I sat behind the wheel of the Picklemobile for a few minutes, just breathing in and out. Then, I eased out of the parking lot and cruised back up Main Street under the streetlights.

  The idea of going home and to bed practically gave me the hives. I needed to let the ashes of Wolfgang’s freakshow settle first. I needed something comforting to soften the vivid smells and dull the scenes of the nightmare.

  I needed Doc.

  But he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. His office and house were dark, his car missing. I checked the library parking lot, even though it was closed. He wasn’t there, either.

  Cruising through several back streets, I cursed all of the Camaro SS muscle cars parked around town for repeatedly making my pulse speed up again and again by mistake. Damned Deadwood and its Kool Nites.

  I parked next to the Rec Center and pulled out my cell phone. He didn’t answer. I didn’t leave a message.

  I started to put the phone away, and then changed my mind and dialed Natalie.

  She answered on the second ring. “Wonderland. This is Alice.”

  I smiled, the sound of her voice taking some of the edge off of my night. “Hey, girl, I need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait a bit? I’m kind of busy.”

  “You on a date?” I could only hope she’d finally moved on to a new man.

  “Sort of.”

  “Define ‘sort of.’”

  “I’m with Doc.”

  My gut clenched, but my brain knew better. “Define ‘with Doc.’”

  “Well, I’m watching him.”

  “Define ‘watching him.’”

  “Geez, what do you think I am? Webster’s talking dictionary?”

  “Natalie, where are you?”

  “Parked down the street from the Golden Sluice.”

  “I take it Doc is in the bar.”

  “Yep,” she said, whispering as if he could hear her from her pickup. “And he’s not alone.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday, August 20th

  “Violet, wake up.” The soft sound of Aunt Zoe’s voice dragged me out of my dead-to-the-world state. She stared down at me, her brow wrinkled. “You’re gonna be late for work.”

  Frickity-frack! I threw off the quilt that had shielded me from the morning’s cool finger-jabs and stumbled to my feet. A lack of blood flow to my gray matter made me swoon, sort of like my reaction whenever Doc worked his magic on me. Damn him and his cold shoulder.

  Aunt Zoe grabbed my arm, steadying me. She smelled of fresh coffee and baked apples, and I wanted to drool all over her. I blinked until the spinning world stood still.

  “Why were you sleeping on the back porch?”

  I glanced around Aunt Zoe’s screened in porch and the lawn chair I’d used for a bed, trying to remember how I’d gotten down here.

  Then yesterday’s train of events backed up and chugga-chugged over me again—Cornelius in that stupid one-horned hat, Wolfgang on fire, Natalie and her obsession with my kind-of-boyfriend.

  I held my head and groaned.

  Thank God, Doc’s companion at the Golden Sluice had been Harvey and not a certain red-haired sexpot. I’d almost reached through the phone and thumped Natalie upside the head for scaring the crap out of me with her comment about Doc not being alone. After how angry he was from the surprise séance party, it didn’t take much spurring for my inner-jealous-ogre to believe the worst and twist my guts like a tie-dyed shirt.

  I was going to have to do something about Doc. But not now. “I’ll explain later,” I told Aunt Zoe. “I need to shower and get to work.”

  I had a hotel offer to prepare and turn in. With any luck, I could beat Ray to the punch.

  Aunt Zoe followed me upstairs. “You took sleeping pills last night.”

  It wasn’t a question. Crap, I must have forgotten to put the bottle away.

  “I was tired.” More like zombie-fied after that stupid nightmare at the séance.

  “You’ve been dead-tired for a month.”

  Had it only been a month since I’d hopped on this runaway mine cart that was now my life? It felt more like years.

  Last night, I’d finally fallen asleep just after midnight, only to jerk awake, escaping from Wolfgang’s reach yet again. This time, the scene hadn’t been nearly as vivid, but between it and Natalie’s sleep mumbling in our shared boudoir, I’d decided to see if the pills would keep me from dreaming. Hell, things couldn’t get much worse for me in slumber-ville than they already were.

  In the darkness of Aunt Zoe’s kitchen, my hands had trembled so much that I’d dropped the bottle of pills—twice. The lawn chair was supposed to just be a sit-for-a-minute place, somewhere to pause and decide what to do about Doc, Cornelius, Ray, Cooper, and any other man who was trying to disturb my calm. But those pills coldcocked me right into coma-city.

  “Why the pills? Why last night?” Aunt Zoe followed me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Bloodhounds could take lessons from her on doggedness.

  I looked down at the toilet, and then back at her. “I have to pee.”

  She crossed her arms, closing her eyes. “Tell me why you took the pills, Violet.”

  An underlying level of steel in her tone made it clear there was no slinking out of this. But I tried, anyway. “Natalie keeps talking in her sleep.”

  “That explains why you slept on the back porch, but not the pills, which you have fought me on taking for weeks.”

