Freaky Reapers (A Mystic Caravan Mystery Book 8) by Amanda M. Lee

Author:Amanda M. Lee [Lee, Amanda M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WinchesterShaw Publications
Published: 2019-08-05T16:00:00+00:00

16

Sixteen

Creek definitely wasn’t happy to see us. The anger on her face was enough to cause an avalanche of shivers to race down my spine. Never the shy sort, I hung behind Luke as we approached her station because I didn’t know what else to do. I felt smaller than I had in my entire life ... and it wasn’t a good feeling.

“Hey.” Luke never let anything get him down and Creek’s overt disdain wasn’t any different. “We’re here for the show.” To my utter surprise, he pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and put it on the table.

Creek’s eyes lit with interest when she saw the money. I never would’ve thought of going that route, but Luke was clearly ahead of me on this one. I was grateful.

“What do you want?” she asked finally, suspicion lacing her words. She wanted the money desperately. I could see thoughts of what she might be able to do with it floating through her mind … and all of them revolved around her daughter, who apparently needed new shoes. She wasn’t the sort to acquiesce without knowing what she was agreeing to, though.

I found my voice. “Information.”

“You want information from me?” She was incredulous. “What could I possibly tell you?”

“We’re looking for information on the missing girls.” I stalled, unsure how much I should tell her. Mentioning the paranormal stuff was clearly off the table. Explaining our interest was a thorny concept. “Logan Stone approached me on the street the other day when I was hanging around our old stomping grounds. He mentioned what was happening. We’d like to help if we can.”

Bafflement etched across a face that looked ten years older than it should. “Who is Logan Stone?”

“Shadow.”

“The cop?” She made a face. “I can’t believe you found him right away. Oh, wait ... yes I can. He was the one you cared about most.” Bitterness, hot and dark, flowed freely from her.

“It was a fluke,” I countered. “I was actually talking to Groove when he approached. I would’ve much preferred Hazy or Junk. They would’ve at least been good for a laugh, but Groove is what I got.”

“Junk is dead.” Creek delivered the news with blasé detachment. “He died about eighteen months after you left.”

The news hit harder than it probably should have. “He overdosed?”

She shrugged. “They found him in one of the abandoned buildings with a needle in his arm.”

I wasn’t surprised. Junk was the sort who was destined to die in the throes of addiction. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I meant it. “I guess, in the back of my head, I kept hoping he would find a way out.”

“He did find a way out. It just wasn’t as fancy as the way you found.” Creek glanced over her shoulder and met the gaze of the man behind the bar. She was grim as she climbed on top of the table. “He has to think I’m working,” she supplied as she started moving. “I’ll answer your questions if I can .

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