Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“He was with me. You know that.”

“I know he was there this morning. I don’t know anything about last night. He could have killed her, dumped the body, then come to you for an alibi.”

“He didn’t.”

“You got proof of that?”

“He had dinner with me and Claire and Mal. You want to, you can call the mayor for verification.”

“And after dinner?”

“I checked into Fosters’. Jordan will confirm that, and he’s been with me every minute since.”

“That just figgers.” Jarvis had crept close enough to hear the end of our conversation. “Two Injuns stickin’ together.” He made an obscene hand gesture by circling his thumb and forefinger, then pushing his other forefinger through the hole several times fast.

“Is this guy for real?” Ian asked.

Jarvis had been at the head of Dad’s list of potential cross burners, though Dad had never been able to prove it. My arresting the man for drunk and disorderly five times a month had not endeared me to him, either.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “He’s a real Indian lover.”

“Bitch.” He spat.

Ian’s fist caught Jarvis on the jaw. He went down hard. The crowd began to murmur and shift. I recognized quite a few other cross-burning types in the mix. This could get ugly fast.

“Cal,” I said.

“Everyone just settle.” Cal rested his hand on his gun and the murmurs faded.

I could have done the same, but with these guys that would have only made them crazier. They’d barely been able to tolerate an Indian sheriff; now that the Indian was also a woman, I had all I could do to keep them from foaming at the mouth every time they saw me.

Jarvis shook his head as if he’d been dunked a few times under the water.

I shot Ian an exasperated look. “That was unnecessary.”

“No, it was definitely necessary.”

“I’m gonna sue your ass!” Jarvis yelled. “I’m gonna kick it, too.” He tried to get up but fell on his ass with a thud.

Ian moved so fast I didn’t have a chance to stop him. Cal tensed, ready to grab him if he needed to. But all Ian did was lean over Jarvis and whisper.

The other man went pale, staring at Ian, transfixed. Then Jarvis slapped his hands over his face and screamed, “His eyes! His eyes!”

Ian straightened and strolled back to us so calm, I half-expected him to start whistling.

“What did you do?” I asked, but I knew, even before he winked.

The crowd mumbled some more, this time staring at Jarvis as if he were crazy. Cal did, too.

“You been drinking already, Jarvis? You’d better get on to bed.” Cal motioned to two of Jarvis’s cronies, and they hauled him away.

“Move along,” Cal told the others. “We’ll handle things.”

Though they grumbled, the crowd dispersed, some to the trailers parked in a zigzagging row that disappeared into the trees, others to their pickup trucks.

“You say you were with him every minute. You didn’t sleep all night?” Cal asked.

“Of course I did. But Jordan was at the desk. I’m sure she would have seen Ian leave.”