A Titan surveying van was parked way off the road, nearly hidden in the underbrush the cops had stomped on. The bodies had been carried off an hour ago. The black-and-whites had left with them, but the sheriff’s car remained. What now? Surely not more bodies.
As he climbed out, Jax heard a mob of chanting voices. For a moment, he wondered if Evie’s insane reaction had been to start a protest march—and then he remembered the gopher frogs. Right. He’d looked up the old boyfriend—the mayor’s son had worked fast.
Not ready to let down his guard, Jax strolled over to check out the entertainment. He wasn’t sure why his father had stopped to watch a frog protest march, but maybe they could verbally beat each other up some more, and he might learn something.
The once quiet pond path had been churned into a sea of dust and crushed grass, until it reached the edge, where a dozer had dug a muddy trench. The protestors circled in the trampled mud, avoiding the long grasses where the quails nested. Tobias had only summoned about a dozen of his pals, but they had their signs and chants already prepared and in action.
Police tape fluttered in the breeze, ignored by all. Jax shoved his hands in his back pockets and contemplated the scene from the slight rise he stood on. His cynical mind wondered if evidence was being trampled and if it was being done deliberately. Could Toby be protecting his father the way Jax was avoiding implicating Stephen?
The sheriff appeared to be arguing with the big burly man Jax had identified as the surveyor, Emmitt Blue. The mayor and Stephen were acting buddy-buddy off to one side with a couple of other men who might be town or Lakeland officials. A heated discussion appeared to be in progress. Jax wished he could be a little bird on their shoulders, then checked the sky for the raven. Sure enough, it circled, but he was pretty certain birds couldn’t translate human finances. Would it pick up on fear?
And why the devil was he believing a raven did anything except fly over its territory?
A few more pickup trucks arrived. Maybe the drivers were the town council, out to investigate the damage done to property the town wanted to take back for non-payment of taxes. Not seeing any reason to descend from his safe lookout, Jax checked the road back to town—
And swallowed a hoot of laughter. In full witch’s regalia, or a Malcolm facsimile thereof, a parade marched toward the pond. Against the darkened clouds, they almost created an ominous sight. He hoped Roark was filming this.
Grinning, Jax jogged down the path just to hear what the women had come to say.
He saw Evie first. She was wearing what was obviously a slinky-fitting Halloween costume of Morticia Addams, except Evie was shorter and curvier. So she’d whacked off the trailing hem to form a jagged edge above her ankles. Not that anyone would notice anything beyond the curves spilling out of her low-cut neckline. At least she was wearing sturdy sandals instead of going barefoot.
Jax studied the abomination hiding her colorful curls. It looked like a fedora with the brim turned down to hide her face. She’d trimmed it with a black-and-green scarf that blew in the rising wind.
None of the others were quite so dramatically clothed. He didn’t recognize most of them. He noted a few red-hat ladies with their garishly decorated bonnets, but mostly, there were a lot of black outfits. It looked like several old men were wearing black funeral suits with top hats. Several women had wrapped gauzy scarf ties around old-fashioned, wide-brimmed garden hats. That’s when Jax noticed their other accessories—handfuls of dried weeds and broom straw tied to tree branches.
Besides the human factor, numerous dogs, and a cat in a carry-all over Evie’s shoulder accompanied them, while the raven and a hawk flew overhead. He wouldn’t doubt the presence of rabbits and possums, and he was pretty sure there were a few goats.
The broom parade numbers were greater than the Malcolms he knew and way exceeded that of the protestors. In their wake followed a stream of townspeople, presumably out of curiosity. Gossip was the lifeblood of a small town—and Evie’s family knew it. Their drama was setting the mayor up for a fall. Jax had learned a few things about Evie’s family since coming to town. Those costumes had nothing to do with being witches or fools and everything to do with commanding attention.
Ignoring the chanting protestors and arguing men, Jax left his post to meet the parade.
Evie looked wary but defiant. “You can’t stop us. We’re going to throw our deeds in the mayor’s face in front of half the town. For once, I want a little respect for who we are and what we can do.”
Jax wanted to kiss her, but he thought that might detract from the show. Instead, he replied in exasperation. “You keep telling me you get no respect, but take a good look around. Every one of these people here respects you enough to listen to you, even Sheriff Troy and the mayor. That’s why they’re huddled over there, arguing instead of laughing their heads off right now. People whoknowyou,respectwhat you can do—and I speak that from experience. Your real talent is allowing judgmental strangers to underestimate you.”
She frowned. “That’s because I hate it when people think I’m a half-wit because of my looks.”
“But people who believe you’re harmless say things that they wouldn’t say in front of anyone else. Go wave a broom under my father’s nose and tell him you know everything he’s hidden for years. He doesn’t know you and he’ll dismiss you, but watch the sheriff perk up and pay attention.”
“You should be a trial attorney. You’re as much into drama as we are.” Evie said that with derision but quit scowling and directed her mob toward the officials warily watching their approach. “I’ll just channel Val, shall I?”
Jax grinned. “You’re too short, but she’s a good role model.”
She smacked him with her broom and marched into the trampled field, waving the stick high to direct her troops.
Twenty-four
The sophisticated citylawyer thought she wasrespected. Evie almost snorted at Jax’s odd delusion. But it put the puff in her consequence to know a man of experience and intelligence believed it for even a minute—especially when she looked like a midget Morticia the Clown. She could hope he’d understand what she was about to do next and wouldn’t flee back to the city.
“Light your brooms, folks,” she called to her troops. “And circle the wagons.”
She pointed at the city and Lakeland officials gathered by the pond. Not all of her parade was female. They were an equal opportunity assembly. Women weren’t the only ones in town with grievances to air.
“Evangeline Carstairs, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sheriff Troy shouted, approaching despite her eccentric Praetorian guards waving fiery brooms.
The thunderclouds were darker now, and the wind whipping the flames created a nicely sensational effect.
“Holding a meeting to re-consecrate our property, Sheriff. We’re here to cast out evil.” Evie shot a significant look at his fellow officials, who had stopped arguing to glare at the interruption.