Page 20 of Killer Knows Best (Fallon Baxter FBI Mystery #4)

20

SPECIAL AGENT JACK STONE

T he drive back to Pine Ridge Falls is mercifully quiet. Fallon, thankfully, has decided to eschew the idea of making any small talk with my mother.

Not that it would go anywhere useful. My mother is the type who takes any attempt at conversation and wrings the life out of it, just to leave you with a headache and a deep desire for something strong to drink. So, I’m more than grateful that Fallon opted to focus on the road, and Buddy, even though he’s conked out in the back, oblivious to the drama riding shotgun.

Fallon knows the whole cry me a river story of my rotten family.

I filled her in on that fractured fairy tale soon after we met. I let her know that my mother had a stable marriage to a good man, a tax attorney who worked with the IRS. They had two kids and a nice house. They had the whole white picket fence dream going for them.

Then my father, her husband’s younger brother, showed up. The “bad boy” version, if you could even call him that. He was younger, dumber, and into every vice you could think of—booze, coke, girls. My mother fell for him hard. Left her husband, took the kids, and ran off to dicey pastures with this dicey version of her husband. Added one more to the family, me. The IRS guy filed for divorce, disappeared, and the rest of the family cut her off.

It’s not a pretty story, but it’s mine.

Growing up with a drug addict for a father and a mother who turned tricks to keep both food and lines on the table wasn’t exactly a Norman Rockwell upbringing. Then things spiraled. Dad found heroin, Mom found friends with criminal tendencies, and those friends got caught up robbing liquor stores. That’s when the cops got involved, and then my whole life shifted gears overnight.

By the time I was fourteen, I was working just to keep the lights on. Mom went to prison, Dad followed, and my brother Jet and I ended up with the Deckers in lieu of foster care since Jet had already aged out. The last straw for my sister Candy came before my parents were hauled off by the time that happened; she had already run off to save herself. Probably the smartest move any of us ever made.

Now, here we are, full circle. My mother, fresh out of prison again, humming along to the radio, sitting next to me like it’s just another day in our twisted family saga.

No sooner do we hit Pine Ridge Falls than we pass the enormous falls that glow lavender on this moonless fall night.

I lift my eyes to the rearview mirror and catch Fallon’s gaze. “You want to go home?”

“Don’t even think about it, Stone.” She sheds a half-smile that quickly morphs into a frown. And a part of me is relieved that she’ll be heading to my place with me. That part of me is terrified.

We head straight for the Whispering Woods’ compound, and soon we pull into my driveway .

The cabin is lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. Jet is home, and the second we walk through the door, he lights up.

He spots Mom, lets out a howl, and runs toward her like a kid.

“ Mom! ” He scoops her up, spins her around, and she squeals like it’s Christmas morning.

Buddy, ever the opportunist, spots the ball of fluff sitting on the back of my sofa and he takes this chance to chase her right under the couch.

Fallon and I exchange a morose smile.

“Thanks for—well, for putting up with all of this,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. It’s been a heck of a night.

“All this?” Fallon teases, nudging me lightly. “Stone, this is nothing. I’ve survived worse.” She gives me that grin of hers. It’s rare, but it’s beautiful and it always seems to have the power to knock the wind out of me. She places her hand on my shoulder and it warms me to my feet. “I’m here.” She pulls me in a notch. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The knot in my chest loosens just a bit. I don’t know what I did to deserve Fallon in my life, but I’m not about to question it either.

“You ready for a formal meet and greet?” I ask and she nods without hesitation. Seeing that the ride home was rife with silence, and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to make nice or make formal introductions, I think it’s time to turn things around. I clear my throat as we head their way. “Mom, this is Special Agent Fallon Baxter. Fallon, this is my mother, Sandy Stone.”

“Well, well.” Mom gives us a once-over, her gaze lingering on our clasped hands, and I can already see her gears turning. “Looks like someone’s getting cozy at the field office.” She lifts a brow and smirks. “I’m guessing she’s not in on all of your dirty laundry just yet. ”

“She knows the full story,” I say flatly. “Nothing to hide here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Fallon says, holding out her hand, only to meet with empty air.

“Yeah, right,” my mother mutters. “Likewise,” she finally pushes the words through her remaining teeth. At last check, I counted five. “Any friend of Jackie’s is a friend of mine. But then, you two look like you’re more than friends. When you knock boots, do you keep the guns strapped on or?—”

“Enough,” I say, more bored than exasperated. “You’re not going to scare her away. She’s seen it all. We’re nothing new.”

