Twists and Tears (Hawg Heaven Cozy Mysteries Book 5) Page 2

  “Okay, I’ll get it then,” the corner of his mouth went higher, as did the color in her cheeks.

  “Okay, good. I’ll be right back,” she scribbled on the pad and beat a path toward the kitchen.

  “Garrett, can you cover the front for a few minutes? I need to go… do something,” she asked, absently handing Tom’s ticket to José.

  “Yup, no worries,” the young man agreed, heading toward the dining room.

  Rossalyn took a deep breath. “Good, thanks.”

  “Miss Rossalyn?” José was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Yes, José, what is it?” she asked, tucking tendrils of hair behind her ears, distracted.

  “All you wrote on this ticket is Tom.”

  She colored again. “Oh! That’s because… I wanted you to know it was him, so that you could be extra careful in doing a good job,” she replied lamely.

  “But you didn’t write down what he wanted to eat,” the cook pointed out, amused by her discomfort. His normally cucumber-cool boss never acted like this.

  “The special, of course. He always gets the special,” she muttered and scurried toward the door.

  “You got it, Boss,” José chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her make her escape.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  “Channing! Hey, Channing, wait up!” a voice called from behind Ryan, as he and Barney walked home from school. The dog always met him about a block away, and stayed by his side all the way home.

  Ryan turned slowly to see who was talking to him, and saw Dylan Carnes trotting over. Dylan was in Ryan’s shop class, and had never really paid much attention to the quiet “new kid,” but wasn’t among the group of bullies who lived to torment him, so he watched his approach, wary, but not scared.

  “What’s up?” Ryan asked neutrally, unconsciously flipping the tip of Barney’s ear between his fingers.

  “Cool dog,” Dylan gave him a lopsided grin. “Can I pet him?”

  “I guess,” Ryan shrugged, trying to size up the newcomer and determine whether his classmate meant to do him harm.

  “Hey buddy,” Dylan held out his hand to the dog, who sniffed it, licked it, and then consented to be petted. “Aww… I think he likes me.”

  “He’s pretty friendly,” Ryan offered.

  “I’m not one of them, you know,” Dylan crouched by Barney, rubbing the dog’s ears.

  “Huh?”

  “One of the jerks. I’ve seen them bother you. They used to do that to me, too,” Dylan confided, looking up at Ryan.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It was a long time ago,” he shrugged.

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Why did they stop?”

  “Cuz my dad went over to their houses and talked to their dads.”

  “That was it?”

  “Well, he took his shotgun,” Dylan grinned, and Ryan chuckled.

  “That’d work,” Ryan nodded, still smiling.

  “Hey, my family ate at your mom’s restaurant last week. It was awesome.”

  “Thanks. She has this really cool guy named José who does all the cooking.”

  “A guy does the cooking? Isn’t that kinda weird?”

  “Why is that weird? My mom is a really good cook, but she’s busy doing the business stuff.”

  “I just never heard of a guy cooking before,” Dylan commented, standing up, his knees popping.

  “Every guy I know cooks.”

  Dylan raised his eyebrows and let it go. “You got homework?” he asked.

  “Nah, I did it in homeroom. I almost never have homework.”

  “I do, but I usually just blow it off,” Dylan grinned.

  “Don’t you get in trouble?” Ryan was astonished at the thought.

  “Nope. My mom and dad aren’t exactly… educated types,” he shrugged. “Wanna go frog hunting?”

  Ryan stared at him, wondering if he was serious. “Frog hunting? Why would anyone go frog hunting?”

  Dylan, dumbfounded, blinked at him for a moment. “For their legs.”

  “Huh?” Ryan frowned, not understanding.

  “You eat them, dude. Haven’t you ever eaten frog legs?” Dylan was incredulous.

  Ryan turned a bit green. “Are you serious? That’s disgusting.”

  “No way, tastes just like chicken,” Dylan grinned.

  “Then I’ll stick to chicken.”

  “It’s fun catching ’em. Wanna go?”

