She thought at once of Bennett Scott, missing all night. Had Bennett been involved in a drug transaction? She stared at Larry Spence, trying to read his face. How would Bennett have paid for "a major buy" of drugs? She didn't have any money.
"Who did your witnesses think they saw?" she asked quickly.
"1 can't tell you that."
"Who are your witnesses?"
"I can't tell you that, either."
"But there are witnesses and they did see someone involved in this drug buy that they can identify, is that right?"
"Right."
But Nest didn't believe it. He was fishing for something. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here asking questions of her. He would be holding a warrant for Bennett's arrest.
"Look, Larry." She closed the door behind her, moved out onto the porch, and stood with her arms folded across her chest. "My guests were all here last night, tucked in their beds, asleep. If you have someone who says differently, trot them out. Otherwise, go investigate someone else."
His face began to redden. "You don't have to be so defensive about this. I'm just doing my job. Drug dealing is a mean business, and the people involved are dangerous. You might be smart to think about that."
"What are you talking about, Larry? I don't know anyone involved in drug dealing, and I'm not friends with people who do. I have four guests in my house—friends I've known for a long time and a couple of small children. I hardly think they are the kind of people you're talking about."
He shook his head stubbornly. "Maybe you don't know them as well as you think."
"Well, maybe that's so. But what makes you think you know them any better? This is the second time in two days you've been out here, ladling out large helpings of innuendo and unsubstantiated accusations." Her anger surfaced in a rush. "If you know something I don't, why not just tell me instead of waiting for me to break down and confess?"
"Look, Nest, I don't—"
"No, you tell me what you know, or you get the hell off my porch!"
He took a deep breath, his face bright red. "John Ross is a dangerous man. There are people here investigating him. I'm trying to keep you out of it, girl!"
She stared at him. "John Ross? This is about John?" She realized then that this had never been about Bennett, that Larry Spence had been talking about John all along. About John Ross dealing drugs. She wanted to laugh.
Larry Spence looked confused. "Hey, you better wake up about Ross. The people investigating him..."
Something clicked in the back of her mind. "What people?" she asked quickly.
"I can't tell you that."
"You don't seem to be able to tell me much of anything. It makes me wonder how much you actually know." She took a step toward him. "Who do these people say they are, Larry? Have you checked them out? Because I have a feeling about this."
His mouth tightened. "It's an official investigation, Nest. I've already said more than I should, and I—"
"Is one of them an older man with gray eyes and a leather book, looks like an old-time preacher?"
Larry Spence stared at her, his sentence left unfinished. She sensed his uncertainty. "Listen to me, Larry," she said slowly, carefully. "You're in way over your head. Way over. You stay away from this man, you understand? He isn't who you think. He's the one who's dangerous, not John Ross."
The big man's mouth tightened. "You do know something about this drug-dealing business, don't you?"
"There isn't any drug-dealing business!" she snapped, furious. "Can't you get it through—"
His portable radio squawked sharply in his coat pocket, and he turned away from her as he pulled it out. He spoke softly for a minute, shielding his voice from her, listened, and turned back. "I've got to go. We'll talk about this later. You be careful, girl. I don't think you're clear about what's going on."
Without waiting for her response, he walked off the porch to his car, climbed in, and drove off. She wheeled away as he did so, went back inside, and stood seething in the entry-way. Larry Spence was a fool. Findo Cask was using him, that much was certain. But what was he using him for? She thought of the ways the demons she had encountered before had used humans as pawns to get what they wanted. She remembered her father, come back to claim her for his own. She remembered Stefanie Winslow.
History always repeats itself, she thought angrily. There is nothing you can do to change that. Even in the small things in our lives, we make the same mistakes. How could she avoid that happening here?
She rubbed her arms through her heavy sweater, chasing away the last of the winter chill from her skin. But the cold that had settled in the pit of her stomach remained.
CHAPTER 16
When she had calmed down enough to think about something else, Nest loaded everyone into the Taurus and drove them to a tree farm north of town. Picking up a bow saw from the farmer, she marched them out into the Christmas tree forest in search of an acceptable tree. Other customers prowled the long rows, searching for trees of their own. The air was cold and dry against their skins, and a west wind whipped across the snowy fields, kicking up sudden sprays. Heavy clouds rolled in from across the Mississippi, and Nest could taste and smell the impending snow.
Exhilarated, she breathed in the winter air. If she was going to celebrate Christmas, she was going to do it right. Sitting around the house might be the easier choice, but it was also apt to drive her insane. Better to be out doing something. Ever since she was a little girl, she had handled her problems by getting up and doing something. It seemed to help her think, to come to terms with things. It was why she had begun running.
Harper raced ahead, darting in and out of the shaggy trees, playing hide-and-seek with anyone who would do so, leaping out unexpectedly and laughing as the adults feigned surprise and shock. Little John watched her for a time, his face expressionless, his blue eyes intense. He did not join in or respond, but he was not disinterested either. Something about the game seemed to engage his curiosity, and once or twice he slowed long enough to give Harper a chance to spring out at him and run away. Nest watched him do it several times, puzzled by what it meant. Once she encouraged him to join in, but he just walked away.
They found a fat little five-foot fir that Harper hugged and jumped up and down over, so they cut it down and hauled it out to where the farmer measured it and collected their payment. After loading the tree in the trunk and tying down the lid to hold it in place, they drove back to the house. It was not yet noon, and after consuming such a big breakfast, no one was ready to eat again. Nest wanted to keep everyone occupied, so she suggested they stick the tree in a bucket of water on the back porch to give it a chance to relax, and go for a walk.
With snow beginning to fall in fat, lazy flakes, they struck out into the park, Harper in the lead, racing this way and that, Nest, Ross, and Little John following. Smoking a cigarette and hunching her thin shoulders against the cold, Bennett, trailing everyone, had the look of someone who would just as soon be somewhere else. She had grown increasingly moody as the morning progressed, slowly withdrawing from all of them, Harper included. Nest had tried to make conversation, to bring her out of whatever funk she had fallen into, but nothing worked. Bennett's eyes drifted away each time she was addressed, as if she had gone off in search of something. Whatever had happened last night, Nest thought darkly, it was not good.
But she decided to wait on saying anything more. Bennett was already in such a black place that it didn't seem to Nest that it would do much good to emphasize it. After Christmas, maybe she would say something.
They drifted across the snow-covered ball diamonds toward the toboggan slide, drawn at first by their lingering curiosity over last night's accident and then by a clutch of police, fire, and ambulance vehicles that came into view. The deputy sheriff's car belonged to Larry Spence. Nest glanced at Ross, but he shook his head to indicate he had no idea what was happening. Nest moved to the front of the group, directing them west of the parking lot and its knot of traffic, crossing the road farther down. People were gathered along the crest of the slope leading down to the bayou, all of them whispering or standing silent, eyes fixed on a knot of firemen and ambulance workers clustered on the ice.