Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (30 page)

“Si.”
She nods. “I am-a a woman. It-a is-a what we do.”

Well... “I can’t let you go and look by yourself. That’s crazy. Besides, you’ll need someone to back you up.” I get out of my car and lock it. Boy am I glad I switched into boots. It’s like my gut feeling got a psychic gut feeling or something. “I’ll help you.”

“Ahh, I sure-a it’s-a to back-a me up.” She exaggerates her wink. “You-a want-a to find-a it too!”

“No, I don’t,” I lie. Sheesh, if I were Pinocchio, all the boys would be jealous of me. Or not... I always thought it was unfair that his nose grew and not his, well, pecker. “You’re a little old lady. You need someone to help you get out of this illegal search if someone finds you.”

“I will-a be the-a sad widow who-a lost-a her ring.” She clasps her hand to her chest and sniffs.

“And I’ll be the devoted granddaughter who couldn’t say no when asked for help.” Translation: the annoyed granddaughter who inherited one hell of a nosy streak from her grandmother.

“Well-a, come on,” Nonna demands, bustling toward the side of the inn.

There’s a gravel path that leads around to the gardens, and while the Lenny Rogers, the owner, doesn’t care about residents using the gorgeous gardens his family has been cultivating for almost a hundred years, I’m not sure he’d feel entirely comfortable with Nonna poking around in his rosebushes.

Hell, I wouldn’t be entirely comfortable with Nonna poking around in my own rosebushes, and she planted the damn things for me.

I follow her down the path and around the side of the large building. This is equal parts annoying and kind of...funny. I never imagined Nonna as a sleuth. Unless she’s trying to figure out exactly who stole the last pieces of garlic bread or who took the last of the milk or the sugar. Then she makes Sherlock—and me, and every detective ever—look like a five-year-old playing dress-up.

But real-life stuff? Nah. I thought she hated this stuff. It is, after all, a thorn in her side that every one of her grandchildren graduated from the police academy in the top five percent of their class. I never took her for a rookie investigator.

Damn. If the knife used to kill Wally is here, I need to find it before Nonna does, or I should just hire her, because she’s clearly a better sleuth than I am. Never mind that she only got this tip because she was eavesdropping—probably a skill I should freakin’ well work on—but she’d never let me live this down if she found it.

So here I am, following her into the unknown.

This is not how I planned my day.

Or my life. Dear God, how did I end up following my nonna to look for her wedding ring, which is probably locked in her jewelry box? If we get found out, we’re gonna be in so much trouble, but she’d take the rap. Probably.

No, screw that. She’s definitely taking the fucking rap. I don’t care what she says. I’m here to look after her, and you bet your ass I’m sticking to that. Who knows what kind of trouble she’d get into without me? The woman’s in her seventies—she needs a chaperone for this kinda stuff.

She also needs a room in the local care home with weekend passes, but we all know that that isn’t gonna happen. I’m counting the chaperone thing here right now as a win.

Shitting hell.

This is my worst nightmare.

“Nonna... This is insane. You can’t really think we’re going to find anything,” I hiss.

She bends down and, using her cane, moves some branches around. She ignores me as she carries on poking around the bushes and plants as though a knife is just going to be lying there, doing nothing. She even heaves her purse up onto her shoulder so it’s out of her way.

I don’t have a thing to say about this. I’m so confused.

“Noella! Why-a are you not-a helping?”

“Because you’ve officially lost your goddamn mind, old woman.”

She tuts at me in derision and continues what she’s doing. She literally has no care in the world about getting caught. I’m not even sure if this is entirely legal.

“We need to go. Now.”

“No!” She shakes her head vehemently. “We-a okay!”

“No, we’re not. This is absolutely crazy. If Mom hears about this she’s going to set up a visit with the care home.”

Nonna bats her hand at me. “I-a looked at-a the booklet. They-a don’t allow-a pets. No-a Gio, no-a Liliana.”