  Criminy! “I had another nightmare.” I opted out of telling her it was during a séance, because that would lead to a bunch more questions undoubtedly followed by disappointment-filled frowns and head shakes. “I took the pills to forget it.”

  “How was this nightmare different from all of the others?”

  Good question. I thought on that for a moment. “It was real.”

  I flushed the toilet and yanked back the shower curtain, turning on the faucet.

  Aunt Zoe closed her eyes again as I undressed. “What do you mean ‘real’?”

  “I don’t know.” I remembered feeling the beast’s spittle pelt my face right before I screamed and woke up. “The sound, the smell, the feel. It was all so realistic. Like I was standing there—all flesh, blood, and bones—while it … I mean Wolfgang came at me.”

  I didn’t want to tell her about the monster-like thing. Wolfgang was bad enough. If I told her about his skull splitting open, she’d know for sure what a head-case I’d become and put the straight-jacket on me herself.

  “Interesting,” she said.

  More like terrifying.

  “What color were his eyes?”

  Her question surprised the truth out of me. “Orange,” I said, thinking of the glowing embers I saw in the demon’s eyes.

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  I couldn’t tell by looking at her if she was genuinely curious or just playing therapist and letting me “talk it out.”

  “Yes,” I continued with my honesty. “He told me to ‘Get out.’” Or rather roared it in my face.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I woke up.” Omitting the part about screaming and falling ass over teakettle in front of a group of ghost hunters seemed like the smart thing to do.

  I checked the water, turned it a little hotter, and then stepped under the shower’s spray.

  “Did something spur this?” Aunt Zoe called over the noise of the shower. “Something at work, like Jeff Wymonds’ garage exploding?”

  “Maybe.” I closed my eyes and let the hot water cascade over my head for a couple of seconds, then reached for the shampoo. Or maybe it was the whole mess with Ray and the Mudder brothers. Or the stress of fighting with Doc or dealing with Cooper’s squinty eyes. “How did you hear about the explosion?”

  “News travels fast in Deadwood.”

  Especially if it was personally delivered, and I had a sneaky suspicion this had been. “A certain fire captain didn’t happen to give you a call yesterday, did he?”

  “No.”

  Oh. Then again, I was becoming known for my misconceptions about people. Shampoo washed down the drain.

  “He stopped by,” she added.

  I pulled the shower curtain back enough to peek out at Aunt Zoe, who was leaning against the counter. Her dark blue eyes met mine.

  “Did you shoot him?” I asked.

  She scoffed as if she hadn’t been as crazed and vicious as a cornered porcupine the last time he’d been over. “Of course not.”

  “Did you let him inside?”

  She lifted her chin. “His voice came through the screen door just fine.”

  “What did he say?” My heart pounded a bit faster than normal. Please, please, please don’t let Layne have had anything to do with the explosion. Could I buy a new garage on lay-away?

  “He officially ruled it as an accident.”

  “Did he say how it started?”

  “He said Jeff Wymonds had left an open can of gas in the narrow side room and closed the door overnight. Add heat and a spark from the old fuse box when the compressor kicked on, and ka-boom.”

  Compressor? Oh, right, Jeff had been pumping up Kelly’s bike tires so the kids could go for a bike ride and be out from underfoot during the open house.

  “Good.” All of my saggy parts sagged even more in relief. I smiled at Aunt Zoe. “Did you give Reid a kiss goodbye?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “Not even a peck on the cheek?”

  “Shut your mouth, Violet Lynn.”

  “You ready to tell me about what happened between you two?”

  “Not yet.” She stepped forward and yanked the curtain closed.

  I grabbed the conditioner. “Talking about it might make you less apt to want to fill his butt with lead.”

  “I doubt that. But what I would like to talk about is your friend, Doc.”

  “Shhh.”

  “Natalie already left for work.”

  The subject was still shhh, as far as I was concerned.

  “What’s going on with Doc and you?”

  That was the question of the month. I stuck my head under the hot water, trying to wash away my Doc-laden insecurities. It didn’t work.

  I shut off the water and grabbed the towel Aunt Zoe handed me through the crack in the curtain. “Nothing is going on with us.” No lie there at the moment.

  Wrapping the towel around me, I stepped out of the shower.

  “Right. Then how do you explain that love bite on your neck?”

  “What?” When did that happen? I tried to look in the mirror, but it was fogged over.

  “Gotcha,” Aunt Zoe said and winked. “How do you feel about me paying him a visit?”

  I froze. “Why?”

  “Willis tells me Doc is a whiz with money.”

  Willis? Oh, she meant Old Man Harvey. I always forgot he had a first name. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had much money to invest since meeting Doc.” Or any money at all.

  “I am thinking about diversifying my portfolio a bit more.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” I grabbed my robe.

  “I also plan to invite him to dinner.”

