The Demon Trappers: Foretold (10 page)

‘Furniture shop and funeral home?’ Riley asked, peering up at the worn sign above the old brick building. ‘So you can pick out a casket and a new sofa at the
same time?’

‘Don’t judge us by yer big city ways,’ Beck said, displeased. ‘Down here folks have to do more than one thing to get by.’

‘I’m not judging anyone, Beck. I’m trying to understand it. You have to admit it’s a bizarre combination.’

‘It’s not that uncommon. A couple centuries ago the guy who made furniture also made the coffins.’

‘How do you know that?’ she asked, puzzled.

‘Saw it on some TV show.’

Riley followed him into the building and found it was like any other furniture store with a decent selection of sofas, chairs, tables and even a few big screen televisions. All the kinds of
furnishings you’d find in Atlanta, only in a smaller space.

The owner, a middle-aged guy with heavy jowls, watched them approach.

‘Denny. I heard you were back in town.’

If one more person says that, I’m going to scream.

‘Hey, Bert. How’s things goin’?’

‘Been OK. Who’s this young lady?’

Beck gestured at her. ‘This is Riley Blackthorne. She’s helpin’ me with Sadie.’

‘Bert McGovern,’ the man said, offering her a hand. She shook it, not knowing what else to do.

McGovern turned his attention back to Beck. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I need to get some funeral plans squared away.’

‘I understand. I lost my mother last year. It’s hard,’ the man said, nodding in sympathy. ‘Are you thinking about internment or cremation?’

‘Burial. She has a plot in the cemetery.’

‘OK, then come on back and I’ll show you what I have. I’ve got both plain and fancy coffins, depending on what you think she’d like.’

‘Plain,’ Beck said. ‘We trappers don’t get paid that much.’

Riley followed the guys through the floor displays into a room with sombre beige walls and a highly polished wood floor. Seven coffins were carefully arranged in a neat row, lids open, their
shiny white linings looking like the inside of a cocoon. She took one step into the room and then her knees locked up, refusing to move her forward. Vivid memories of her father’s funeral
filled her mind though she desperately tried to halt them, followed by images of his busted coffin after he’d been stolen from his grave.

Beck had been right – maybe it was too soon for her to face this. She’d pushed a lot of the grief aside to keep going and now it threatened to engulf her.

Her eyes met his and he knew what was happening without her saying a word.

‘I’ll be done in a little bit if you want to wait outside,’ he said softly.

Riley gave him a nod of gratitude and hastily retreated. Then she immediately felt bad: She was supposed to be here to support
him
, not the other way round.

She picked a chair near the front window so she could watch the townsfolk as they passed by, anything to keep her mind off the industry of death. A few of the locals gave Beck’s truck the
once over, talking among themselves after pointing at the vehicle. She could pretty much imagine the conversation, all beginning with ‘I heard Denny Beck was back in town’.

Beck and the store owner were finished in about five minutes. Apparently it was going to be a really simple funeral.

‘Have the hospital call when it’s time,’ McGovern said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll give her good send off.’

‘That’s all I ask,’ Beck replied.

Beck fell into one of his funks after his visit to the funeral home. Instead of pressuring him to talk, Riley followed him around a dinky grocery store, buying cleaning
supplies. As she bent over to inspect a bag of sponges, a twitch crept across her shoulders. Then a small voice whispered, ‘Blackthorne’s daughter.’

Gazing upward she found two red eyes peering at her from round the handle of a floor mop. It was a Klepto-Fiend, one of Hell’s little cat burglars, but not the one that lived in her
apartment.

‘Hi there, demon,’ she muttered. As she moved down the aisle, she swore the thing was following her. Probably one of Lucifer’s hench-fiends keeping an eye on her for its Big
Boss.

As she picked up a bottle of drain cleaner, she heard Beck’s voice, low and tense. When someone responded, she knew why.
Cole.
She didn’t think he was the kind to hang around
a grocery store, which meant he’d tracked them down on purpose.

