I could hear her glider squeaking now. “I…I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Just say it, Chav. You know I don’t like tip-toeing around bad news.”
“Someone…died.” Damn it! The details stuck in my throat.
“Who?” she asked.
“Doc isn’t sure yet, but—”
“What do you mean, he isn’t sure yet? Is it one of the people in for the Jubilee?” My heart squeezed at the small hope in her voice.
I automatically shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “He thinks it’s a local.”
“Who?”
“It’s so bad, Sunny.”
“Not Jo Jo.” Her words were tense with fear.
“No, not him.”
“Take a deep breath, Chav, and tell me.”
How could I say Ed’s name? We didn’t know for sure that it was him. It could be someone else. A stranger. I felt heartsick knowing how relieved I’d feel if it was a stranger. “Billy Bob can’t be sure yet, and I don’t want to say something that might not be true.”
There was a muffled, “Wake up, Babe. Something’s happened in town.” Then a clearer, “Where are you now?”
“I’m at the doc’s place.”
There was a moment of silence. “All night?”
“The sheriff didn’t want me to stay in the apartment after—” My mouth watered as I tried to control the emotion in my voice. “Someone skinned him, Sunny. They skinned him like an animal and slit his throat at the back of our restaurant. I was in the kitchen when…” My voice went up an octave as my horror renewed. “I was right there, by the door, where the body was dumped.”
“I’m coming,” Sunny said. “Babe and I will pick you up in thirty minutes.”
* * *
I tookmy time getting dressed. I didn’t want to face Billy Bob.
Be strong, little wolf.
The voice startled me. I turned my head sharply left then right. I was alone in the room, but I’d heard it. I’d heardhim, the intruder from the night before. Only, I hadn’t because I was alone.It’s just the voice,I told myself.My stupid, stupid voice. The master bathroom door was wide open, the shower had a see-through glass door, and the closet was closed. If the guy were hiding in the closet, he wouldn’t have sounded so clear or so close.
I shook my head. My brain was playing tricks on me. It was the only explanation. Even so, I suddenly wanted to be out of the bedroom and in the kitchen with Billy Bob. Well, really, anyone. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts or my invisible friend.
“Good morning,” the doc said when I shuffled into his kitchen. He’d pulled on a sage green T-shirt that complimented his skin tone perfectly. I wondered if he’d look bad in any color.
“Morning,” I said, accepting the steaming mug of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”
“Sugar’s on the counter.” He pointed to a white spirally sculptured sugar dish. “I’ll get the cream for you.” He opened the large side-by-side refrigerator and pulled a quart container from the door shelf.
The coffee had a nice, pungent, but fresh aroma and after a couple of tablespoons of raw, unrefined sugar and real heavy cream, it was as if I could smell heaven. Or at least what I hoped it smelled like.
“This is really good.”
“I grind my own bean.”
“Of course you do.”