Chapter 7: Trouble in the Dark

“Hopefully, Leighton will be able to assist us tomorrow,” Phinn suggested after they left the injured young woman’s bedroom.

"Depends on her shoulder. If it's a labrum or rotator cuff injury, that can set her back a full year," Jake responded as they walked toward the stairs.

“She’s not a pitcher,” Phinn pointed out, shaking his head. “Besides, it’s her back soreness that might linger.”

“I didn’t say she was a pitcher. Still, it’s kind of crazy that doctors around here do house calls. I thought that stuff disappeared like fifty years ago.”

"He's a retired doctor from Darlingport who lives near Lumlow. It's not the same as what you're thinking," Phinn clarified. "Now, what should we do for the afternoon?"

“You wanna check the area where she fell?” Jake queried.

“Hmm, I think a hike sounds like an excellent idea,” Phinn agreed. “We’d better grab a couple of water bottles.”

“Good idea. It’s another scorcher out there.”

Inside the kitchen, their plans and the likelihood of missing dinner sent Marie into a whirlwind. Already worried about Leighton, the housekeeper/cook rummaged in the pantry before pulling out extra stainless steel bottles. After filling them with ice water, she insisted they take the remaining sandwiches in an insulated bag.

“Make sure to take a compass,” Marie warned.

“It’s okay. Our phones have apps on them that–”

“Don’t rely on that technology out here,” Marie interrupted Jake. “You can’t assume anything.”

“Solid advice. I always bring a compass and flashlight with me,” Phinn reassured the worried woman. “C’mon, Jake, we can pack the food and water in our rooms.”

With a final warning to be careful, the two teens prepared to leave. Jake assured Phinn that he could fit everything in his backpack while the scrawnier detective put a mini-flashlight and compass in his two pockets. The far more athletic teen preferred that his friend didn't carry much, as he knew Phinn would eventually start to whine on this hot, humid day.

"Wait, you're going the wrong way," Jake said once they'd left the house. "The hiking trail is that way."

“We’re not taking that trail,” Phinn replied, heading down the driveway in the direction of the road.

“You don’t want to check on the area where Leighton was thrown? We might find evidence if there was a shooter.”

“I’d prefer not to get lost in the woods without our tracker. Besides, look at this as free time for us with the girls busy. We can check on yesterday’s crime scene. It’s not like the sheriff is doing shit.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But we did come here to help the girls with Flamand,” Jake reminded. “I don’t think investigating a body is going to help with that. We’re also not breaking into any morgue. That’s not an option.”

“Never say never, Jakey,” Phinn teased as they felt safe to talk while halfway down the long driveway. “And who says the body doesn’t tie into our investigation of Jean-Paul? We haven’t ruled out a connection.”

“No, don’t start, Phinn,” Jake ordered. “You can’t get bored with our case and jump over to another. I don’t care if it’s a potential ****. It’s not fair to Leighton.”

“What wouldn’t be right is to dismiss the possibility of a link. We can’t put Aunt Vonnie in danger by ignoring the risk. Now, that’s what wouldn’t be fair to Leighton,” Phinn argued.

“Argh! You always have to make a good point while getting your way.”

The pair of sleuths continued down the drive until they reached the road. Heading north, they covered the short distance to the hiking trail. Phineas used some of the lengthy walk to fill Jake in on what he'd learned while with the sunbathers.

"I think Catherine had one of those necklaces on. It looked purplish," Jake recalled once Phinn finished mentioning the replacement pendant for Adora again.

“Probably amethyst. It seems that Flamand gives them to everyone based on what crystal powers he thinks they need. Well, everybody but Karter,” Phinn noted. “It doesn’t sound like he’s popular with his fellowship members.”

“I’m not surprised. He comes off as a douchebag,” Jake remarked.

“Apparently, Hazel didn’t catch that at first and hooked up with him. She sounds regretful. Oh, I guess she’s involved in music. I wasn’t able to learn anything further.”

“Somebody in the group being involved in music makes sense. It’s just that Hazel wouldn’t be my guess. She comes across as super shy,” Jake commented.