“Oh hon, I’m not trying to scare you away.” She grabs Fallon’s hand and shakes it despite the fact she picked it up from her side. “Jackie has always been a storyteller. I’m just glad that he’s got someone to warm his bed at night. You know what they say, everyone needs someone—even you gun-toting lunatics that run the government.”

I nod because if Fallon didn’t get a full flavor of what my mother was capable of, she’s just been fed a spoonful the hard way.

Jet is still grinning like an idiot, oblivious to the tension. He claps his hands and rubs them together as if he’s relishing the moment.

“Let’s order some food.” He whoops as if to punctuate his enthusiasm and most likely his hunger. “Jack, you got your card on you?” Jet pulls out his phone, already eyeing the menu for the local diner.

“Yeah, sure. Go nuts,” I say, handing it over.

My mother’s eyes light up. “Oh, we’re living high on the hog now, huh?” She gives a loud whoop herself before snatching the cat off the floor and giving it a little celebratory shake—only to get a set of claws across her wrist. “Hey! That hurt,” she yelps, dropping it like a brick. “Someone shoot the darn thing, would you?”

“Misty is harmless,” Fallon says with a little laugh.

Ten bucks says she’s cheering the cat on internally.

“Misty?” My mother looks at Jet. “Was that the cat’s name? I thought her name was Pepper?”

“It’s Misty,” I say firmly, cementing the moniker that Fallon chose. Jet calls in the order and I grab a water bottle for my mother and offer one to Fallon as well, but she refuses. My mother and Jet settle on the sofa and my mother gets right to regaling him with terrifying tales from prison. “I think I’ll head to the back,” I say before turning to Fallon. “Care to join me?”

She nods, and we make our way to the back porch. It’s quiet out here, so quiet that it settles in my bones. The moon has finally decided to make an appearance, hanging low and casting a silver glow over the lake, and the air smells like pine and damp earth.

I grab a few logs and get the fire pit going. The flames crackle to life and their warmth fights off the chill almost instantly.

Fallon settles onto the cushioned sofa and I drop down next to her, watching the fire as I poke at it with a stick. For a while, neither of us says anything.

The night is still as death, save for the occasional splash from the lake. The water shimmers and glitters and it adds an enchanted appeal to what has already amounted to a haunted night.

“I don’t know what comes next,” I admit, finally breaking the silence. “With her out now…” I sigh at the thought. “It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. It won’t be long before she finds her way back in. If anything, she’s cyclical.”

Fallon leans in and rests her hand on my arm. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight, Jack. We’ll deal with it one step at a time. Together. ”

“Together?” I shoot her a lopsided grin as I wrap an arm around her and pull her close.

“That’s what I said.” She doesn’t hesitate to double down.

“I’ll give you some time to rethink your offer. Jet is one thing, but my mother is a whole other bag of tricks.”

“Nothing can scare me away, Stone. She can give it her best shot. And something tells me, she will. But I’m not going anywhere.”

I let her words sink in, the warmth from the fire mixing with the warmth in my chest. Maybe, for once, I’m not completely alone in this mess.

But I can’t shake the feeling that trouble is already on the horizon. I know for a fact it’s sitting in my living room.

Fallon’s lips tug at the corners as if she’s holding back a smile.

“We don’t get to choose our families,” she says. “And even if we did, I have a feeling we wouldn’t make any changes.”

I close my eyes a moment and nod because she’s right.

“I guess we’ll just have to roll with the punches,” I say as our eyes lock onto one another.

“I guess we will,” she says with a smile.

I edge toward her and her head inches toward mine. It looks as if this night is about to take a turn for the better.

Our phones chirp and we both groan in unison.

It’s nice to know she shares the sentiment.

We check it out and it’s Hale.

Another body has been found. Report to the morgue in the morning. Get a good night’s rest. The dead can wait. But I want that killer caught asap. The next prospective victims out there are running out of time .

“He does have a way with words,” Fallon says, flopping her phone onto the table next to her.

“I guess we have a date at the morgue.”

“I could think of a few less romantic places.” She casts a glance toward my cabin, and I’d have to agree that any room with my mother in it would fit the bill.

“Do you have romance on your mind?” My lips curl at the thought as I pull her closer still.

“It beats death.”

“That might be the only thing that can.” I bring my mouth to hers and she doesn’t protest.

We don’t talk about death, serial killers, or my mother.

In fact, we don’t talk at all.