Broom and Gloom Page 4

  There wasn’t much to say. I’d applied for other positions, but then Riley had been shot and I’d stuck around to help him out. He’d broken up with me on the advice of his therapist. I’d met another man who any woman would be lucky to be with, and I’d just turned down a trip to Africa with him in order to figure myself out, a task I would work on completing for the rest of my life, it seemed.

  My life, at the moment, was complicated.

  For that matter, my life always seemed complicated.

  I grabbed my purse. “Let’s go meet Trace.”

  I needed to promptly tell my future stepbrother that I’d gotten absolutely nothing accomplished in the investigation he hired me for.

  Dr. Stone and I started across the dirt parking lot toward a nondescript building in the distance. It reminded me a bit of a biker bar, only there were no bikes outside. The place was in the middle of ranch country, and in the distance I could see a house, a barn, and miles and miles of fences.

  A line of people stood outside waiting to get in, and I could already hear music coming from inside. Trace had told me that this was the place the band had gotten their start, so it only made sense to have their release party here as well.

  “This is great,” Dr. Stone said, crossing his arms beside me as a satisfied smile stretched across his face as we approached.

  “A nice change of pace from looking at blood spatter?”

  “You can say that again. Don’t get me wrong—I love what I do. But variety helps to keep things fresh. It helps life to stay interesting.”

  I had to admit that I’d never been to a CD release party before, and I didn’t know exactly what to do. Wait in line? Go straight to the door? Trace had mentioned I was a VIP, so I was supposed to get certain privileges, right?

  I decided to head toward the entrance, toward a large, oversized man who must be the bouncer. He glowered down at me as I approached.

  “Can I help you?” His beefy arms made it clear he was not someone to be messed with.

  I decided to act like I knew what I was doing. “My name should be on the list. Gabby St. Claire.”

  He uncrossed his arms for long enough to scan a clipboard. Finally, he grunted and nodded toward the interior of the building. “Go on in.”

  I turned toward Dr. Stone, not realizing he was so close, and I slammed into a solid wall of muscle. “Sorry . . .” I muttered, feeling like I’d just breached a professional boundary.

  He grinned—though barely—and held the door. “No problem.”

  We slipped inside. The place was huge, much larger than I expected. In the center, there was a large open area. Probably for country line dancing, but right now it was full of people. Tables lined the sides, and a stage was at the front.

  Trace and the band warmed up onstage. I quickly noted some members of the press—easily identifiable by their notepads and/or cameras. There were groupies huddled close to the stage. I even noticed a few other country music personalities lingering by one of the tables.

  Just then, Trace hopped down from the stage and made his way toward me. “Gabby, glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.” I turned toward Dr. Stone. “Trace, this is Dr. Stone. Dr. Stone, this is—”

  “Please, Gabby. Call me Levi.” He turned back to Trace. “And I’m well aware of who this is. I’m a big fan.”

  “Honored to hear that, and glad you could both make it,” Trace said as the two men shook hands.

  “It was an invitation I couldn’t turn down,” Levi said.

  “Jody, can you come here for a minute!” Trace called across the floor.

  A woman behind the merchandise booth came toward us, a bag in her hand. She flashed a smile at me during the handoff, like she knew something I didn’t.

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” Trace told her.

  I watched carefully, curious about what was going on.

  Trace turned back to me, his eyes dancing with light. “I’ve always wanted a sister. Have I said that yet? Mostly because I wanted someone to pick on, but that’s beside the point. So, for that reason, I thought it was only fitting that you have this.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a brown cowboy hat.

  I stared at it a moment. Before I could even reach for it, Trace put it on my head. It felt snug and smelled like leather.

  “What do you think?” Trace waited for my reaction.

  I tugged on the brim, wishing there was a mirror nearby so I could get a better look. “I love it. Thank you.”

  “I can’t have my sister standing out like a sore thumb here. You know? That’s what family does. Family watches out for each other.”

  Something about his words warmed me. That’s the kind of family I’d always wanted to have. For a moment, I felt like I did have it. I tugged the brim of the hat again and nodded my thanks. “I appreciate that.”

  “Now you look like a true country girl,” Levi agreed.

  “We just have to get you some boots next, right, little lady?” Trace said.

  I started to correct him when I recognized the affection in his voice. I grinned instead. “Right, maybe I’ll trade in my flip-flops for something with a little more country flair.”

  He took a step back and pointed to me. “A band is going to open for us, and then we’re on. Sit back and enjoy yourselves. It should be a fun night.”

  With that, he bounded back onstage. I found a place with my back against the wall. Call me crazy, but ever since I’d been nearly murdered by a serial killer, I didn’t like to have my back toward a crowd. It just felt too risky.

  I was all ready to ask Dr. Stone—I meant, Levi—about forensics, when the opening band went onstage and started. The music was good, but loud, which made it impossible to talk. Levi was into the music, clapping and hooting and cheering.

  Halfway through their set, which was longer than I’d anticipated, I started to feel a touch claustrophobic. The crowds felt like they were closing in, I was hot, and I couldn’t seem to get a deep breath.

  “I’m going to step outside a moment,” I said in a loud whisper.