“Yes, she does give off the wallflower vibe,” Phinn agreed. “Portia is the opposite. She’s quite aggressive. I got the sense that she’s used to getting her way. Also, she knows I’m not gay.”

“What? How?”

“I guess Leighton argued with Paisley after the ice queen dropped that lie. Portia overheard them.”

“Whoa! Do you think she overheard anything else?”

“Such as our detective agency? Possibly. If Leighton can leave the house tomorrow, I plan to question whether they mentioned that while arguing,” Phinn said.

“Why not ask Paisley when we get back?”

“I’d rather not. Her personality has taken a turn for the more witchy side while you were out riding,” Phinn explained, omitting the reason why.

“Yeah, she seemed more pissed when we stopped in to check on Leighton, which I didn’t think she could get more bitchy…Witchy? Witches! That’s it! Hazel is from PLW!”

“Huh?” Phinn sounded.

“The girl group. You know, Pretty Little Witches. They usually go by PLW.”

“You mean from that singing show? The one where they create different groups?” Phinn inquired.

“Yeah! PLW aren’t the greatest singers, but they’re hot. They have two white girls, a black girl, a Latina, and an Asian girl. Dye Hazel’s hair purple and she’s Zarana!” Jake exclaimed, revealing the singer’s stage name.

“Ah, that makes sense. Those girl groups and boy bands often have controversies, and it sounds like Hazel dealt with assholes,” Phinn relayed.

“Oh, man. I need to get a picture of us together. Do you think she’d dye her hair for it?”

“Maybe,” Phinn lied, unwilling to dampen his friend’s excitement at the moment. “Okay, we should be coming up on the location soon.”

“I hope we can remember the spot.”

“No need. I set my phone to measure the distance on the trail when we left the body yesterday,” Phinn revealed. “We should be about a hundred yards away.”

“Don’t bother. The deputies left some police tape up,” Jake noticed first. Shaking his head, he hoped they’d put up more than a single strand deeper into the woods. It turned out they didn’t.

Entering the same section Jake had stumbled through yesterday, it didn’t take the investigators long to reach the body’s former resting place. Jake noted all the footsteps left over from the mist of the previous day and the trampled brush.

“I didn’t expect to learn much from this area. Let’s spread out and search the area. Circular style.”

Jake nodded at Phinn’s suggestion. They’d often used the technique of increasingly larger and broader circles around a point of interest. Pulling out his mini-flashlight, Phinn shone its beam in the partial shadows of the covered foliage. The dense tree canopy made it necessary in numerous spots. After nearly thirty minutes, they agreed that nobody had dropped any clues. However, Jake’s guess that Phinn would be disappointed turned out to be wrong.

“I’m not at all discouraged. I found it unlikely that the killer or police would have missed an item. Besides, I found what I hoped to.”

“What? What did you find?” Jake questioned, moving around in a twirl as he scanned the area.

"We're standing on it," Phinn announced, gesturing to the narrow dirt path.

“Huh?”

“Think about it. The deceased person we found yesterday looked fairly large, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he could’ve definitely lost a decent amount of weight. What’s that got to do with this path?” Jake challenged, feeling somewhat aghast that his friend would fat-shame a dead man.

“It’s elementary, Mr. Magnum. Considering the heatwave the region has experienced over the last several weeks, I doubt the victim parked his car back on the road and walked nearly a mile and a half to reach this point for a meeting. It seems far more likely he parked his vehicle elsewhere and took a shortcut. I presume this is the shortcut,” Phineas explained.

“I don’t know. That’s a lot of guesswork,” Jake pointed out.

“We shall see,” Phinn proclaimed, checking his compass. “As I expected, this path leads in a northeastern direction.”

The teen detectives spent nearly fifteen minutes trudging through the forest. The path beneath their feet had turned into a treacherous trek created by a mixture of reddish-brown dirt, moss-covered stones, and ancient tree roots that seemed like the gnarled fingers of subterranean creatures reaching out to grab their ankles. Each step became a delicate balance of avoiding the prickly underbrush that occasionally overtook the path while also navigating low-hanging branches that seemed to whip out as if traps straight from an Indiana Jones film.

