“Mrs. Gleason does have a thing for shooting people in the butt,” I admitted. “She shot Clay too.”
“She shot her husband three times.” Nolan dropped his shirt and faced us again. “Granted, she only mistook him for a prowler the once. The other two, she caught him having an affair with members of the Yard Birds. Former members, I should say.”
If I was going to keep living in Samford, I had to research Alabama’s Stand Your Ground laws.
That, or pray cadaver dogs were never sent to investigate our shared property line.
“Even if I didn’t mind,” I began, “and I do, the girls would see it as a betrayal on my part if I sided with you and your cover story. I would have to tell them, and I’m not going to heap more stress on them by explaining how you lied and used them. That means you have to go.”
A muscle ticked under his left eye. “It’s only a few—”
“I’ve been stalked, hunted, and surveilled for too long.” That much was the truth. “I don’t want to jump each time the moonlight hits your camera lens or get woken up by my surveillance app when you get too close to the house. I want a normal life, and a guy hunting a moth in my backyard is not normal.”
“Gather your things.” Clay snapped his fingers at Nolan. “I’ll escort you off the property.”
“Good night, Mr. Laurens.” Asa passed Nolan his phone. “I hope you appreciate how lucky you are that Rue doesn’t press charges. Given recent events, people in this town are overprotective of her just now.”
About to open his mouth and dig his hole deeper, Nolan froze when Asa flowed like smoke to his side.
“You don’t get to claim insult or injury for what was done to Arden or Camber. They endured it. You didn’t. You can’t play that sympathy card. Not when you’ve just admitted you came back, not because of the girls’ tragedy, but for your own selfish purpose.”
Mouth twisting with a too-human snarl, Nolan took a step toward Asa. “I didn’t say that.”
“Does this sound familiar?” Clay pressed a button on his phone, and Nolan’s voice spilled out into the night. The whole conversation. With lines plenty wide enough for the girls to read between. “This is a confession. We’ve got you on trespassing. Worse, we’ve got you attempting to use the girls to get your way after you admitted you didn’t come back for them.”
As damning as it was for Mrs. Gleason, I wasn’t too worried. It was much worse for him.
“You recorded that on my phone,” he realized, staring at it like he was holding a snake.
“I wanted you to have a copy. I texted it to Clay, Rue, and myself.” Asa smiled, and Nolan shrank from it. The step his anger allowed him turned into a retreat. “Do we have an understanding?”
“You’re blackmailing me?” He choked on a shocked laugh. “You’re cops.”
If he knew who he was really dealing with, he would shake their hands for getting off with a warning.
Then again, if he knew who he was really dealing with, we might have to kill him to get rid of him.
“We’re not blackmailing,” Clay said. “We’re suggesting. That you leave. And don’t come back.”
Turning to me, who he must have pegged as the weak link, he begged, “But the girls—”
Nolan had a whole family here in Samford, but he defaulted to the girls every time. He had weaponized them, used their victimhood for his own gain, or tried to, and I was done playing nice.
“The girls haven’t seen you in seven years. You’ve basically missed one-third of their lives. You don’t visit or invite them to visit. They’re used to your relationship being transmitted over FaceTime.” I nudged his knapsack with my toe. “In point of fact, they have no idea you’re here. None. Because you lied to them.”
“It’s your fault Arden wakes up screaming in the middle of the night,” he hurled at me, fists clenched at his sides. “It’s your fault Camber is a shadow of her former self. You did that to two bright, smart, funny girls.”
“You’re right. I did. They got caught in the crosshairs of my life, and I regret that more than you can ever know.”
Owning up to my mistakes confused him a bit, but he pressed on. “I’m Arden’s uncle. I have the right—”
“Look, I’m tired, I smell like smoke, and I’m out of patience. You could have asked for permission before assuming my relationship with the girls granted you the right to be here.”
A low rumble left Asa’s chest as he sensed my annoyance. Or perhaps it was the daemon itching to get out and rip off Nolan’s head then scream at it in his signature finishing move. Right about now, I was game for some cork popping and cathartics.
I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch.
Murder was wrong.