"Come on," I said. "Let's go find out. "
I led the way, with Finn behind me and Violet bringing up the rear. As we crossed the parking lot, I palmed one of my silverstone knives. If there was trouble inside, I'd be the first one to see it - and I wanted to be ready to deal with it.
The porch stairs didn't creak under my weight. They were too smooth and well-worn to do that. I walked up them, opened the front door, and stepped inside.
Country Daze was exactly what I'd expected. Scarred, ancient wooden floors. Displays of tourist T-shirts, key chains, and other doodads. An odd assortment of tools and outdoor equipment. Barrels full of rock candy, saltwater taffy, and cellophane-wrapped sugary pralines. A couple of coolers filled with old-fashioned glass soda bottles.
A few more with sandwiches and other snacks. Tables full of honey, strawberry preserves, and apple butter. A revolving rack of cheap sunglasses. Nicer arrangements of quilts, baskets, and other, more expensive handmade items.
A large counter filled with silver jewelry formed a solid square in the middle of the store. An old man stood behind it, one hand resting on a large shotgun with a scarred wooden stock.
What little there was of his wispy white hair stuck up over his forehead as if it had been shocked upright by my appearance. His eyes were dark and shiny, as though two chocolate caramels had been stuffed in his face. He was about my size, stooped with age from his original, taller height. His skin was a dark, burnished brown, marking him as having some Native American heritage, most likely Cherokee in this neck of the woods. Deep lines grooved his face around his pinched mouth, as if he frowned a lot.
But perhaps most unsettling was the fact he wore a blue work shirt that could have come straight out of Fletcher Lane's closet. His dark eyes held the same fierce determination that Fletcher's had always had, and I could tell by his proud stance that this store was his life, his kingdom, and meant as much to him as the Pork Pit had to Fletcher. The man in front of me didn't look anything like my murdered mentor, but in some ways, he was a mirror image of Fletcher. It unsettled me - and made me feel a softness toward him that he'd done absolutely nothing to earn.
I didn't need Violet to tell me this was her grandfather, Warren T. Fox. A crotchety old coot who'd probably just as soon cuss as look at you. I knew the type. I'd been raised by one.
But Warren T. Fox wasn't alone.
There was another man with him, someone who needed no introduction, either. Someone I already knew all too well.
Detective Donovan Caine.
Chapter Fifteen
Now I knew whom the sedan outside belonged to. It had cop car written all over it. I just didn't realize it belonged to my cop.
The two men turned at the sound of my footsteps on the worn floor. Warren T. Fox frowned. Surprise filled Donovan Caine's golden eyes.
"Gin?" the detective asked. "What are you doing here?"
"You know her?" Warren Fox asked. His voice was high, thin, reedy, like someone whistling through a broken flute.
"Yeah," Caine said in a low voice. "You might say I know her. "
Well enough to sleep with me. Well enough to want to do the same again. Despite the fact I'd killed his former partner.
I opened my mouth to respond when Finn and Violet entered the store behind me. The girl walked around me, went straight to her grandfather, leaned across the wooden counter, and hugged his neck tight.
The old man's face softened for a moment, and the sheen of moisture dampened his eyes. Then he scowled and pulled away from the younger woman.
"Where have you been?" he snapped. "I've been worried sick about you. "
Violet sighed. "I called you last night, Grandpa, remember? I told you I was staying with Eva. "
The old man's brown eyes narrowed. "Yes, you called, and you sounded peculiar. But I wasn't really worried until Eva called here this morning. She said you two were supposed to have breakfast, and you didn't show. "
Violet's face pinched up into an oh-shit-I've-just-beencaught look.
"I tried your cell phone to clarify the matter," Warren continued. "No answer. "
"The battery died," Violet said in a soft, desperate voice.
I didn't know why she was still trying to stick to her story. The truth was going to come out in the next minute, two tops. I supposed Violet just wanted to spare her grandfather the ugly details about what had been done to her last night. Most people tended to block out things like that. Sometimes I wished I could do the same, instead of dwelling on the past the way I always did.
"I called the college, Eva again, and all your other friends I could remember. Nobody had seen you since last night," Warren replied in a curt tone. "Do you know how worried I was about you? With everything that's been going on? So I called Donovan to report you missing. "
I eyed Caine. So that's what the detective was doing here. And from Warren's use of his first name, it sounded like the two of them knew each other. The detective saw me looking and shrugged his lean shoulders.