And then there were the bugs. Phinn used his flashlight at times to clear cobwebs that must have sprung up since the last person to walk this trail ended up with multiple stab wounds. Several creepy crawlers dropped from leafy branches to leave Jake paranoid about every overhanging tree. Finally, there were the constant slaps as both sleuths attempted to smash the mosquitoes that landed on them.

Finally, they broke through the woods to find the narrow path ended when it intersected a much wider dirt trail. While not constructed for longevity like the hiking trail, the wider dirt track appeared to serve as a makeshift road. Numerous large potholes indicated a bumpy drive.

“Damn, I swear I nearly twisted my ankle on that last root,” Jake complained, dropping to sit on a small strip of grass across the dirt road from where they emerged.

“Sure. Take a break,” Phinn remarked sarcastically while walking down the trail.

It wasn’t until he walked fifty yards and crossed over to the same side as Jake that the bespectacled sleuth squinted at the sunlight reflecting off a glass bottle. Slowly moving forward, Phinn searched the overgrown grass.

“Aha!”

“What is it?” Jake asked, lazily leaning back on his hands while peering over.

“Two things. A tire track in the grass and a broken bottle.”

“Does the tire tread look worth taking a picture?” Jake inquired.

“No, which suggests it was here before the mist yesterday. Also, the bottle is from an expensive brand of spring water. It’s definitely not the kind I’d expect the locals would drink,” Phinn noted.

"Doesn't mean anything. However, I suppose we could ask around. Maybe one of the women at the Ellison place drinks it. It's not that far-fetched if you think about it. I doubt Adora is into that highfalutin stuff, but Catherine or Portia could be."

“Poison ivy!”

“What? Oh, yeah, Adora could for sure play a hot version of Poison Ivy,” Jake acknowledged.

“No. Don’t move!” Phinn ordered before grumbling as Jake nearly spun around. “Stop!”

“What? Where is it?” Jake demanded, sounding panicky.

“Less than ten feet from your hands. Pick them up before you stand up.”

“Are you sure? How can you be sure?”

“Leaves of three, let it be,” Phinn repeated the common saying.

Walking over, Phinn flicked on his flashlight to study the ground where Jake had rested your hands. Satisfied, he reassured his partner.

“How can you be sure? Shit, my hands already feel itchy. Oh, fuck!”

“Calm down. You’re imagining it,” Phinn explained. “Let’s head south on this back road. I suspect it intersects with the hiking trail.”

With Jake now sweating the potential of poison ivy, they eventually reached the hiking trail. Curious if they'd find another dirt road, Phinn suggested they keep walking for thirty minutes. If they didn't see anything after that long, they'd take a dinner break before backtracking and heading north from their current location.

That’s what they eventually did after crossing the hiking trail, walking a total of forty-five minutes rather than thirty. Despite his insistence that Jake didn’t catch poison ivy, Phinn insisted on getting his water bottle and the sandwich bag from the backpack. There could be a slim chance that he’d been wrong. Jake wasted a decent amount of his water by rinsing his hands and wiping them on his shorts.

“Do we really need to backtrack and keep searching? It’s going to take us forty-five minutes just to start over. It’s frigging hot out here,” Jake whined, wondering why his less athletic partner wasn’t the one complaining.

“Yes, we need to check where a vehicle might have come from.”

“So, what? Shouldn’t we have found it by now? The cops never mentioned finding a car, so it should’ve been here.”

“Unless the killer drove it away.”

"Oh, shit, right," Jake nodded once they started to retrace their route.

After nearly an hour and twenty minutes, the high school sleuths found where the dirt road curved, carrying it in another direction. However, instead of heading west toward the main road and the Ellison estate, it headed east. After an additional twenty minutes of walking, it turned north again before eventually coming to a dead end.

“Shit!” Jake bellowed, estimating how much time they’d lost.

“Huh? I guess we should’ve kept walking south,” Phinn admitted, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Now what? I’m not looking forward to retracing our route to the hiking trail,” Jake grumbled.

“Not to mention that it’s going to get dark soon. There is another dirt path here. It looks to head west,” Phinn revealed, pointing to a breach in the brush. The dirt trail they found looked as rough and narrow as the one they’d found initially. “What do you think?”

“Anything to get back and rest as soon as possible,” Jake said, taking the lead.

