Page 32 of Weatherman

“What did you see?”

Mute gave Weatherman a dirty look and pulled at his beard before whipping out his phone.

Mute: 10 oil drums. Clean. Holes.

Oil drums themselves were nothing, but with cutouts in the sides? That meant possible bear baiting. Food was stuffed and sealed into the containers and then put out along known bear paths. The purpose was to attract as many animals as possible inone area for easy hunting. Illegal as hell in North Carolina. Add some heavy-duty horse sedatives and it was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Weatherman hated the pun.

Mute: Lot of bags of cheap dog food. No dogs around.

Bingo. If it looked like a duck, walked like a duck, and quacked like a duck, it had to be a duck. The problem was, the drums and dog food were circumstantial, and they would be hard-pressed to get a search warrant. Weatherman had the impression from Clem that even if they did get a deeper dive at the place, there wouldn’t be any hard evidence to convict.

He inhaled sharply. “We need more. This isn’t enough to go on yet.”

Mute: The guy who owns the tackle shop by the lake talked about his favorite hunting spot once. Real private and hard to get to, so he didn’t go there often, but he always saw a lot of deer and bears. Somewhere between Peachtree Creek and Andreas Branch.

The mountains were full of backcountry campsites, trails, and other hidden spots. The idea of a secret place for hunting was not some wild theory—these forests were huge and thick with areas no one had ever seen before.

Mute: We need to get this to Brick. Nothing else we can do now. Stay alert at the Halloween ride.

A grimly pressed mouth sat on Mute’s face, echoing his bad mood. Hopefully, getting home to his woman and children would soothe the silent beast.

“I’m with you. I’ll share with Chief Wilson, but his hands are tied for now.”

His phone buzzed with a text, and he was surprised to see it was from Opal. She’d come by the house the same night after helping with his mom and brought Pearl with her. The sausage stew was one of his favorites from his childhood, and most of the root vegetables came from his mom’s gardens. Served with homemade biscuits or cornbread, it was simple and filling. Natalie usually made homemade biscuits, but for this night, they came out of a Pilsbury can. She mentioned that Opal had been the one to fix the tasty meal and was delighted the younger woman came by with her daughter. His mom insisted they stay for dinner, and for the first time in a very long while, the house had laughter in it. The little girl completely charmed his mother as she giggled and played with her stuffed alligator.

Opal: I don’t want to bother you, but Betsey is champing at the bit for me to get the wig fitted for your mom. When would that be convenient for you and her?

Dead mutilated bears. Evidence of illegal baiting. His mother’s cancer. The Halloween event. So many problems piling up. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but something about seeing Opal and Pearl held some appeal. Even with all the shit swirling around, there was a simple peace that came over him when watching the pretty hairdresser and the obvious love and care she had for her child.

Weatherman: Would you be willing to come to my place on your day off this Sunday? I don’t know what she’s got planned for dinner, but bring an appetite. I’m sure she’ll want to feed you and Pearl again.

Opal: She doesn’t need to worry about us. We’re fine.

Weatherman huffed a laugh before answering.

Weatherman: I’m sure you are, but I learned a long time ago not to argue with my mom. It also means something to her to give you a meal for your trouble. Please just let her do it.

For a few seconds, he thought Opal wouldn’t reply, but then a final text came through.

Opal: Okay. I’ll be there around 5:00. Does that work?

Weatherman: Perfect. See you then.

He smiled and slipped the phone back into his pocket. As he turned toward his bike, he caught the speculative expression on Mute’s face. Almost like the big man knew a female had been texting him.

“Mind your own business, Mute.”

He grunted in a strange, garbled laugh as he strapped on his helmet. Even though the huge man couldn’t talk, that didn’t mean he couldn’t communicate. Weatherman expected by noon the next day, it would be all over the club that he was showing some interest in a woman.

CHAPTER 16

I hungup as I sneezed again and wiped the sweat from my brow. Never in my life had I dealt with allergies. Now, for the first time ever, I’d learned of something called ragweed and that the season would last until the first real frost, which so far hadn’t appeared. Apparently, it was a big thing around here, and many people suffered from it with stuffy heads and watering eyes. This morning was the worst, and I felt like crap, but if I didn’t work, I didn’t get paid. I stopped at the drugstore on the way to the salon and armed myself with some generic allergy medications, hoping I would last through the day.

My head hurt as I walked from my car to the salon.

“Uff-da,” I muttered as I took stock of my station and what I needed to replenish. I didn’t have any color jobs for a change and only two appointments this afternoon, but walk-ins were plentiful, so I was sure my chair would be full today.

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