“It’s not their property, Troy,” the mayor predictably shouted. “John Post sold it six months ago. The permits have all been filed for the construction to begin.”
Evie idly waved her smoking broom grass. The scent of sage was refreshing over the stench of bullshit. Now that her parade just about had the officials surrounded, she closed the net, walking past the sheriff until she was face-to-face with Toby’s red-faced father, Mayor Blockhead. She tried not to look at Jax, who stood to one side, observing. She didn’t want to see his laughter at her methods.
“Thosepermitswere obtained over two dead bodies.” She didn’t raise her voice, forcing the men to shut up and lean in to listen. The stupid hat itched her head, but it probably prevented her from lighting her hair on fire. “The Postsknewthey didn’t own our pondorthe hill. Who did they try to explain that to?”
“We have the deeds, young lady.” The mayor looked as if he was about to have a stroke. “The Posts signed the sale papers for their lot, all fair and square. And tax notices have gone out on the remainder. You still have a few days to pay the taxes, but the land isn’t worth what’s owed. Let it go, Evie. The town needs development, not a mosquito-infested pond.”
“You can’t buy what wasn’t theirs to sell. The Posts only owned the back hill. The pond and all the rest of our land are in a trust that would take all of us to sell, andwe paid our taxes!” Evie cried over the rising wind.
Before the mayor could reply, the raven dropped on his neatly coiffed blond hair and flew away with his toupee. Block clutched his balding head and screamed obscenities.
“Someone hand the mayor a hat,” Mavis taunted from her position near the pond, safely surrounded by Toby’s protestors. Looking gobsmacked, the frog supporters forgot their chants and watched the raven fly away with the mayor’s ragged patch of pride.
Tobias strode in and handed his father his ball cap. The mayor threw it in the mud and stomped on it.
Another time, Evie would call him on his rudeness, but she was trying to stay focused. “You still haven’t answered a simple question, Mr. Mayor.Who did the Posts talk to when they came to town?”
“Theydidn’tcome to town!” the mayor screamed, obviously rattled out of his usual smarmy charm. He turned around to the other town officials caught in Evie’s circle. “Let’s go to city hall where we can discuss this without interruption.”
Evie pointed out the obvious—the trench. “There’s evidence that they most certainly were here.”
Aunt Felicia stepped up with copies of all the documents they’d gathered. “We’re much happier holding this meeting on their grave, so their spirits may see justice done.” She slapped the mayor’s nose with the papers. “The land is in a trust and these tax notices are fraudulent.”
The day grew darker by the minute. Evie rather enjoyed the effect—and the cool wind. Her cheap polyester costume didn’t breathe and was suffocating her.
The Posts had died here. Just because the mayor denied knowing of their presence, didn’t mean no one knew about their visit. That person wasn’t necessarily the mayor or Jax’s father or any of the council. She had noevidence. She hated going blank when surrounded by tension, but she needed to see who was lying—
The mayor’s aura glowed red with fury, with an overlay of gray that indicated deception and confusion but not necessarily guilt. Maybe he really didn’t know the Posts had been here.
Jax’s father puffed furiously on his cigar, obscuring his aura to some extent. But she saw the colors of guilt—except they didn’t come with overtones of violence. Had the Posts died accidentally? Dammit, she didn’t knowanything. But Stephen Stockton knew more than he was saying.
She’d lose her hold on the gathering if she didn’t shake herself back to reality. Closing her inner eye, she glared at Jax’s father. “The Posts must have called you about the land. You’re their lawyer. What did they say?”
She deliberately didn’t look in Jax’s direction but prayed he wouldn’t interfere.
The older man belligerently bit down on his cigar, narrowed his eyes, then spoke curtly. “They were upset the last time I spoke with them. They wanted to talk with someone at Lakeland Development. I gave them a number. That was it. That’s all I know, just as I told the police.” He turned to the mayor and gestured toward the road. “Let’s get out of here before it pours.”
Evie’s family circle closed in tighter. The mayor would have to shove them aside to leave.
Jax’s voice rang out. “Sheriff, did the cops call Lakeland and find out who the Posts talked to?”
“Don’t think so,” Troy called back, producing his cell phone. “Anyone got Lakeland’s number?”
“Evie, Honey says one of them is getting away.” Her cousin Iddy pointed toward the opposite side of the circle from where Evie stood. Her cousin was holding the retriever’s leash to keep the dog from taking chase.
Evie stood on tiptoe and found an older, bulky man in a work shirt heading for the survey van. A couple of black-clad men from her group followed on his heels. The circle tightened, closing the gap left behind, bringing her spooky congregation even closer to the men they’d surrounded.
Looking like a super-hero with his black T-shirt clinging to sculpted pecs, Jax took it upon himself to intervene on her behalf. He jogged over and reached the van first. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the driver’s door. Evie heard him ask, “Busy man, Emmitt? Got someplace to go?”
Emmitt? Of course,Emmitt Blue, the Titan surveyor she’d chased away from the pond. Emmitt Blue, the contractor Jax’s real father and John Post had sued decades ago for not finishing his jobs. Emmitt, whose twin sister worked in the deed registrar’s office...
Her instincts tingled, and not in a good way.
Jax didn’t budge from the van even though the Titan guy stood half a foot taller and half a ton heavier. “You wouldn’t happen to own a landscape dozer, would you?”
“His son does. That’s what we were talking about,” the sheriff shouted over the wind as he punched in a number from a business card someone had handed him. “He pushed up that flood wall by the highway last fall.”
Ranting about interfering witches, the balding mayor shoved his way out of the circle at the weakest link. Grannie Satterwhite staggered sideways. Pris caught the old lady before she fell, but the circle had been breached. Shrugging, Stockton trailed in the mayor’s wake.