Unfortunately, this path provided worse than the other as it twisted and turned. Still checking his compass, Phinn found they mostly stayed on a westward course. However, the extra time it took to climb over underbrush and tree roots eventually caught up to them as the sun began to set.

“I hate nature. This is why we never went back to Camp Little Weasel,” Phinn stated.

“We couldn’t go back. You have to remember the riot act that the camp owner gave us, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! I’m the one he mainly screamed at,” Phinn responded. “Let me go ahead. I have my flashlight handy.”

Darkness fell, and along came their first sign of trouble: Phinn’s flashlight beam began to narrow.

“Great. My light’s ready to go out. You'd better get yours out.”

“Um…uh-oh.”

“What do you mean, uh-oh? Get your flashlight from your bag,” Phinn directed, stepping over a large root as his beam shrank further.

“I, uh, didn’t bring it,” Jake admitted sheepishly.

“You didn’t bring it? We always bring them with us!”

“Well, you know how you were worried that we wouldn’t fit the bottles, food, and our other things in one backpack? I made room by leaving behind my flashlight,” Jake explained.

"Fucking wonderful!" Phinn shrieked precisely as his flashlight died. "I am never going into the woods again."

“Yeah, maybe we should’ve headed for the hiking trail,” Jake pointed out as the moonlight struggled to get through the trees.

“It’s too late for that,” Phinn replied, moving even slower on the dark path. The occasional moonbeam that shone past the left canopy helped just enough.

Still, Phinn fell twice while the bulky Jake hit the ground three times, twice because of a branch he smacked his face into. The football player complained that he’d end up looking worse after this trip than he did after a game.

“My face and arms already feel cut up.”

“I’m more worried about all the mosquito bites that–oof!”

“Did you fall again? It doesn’t look like it,” Jake guessed, squinting in the darkness.

“Nope. I ran into a fence,” Phinn revealed.

“A fence? What kind?”

“It looks…well, feels like a split rail fence. Um, three pieces, I think,” Phinn said, already climbing over the fence. While he didn’t appear to be outside the forest, the woods didn’t seem to be as thick.

"Damn," Jake grunted as his foot got stuck under the bottom rail.

“You okay?”

Suddenly, Phinn heard a distinct sound from nearby.

“Get down!” he hissed, diving at his best friend’s ankles.

BLAM BLAM

“You blasted thing!” a furious voice roared. “I’ll knock your damn head off.”

Phinn and Jake heard the sound of a gun clacking open. Both teens imagined the shooter to be reloading another round.

“Hurry!” Jake hissed as the teens scrambled on their hands and knees for cover.

Unfortunately, as the way the day had been going, Jake scrambled directly into the man’s legs.

“Arrragh! Get off me, devil spawn. I’ll send you back to whatever pits of hell you escaped from!”

Phinn watched in horror as a long, sharp object cracked Jake's side. Sensing the next move would be to point the long, double-barreled shotgun at his best friend, Phinn leaped at the shadowy man.

“Don’t!”

“So you can speak!” a man gloated, pressing a hand around Phinn’s throat.

“Please…we’re…lost,” Phinn gasped while his windpipe closed. Fortunately, the man’s **** twisted the teen slightly into the moonlight.

“Why…why…you’re just a kid!” the man exclaimed.

“Leave…him alone!” Jake bellowed, tackling the man a moment after he released Phinn’s neck.

“Oww! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the man yelled as Jake cocked a fist in the air.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” the stocky detective roared. “You could’ve killed us!”

“I’m very sorry! I thought you were the spawn of…Um, I thought you were the trespassers. They’ve been trampling my gardens and breaking into my woodshed,” the man rambled. “I wouldn’t have hurt you. Honestly!”

“Yeah, right,” Jake replied, standing up and offering his partner a hand.

“I’m sorry for overreacting. I just heard rustling in my woods and heard a grunt…” the man trailed off as he couldn’t explain what he thought.

In the moonlight, Phinn noticed the man appeared to be in his sixties with short gray hair and was in good shape. His comments about them being on his property led the investigator to deduce his identity.

“You’re Frank Noonan, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Who are you?” Frank questioned, turning on a large, bright flashlight.