I smack my hand into my face. Of course that’s the deal breaker. Why wouldn’t the parrot be the deal breaker?

“If the knife was here, it would have been found. They would have—Nonna? Nonna, what the hell are you doing?”

She examines a gate that’s locked, and after peering into the padlock, she pulls a bobby pin from her hair and drops the padlock. I stare at her as she opens the pin and picks the padlock up once more.

No. Wow. She isn—she is.

She’s picking the fucking lock.

I can’t believe I’m watching this. “Nonna! That’s locked for a reason!”

“Because-a there is-a a murder weapon behind it!”

“Or just because you’re not supposed to go there.”

“Are-a you-a helping me, Noelle, or-a are-a you here to-a cause problems?”

“Right. You’re the one looking for a weapon beneath rosebushes and picking a lock, but I’m the one causing problems.” I roll my eyes, folding my arms across my chest. “Ridiculous.”

“
Si,
you-a are. Aha!” The lock opens, and she cackles. “You-a see? Let’s-a go!”

I smack my forehead once again. I’m already halfway to getting my ass kicked, so why not go the whole way? I step over a rock, following Nonna as she moves through the gate and into the woodland beyond.

Nausea rolls in my stomach at the reminder of the last time I was in these woods, back in June, when we found the body of Annabelle Porter, the third girl to be killed in the satanic rituals the travelers had unknowingly brought to our little town.

I’ve successfully avoided them since, mostly because the after-events of the discovery of that body had me passing out and having to reveal my whole life to Drake, something I sometimes wonder if I’ve come fully to terms with.

It doesn’t escape me that the reason I passed out was because I’d cut my foot on the knife that had been used to carve dark runes into her skin.

Bile rises in my stomach at my memory, but there’s no time to focus on the past because Nonna is going full steam ahead in her search despite the fact that it’s getting both late and the heavy coverage from the trees means it’s getting darker and darker the deeper into the woods she goes.

“Nonna, it’s a little dark out here. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t-a worry, Noella.” She stops and rummages in her purse.

I hesitate as she pulls out a flashlight and switches it on. She cackles as she shines it on me.

“See? I come-a prepared.”

“Excellent,” I murmur, letting out a sigh when she continues walking and prodding at leaves with her cane.

I should have brought my own purse with me instead of just my keys. I know for a fact there’s a bag of Sour Patch Kids in that fucker, and I’m starting to feel the twitch of hunger pangs. I don’t even have my phone or a watch to be able to check the time. I do know, though, that, if I don’t get back to my car and respond to Drake soon, he’s going to come looking for me and he won’t be all too impressed to find me out here with my probably senile nonna, looking for a murder weapon.

I’ll probably be the next victim recovered.

“Nonna,” I hiss. “Come on, now. That’s enough today.”

“No.”

Oh, man. She’s a stubborn one.

“Please, Nonna.” I actually think she’s gone and done it—she really has lost her marbles, and those motherfuckers are scattered so damn far apart that there’s no chance of her ever getting them back.

She didn’t have many anyway, but that’s not the point.

I think I just lost one of my damn own. Yep—there it goes. Bye-bye, dear marble. Your little quart of sanity will be sorely missed.

“Noella,” Nonna stage-whispers, shining her flashlight at me. “I found something.”

“You did? For real?”

“
Si
!”

Well, fuck me. “What is it?”

Nonna flashes the light at the ground and pokes at a certain spot with her cane. “I-a found—ah. A bottle-a cap.”

“Jesus Christ, Nonna. That’s enough. Let’s go home. Now.”

She ignores me and walks farther.

“Okay, well, I’m leaving now. If you get lost, it’s your own fault.” I stand still, but again, she ignores me. “I mean it. I’m going.”

“So-a go,” she calls over her shoulder. “
Ciao
!”

Wow.

She’s this determined that she’ll do it by herself.

“Noella!”

“What? Did you find another bottle cap?”

“No. I found-a a knife.”