  “Like, now?”

  “Yeah. Now.”

  Ryan felt just a bit uncomfortable at the thought of going to the pond with someone he hardly knew. What if Dylan was the scout for the bullies, and he was just luring him to a deserted place where they could torture him?

  “Uh… I don’t know…” he hesitated.

  Dylan sighed. “Look, I see you sitting in the lunchroom by yourself. I know what that feels like. Most of the time I just stay quiet and hope nobody notices me, but if there’s two of us, maybe they won’t mess with us. You can even bring this guy,” he scratched between Barney’s ears. “They won’t mess with us if he’s around. He’s a pretty big dog.”

  Ryan nodded slowly, not detecting any deception in Dylan’s tone and manner. “Is there cell service out there?”

  “Don’t know. Ain’t got one. I guess we’ll find out, huh?”

  Ryan bit his lip considering. “Okay, where are we going?”

  “Out to Parson’s Pond, ’bout a mile from the school,” Dylan pointed back toward the direction from which they’d just come.

  “Okay, I’ll text my mom. She always wants to know what I’m doing after school.”

  “Wow, really? My mom doesn’t even care if I come home for supper.”

  The two very different boys stared at each other for a second, then Ryan took out his phone to text.

  ***

  “How are you going to get the frogs home if we catch any?” Ryan asked, trudging through the weeds and brush around the pond.

  “Got a grocery bag in my pocket.”

  “Do you always carry a grocery bag in your pocket?”

  “Heck yeah, don’t you? Never know when you might need one.”

  Barney, who had been happily trotting alongside Ryan, suddenly stopped and lifted his nose to the air, catching a scent. His hackles rose, and a low growl, unlike anything that Ryan had ever heard from him before, rumbled low in his broad chest. Ryan’s skin broke out in goosebumps, and for the second time today, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Had Dylan tricked him after all? Was he in danger? If enough of the bullies came out, they might hurt Barney as well as him.

  “What’s up with him?” Dylan asked, staring at the dog, when he realized that Ryan was no longer walking with him.

  “I don’t know,” Ryan muttered, his eyes darting in the direction that the dog was looking. “He does this sometimes.”

  Barney whimpered, and took off at a trot, making Ryan wish that he hadn’t unsnapped the leash from the hound’s collar when they reached the pond.

  “Barney, wait!” he called, following him, which seemed to spur the hound to run even faster. “Barney, stop! Sit! Heel!” Ryan called out, running faster, with Dylan at his side.

  The dog ignored his string of commands entirely, intent upon a target of some kind, and headed for the treeline. He stopped suddenly, lifting his nose into the air and sniffing. Ryan and Dylan came to a huffing halt behind him. The dog sniffed the ground all around them, as though looking for something, and unexpectedly began slowly wagging his tail. Shaking his hackles back down into place, he returned to Ryan’s side and looked up at him with a happy expression.

  “Man, your dog is crazy,” Dylan commented, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

  “It’s the company he keeps,” Ryan mumbled, snapping the leash back onto the dog’s collar, just in case.

  “Wanna go to my house and get some fruit punch and cookies? I figured out where my dad hides the chocolate ones.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble for
stealing his cookies?” Ryan smiled.

  “Nope, he always blames my brother,” Dylan grinned slyly.

  “Let’s do it,” Ryan was relieved that Barney’s normal behavior had returned, but he was still anxious to get back to civilization.

  “Cool, our farm is just on the other side of the pond, let’s go.”

  ***

  The teenagers and the loyal dog made good time getting around the pond, but when they got to the edge of Dylan’s family’s property, Barney starting growling again.

  “Really, boy?” Ryan sighed, frustrated and tired of being scared and suspicious.

  He strengthened his grip on the leash just in time, as the dog lunged forward, barking as though he was about to tear something… or someone apart. Ryan only kept up with him for a few hundred feet, then he had to let go of the leash as the dog charged into a full sprint, headed toward the pigpen, of all places. Once he reached the pen, with Ryan and Dylan tearing along behind him, Barney whined and snuffled and pawed at the dirt surrounding the enclosure, as though trying to get inside. His barks sounded like harsh shrieks and he whined in between, hackles raised, tail between his legs.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Dylan panted as the two boys finally reached the pigpen.