Phineas made the introductions as Jake stood silent, steaming about nearly having his head blown off. Frank apologized again and offered his hand. Phinn took it first before Jake begrudgingly accepted his turn. Phinn continued to explain how they’d taken the dirt road until it turned into a dead end before they got lost.

"Yeah, those roads aren't used much. They appear to be, but appearances can be deceiving. They were originally built to reach the fields deep behind the woods, but were primarily utilized as fire roads. I think the most they've been used were by teenagers out drinking, smoking pot, and fooling around in their backseats," Frank recounted before turning suspicious again. "How come you were on them?"

“We’re guests at the home of Ms. Ellison. We discovered that body yesterday while arriving,” Phinn explained.

“Guests, huh?” Frank challenged with a knowing expression.

“Not the type you imagine,” Phinn corrected, noticing the man’s sneer.

“We’re old acquaintances of Leighton…and I guess of Paisley, too,” Jake clarified.

“Ah, the girls. Sure, I’ve known them since before they could walk. Let’s head for my home,” Frank directed, turning around to walk without waiting for an answer.

Shrugging their shoulders at each other, Jake and Phinn followed Frank through a maze of twists and turns. It turns out that they couldn’t have been more than five hundred feet from his house, but it seemingly took forever to reach the cluster of buildings. The whole way, Frank moved in a heightened state of wariness.

Reaching the rear yard of a farm, the boys suddenly could see again as several floodlights lit up the area. Phinn noticed a chicken coop with two extra barbed wire fences around it. While wondering about the security overkill, he felt a nudge from Jake. Turning, Phineas followed his partner’s head nudge over toward a woodshed. What stood out was a hole blasted through one of its sides.

In addition to a two-story farmhouse that Frank led them to, the teens noticed a large barn to their left. From inside, Phinn heard the sounds of livestock.

“Do you have many animals?” Jake inquired.

“Mostly chickens. I like fresh eggs. Marie occasionally stops by to pick some up for her and Yvonne. I also have a few goats, cows, and horses. I wouldn’t call this a working farm. Just an old man’s place to retire to in peace.”

“Yet, it hasn’t been very peaceful of late,” Phinn stated, causing Frank to flinch in suspicion while turning around. “I mean, you mentioned trespassers, but your security precautions hint at wolves or coyotes.”

“No wolves live around these parts. There are coyotes, but I don’t have any trouble with them. Why you asking?” Frank challenged.

“That’s an abundance of barbed wire, and I notice you pen your livestock in the barn for the night,” Phinn countered.

“Ah, one can’t be too careful with trespassers. They can sneak into a coop far more easily than any creature. As for the barn, I’m proud to boast about a homemade sprinkler and fan setup that I created that keeps my livestock cool and refreshed. It’s far better than relying on an unpredictable breeze in this heat.”

During the final open stretch of the yard to his house, Frank seemed to tense even further. Both boys noticed how he raised his shotgun into a ready position before managing to reach the farmhouse’s side door safely. Proving that he feared something out under the night sky, Frank’s door was triple-locked, and the investigators noted the iron bars on the lower-level windows. The locks still looked shiny.

Ushering them into a kitchen, Frank relocked the door and two deadbolts. He also lifted a bar across the door. Neither teen bothered to ask about it after sharing a look.

“You boys must be thirsty after getting lost. I’m sorry to say that I don’t have any soda stocked. Just milk, juice, and water,’ Frank said, opening the refrigerator to show his offerings.

“Water would be fine,” Phinn replied.

“Ice water, if you have any,” Jake added, wiping his sweat from his forehead.

After pouring two tall glasses, Frank said he’d call the Ellison house.

“They must be worried sick about you by now,” he added, picking up the kitchen wall phone.

The sleuths watched as his call rang several times. A scowl immediately formed on his face. Then, in a curt voice, he informed the person on the other end of the line that he'd called the wrong number. Hanging up, he questioned if anything had happened recently at the home down the road.

“Blasted freeloaders answering people’s phones these days.”

“Well, Leighton was thrown from her horse earlier today,” Phinn informed the older man.

“She was?!”

“She should be alright. Just a little sore at the moment,” the brown-haired teen continued.

