The Better to Bite (11 page)

I dragged my mouth off the floor and rushed to class.

Brent, I noticed, didn’t look my way. Not even once. Great. Now he was acting like Rafe, and if there was one thing I didn’t need…it was two Rafe Channing’s in my life.

***

“So…you’re a witch?”

I jumped at Cassidy’s voice and sent my drink spilling right across the table. I grabbed napkins and tried to mop up the mess. Score. “Would you keep it down, Cass?” I hissed as I automatically shortened her name. “I’m already a favorite enough as it is today. Let’s not start telling folks I’m—”

“You’re what?” Cassidy dropped on the bench beside me. I was eating alone. Jenny had abandoned me to sit with Troy. No, actually, she’d invited me to sit with them both. But Brent was over there, and he was still doing his whole no-eye-contact weirdo thing, so I’d opted to sit alone in the shade.

I wasn’t so alone anymore.

“You know I heard what my gran said, about your mom believing in the power.” She paused. “You’ve got to tell me…was she a witch?”

The girl didn’t have any kind of volume control on her voice. I darted my gaze around. Oh, yes, a few folks were staring at us with wide eyes. I leaned toward her. “Witches aren’t real.” Maybe she believed they were because of Granny Helen and the scam she was—

Cassidy started laughing. Like, the extremely hard laughter that makes tears trickle from a person’s eyes.

I ate my chips and waited for her to calm down.

After a long while, she did. “You’re serious? No, you’re not. I mean, come on…you
know
what Haven is!”

The chip stuck in my throat.

Cassidy must have read my poor, lost expression. “You
don’t
know.”

I had the feeling a history lesson was coming on. Yep, sure enough—

“You at least know about the Salem witchcraft trials, right?”

I put the chips down. No sense choking in front of everyone. “I’ve heard of them.” We’d even covered them in history class a few years ago.

Back in 1692, witch hysteria had swept across Salem, Massachusetts. During the hysteria, nineteen people were hanged as witches, and one poor guy—he’d never confessed to being a witch—had been crushed to death with stones.

What a terrible way to go.

No one had been safe back then. Friends turned on friends. Arrests and tortures were common.

Witchcraft. The mark of the devil.

Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

Some words stayed with you long after the history lesson was over.

I cleared my throat. “What does Salem have to do with this town?”

She leaned toward me. “A group of witches fled Salem before they could be locked up. They fled and came here.”

I just stared at her.

“Don’t you get it?” She demanded. “This place was their haven!”

Okay. I got the name bit, but we needed to clarify something. “Those people who died back in Salem weren’t real witches.”

“No.”

Her fast agreement made me feel much better, but then she said—

“The real witches were smart enough to get out of there before the hangman got them.”

My head was starting to throb. “They got out, and they came here?” That was what she wanted me to believe? Crazy.

Her gaze held mine. “That’s how your family got here, anyway.  Mine didn’t come here until pretty recently.”

No way. I grabbed my tray, ready to high-tail it out of there. I stood, turned, and—

Brent was in front of me. The guy didn’t have so much as a scratch on him. I was still bruised and scraped, and looking like hell, and he looked—he looked All-American. Like he hadn’t taken a life-or-death roll down a mountain.

What was going on?

And why was everyone around me acting like this was normal?

“Can we talk?” Brent asked me.

I managed to move my head in a nod.

He pulled me away from the table—I left my tray behind—and deeper into the shadows of the swaying trees. Leaves fell lightly around us. After a moment, he looked up and finally met my stare. “I’m sorry, Anna.”

I hadn’t expected that line. “For what?”

He glanced away, obviously uncomfortable. “I don’t remember what happened. The last thing…the last thing I can recall is driving in the truck with you—and then waking up in the hospital.”

“Brent—”

“I didn’t mean to wreck, Anna, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what—”

I grabbed his hand. “It wasn’t your fault!”

His brows rose. “I
was
driving.”

“A freaking wolf was running at the truck! You swerved to get away from it!”

His eyes widened. “A wolf?”