‘Yer a total sleaze, Hadley.’

‘Why are you being a jerk?’ Cole asked. ‘You can’t still be pissed about Lou. Get over it, man,’ he replied. ‘That was years ago.’

‘Not to me.’

‘That’s your problem. What’s the score with the cute chick? She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?’

Riley shook her head in dismay. What was it about testosterone that made guys so stupid? Cole was purposely goading Beck, like some kid who’d found the world’s largest hornets’
nest. He couldn’t resist poking it with a stick to see what he could stir up. It was time to shut this down before it got ugly and someone (Beck) landed in jail for assault.

Riley walked round the corner as if she hadn’t been listening in.

‘I got some window cleaner and paper towels.’ She looked over at the other guy. ‘Cole,’ she said, then walked past him. Maybe if she acted disinterested he’d take
his stick and play somewhere else.

‘How about you and me go for some ice cream, Riley?’ he called out.

In February?
‘No, thanks. Got too much work to do,’ she said, and kept walking.

Beck said something under his breath and then joined her.

After they’d paid for their supplies and loaded the truck, Cole watched their every move from the sidewalk.

‘He’s strange,’ Riley said under her breath.

‘He’s more than that,’ Beck replied, slamming the tailgate and locking the roof box. ‘He’s big trouble.’

‘How about I sit with your mother while you do whatever you need to do,’ Riley offered. ‘I should be there if you’re not.’

‘You sure?’

She nodded in return.

Riley might be, but Beck wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. It’d be an act of faith to let Paul’s daughter anywhere near
her
again
.
Or extreme foolishness.
Despite Riley’s assurances, there was a good chance that when he picked her up after his errands she’d be crying and ready to return to Atlanta. Desperate to leave him behind, much as
Caitlin had.

No. Not like Caitie.
Riley was younger than Caitlin, but she’d survived more hell than anyone he knew. Caitie had believed Beck to be her white knight, the one who’d carry her
off to his castle and keep her safe forever. Riley wasn’t like that. She was tough and had scars, both inside and out, and she’d earned every one of them. She’d learned that good
guys could screw her over just like bad ones.

When he’d dialled the hospital to get an update, the nurse said Sadie was weakening – but he had bills to pay and the sheriff to visit. He really didn’t have a choice about
this.

Beck reluctantly dropped Riley off at the hospital, muttering under his breath the entire time that she was going to regret this gesture of kindness. He was probably right.

What Riley didn’t say was that she had her reasons for wanting private time with Sadie. To better understand Beck, she had to decipher the riddle that was his mother.

When she entered Sadie’s hospital room, Riley steeled herself before she stepped round the curtain. She’d done that every time she’d visited her mom in the last week of her
life. This wasn’t much different, except this patient wasn’t eager to see her.

Sadie’s laboured breathing emanated from a body that seemed more a skeleton than a creature of flesh, her skin stretched across her bones like a pale sheet of parchment.

‘Why are ya here?’ she said, eying Riley. ‘Wanna see what a dyin’ person looks like?’

‘No,’ Riley said, refusing to be baited. ‘I already know of that: my mom died of cancer.’

Sadie’s glower faded. ‘So why are ya here?’

‘You shouldn’t be alone.’

‘I’ve always been alone. Doesn’t matter now.’

Only because you wouldn’t let anyone close to your heart.

‘Why ya hangin’ around the boy? He got nothin’ to give ya.’

Except his love.
‘He’s a great guy who treats me well and doesn’t try to screw me over. Do I need any other reason to hang with him?’

‘He hides things, keeps things secret.’

‘We all do,’ Riley replied. ‘You included.’

The woman’s face wrinkled into a frown. ‘Ah, I see. He sent ya here to see if I’d tell ya the name of his daddy.’

‘I’m here because I want to be, not because he asked me to.’ Riley sucked in a hasty breath, the anger building. ‘You use his father’s name like a weapon.
That’s not right. It’s just mean.’

‘No respect for the dyin’, huh?’