“Yeah, I was there when it happened. We’re not sure what caused Queenie to freak out, but something in the woods likely frightened her,” Jake added.

"Something," Frank nodded as his gaze looked far off into the distance in the kitchen. Shaking himself from his thoughts, the old man said he'd drive them back to Yvonne's in a few minutes.

“We don’t want to inconvenience you anymore, sir. If you could just point us to the main road, we can walk back,” Jake suggested, wanting to get far away from the gun-wielding man.

“No, no, I’ll gladly drive you back. That road can be dangerous at night.”

Jake shrugged as he thought he meant careless drivers, but Phinn noticed how Frank slid over to the window to check outside. Thinking quickly, Phinn asked if he could use the bathroom.

“Sure, it’s down that back hallway,” Frank said, leading Jake into the living room to wait.

Noticing the bathroom, Phinn loudly closed the door before continuing past it. Three additional doors opened onto the hallway. The first was a den. A quick glance around revealed nothing interesting. The second door was a closet. On the third try, Phinn hit the jackpot. Without much time, he hurriedly scanned the room, moving around to check on Frank's projects while taking a few pictures with his phone.

Aware that his allotted time was over, Phinn stealthily darted out of the room and down the hallway. Walking past the bathroom, he opened the door while moving to the living room. The teen immediately thanked the homeowner.

“You gotta go when you gotta go. Speaking of going, I'd better take a leak. Can’t hold it as well in my old age.”

“See anything?” Phinn asked.

“Not really.”

Phinn made a casual round of the living room, glancing at old pictures and mementos. Then, they heard the toilet flush.

“Hey, did you forget to flush?” Jake questioned, realizing he had never heard one earlier.

"Jake, you can be a brilliant yet clueless detective at the same time," Phinn declared, slapping his confused friend on the shoulder moments before Frank returned.

The boys watched as Frank tried to slyly slide a pistol into his belt before picking up the shotgun. Ushering the boys out the front door, he urged them to stay close while he locked the front door before leading them to his old pickup truck.

"So, if you're the girls' friends, what do you think of their aunt's guests?" Frank queried once he pulled onto the main road.

“Some are nice, some are odd,” Phinn answered diplomatically.

“And some are hot,” Jake added.

“Yes, a few are well-known actresses that Jake may have a crush on,” Phinn continued.

“What about that Frenchman?” Frank questioned.

"I think Paisley said he's Belgian," Jake clarified, but didn't elaborate after a quick shake of Phinn's head.

“We’re unsure. What do you think of him, Mr. Noonan?” Phinn asked, sounding younger than he usually did.

“An oddball. That’s what I think. Something’s not right about him, I tell ya,” Frank declared, turning off the road and down the Ellison driveway.

“Yes, he does appear to have unusual beliefs,” Phinn added, causing Frank to snort in disgust.

The sound and lights of the noisy truck driving down the long driveway had Yvonne and Marie waiting on the porch by the time Frank pulled to a stop. Paisley appeared in the doorway simultaneously.

“My goodness! We’ve been worried about you!” Yvonne exclaimed, rushing forward to wrap her arms around Jake after he dropped down from the truck cab.

“Um, we’re good. Just got lost in the woods,” Jake revealed, loving the feel of the sexy aunt’s D-cups rubbing his chest.

“Our flashlight’s battery also died out,” Phinn recounted, sliding down to the ground.

“I told you not to trust technology around here,” Marie replied in an I-told-you-so voice. Then, she expressed her relief that they had been found safe and sound. “Once you get settled, I have leftovers in the kitchen. I’ll heat them up for you.”

"Sounds great. I'm starving," Jake responded as Yvonne left him to hug and kiss Phinn's cheek. Feeling slighted by the lack of a kiss, Jake threw his hands out as Paisley scowled at the attention her aunt gave Phinn.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yvonne squealed, hugging Frank as the boys went to join Paisley on the porch. “Please, come inside.”

“I’ll take a raincheck, Yvonne. I’m plum bushed on this kind of a day,” Frank said, turning down the offer. The investigators suspected he didn’t want to deal with the current guests. “Had a close one with the boys. I thought they were my troublesome trespassers.”