“Yes!” He’d better believe me. “Look, stop being sorry. It was an accident. I’m okay.” Mostly. “And you…” My gaze darted down him. “I don’t even know how you’re standing. I thought your ankle was broken or your knee smashed and—”

“Things just look worse at night,” he said, voice smooth. “I barely had a sprain. I’m already good as new.” But his sharp gaze was on my face once more. “You’re sure you saw a wolf? Not a deer or—”

“
It was a wolf.”
Deer, my ass. Like I couldn’t tell the difference between Bambi and a wolf? Folks really needed to start believing me. “That same wolf came at me when I was trapped in the truck. If Rafe hadn’t come to get us out—”

“Good thing he was there.” Only Brent didn’t exactly sound like it had been a good thing.

“He got me out,” I continued doggedly, “then we got you back to your house.”

He studied me a moment, then inclined his head. “I guess I owe him.”

“We both do.”

I became aware of the eyes then. Folks were watching us, but trying to pretend they weren’t. I stepped a little closer to Brent. “Everyone’s pissed at me.” And I was tired of the hate stares. My dad was the sheriff, taking the beer away had been his job. If he hadn’t, he would have found himself kicked out of the office.

Brent stared down at me a moment. “I didn’t even realize…” His breath blew out. “I was so busy feeling like shit, thinking I’d caused you to get hurt.” His hand cupped my chin. “I got this.”

What?

He turned then and stood in front of me, facing the juniors and seniors. “If they’re pissed, they can just get over it,” his voice was loud, carrying easily, and immediately capturing everyone’s attention. “If anyone has a problem with you, then they’ve got one with
me
.”

Wow. Standing up for me in front of the class. Telling them to kiss off. That was awful white knight of him.

And it was hot.

I peered over his shoulder. Most folks were looking away now and acting like they hadn’t been gossiping about us minutes before.

I expected to see Valerie doing her glare routine. But, actually, I didn’t see her at all. I didn’t see Rafe either. I was kind of glad about that. Kind of.

Brent looked back to me. “My mom flew back into town.” A little wince flickered over his face. “She’s not too happy about the party scene, and she’s trying to play
mother.”
There was a world of strain and suffering in the word. “So I’m supposed to be housebound for the next week.”

One week for hosting a blowout party? The woman’s punishment skills were weak. “If I’d had the party,” I told him honestly, “my dad wouldn’t have let me out of the house for at least a month.”

He laughed. “The sheriff’s tough, huh?”

“You have no idea.” I was trying to warn the guy. He didn’t seem to pick up on the warning.

His smile still lingered on his face. “When I’m off prison duty, how about we try a real date?”

That sounded promising. “I could be up for that.”

He caught my hand in his. “After all, we’ve already had a near-death experience. What’s a movie after that?”

He made me want to laugh. Standing there with him then, the wreck, the wolf—even Granny Helen’s crazy stories—all just seemed like a bad dream.

But then I looked up once more, and I caught sight of my dad, standing near the back entrance of the cafeteria. He had his hands on his hips, and his dark gaze swept the area. When he saw me and Brent, his eyes narrowed.

That was his Trouble look. I snatched my hand back from Brent. No girl likes to be caught with a cute guy when—

“
Anna
.”

There was a tight, strained quality in my dad’s voice.

I frowned at him. He’d sure closed in fast.

“We need to talk.”

Brent spun around. “Sheriff Lambert? What are you—”

I realized the principal, Mr. Knoxley, hovered behind my dad. The principal’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously and sweat beaded his very large brow.

“Anna, come with us,
now.”

And I realized my dad was there for one reason—and one reason only—
business.

When I thought about the kind of business that would send my dad after me in the middle of a school day, a tight knot formed in my stomach and for an instant, I slipped into the past.

***

The girl had been missing three days when my dad came to pull me out of class. I was in the middle of my biology exam, and praying hard for a miracle, when he came in.

The teacher stood, but my dad waved him away. My dad’s badge was on his hip, and I guess Mr. Bryer knew better than to get in a cop’s way.

“Family emergency,” my dad said.

My heart stopped at that, but then I caught the almost imperceptible negative shake of his head.