  Almost afraid to go near the hyper-agitated hound, Ryan shook his head. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  He approached his dog slowly, speaking in what he hoped was a soothing voice that didn’t belie the pounding of his heart. “What is it, boy? You okay?” he asked, wondering if this type of strange behavior was the reason that the dog had been found wandering the streets in the first place.

  “What’s he trying to get at?” Dylan wondered, climbing up onto the lowest rail of the hog fence and peering over, Ryan joining him.

  All color drained from Ryan’s face and he had to tighten his grip on the fence so he didn’t fall. “Oh geez, oh geez, oh geez…” he whispered, swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat, while the dog scuffled below him, trying to dig under the fence.

  “What?” Dylan frowned, seeing his new friend’s reaction.

  Ryan couldn’t speak. He just shook his head, raised a shaky hand and pointed down at the ground. At first, Dylan couldn’t see what he was pointing toward, but when he finally did, his reaction was profound.

  “Ma!” he screamed, jumping off the fence. “Ma… ma!” he continued screaming, running toward the rather run-down farmhouse that was on the other side of the pigpen.

  Not knowing what to do, Ryan climbed down from the fence, his knees weak and his stomach churning abominably. He slipped his fingers under Barney’s collar and pulled the dog away, leaning against a tree for support. He made Barney sit at his feet, still whining and fussing, fixated on the pigpen. He would have nightmares tonight, that he knew. It had taken him quite some time to be able to get a decent night’s sleep when his father was killed, and Ryan resigned himself to the fact that he and Barney would now be sleeping with the lights on tonight, his trusty baseball bat, the one that his dad had taught him to play with, by his side.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  When Rossalyn saw Officer Morgan Tyler of the Chatsworth PD walk into Hawg Heaven just before the dinner rush, looking grave, her heart sank. The handsome cop had been trying to convince her to go out with him for a while now, but when she saw the look on his face, she realized that he wasn’t there for a social call.

  “Rossalyn, don’t panic, but I have your son and his dog in my patrol car,” he held up his hands as if trying to soften the blow.

  Seeing the terrified mother’s expression, he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “He’s okay. He just ran into a situation with a friend of his that has him a bit rattled. He wanted to go home, but I thought you’d probably want to see him first.”

  Rossalyn was taking off her apron with shaking hands without even realizing it. She took off toward the kitchen, tossed the apron into the laundry basket, and ran for the front door, leaving a very startled José and Garrett staring after her.

  “What is it?” she asked Morgan over her shoulder on her way out the door.

  Once outside, she spotted the patrol car and made a beeline for it. Ryan peered out the front passenger window, his eyes looking huge in his pale face.

  “Rye,” she whispered, running toward the car.

  He opened the door, and before he could get out fully, she had pulled him up and was examining every inch of him for damage.

  “What is it? What happened, Rye? Are you okay?” Rossie asked, the palms of her hands cupping his face.

  Ryan nodded, his eyes wide, and he looked as though he were in shock. Rossalyn pulled him into a hard embrace, and he hugged her back, seeming to hold on for dear life.

  “Come on, I’m taking you home,” she said, kissing the top of his head and steering him toward her car, her arm wrapped around him. “Morgan, will you wait with him while I get my purse and keys?” she asked the officer, who was leading Barney around the back of the police car to join them.

  “Of course,” he replied quietly, offering the leash to Ryan, who accepted it without a word. Barney got as close as he could to the pale, withdrawn teenager, and leaned against him, making the leash entirely unnecessary.

  Rossalyn was gone only a matter of moments before coming back with a huge to-go box of Ryan’s favorite foods and bundling the boy and his dog into the car.

  “Wanna tell me about it?” she asked, forcing herself to sound calm and do the speed limit. She knew by Ryan’s appearance and demeanor that something of significance had happened.

