Ann Aguirre - Hell Fire

I remembered the grisly pile of mementos and shivered. Chance’s arm went around my shoulders in a casual gesture that stole my breath. He’d never been attuned to me like that before; or if he had been, he never showed it. A surge of renegade warmth curled down my spine as he nestled me against his side. He didn’t even seem aware of what he was doing, as he listened to the crackpot theory Dale Graham was espousing.

I tried to be gentle when the reporter finally stopped talking. “I don’t think this has anything to do with pixies, killer clowns, or lawn gnomes that come to life in the dark of the moon.”

No wonder the authorities didn’t consider him a threat. Between the drugs and his penchant for tabloid journalism, nobody would ever take this guy seriously. We gave his words credence only because we’d seen things ourselves—and even then, we couldn’t believe everything he said.

“They’re watching us,” he concluded with a flickered look around the diner. “I haven’t figured out how yet, but they know where I am all the time.”

“Maybe we could see your journal,” I cut in.

That would likely prove more helpful than listening to him ramble about secret government bases hidden beneath Kilmer, alien breeding programs, and conspiracies that could only be thwarted with the persistent donning of tinfoil hats. The only guy in town willing to talk to us seemed nutty as a Snickers bar.

“I keep it hidden,” he said. “I don’t want them to realize how much I know.”

Well, I hadn’t thought he kept it in his pocket. If it represented years of conspiracy research, it was probably a pretty hefty notebook, maybe even more than one. I guessed it would be secreted in his house somewhere.

“Where do you live?” Chance asked, making the decision for me.

Graham glanced between us with narrowed eyes, as if he thought we might be plants from the establishment. His gaze lingered on Shannon, who said, “It’s okay. I know how you feel about my mom. I won’t come if you don’t want me to.”

That seemed to reassure him, though I didn’t know why. “Out on Rabbit Road,” he said. “All the way at the end, just before the road runs out. You can’t miss the place.”

“I know where it is,” Shannon said.

So did I, actually. He was on the other side of the woods from us, but just as close to those watchful trees. I repressed a shudder.

“Be there at nine tonight,” Graham said, and crammed the last bite of his pie into his mouth. “I’ll need time to retrieve my journal.”

So he didn’t keep it at home. Interesting. But then, homes had a way of burning down in Kilmer, didn’t they? I couldn’t imagine where a half-crazed relic from the sixties would hide something.

The reporter excused himself with a jaunty wave out of keeping with the ominous tone of our meeting. After he’d gone, Shannon scooted out and sat down next to Jesse, who made room in the booth for her. She didn’t look at us, instead studying the milky reflection of her hands clasped on the white Formica table.

“I didn’t tell you everything,” she whispered. “Dale knows that. Whatever’s going on, my mom is part of it. That’s why I was so desperate to get away. Because I think . . . whoever is a part of this mess is planning to do something to me . I heard her arguing with my dad about it one night.”

That would certainly explain her father’s misery, although I didn’t understand why he hadn’t just grabbed Shannon and run. I could certainly comprehend a parent doing all manner of things to protect his child. I didn’t understand inaction.

“When was this?” Jesse asked gently.

I wondered what he felt from her, this thin, big-eyed girl who was scarcely more than a child. His hand came to light on the top of her spiky, blue-streaked head, and she turned her face into his shoulder. I definitely grasped the appeal of that. Jesse had a way of making a woman feel safe.

“Last week,” she muttered, voice muffled by his shirt. “Just before y’all got here.”

“You must have been terrified.” Saldana petted her as if she were a stray puppy he’d found.

She sniffed. “Yeah. But I couldn’t let her know how happy I was to see somebody who might be able to help, so that’s why I acted like such a jerkwad when we first met.” Jesse looked puzzled, as he hadn’t been on-site to receive Shannon’s rudeness firsthand.

I waved that away. Her “rebellious teen” act was the least of our concerns. Before I could comment on what the reporter had said, the waitress swung by to find out if we meant to order anything besides coffee. She was a stout woman with big, stiff hair, a pink polyester uniform, and sensible shoes. When she recognized Shannon, her brows pulled together like an angry centipede.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, Shannon Cheney? Does your mother know you’re gadding about with strangers?” Her disapproving gaze took in the way Jesse was holding the girl, and her mouth tightened.

I could have assured the waitress he didn’t have lascivious intentions, but I doubted she’d believe me. She also wouldn’t credit that Shannon was scared of Sandra, who looked like the perfect mother. Appearances could be deceiving—could they ever.

“If she didn’t before, she’ll find out the minute you get a break.” Shannon didn’t look concerned. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her faith in us.

“Let’s get out of here.” I didn’t want to be here when her mother showed up breathing fire and brimstone. She might not be able to physically remove her child, but she could—and would—make our stay in Kilmer unpleasant. I didn’t look forward to the inevitable confrontation.

“Check, please.” Jesse offered the waitress his best smile, but she glared at him.

We paid the bill, just coffee and Dale Graham’s peach pie, then made our way back to the Forester. It was a gray day, heavy and overcast. A cool, damp wind blew over us, carrying the scent of distant fires. I couldn’t imagine what anybody would be burning in the middle of the day, but it sent a shiver of foreboding over me nonetheless.

“Something’s going to happen soon,” Chance predicted.

“I wish that struck me as a good thing,” I muttered as I climbed into the SUV. “But it absolutely doesn’t.”

“Me either.” Chance seemed grim as he settled beside me in the backseat. “Dale said events are escalating.”

Saldana started the car, made sure Shannon had on her seat belt, and checked our surroundings in the rearview mirror. I felt like people were watching us from behind their blinds and curtains, planning something so bad I couldn’t conceive it. Though I wanted to tell myself I was being irrational, I couldn’t.

I’d died out in those woods. If not for Jesse Saldana, I wouldn’t be sitting here. I found it hard to get my breath. Since my mother’s death, Kilmer had shaped my bogeymen and my nightmares, filling them with dark beasts that knew my name.

I scowled in reaction. “He also said we could blame everything that’s wrong in Kilmer on breeding experiments instituted by J. Edgar Hoover, using genetic material recovered from the Roswell crash.”

Jesse laughed as he pulled onto the road. “He’d make a great poster child for antidrug campaigns, wouldn’t he? So where to?”

Mentally I tabulated our schedule. We needed to be at Miss Minnie’s house for dinner by six, and we should check in with Chuch, Booke, and Chance’s mom before the day got too much later. At nine, we would swing by Dale Graham’s house on Rabbit Road.

After a moment’s thought, I said, “We should check out Little Ed Willoughby, if Shannon knows where he lives.”

“They have a place in the old neighborhood, four blocks from the hardware store.” Shannon gave Jesse directions.