Lines in the Sand (Crossing The Lines #0.5) (3 page)

I stepped back a fraction, knowing what was about to happen.

And did it ever. Just not like I’d imagined.

Jonah crumpled to the ground in a heap when Noah cold-cocked him. He stood glaring down at my friend, his face a cold mask of contempt as he spit on Jonah’s cheek. “It’s time for you to man up, little boy. Man up or shut up.”

As Noah pivoted and strode away like they’d done nothing more than discuss the weather, I realized that we probably had in fact been cursed.

The Menace

I
held out my hand to help Jonah up. He brushed me away and dabbed the blood from his nose. Noah was such a douchebag. I couldn’t wait until I was big enough to beat his ass for all the times he’d tormented us.

I crouched down, not looking directly into my friend’s eyes, instead studying the litter in the gutter as a gust of ocean air blew a Hershey’s wrapper up, swirled it in a 360, then carried it away like a bird in flight.

Beside me, Jonah sniffed, but I didn’t glance over to see if he was crying. Surely he hadn’t let his brother make him cry in public. But then again, I’d never seen Noah go off on him like that before.

I opened my mouth to say we could concoct a cool revenge scheme—Ex-lax pills in a batch of brownies or something—when the old woman from the store slammed her car door and started our way.

Oh, crap.

I scrambled to my feet. “Come on, dude. Let’s go.” Maybe it was her black shawl thing, or her gray hair, or Gus’ story, but my mind was on witch hyper-drive and her beady eyes were freakin’ me the heck out.

Jonah glanced up. He must’ve seen her too, because he sprung to his feet and stumbled back into the storefront.

We spun for the road without another word.

“Boys?” Her voice was startlingly soft, but still commanding.

We had no choice but to stop and turn. My mom had raised me to respect my elders. Even creepy, witch-like ones.

“Ma’am?” Jonah slapped on his perfectly innocent eyes.

I shivered when I realized the parking lot was empty except for the three of us.

She adjusted her shawl. “You were asking Gus about a woman? Lettie?”

I swallowed, my nervousness battling my sudden curiosity. I nodded and stepped in her direction. “Yes, ma’am. Did you know her?”

“Dude!” Jonah hissed under his breath, obviously upset I was consorting with a potential witch.

She glanced at Jonah’s face and pulled a Kleenex from her purse. “Your lip is bleeding, young man.”

I could feel his hesitation. She obviously did, too, because she made no move to come closer. She just stood there, the tissue outstretched in her hand. Finally, she sat on the bench a few feet from us. “I just thought you might want to know what I remembered about the old woman Gus told you about. I didn’t come over here to bother you.”

I nudged Jonah with my elbow. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I sat next to her and Jonah reluctantly sat on the edge furthest away.

She reached across me and handed him the Kleenex.

“Thanks,” he said and held it to his lip.

“So why’d you let that boy do that to you, anyway?” she asked.

Jonah’s gaze stayed glued to his lap. “He’s my older brother.”

“Ah,” she said as she settled back into the bench, but she didn’t say more.

“So,” I said, trying to get things back on track. “Lettie? Was she really a . . . a witch?” I choked out the last word.

The woman huffed out a sarcastic half-laugh. “The people of this town weave some pretty fantastic tales.” She looked me in the eye. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Reed, ma’am.”

“Well, Reed, I know exactly who Gus was talking about—and she was no witch. She was just a harmless, old, misunderstood woman. Her name wasn’t even Lettie. It was Mildred Spencer. And I’ll never forget her because I nearly killed her dog.”

“Her dog?” Jonah asked, caught up in her story and practically leaning on me. I shoved him back.

“Yes, her dog. Now, that thing was a mean, flea-bitten mongrel. An absolute menace to society. It constantly got into everyone’s trash, growled and snapped at everyone but children, bothered people on the beach. It was horridly filthy. Why she kept it, I have no idea. I’m pretty certain she was a bit touched in the head.” She made small circling motions at her temple to indicate the other woman must’ve been a Froot Loop.

“So you killed her dog because it was mean?” I think my jaw dropped. This old lady was a dog murderer?

She laughed. “I said I
nearly
killed her dog. And I think it would’ve done society a favor if I had. But, it was an accident. It darted out in front of my car and I only grazed it. But she absolutely went crazy like I’d done it on purpose.”

“Wow,” Jonah said.

She looked over. “Your lip’s not bleeding anymore.”

“Thanks.” He dropped the hand from his lip and crumpled up the tissue in his fist. “What happened to the dog?”

“I don’t know. She rushed it to Dr. Thomlin, then they both disappeared shortly after that. He may know more. But, all I can tell you is this town was happy to see them go.”