“Oh, my. No, these are good boys,” the strawberry blonde insisted.

Paisley huffed her view of that statement.

“Close one? I’ll say. He nearly shot our heads off,” Jake muttered, causing the ice queen’s eyes to widen.

With Frank saying goodbye, the three teenagers entered the foyer. Immediately, a call came from the sitting room. Jake gulped at the tiny, two-piece pajama set that Adora wore. Portia’s pair didn’t cover much more skin.

“About time you got home. You boys are well past your curfew,” Adora teased. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“R-Really?” Jake stammered.

“Not until morning. We figured you might have shacked up with a few local tramps for the night,” Portia replied.

“That’s not nice. You know these woods and marshes can be dangerous in the dark,” Benji admonished before offering his relief that they had returned safely.

With no one else staying up to wait for their return, Jake and Phinn went to grab a late-night meal in the kitchen. Marie fussed over them until Yvonne suggested she let the teens eat in peace. Appearing exhausted over the day’s events, their hostess apologized for needing to go to bed. The boys assured her they understood and were relieved when she, Marie, and Paisley left them alone.

“Wait until we’re done,” Phinn said, noticing Jake open his mouth.

After finishing their food, Phinn motioned for them to go outside. Out in the backyard, Phinn glanced up at the second-floor windows before gesturing for Jake to follow him behind the garage.

“We have to be careful,” the bespectacled detective reminded as Jake yawned. “I’ll make this fast. When I excused myself to use the bathroom, I searched Frank Noonan’s back rooms.”

“That’s why you never flushed,” Jake groaned, slapping his palm against his forehead. “I should’ve known.”

“Yes, well, I found some interesting projects in his workshop,” Phinn started. “Let’s just say that Frank’s been doing a bit of homemade smelting.”

“Smelting? Like for gold?”

“Try silver,” Phinn corrected, opening his phone to show a picture of Frank’s workshop. “And add in that he’s making bullets with said silver.”

“Silver bullets…Silver bullets!” Jake exclaimed, seemingly on the verge of hyperventilation.

“Yes, if you remember, he called us a blasted thing, devil spawn, told us he’d send us back to the pits of hell, and–”

“He thought we were a werewolf!” Jake nearly screamed.

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes, he did! Why else make silver bullets? Holy shit, I bet he used them when he shot at us!”

“Silver is used in myths to kill more than werewolves,” Phinn pointed out. “However, he does think a thing or creature is lurking somewhere nearby. That’s why his chicken coop is triple-coated with barbed wire and–”

“Probably how he blasted a hole in his woodshed!” Jake squealed. “Fuck, we could’ve been killed tonight.”

“Obviously. His shotgun blasts barely missed us.”

“No, I meant if Frank hadn’t found us. A werewolf might have mauled us if we’d stayed in the woods any longer,” Jake said, sounding sure it would’ve happened.

“Okay, I need you to stay focused on reality–”

“I bet it was the werewolf that frightened Queenie. That’s why she threw Leighton.”

“During the daylight? Now, you’re all over the map of supernatural legends,” Phinn argued.

“Those marks! What if those marks on Queenie are bite marks?” Jake speculated, turning to face the garage and where the stables lay behind it, unseen. “What if Queenie turns into a werehorse?”

“No! We have far, far better odds of conducting a B&E at the county morgue than we do of seeing a werehorse,” Phinn stated.

“We need to find a store or a guy for some special weapons. We'd better ask around in town tomorrow,” Jake said, already planning tomorrow’s itinerary.

“What? Are you going to roll up in Lumlow and ask to buy silver bullets, werewolf repellent, and garlic stakes?”

“Who said anything about stakes? Do you think Flamand is a vampire?” Jake questioned, sounding far more excited than Phinn wanted to deal with. “Hey, these backwater towns always have monster hunters living in shacks.”

“In movies, Jake. In movies,” Phinn clarified. “Forget it. I’m not dealing with this. I’m going to bed.”

“Shouldn’t we stand guard?”

“Go ahead. But don’t whine when you’re exhausted tomorrow,” Phinn said, walking around the garage’s corner. “And do not hang garlic in my bedroom while I’m sleeping.”

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