“But you just said—”
“Yeah, things change fast around here.” I headed for the door. He wasn’t going to be of any help, and if I stayed I’d only want to jump him, which just made me madder at both him and myself.
I slammed the door, then stood in the silvery light trying to think of what to do. I wasn’t trained for paranormal investigation; I was getting nowhere and people were dying.
If they were people. The committee was still out on that.
Regardless, beings that inhabited my town were turning up dead, sans hearts, and I had no idea why. Pretty soon someone besides me was going to notice the epidemic, and then there’d be real trouble.
Inside I heard the faint mumble of Ian’s voice. Either he was talking to himself or he’d called someone. I inched closer to the door, noticing that I’d shut it so hard, the latch hadn’t caught, and now it stood open a few inches.
&n
bsp; “A woman in remission died tonight.”
Who could he possibly be calling about that?
“I gave her one of my healing potions. Herbs, vitamins. Nothing major. Believe me, if I could cure cancer, I’d be doing it.”
My lips curved. Wouldn’t that be something?
“I know it doesn’t make sense. The Kalanu Ahyeli’-ski steals the lives of the dying.”
The what?
Chapter 25
While I wanted to bust right in and demand answers to a whole lot of questions, I forced myself to remain where I was and listen.
“No one’s reacted to the feather.”
His feather? I’d reacted to it, though I certainly hoped he wasn’t sharing how.
“Buzzard,” he continued, “just like the legends said.”
Buzzard feather? I flashed on the huge black feather I’d found in my office at home—the office that was now toast.
What was Ian Walker up to? Who was he? And who was he working for?
“I’ll keep searching.” His voice faded, and the stairs creaked as he went up them.
I leaned back as his shadow passed in front of the second-story window. Before I confronted him, I needed some answers. Namely, what did a buzzard feather repel and what was a Kalanu Ahyeli’-ski?
Leaving the door ajar—I’d definitely be back—I headed for the sheriff’s department. The place was quiet at this time of night. My third-shift dispatcher, a semi-retired lawyer by the name of Catfish Waller, manned the phones. Catfish was the only lawyer left in Lake Bluff. Since we didn’t have much need for a lawyer that worked out well.
Catfish had requested employment when his insomnia had gotten so bad he never slept a wink between midnight and 9:00 a.m. He not only was responsible, but he also knew the law. If I could only get him to stop writing his memoirs during his shift. Not that there was all that much else to do, but he had a bad habit of reading them to anyone who would listen. There’d been complaints.
“Grace!” he greeted. “Chapter seventeen, where I lose my virginity.”
Oh, God.
“Sorry, Catfish, gotta hit the Internet. Maybe later.” I made a dash for my office.
“Real sorry about your house.”
“Thanks!” I locked the door behind me and pulled down the shades. I didn’t want Catfish deciding he really needed my opinion any more than I wanted him seeing what I was researching on the Internet.
I also wanted to change my clothes, which reeked of the fire, so I stripped and donned one of the extra uniforms in the closet, exchanging my sandals for sneakers, then made my way to the computer and typed in buzzard feathers.