I
swear to God, if she’s lying to me, I’m going to actually drag her to confession by her ear. “Are you serious?”

“Si.
Right-a here, under-a these leaves.”

“Let me take the flashlight.” I jog to her, take it from her, then shine it at the ground.

Something reflects the light back, and Nonna carefully pushes the natural debris from the trees away from the shiny spot. My stomach clenches hard as the leaves and other bits move, and the dark brown that mars the shininess means I don’t need Nonna to move any more.

“Nonna,” I say quietly. “We need to call Trent.”

Or Brody. I’ll call Brody.

“
Si
.” She rummages in her purse again for what I hope is her phone, but instead, she pulls out a latex glove and a clear, plastic bag. “Hold-a this.”

“Nonna. What. Are. You. Doing?”

“I collect-a the evidence.”

“You cannot pick up that knife.”

She leans down, still using her cane for leverage, and carefully moves the leaves covering the handle. Then she grabs it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Open-a the bag.”

“I want nothing more to do with your crazy shenanigans. I was here under duress and that’s my goddamn story.”

“Don’t-a damn-a God, Noella. He no-a like it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you picking up fucking murder weapons, but here I am,” I hiss. “How are you going to mark the spot so they know where you found it?”

She grins, drops the knife into the bag, and motions for me to seal it. I do, cringing the whole time, and hold the closed bag at arm’s length. When I look up from the blood-encrusted knife, she’s pulled a white marker flag out of her purse and is putting it into the ground.

Really.

Not kidding.

She’s putting a fucking flag to mark the spot like she’s Captain fucking Hook.

Peter Pan, I need a hand here, buddy. Take her to your lost boys.

“There-a,” Nonna says, swiping her hands together and removing any dirt. “Now-a, we call-a Trent.”

“Here’s an idea.” I wrestle her purse from her grip, carefully put the knife in it, and pull her cell out. “I’ll call Brody, you direct us back to my car, and then you can explain this little outing to your grandsons. One of which who already hates me.”

“Don’t-a worry, Noella,” she reassures me, switching the flashlight on and off again. “I will-a take-a the blame.”

“Damn right you’re taking the blame!” I follow her through the woods, using the shallow footprints we made on our way in as our guide back out.

My skin crawls with what feels like a whole family of ants as we make the short trek back. It’s as though we’re being watched, like someone knows what we’ve just picked up.

Even as we go back through the gate and Nonna secures the padlock, I can’t shake the air of malevolence that follows us.

“That-a was-a fun. Let’s do-a it-a again.”

“No, Nonna. We’re not doing it again. Now, sit in the damn car and don’t say a word.” I pull my keys from my pocket, unlock my car, and yank the door open.

She does as she’s been told for once in her life, and I slam the door behind her before walking to the driver’s side.

You better believe I’m locking the freaking door. I don’t feel as brave as I just acted like I did.

I get in and do exactly that—lock it. With Nonna’s purse on my lap, I hand her her cell phone and reach down to the floor for mine. She needs to keep that in her hand in case the person or thing or mythical creature that sent me those malevolent feelings comes after us.

Slight exaggeration, but whatever.

I dial Brody’s number and wait as the monotone ring echoes through the line before he answers. “Brody, I kinda have a problem here.”

“I can’t help with your period, Noelle. Last time you bribed me into buying you tampons, I ended up buying some fucking martian product that was wrong.”

“Yeah. That’s great, and I was sixteen,” I remind him, “But that isn’t the problem. Nonna fancied herself as Sherlock and went and found herself a dang murder weapon.”

He’s silent for a moment.

“Brodes?”

“Did you just say
Nonna
found a murder weapon?”

“Yeah, but not just a murder weapon. The murder weapon. The one y’all are lookin’ for.”

“Where the fuck are you?” The sound of a laptop slamming followed by a door and a bellowing to Trent echo down the line. “Noelle!”

“Well, I’d answer you if you stopped yelling!”