“It’s over then?” she managed to ask, because it was a question that had hovered for hours.
“Don’t know.” He produced a laptop from his backpack—ah, that’s how he smuggled in the bottle and glasses.
“Whitesville blacked out,” she said helpfully, while he pulled up whatever websites he was after.
“Booyah!” He pumped his fist in the air. “I didn’t know if I could pull that off.”
“You planned that?” She couldn’t decide if she was more incredulous that he was capable or would do it deliberately. “That’s criminal. Why?”
“Listen to the lady who hacks banks for a living.” He opened a screen and grinned. “I didn’t know if they could pass on the witch virus. Looks like they did.”
“How?” She refused to look over his wide shoulder but remained seated.
“Doofi don’t secure their phones or computers. Virus infects their email program, text, social media, anywhere it can get in. Link spreads. Idjits open it hoping for explanation and voila, they freeze. Wasn’t sure it would work.” He crowed, “Entire fam damily down!”
“Your mother? Your sisters?” So caught up in the horror, she forgot to process words.
“Wives, in-laws. They’re all enablers.” He turned the laptop around so she could see the screen.
It was merely a list of calls to the state police—from numbers all over the southeast. Ariel recognized most of them from the victim list she’d compiled. “The victims finally reported the scam?”
“The app did.” He switched screens. “That many complaints couldn’t be ignored. The guy I had following Cousin Omer called in da’s location. The cops won’t find many of them there, but they have names and numbers now. Da will have to lie low. His cohorts will scatter. Don’t know if anyone will do time.”
“You can go home now?” she asked tentatively.
“Hell, no,” he replied without hesitation, before studying her. “I can leave here, if you want, move back to Evie’s, mebbe. But I don’ like leaving you alone.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she lived to be alone. But that was a lie. She was learning to enjoy the company of a man who respected her idiosyncrasy. She didn’t know how to say all that.
“If you don’ mind, I’m stayin’,” he said quietly, turning the screen toward her again.
An email addressed to Roark from the Candyman filled the screen.
I know it’s you,was all it said.
Who was the Candyman?
Twenty-six
Evie rolledout of bed Sunday morning well before Jax was prepared to get up. He glared at her from under his arm. “It’s Sunday. We don’t work today.”
“Mavis wants me and Loretta to go to church with her.” She rummaged in her wardrobe—the house didn’t have much in the way of closets.
“You haven’t been to church all summer.” He flipped over and propped his shoulders on pillows, always curious about Evie’s family and their peculiarities. “Do witches go to church?”
“We havepsychic abilities. We just like to occasionally wind people up by calling ourselves witches.” She produced the ice-blue dress she’d worn the other day and gave that statement some thought. “I think even the Salem witches attended church. Or maybe they burned the ones who didn’t. Oh well. You should come with us. Good for business.”
Jax couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to church. With his upbringing, Sundays had been for golf. He had a suspicion that Evie’s attendance might have the same reason as his golf—social networking. “So, what is Mavis up to that she wants a posse with her?”
She beamed at him and headed for the shower. “Mom is introducing Larraine to the congregation. We’re all going to be there to show our support. Hank would have an apoplexy, but this is his big summer clearance sale at the hardware store. He’ll be working.”
Jax almost felt sorry for the other mayoral contender. Maybe he should show solidarity with the male candidate—except Larraine had her own grounds for sexual discrimination. The world was complicated.
To each their own seemed the simplest policy.
He got out of bed and joined Evie in the shower to take life back to the basics.
After a creative and satisfying session of shower sex, she dashed to dress while he lingered over shaving. By the time he dragged on his Sunday clothes of shorts and polo shirt and ambled downstairs, Evie was proudly ushering everyone out to her new car—including Reuben.