“So,” I started, all of this getting me thinking, “if the old woman with the dog wasn’t Lettie, then who was?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Jonah and I exchanged a look. As relieved as I was that it looked like we may not be cursed by a witch, we sure were getting nowhere fast.

The Hero

A
fter lunch, Jonah and I sat on my back patio, silently contemplating everything we’d heard that morning. Just behind our backs, only a measly wall separated us from the bone of a potential witch, or at least a mean old woman.

Either one was creepy.

Mom poked her head out the back door. “Hey, boys.” She smiled her special smile that she reserved only for Jonah. “Hi, sweetie. You stayin’ for dinner?”

Jonah glanced up and she caught her first good look at his face.

“Oh, my God! What happened to you?” She rushed over and tugged his chin up. “Who did this?” Her brows turned down and she shot me a quick look.

“Noah,” he mumbled.

“Your brother?” She sounded shocked. Why, I don’t know. She knew what a prick he was.

He nodded.

“Does it hurt?” She shook her head. “Of course it does. Stupid question. Let me get you something. Then you call your parents and tell them you’re staying the night. You’re not going home to that. If they have a problem, you let me talk to them.” She stomped to the back door. “Did you tell them about this?”

Jonah looked down at his tennis shoes and I felt sorry for him. “No, ma’am.”

We’d been through this with my mom and his parents in a dozen different situations probably a hundred times. They forgot where he was, his dad drank too much and humiliated him, his weird mom left him and his siblings to be cared for by his shithead of a brother . . . and on and on. It turned out the same way every time, but my mom never let Jonah be embarrassed about it. And he loved her for it. I couldn’t blame him.

I’m sure it all had something to do with her childhood, but she never really talked about it. I never saw my grandparents, and when I asked about it, she would only say that they were “negligent” and that she was determined to raise me and my sister differently. Sometimes I wondered if she was raising Jonah, too.

“Sorry, man,” I said when my mom was gone.

“It’s all right,” Jonah said. “She’s cool.”

I nodded and kicked at the wooden deck plank under my sneaker. “Wanna go to the beach?” We still had a few hours of daylight.

“Nah.”

“Video games?”

“Nah.”

“So, what do you wanna do, then?”

He glanced up at me, squinting against the summer sun. A big, gray bird zipped by behind him to my mom’s feeder. He shrugged. “I wanna find out who Lettie is.”

My stomach knotted. “How?”

“Why don’t we go ask the vet, Dr. Thomlin, like the old lady at the store said? Maybe he’ll remember something about the woman whose dog got ran over.”

I sucked in a breath. What did we have to lose? “Okay.”

Jonah nodded. “Just let me go call my mom real quick and let her know I’m staying over.”

“I’ll meet you out front after I tell Mom we’re heading into town. I’ll tell her we’re going to mess around at the beach.”

Jonah grinned. “Cool.”

Dr. Thomlin’s office smelled like wet dog and antiseptic. Pictures of all different dog and cat breeds lined the walls, as well as pamphlets about animal health and all natural dog food.

We waited several minutes while the middle-aged, frumpy receptionist eyed us—probably because we came with no pets—until Dr. Thomlin was available.

Finally, the tall, reed-thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and his pants hiked up a little too high for fashion, stepped into the lobby. “Boys? I’m the vet. What can I do for you?”

We jumped up from the squeaky vinyl seats and I wiped my hands on my jeans, suddenly nervous, though I wasn’t sure why. He was our third person to ask about the mysterious Lettie.

Jonah jumped right in. “Sir, we’ve been looking for a woman who disappeared from town several years ago. We’ve been told you might remember her because she brought her dog to you when it was run over.”

The vet tilted his head, obviously puzzled. “Well, uh, wow . . . can’t say as I know about any women who’ve gone missing around here.” He scratched his stubbled chin. “When did you say this was?”

I swallowed. “It would’ve been about forty years ago, sir.”

His eyes widened, obviously taken aback. “Forty years?”

“Yes.”

“Now, why are you looking for someone who disappeared long before you were born?”

We both shrugged and kept our mouths shut.

He squinted his eyes and started to back away as if suspicious. “It’s a family thing,” I spouted off the first thing that came to mind.

“Ah.” He slicked a hand across his balding head. “And why did you come to me again?”

I shuffled on my feet and I could sense Jonah’s growing anxiety. “We were told you were one of the last people to see them before they disappeared from town when she brought her dog in after it was run over. We were hoping you’d know what happened to them.”

He nodded and pinched his chin as if in deep thought. “Well, boys, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I see hundreds of dogs each year, and I’m nearing retirement age. Heck, I rightly passed that age a while back, but I just can’t give up the work.” He gave a rueful smile. “And unfortunately, I don’t think I can help you find any missing women.”