Looks like you need a new window.”

“What was your first clue?” Mark asked.

The man chuckled and stuck out his hand. “Tommy Clark from Tommy’s Glass. You Mr. Pendleton?”

Mark shook the man’s hand. “Yes, sir. Good to meet you.”

Tommy motioned towards the shattered front window. “Is this the only injured party?”

“Yeah, somebody heaved a brick through it.”

Tommy whistled through his teeth. “Shit! We don’t get that around here often at all. Usually, somebody gets hammered during a ball game or the ‘rasslin and accidentally falls through the window into the front bushes.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Mark asked.

Tommy spat on the steps. “Oh, son,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” Mark mumbled.

“Hey, Rafferty!” Tommy yelled. “Let’s get to measuring!”

A man climbed out of Tommy’s work truck with a measuring tape. He was wearing a sleeveless denim shirt and jeans with holes and the knees. Mark noticed a tattoo on the man’s arm, still dark, relatively new. It was the face of a man Mark didn’t recognize.

“You can go on back in, Mr. Pendleton,” Tommy said. “Rafferty and I will get this whole thing figured in a few minutes.”

“All right, then,” Mark said, and went back inside.

Nika was finishing up her plate, but she looked up at Mark. “He sounded friendly,” she said, her mouth full.

“Yeah, he’s friendly,” Mark said. “Guy he’s working with is a bit of a lunk, but Tommy seems okay. You may want to put on some more clothes, though.”

“Well, aren’t we provincial this morning?” Nika said.

“I’m having a delicate morning, Nika,” he said. “Can you just do this one tiny thing without it pricking your sensitive feminist interests, which I normally fully respect and support?”

Nika wiped her mouth and stood up. “You know, I’m ashamed to admit this, but it’s a bit of a turn-on when your patriarchal side comes out.” She trotted down the hallway to get dressed.

“Hey, Mr. Pendleton!” Tommy yelled through the broken window. “Think we’ve got you figured out.”

Mark opened the front door. “Come on in,” he said. “Would you like some coffee?”

“If it’s not any trouble,” Tommy said.

“Nah,” Mark said. “It’s already made. No trouble at all.”

He held the door open and the two men entered. They followed Mark into the kitchen. “How do you take your coffee, gentlemen?” Mark asked.

“Just black is fine,” Tommy said. Rafferty held his hand up and shook his head, saying nothing.

“He don’t drink coffee,” Tommy said.

The men were discussing measurements and materials when Nika walked into the kitchen. Mark didn’t notice her at first, but Rafferty did. He raised his eyes without moving his head, making his eye sockets look like dark canyons.

Nika could feel the stranger’s gaze on her, like a tick on bare skin. She instinctively covered her breasts with her arms, but the man’s intense staring didn’t feel sexual. Predatory, yes, but in a different way. She was a cricket and he was a wolf spider.

“Oh!” Mark said. “Hey, babe!” Mark had seen her on the kitchen perimeter and was waving her in to the table. Keeping her chest protected, she walked in.

Tommy quickly offered his hand without waiting to be introduced. “Tommy Clark, Tommy’s Glass.” Nika lightly shook his hand and told him her name. Tommy pointed over his shoulder. “That there’s Rafferty. He don’t talk much.” Rafferty nodded once. Nika waved politely.

“Well, the good news is this is not going to cost nearly as much as I thought it was going to,” Mark said. “Tommy says the glass that was…”

“See, the glass what was in there,” Tommy interjected, “was just some cheap single pane glass. Something could have flown up while you were mowing the lawn and chipped that window. We can get you some good reinforced glass, double pane, for about the same as some Bell Plains shyster would charge you for the same shit you had in there. Excuse the language. I ain’t sayin’ it could withstand a brick, but it might.”

“Well, that’s great,” Nika said.

“Sounds like a ‘yes’ from the wife,” Tommy said.

“How long will it take you to get it replaced?” Nika asked.

“We leave now,” Tommy said, “come back, have it done by four in the afternoon.”

Mark clapped his hands. “Gentlemen, you are so charged to fix our window.”

“Huh?”

“Um… git ‘er done.”

Tommy smiled. “All right, then! We’ll be back in a bit!” The men shook Mark’s hand vigorously as they left, like a preacher after a particularly short sermon.

When they had left, Mark laughed. “That Rafferty is an affable character, isn’t he?”

Nika waggled the fingers on both her hands. “Creepy.”

“While we’re waiting for them to get back,” Mark said, “Bo gave me the name of the security company who installed the alarm system in the office.”

“Oh, honey,” Nika said. “It’s so much money.”

“We got an ‘old boy’s network’ discount because of Bo. It won’t be that expensive and we obviously need it.”

Before Nika could protest any more, the phone was in Mark’s hand. That was settled, then. Mark was in alpha male mode. It was better just to let him handle it.

When Tommy Clark came back, Mark wandered outside with them to shoot the shit. Nika went into the backyard. She had gotten her fill of macho bullshit for the day and chose not to listen to them yammer on about power tools.

Late fall afternoons in Elders Keep felt like mid-summer other places. The sun was out and the birds and insects were having a shouting match, trying to drown each other out. Humidity was beginning to thicken the air, and Nika was covered by a fine sheen of sweat before she knew it. She put her hand against one the standing stones. It was cool against her palm. What to do with this section of the yard? She pondered planting different flowers around the base of each of the three monoliths. Perhaps a seasonal plan, like planting mums around one for fall, begonias around one for summer, tulips for spring. Nothing for winter, of course, the season of death. Leave the ground fallow. Let it rest.

Then again, the stones were almost the same height. She could put a canopy across the top, something natural looking, organic. She walked backwards away from the stones, trying to gauge how tall and how far apart they were. She didn’t want to put anything up that would look like she was growing pot and trying to hide it from the cops. She had seen that in movies.

The thought of iced tea ran through her mind, and it seemed like the best idea in the world. Nika turned to go back into the house and bumped off of Rafferty’s chest. She stumbled backwards. Rafferty scowled down at her. Nika stifled a scream. He was looking at her that way again, and she was sure something terrible was going to happen to her in her own backyard. A monster had gotten in, and she was powerless against it.