  Levi nodded and kept clapping.

  I went out the front door, by crowds of people who were gathered there, talking loudly and drinking. This must be the overflow lot for concertgoers. I quickly skirted around the building and paced around to the fence at the back.

  A cow grazed in the distance. The outline of a barn stood across the field. The peaceful scene was a stark contrast to the jostling crowds and loud music inside.

  I leaned against the rough wood for a moment, marveling at how different my life was now than I’d anticipated. The same cycles seemed to repeat themselves over and over in my life. Even worse, I’d allowed myself to be at their mercy, nearly for my entire existence. That was going to change. Somehow, Oklahoma was going to be the place where all of that happened. I could feel it in my blood.

  I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I needed to get back inside, but I could still hear the sounds of the opening band blaring from the inside of the building. Maybe just a few more minutes out here.

  Just then, a man walked around the side of the building, wiping his forehead with a white handkerchief. He froze when he saw me. “Sorry. I thought I’d be alone out here.”

  “Just getting some fresh air.”

  He hesitated a moment and then came to stand beside me at the fence. He tucked his handkerchief into the pocket of his brown leather jacket. “You a fan?”

  “Something like that.”

  He nodded slowly. The man was probably in his late forties. I hated to notice only the obvious, but his most predominate feature was his ears, which stood out from his face considerably. His thin face only accentuated the feature, as did his skinny jeans, slim-fitting T-shirt, and tailored jacket.

  “I used to be a fan,” he muttered, his lips drawing into a tight line.

  “Used to be? Then why are you here?”

  He continued to stare straight ahead. “I thought I’d come and show my
support. Then I realized it was a bad idea. Just another bad mistake that I’ve added to an already long list.”

  It sounded like there was a story there, but I didn’t ask. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He wiped his mouth, and that’s when I noticed he was still sweating. It wouldn’t have been strange inside, where people were packed between the walls like cattle at auction. But out here it was probably thirty degrees. That’s when I realized he wasn’t sweating because it was hot. His heat was internal.

  “I’m sorry to be pouring all of this out to you,” he said. “I think I’ve had too many drinks. Don’t worry. I called a taxi. It should be here any minute. I just couldn’t take those giggling Ryan-ites at the door.”

  “Ryan-ites?”

  “You haven’t heard the term? Yeah, it’s what the press is calling all the women who are in love with Trace.”

  “I take it there are a lot.”

  He let out a rumbling chuckle. “Yeah, to say the least. He’s gotten himself into some real pickles.”

  The man sounded like he knew Trace. Interesting. “Has he?”

  He shook his head, as if realizing he was talking too much. He turned, and his shoulders slumped. “Finally. My cab. Catch you around.”

  I realized it had gone silent inside. Trace must be getting ready to play. That meant I should get back to the concert.

  I took my first step toward the door when I heard something that made me pause. My skin pricked as I waited to hear it again. It was a voice. At least, that’s what it sounded like to me.

  Finally, after several moments of silence, I let out a feeble laugh. I must have been hearing things. I took another step when I clearly heard it again.

  “Help me!”

  The voice had come from the direction of the field.

  Had one of the Ryan-ites had too much to drink and wandered off?

  I had no idea.

  “Please! Help!” The voice rose in intensity and pitch.

  I knew I had to do something.

  “Hello?” I called. I gripped the rough wood of the fence, wishing I had someone to text or call. But Trace was now onstage, where he wouldn’t hear his phone, and I didn’t have Levi’s phone number.

  Besides, I should be able to handle this. There was nothing out here but wide, open spaces and a couple of trees. I’d programmed myself to overreact, to see danger in every situation. It was silly, a byproduct of the job.

  “I’m over here. In the pasture. I was taking a walk and I sprained my ankle.” She let out a moan.

  My heart slowed. That seemed like a logical enough reason. She was just a woman with bad luck who needed a hand. I’d been there before.

  I hated to miss Trace’s set, but at least I’d been out here to help someone in need. Maybe God had placed me in the right place at just the right time.

  “Keeping talk. I’m coming.” With a touch of reservation, I climbed over the fence. Just as I did so, the full moon above me disappeared behind a cloud. Chills washed over me as darkness hung heavier, blacker.

  Quickly, I pulled up the flashlight on my phone to help light my steps.

  There are just cows around here, I reminded myself. Harmless cows. Docile cows . . . right? I’d never been close to one before. Not really, at least. But based on all the Far Side cartoons I’d enjoyed growing up, I had nothing to worry about.

  “I feel so stupid,” the woman said. “All my friends are inside, though.”

  “Don’t feel stupid. I’ve gotten myself into some strange situations before, also.” Wasn’t that the truth? By all reasonable explanations, I should be dead. I’d faced death on more than one occasion.

  As I walked farther into the pasture, the scent of manure filled the air around me. The grass beneath my feet—what little of it there was—felt dry and crisp. The air was cold, and a steady breeze concealed any subtle noises.

  “You’re almost here.”

  I shone the light ahead but still didn’t see anyone. I rounded a tree, certain I’d find the woman on the other side. Instead, no one was there. I paused. How strange.