  “Do I have to?” he asked, his words seeming to cost him a great effort.

  “No, Rye. Not right now. Let’s get you home. We can run a nice warm bath for you, and while you’re in there, I’ll get dinner going. José boxed up all of your favorites for you,” Rossalyn smiled fondly, worried about the nearly silent teen.

  “I’m not hungry,” Ryan murmured, and Barney leaned his head over the back of the seat to rest on his shoulder.

  “I know, honey, but you have to eat. You’ll think more clearly and get everything figured out,” his mother promised.

  “What if I just want to forget?” he asked tonelessly, staring out the window.

  ***

  Though it was late spring in central Illinois and the days were generally warm, Rossalyn pulled her sweater around her tightly as she walked out the back door, across the alley and into the back yard of her neighbor, Tom Hundman. The biker kept a spotless house, which retained the exact same décor that it had since the seventies, when his late mother had last redecorated. Inside, the place was like a retro museum, and through the sheer curtain on the back door, Rossie could see that Tom was in his kitchen. Knocking softly, she saw him look up, and heard the clomping of his motorcycle boots as he moved across the kitchen floor toward the back door.

  He opened the door, and at the look on Rossie’s face, his surprised half-smile dropped into a concerned frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Rossalyn almost burst into tears at the warmth in his voice. “Can I come in?” she asked, digging her nails into her palms to keep from crying.

  She’d left Ryan sitting with Barney and a bowl of popcorn in front of the television. He was binge-watching one of his favorite comedies, but sat stone-faced and remote while canned laughter echoed through the cozy living room. He’d poured out his story to her, his voice flat as he’d described what he’d seen.

  “Yeah, come in,” he opened the door wider to let her pass. “I was just making some mint tea, if you want some.”

  Even in her angst, Rossalyn stared at him in surprise. “You drink tea?” she blinked.

  “Who doesn’t?” the biker said gruffly, heading for the olive green teakettle steaming on the stove. “You want some or not?”

  “Uh, yeah. Do you have cookies too?”

  “That a wisecrack?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Not at al
l; that’s an actual need. My mom gives me tea and cookies when I’m upset.”

  “I got a whole freezer full. Some little girls came by last week and I bought four boxes of every kind that they had. Any preferences?”

  “You never cease to surprise me, Tom Hundman.”

  “Yeah, whatever, you want cookies or not?”

  “Yes please, the chocolate-covered mint kind are my favorite.”

  “Good, I have some of those that aren’t frozen.” The biker went to the pantry, which was, no joke, alphabetized, and grabbed a plastic bin that contained the open box of cookies. “Keeps ’em fresh,” he muttered, when he saw Rossie’s expression.

  “Thank you,” she took the cookies and put four of them on a delicate little plate that he handed her, which matched her hand-painted teacup. Tom drank out of a mug with a motorcycle logo on it, and piled a heap of cookies onto a folded paper towel.

  “Now, what’s bothering you?” he asked.

  “It’s Ryan…” she began.

  “He okay?” Tom interrupted, leaning forward.

  The biker had a soft spot for her bright and well-mannered son. They’d started building a model together a few weeks ago, and Ryan had come down the stairs to find it completed the next morning. Tom swore that he hadn’t done it, which worried Rossalyn a bit. She’d had the strange feeling for weeks that they were being watched and weird things had happened around the house. Broken items were mysteriously mended, chores were somehow completed when neither Rossie nor Ryan were home, and Barney kept giving strange signals that he had detected something outside.

  “Well, yes and no. He went frog hunting with a friend this afternoon, and…” she began.

  “Frog hunting? There aren’t any edible frogs around here,” he frowned.

  “Whatever, that’s what they did, and when Barney started acting funny, barking and growling, they decided to go to Ryan’s friend’s house…”

  “Ryan made a friend?” Tom interrupted again, stuffing a cookie in his mouth.

  “Just today, apparently,” Rossie shrugged.