One of the men snorted as he followed Jax’s gaze. “I went to school with Evie. I don’t think you need to worry about those louts.”
“They’re state cops and don’t know her family. You ought to let them learn their lesson,” another of the men suggested.
“My policy is to leave with the one I brought.” Jax shoved through the crowd to the front door, where two sturdy young men not wearing a uniform followed the women out.
Once he was outside in the humid night, Jax felt like a stalker following Evie without letting her know. He simply wanted to see that she wasn’t in trouble. She was half a head shorter than the women she was with—who were wearing heels, of course. And the men following them had a hundred pounds on her.
Before he could decide on tactics, Evie whistled loudly.
Half a dozen mutts raced out of alleys and down the street. She halted to crouch down and hug and pat them. Did nobody in the damned town ever leash their dogs?
This was rural South Carolina—farmland. Of course not. He was the city boy here. Evie was on home ground. Jax shoved his hands in his pockets and watched out of sheer curiosity.
Half a minute later, Evie stood and wandered on with her staggering companions.
The dogs remained. Had Jax not known that Evie’s vet cousin had trained every dog in the territory, he would simply have thought Evie liked dogs. They weren’t slavering hounds but local pets. Still, a terrier could take out an ankle faster than a shepherd and with less invitation. So Jax waited.
The two human hounds tried to push past the pack. The pit bull growled. Leaning against the wall in the shadows, Jax kept one eye on Evie and the other on the off-duty cops. He didn’t want the dogs hurt. Judging by Evie’s direction, she was headed for city hall. Typical. He’d catch up. The women weren’t moving fast.
Human Hound #1 walked into the street. A lab followed, jumping up and trying to lick off his stubble. Human Hound #2 looked as if he’d like to kick the Jack Russell nipping at his ankles. The pitbull growled and paced between the men, while the other mutts just circled, tails wagging.
“Not worth the effort,” Hound #2 called, heading back for the bar.
Hound #1 didn’t look convinced. Jax memorized his face, just in case. Pushing off the Labrador, the cop stumbled while determinedly attempting to skirt past the pack. The dogs surrounded him.
Deciding this was enough entertainment for the evening, Jax jogged after Evie. He held out his hand for the pitbull to sniff and scratched the poodle’s head. He didn’t doubt they smelled Evie on him. They let him pass.
“Never follow a witch who doesn’t want to be followed,” Jax cheerfully advised Hound #1.
He knew she wasn’t a witch, but Jax decided the women were right to spook fools.
And understood why witches had been hanged through the centuries. Hound #1 looked murderous. Cops needed to get a sense of humor.
Jax watched from a distance as the dark-haired woman unlocked a back door to city hall. Closing in, he didn’t hear it lock behind them, so he took his time checking the perimeter. No lights came on. The few windows appeared to be hermetically sealed. It was a more modern building than most in town. There should be an alarm system, but it wouldn’t have been on during public hours when Clancy died.
Finding no sign of trouble, Jax returned to test the back door. It opened freely. No alarm screamed. Neither did the women, but their voices rose in fear and consternation.
Pulse accelerating, Jax jogged toward the front of the building, keeping his eyes and ears open. The halls had low-level exit lighting, but he saw no sign of an intruder. Coming around the corner, he saw Evie’s drunken companions gawking at one of the offices. The dark-haired one was attempting to punch a number into her phone. The blonde kept whispering, “Evie, Evie, get back here.”
Evie didn’t answer.
Jax increased his pace. At his approach in the semi-darkness, the women abruptly grabbed each other and shrieked. Apparently recognizing him a moment later, they shut up. The blonde pointed at the public reception office the councilmen shared. The door was open, and the blinds were up on the interior window that theoretically protected the councilmen and their visitors.
How in hell had Clancy been offed in public view?
The office was darker than the hall. The police tape had been torn from the door and the trash can emptied across the carpet. He’d yell at Evie later. Right now, she seemed frozen beside a desk strewn with paper.
She had her hands in her back pockets, presumably to prevent leaving fingerprints. He’d seen that stance before—when she’d beentalkingto the Navajo ghost in the desert.
In the gloom, he couldn’t see much except Evie’s bright yellow shirt. Like someone dreaming, she muttered, not loudly enough for him to catch her words. He didn’t dare interrupt. When the two women crept closer, Jax blocked them from entering. He didn’t know what Evie did, whether it was con or real, but he’d learned to respect her enough to leave her to it.
He was probably as crazy as she was. There was freedom in accepting that, he decided.
A small object flew off the desk, followed by a slightly larger one. When Evie didn’t react, Jax produced a handkerchief from his pocket. He got down on his knees in the doorway, turned on his phone flashlight, and searched the carpet. He found a thumb drive within reach. It took a moment longer to catch the glimmer of a gold pin.
A shadow abruptly darkened what dim light there was, and Evie collapsed into a sitting position on the carpet. Jax had to fist his fingers to prevent from breaching the torn police barrier and reaching for her. She seemed more dazed than hurt. Sirens screamed into the parking lot, and his phone’s light died. Damn, he should have recharged.
“Any way out of here without being seen?” he asked without much hope.