The taste of his oil stained hand was still on her lips.
“You want a fight, old man. Let’s do this.” Her stilted, terrified tone belied the courage of her words. She was on the brink of tears.
“I didn’t kill Ben.”
She expected him to attack, but he paced in the parking lot instead. She kept the keys in her fist and was ready to defend herself, but her father wasn’t willing to fight anymore. He stared up at the night sky as he walked back and forth.
“I know what you think, and what your mother thought, and what everyone else thinks, but God knows the truth. God and me, we know, I didn’t hurt that boy. Some devil did it.”
“Why are you here?” asked Alma. Her father lived two states away and she never told him where she’d moved.
“To warn you, you dummy.” He spoke as if chiding a friend instead of threatening his child. “I want to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He took a step toward her and she stiffened at the approach. “You might not believe it, but I love you, Alma. I always have.”
“You had 24 years to prove that to me, and you fucked up each and every one,” said Alma. “Now get in your car, or bus, or however the hell you got here, and get out of my life.”
He looked sad for a brief second, but then grinned. His meth rotted teeth and sunken cheeks were a wicked sight, accentuated by raw sores on his chapped, cracked lips. “Darling, I’ll never be out of your life. We’re family.”
“Do your family a favor and die, asshole.”
He whistled and shook his head. “Look at you, girl. Acting like a tough one now? You’re no tough one. You’re a pretty little flower. You’re my pretty little flower.”
“This pretty flower has thorns.” She jangled the keys in her hand for emphasis.
Her father chuckled and shook his head. “Listen to you. You’re a toughie now, huh? All right, all right.” He held up his hands and backed away again. “Nothing but love for you, girl. Swear to Christ, nothing but love. I’m here to protect you.”
Alma found that hilarious and couldn’t help but guffaw. “You, protecting me? That’s rich.”
“I’ll never stop protecting you,” he said, his skittish mannerism helped turn his promises into threats. “I’ll always be there for you. I’ll always watch out for you.”
Alma saw Rachel through the window of the restaurant. The reporter had just noticed the confrontation in the parking lot and was rushing to help. She stopped at the entrance, her hands pressed against the bar that would open it, and looked at Alma. She was uncertain if she should come out and was looking to Alma for approval.
Alma nodded to her and Rachel opened the door a crack. “Call the police,” said Alma.
Her father turned and yelled out at Rachel, “Stop! Don’t do that.”
Rachel closed the door and ran back into the restaurant, screaming for the owner to call the police. Alma saw Stephen standing near the door, and Rachel’s panic alerted him to the gravity of what was happening outside. He rushed to action.
“Get away from her.” Stephen burst through the door, causing a rapid tintinnabulation as the bells above the entrance bounced. He didn’t wait for Alma’s father to comply and ran into the parking lot, ready to fight.
“Stay out of this,” said her father.
Stephen stopped for just long enough to get into a tackling stance. He bent his knees and lowered his shoulders while keeping an eye on his target. Alma almost expected him to extend his right arm and touch his fingers to the ground like a defensive lineman, but Stephen bounded forward before he got that low.
“Stephen!” Rachel screamed from the restaurant entrance.
He was already crashing into Alma’s father. He lifted the thin man into the air and Alma heard her father’s breath escape in a sudden huff. She dashed to the side as Stephen rammed the old man into the Subaru. Stephen didn’t hesitate after impact and brought his right arm up to Alma’s father’s throat. He pushed at it as if trying to pop the man’s head off.
“Stephen, let him go,” said Rachel as she ran forward.
An older Asian woman appeared at the door and gasped when she saw the altercation. “Oh my gosh. You need to go. Get out of here. I’m not going to have this in my parking lot. Get out of here. Now!”
Alma enjoyed watching her father squirm. She couldn’t help but smile as Stephen choked him.
“You need to leave,” said Stephen. “Take your junky ass back to Pennsylvania and leave your daughter alone.” He released the old man, but then grabbed Michael Harper’s shirt and pulled him away from Alma.
“Don’t go with them,” said her father as he rubbed his throat. He staggered away, walking backward as he stared at his daughter. “Let it die, girl. Bury it.” He turned and ran into the night.
Stephen panted and looked prideful, his face flushed and eyes wide from the adrenaline rush. He smiled at Alma, expecting her to thank him. Instead, she scowled.
“How did you know he was my father?” Alma looked from Stephen to Rachel. “How did you guys know he was from Pennsylvania? Did you bring him here?”
“No,” said Rachel. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly?” asked Alma.
“We met him first, when we were doing the story of the haunted house,” said Stephen. “We knew he was accused of killing his son, and that he was tied to Widowsfield. We got a hold of him to see if he’d be interested in taking part in the story.”
“How did he end up here?”
“He must’ve gotten here on his own,” said Rachel. “We didn’t bring him.”
Alma tried to grasp the situation, as well as her emotions. She was furious, but knew that the two hadn’t meant any harm. Alma’s family had kept the discord between them a secret. Stephen and Rachel couldn’t have known what their meddling could cause, but that did little to keep Alma from hating them for it. “I can’t believe this. It’s like a nightmare.” She laughed nervously. “And I was having such a good day.”
“I’m sorry about this, Alma,” said Stephen. “I really am.”
The restaurant door opened again and the Asian woman frowned even as she spoke. “I called the police. They’ll be here soon. Get out of here, now.”
“Can I go in and get our things?” asked Rachel. “I still need to pay for the food.”
The woman reluctantly moved aside to let Rachel in and then glared out at Stephen. She pointed at him and said, “You get out of here, jackass. Don’t come back.”
He saluted her and snickered. “That sucks. I liked this place.” He inspected the dent in the side of the car as Alma unlocked the door. “I’ll pay for the damage.”
“That’s okay,” said Alma. “I don’t care. I just want to go home.”
“I’m sorry for all of this,” said Stephen.
Alma got in as Stephen stood beside the car, holding the door open. She turned the car on and music blared before she had a chance to turn the volume down.
“We can help you bury the past,” said Stephen as a last ditch effort to get Alma to agree to the trip.
“You’re off to a hell of a start.”
She was prepared to leave and reached out for the door’s handle.
“I know about Chaos Magick,” said Stephen.
Alma halted. She didn’t even breathe as she looked at him.
“I know about 314.”
She pulled the door away from him and slammed it shut. She turned the music up until the speakers crackled. Her tires squealed as she raced away.
CHAPTER THREE