Normally, someone from the office would have come to get me out of class. Not my dad. But…

I soon realized this wasn’t a normal situation.

The bright sunlight hit me when I left the school building.  My dad’s unmarked car waited at the corner. He opened my door, and I slid inside.

He hurried around and climbed into the vehicle.

“Dad, what’s happening?” Not a family emergency. So it wasn’t mom. She’d moved out four months ago, and I hadn’t heard from her. I didn’t know where she was or what she was doing and, yeah, a part of me still hoped that she’d show up on our doorstep.

My dad’s hands tightened around the wheel. “I need you to help me, baby.”

The knot in my gut squeezed real hard. So hard I think I lost my breath. “Dad?” I knew what he meant. He’d been working a case—one that chased him home at night. Girls were going missing, girls close to my age. They’d disappear from bus stops, movie theaters, malls—six of them so far. Just…vanishing. Disappearing for three days. Then on day three, the cops would find a broken body.

I’d seen a picture of one of those bodies. I never wanted to see anything like that again.

“Another girl vanished from her bus stop this morning,” he told me and finally glanced my way. “The Feds in charge of the case don’t have any leads. The girl’s mother came to me, hysterical. She just wants her daughter back home.”

I knew what he was going to ask. I’d even offered to help him before, but he’d told me the work was too dangerous.

He swallowed and, slowly, his right hand left the steering wheel. He pulled a small color photograph out of his pocket and handed it to me. A smiling blonde girl, my age, stared back at me. “This is Caitlin Crenshaw," he told me, voice rasping, "and she’s lost.”

***

The principal’s office door clicked shut behind me, and I jerked back to the present. Mr. Knoxley shuffled around the room and stood behind his desk.

My dad had taken a position blocking the closed door. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just sat in one of Knoxley’s stiff “bad student” chairs.

“Ms. Lambert,” the principal began, “let me first tell you how sorry I am to hear about your recent accident.”

“Thanks.” I was rather sorry to have been
in
the accident, but I managed to hold that comment back. I hoped dad appreciated my restraint.

Mr. Knoxley's head cocked to the left. “You were on your way to a party at Brent Peters’ that night, correct?”

Wasn’t that obvious?

“We have recently learned,” Mr. Knoxley continued in his slightly nasal voice, “that another one of our students, a freshman named Sissy Hamilton, attended that party.”

Uh, okay. “I don’t know her.”

He made what sounded like a faint hum, then revealed, “Sissy never came home.”

I swallowed and glanced back at my dad. His jaw was clenched tight, but as I watched, he took a deep breath and said, “Sissy’s mother and father were in Atlanta for the weekend. They didn’t even realize Sissy was missing, not until they returned late last night.”

The first twenty-four hours are crucial.
Dad had told me that. That was why he’d gotten me to search for Caitlin so soon after her disappearance. But this girl Sissy…she’d been missing for so long now.

“Two of her friends confirmed she was at the party.” Now Mr. Knoxley was talking again. “We think she fled when the sheriff arrived. She’d promised her parents that she’d stay home all weekend.”

So she’d slipped away when the sirens started screaming because she hadn’t wanted to get busted.

“She actually doesn’t live very far the Peters’ house,” my dad said. “So she probably expected just a quick walk through the woods to her place.”

“But we think she became lost.” Mr. Knoxley leaned forward as he said this part.

Lost.

“I’ve got teams searching the woods for her now.” My dad nodded. “They’ve brought in the dogs, and they’re trying to catch her scent.”

“The weather has been mild,” Mr. Knoxley added nearly a second later, “so there is no reason to suspect that any sort of foul play has befallen Sissy.”

I wasn’t so sure. “There are wolves out there, Mr. Knoxley.  A wolf tried to attack me the night of the accident.”

His skin paled a bit.

I glanced at my dad. “What do you want me to do?”

He spared a glance at the principal. “I need to talk to my daughter alone now, Justin.”

“But, I—”

“
Alone.”

Mr. Knoxley’s spine snapped straight up, and he hurriedly shuffled for the exit.

As soon as he was gone, my dad reached into his pocket. He pulled out a picture.

I need your help, baby.