‘I’ll respect you when you do the same for your son.’

‘Ya got a sharp bite,’ the woman wheezed. ‘But ya only know part of it. That son of mine has done some bad stuff, but yer not willin’ to hear about that.’

Though Riley knew she should probably cut this woman some slack, that’s what people had been doing Sadie’s whole life, never calling her on her half-truths and how she’d
cruelly manipulated her son.

Someone has to stand up to her. Stand up for Beck.

‘There you go again,’ Riley replied, shaking her head. ‘Trying to freak me out so I’ll take off. That might have worked for the other girls, but not this time.’
Before Sadie could respond, she went on. ‘I don’t know all Beck’s secrets, not yet, but he already told me about the two guys in the swamp. So I’m not buying into your head
games.’

The woman coughed long and hard. ‘I don’t frighten ya. Why not?’

Because I’ve stared Hell in the face and you’re not in their league.

‘You just don’t.’

‘Yer not like the other one he brought home.’

‘Caitlin?’ A nod. ‘Why did you run her off?’

Sadie’s eyes rose to hers. ‘Had to find out if she was tough enough. She wasn’t.’

‘Tough enough for what?’

‘Denver doesn’t need some sissy-ass girl. He needs someone hard as nails to watch over him, keep him from goin’ bad.’

It appeared that Beck’s mom had been vetting his girlfriends in her own peculiarly sadistic way. It was probably best that her son never knew that.

Riley switched directions. ‘What do you think happened to the Keneally brothers?’

After a long coughing session, Sadie finally answered. ‘I don’t think it was some critter that got ’em unless it had two legs.’

‘It wasn’t Beck,’ Riley said flatly.

‘I know.’

Then why didn’t you stand up for your own son?

Unaware of Riley’s mental tirade, Sadie adjusted the oxygen cannula in her nose. ‘Talk to Lou Deming. She’s still in town. Married now, gonna have her first kid.’ A
pause. ‘She was OK.’

That was the closest to praise Riley had ever heard from this woman.

‘Until Cole took her away from Beck, you mean?’

Sadie’s expression flattened. ‘Yeah. She should have known that bastard was nothin’ but trouble. Denver got worse after that happened.’

Riley made a mental note to hunt up Beck’s former squeeze and see what the
OK
ex-girlfriend could tell her.

‘Cole Hadley’s a lot like his daddy,’ Sadie added. ‘He was a troublemaker too. I should know. Don’t trust that boy. He’s a bad seed.’

‘I already figured that out.’

Cole didn’t have a chance with her, even if he grew a set of wings and claimed that she was the love of his life.

Sadie’s eyes drifted shut, worn out from the intense conversation. ‘When ya see Denver, tell that boy to get his head out of his ass . . . do somethin’ right for a change.
He’s runnin’ out of time.’

‘Time for what?’

There was no response.

Riley left the room wiser than when she’d entered. This time she was even more determined to help Beck find the truth.

Beck’s first stop was the sheriff’s office – Donovan was out of town so he left a message with the surly Deputy Martin. His next stop was the bank, then the
post office to mail the bills. Every stop involved whispers from the townsfolk. He ignored them as best as he could, more worried about how Riley and Sadie were getting along.

His last stop was the funeral home where McGovern promptly ushered him into his office, a fairly tidy space with a selection of urns high on a shelf.

‘Here’s a grand down on the bill,’ Beck said, placing a cheque on the desk. ‘I’ll need a receipt.’

‘No problem,’ McGovern replied. He quickly scribbled it out and handed it over.

A document was placed on the desk in front of Beck and he cautiously bent over to study it as if it was a coiled snake. He couldn’t read it.

‘What’s this for?’

‘To authorize the burial. Just sign there and there,’ McGovern said, pointing at two separate lines.

While he did the deed, the undertaker pottered around the room.

‘Did you hear that there’s been some lady reporter down here asking questions about the Keneally brothers?’ McGovern asked.

Justine.
‘She’s been doin’ the same up in Atlanta.’