  Before I realized what was happening, something hit me on the back of the head. Then everything went black.

  CHAPTER 5

  I awoke to darkness. With a pounding headache, I pushed myself up, something rough and prickly under my palms.

  Where was I? What had happened?

  As what appeared to be miles of nothing appeared around me, everything flashed back.

  I’d been trying to help the girl who twisted her ankle. Someone hit me on the head, and now here I was. On the ground. Bristly grass beneath my fingers. A tree behind me, its roots rough under my hands.

  I was still in the pasture, I realized. Why in the world had someone knocked me out?

  I reached in my pocket and felt my wallet and keys. A quick survey of the ground, and I spotted my phone. I hadn’t been robbed, but someone was definitely trying to send some kind of message.

  After rubbing my head one more time and straightening my back, I glanced around. All the way around this time. In the distance, I saw the lights from the café. So maybe I hadn’t been miles and miles away from civilization. But it had felt like it for a minute.

  My fingers shook as I picked up my phone. I turned on the flashlight again. Using the beam to illuminate any cow patties I might encounter, I began my trek back to the CD release party.

  How long had I been out? I couldn’t remember what time it was when I’d come outside. A glance at my phone told me that it was already ten o’clock. Had anyone noticed I was missing?

  I guessed that was the thing about being alone in a strange new place. There was no one to watch out for you. No one to notice when something was wrong. Not really.

  Was this what Skye Flores felt like? Without a real sense of community around her or even roots, had she been an easy one to target? An easy one to disappear?

  The thought made me sad, but also made me relate with her. I knew what it was like not to have a close family. My best friend was now married and expecting a baby. I was single. It just seemed like everything was changing. I had to change too to keep up.

  I continued toward the lights in the distance, still perplexed over all of this.

  Had Georgia called me out into the darkness and then clobbered me? The idea just seemed too absurd.

  A rumbling noise sounded behind me, but I couldn’t identify what would make that sound.

  Tension stretched across my shoulders.

  I pivoted, trying to see what was happening. But it was dark. So hard to see.

  I raised my flashlight, and it caught the eyes of an approaching . . . animal?

  What?

  I sucked in a deep breath as the creature came closer. Suddenly, I realized exactly what was happening.

  A bull was charging me.

  Not just any bull. A huge one with long horns and red, glaring eyes.

  I’d had many things happen to me in my life. But never, ever had I been chased by a bull. And definitely not by a bull with extremely long, painful-looking horns. Horns that could skewer me, impale me, or do any number of other unpleasant acts.

  Nor had I ever been trained on how to handle a situation like this.

  The trampling sound got louder and louder behind me as the bull quickly lessened the distance between us. I ran, moving as if death was chasing me. Because, essentially, it was.

  I prayed I didn’t sprain my ankle. That I didn’t trip and fall. That my normally clumsy nature wouldn’t kick in.

  Finally, I stole a glance over my shoulder. The bull was only a few feet away!

  But so was the fence. I just had to keep pressing ahead, despite the panic that wanted to freeze me.

  My legs burned. My lungs tightened. My head swam—probably from the earlier blow to it.

  I reached for the fence. The wood scraped my fingers just as I felt something nudge my leg.

  I wasn’t going to make it.

  Panic clutched my heart, made my head s
wirl.

  Before despair claimed me, strong arms reached around my waist. I flew into the air, my legs scraping against the fence. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Sore. Achy. Confused.

  But safe.

  Alive.

  The bull snorted on the other side of the enclosure, staring at me like he’d exact revenge at the first possible moment. He pawed at the dirt and jabbed his horns into the wooden post.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  I looked up and saw . . . none other than Levi Stone. His hands were on his hips, and a look of outrage stained his eyes.

  “I can explain.”

  “What in heaven’s name gave you the idea of going walking in a cow pasture? Please don’t tell me you were going cow tipping.”

  I shrugged, utterly exhausted, as I pushed myself up on my palms. I glanced around. It was just Levi and me out here, but I could still hear the music blaring inside the café. Thank goodness my former professor had been with me tonight.

  “It seemed safe enough. They’re cows, for goodness’ sakes. They just eat grass and moo.”

  He leered. “Bulls. They’re territorial, and they don’t like anyone in their space. You’re obviously a city slicker. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to act around livestock?”

  I ignored the condescending tone in his voice, temporarily giving him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he was just concerned and had a funny way of expressing it. And for that matter, no, no one had ever taught me about livestock, because I’d never lived around livestock.

  I scowled, stood—without his help—and brushed the dust off my jeans. “Someone called for my help. That’s the only reason I crossed that fence.”

  He continued to stare. “Into the bull pasture?”

  I nodded sheepishly, glancing at the field again. The bull must have figured out he’d won the battle and strutted off. “It was a woman. She said she’d hurt her ankle. When I passed by that tree out there, she must have hit me over the head. Next thing I knew, I woke up and Toro over there charged at me.”

  His hands went to his hips, doubt evident in his body language and eyes. “So, you’re saying this was a premeditated act of aggression toward you?”

  “I don’t know.” My voice rose in pitch, right along with my emotions.