  Cinching the belt around me, I shook my head. “Bad idea. Very bad.”

  “Violet, I want to get to know the man who is going to help me invest my money. I’d invite him to dinner whether he was your boyfriend or not. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said loud and clear while miming a lip-zip to Aunt Zoe.

  “I told you, Natalie’s at work.”

  “I’m worried about the two sets of smaller ears living in this house.” I spritzed some leave-in conditioner on my curls, and then opened the bathroom door, waving for her to follow me to my bedroom. “Why don’t you just meet him somewhere for dinner?”

  “I don’t want to talk about my financial business in front of strangers.”

  “You’ve lived here most of your life.” I closed my bedroom door behind us. “You know everyone in town.”

  “All the more reason to have him here in my own home without eavesdroppers.” She smiled—all sweet and loving and Betty Crocker-like. I wasn’t eating the cookies she was serving.

  “No.” I twirled my finger for her to turn around while I slipped into my skivvies and bra.

  She obliged. “I’d also like to see how he treats you.”

  “You said this had nothing to do with me.”

  “I may have fibbed a little.”

  “Fine.” I could tell by the set tone of her voice that she had already made up her mind. I yanked my dark purple pleated v-neck dress from the closet and slid it over my head.

  “If you want to invite Doc over for a family dinner, I can’t stop you. It’s your house.” I looked in the mirror and winced at my appearance and fluffed my wet curls a little. It didn’t help. “However, I’m going to invite a friend to keep me company while you talk finances with Doc.”

  Aunt Zoe turned around and met my eyes in the mirror. “Okay, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have Natalie here.”

  “I’m not talking about Natalie.” Curious about how Aunt Zoe was going to get rid of Natalie when Doc was going to be on the premises, I slathered a coat of purplish, grape-flavored gloss on my lips.

  “Oh. You mean Willis.”

  Since when did Aunt Zoe call Harvey “Willis” on a regular basis? What had changed between them?

  “Nope.” I smacked my lips and scooped up my makeup bag. I’d have to put the rest of my face on at my desk. “Not Harvey.”

  “Who then?”

  I smiled at Aunt Zoe’s reflection. “The chief of the Deadwood Fire Department.”

  * * *

  Ray’s SUV sat alone in Calamity Jane’s reserved parking area when I arrived. I took a few minutes to apply my war paint in the Picklemobile’s rearview mirror before going inside to face the horse’s ass.

  The sinus-burning scent of Ray’s cologne slapped me as soon as I closed the back door. Why must he wear so much freaking cologne? Squaring my shoulders, I reminded myself that killing a coworker was a felony and I didn’t need another visit from Detective Cooper anytime soon.

  All I had to do was type an offer letter, print it, and I’d be out of here. Surely, I could play nice alone with Ray for an hour.

  I took a deep breath and strode down the hall past Jane’s dark office and then stopped. Backing up to take a second longer look inside, I frowned. Her door stood open, which meant that she’d been in already this morning and undoubtedly noticed my tardiness. But that wasn’t what had made me put on the brakes. My focus bounced from her messy desktop to the scattered folders on the floor by her file cabinet to the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels Whiskey on her wall bookshelf.

  I tiptoed inside and sniffed the half-empty coffee cup sitting on her desk. My nose wrinkled at the smell of old coffee. No hint of whiskey in there that I could tell.

  Jane was in the middle of a nasty divorce from her third husband, a rotten two-timing cowboy she’d found lassoed and hogtied in her own bed while another woman polished his saddle horn. From the sight of her office, Jane’s well-ordered life had been shattered along with her heart.

  Men like Jane’s soon-to-be ex scared me single every time I started liking a guy a little too much. Doc was the first man I’d let get inside my safe little fortress in years and look how well that was working for me.

  I tip-toed out of Jane’s office and headed for my desk.

  Ray had his desk phone to his ear. “Sure. You want me to bring it over tonight when you get back in town?”

  He looked my way as I approached.

  I met his sneer head-on with a glare of my own.

  “Hold on,” he covered the mouthpiece. “Ever heard of an alarm clock, Blondie? You should try one some time.”

  “Who died and made you Hall Monitor?” I tucked my purse in my drawer and turned on my computer.

  “Punctuality is the key to success—not that you have a clue what success is outside of your client’s bedroom.” He uncovered the mouthpiece. “Sorry about that,” he told his listener, his tone matching his smirk. “I needed to scold someone. You know how it is with hired help these days. You get what you pay for. Now what were you saying?”

  With visions of nooses dancing in my head, I did my best to block out Ray and focus on the task at hand. The sooner I finished, the sooner I could get the hell away from the dickhead.

  Ten minutes of “uh-huhing” later, Ray hung up.

  I kept typing, my gaze locked on my screen.

  “What are you doing over there, Blondie?”

  “Working.”

  “On what? Your résumé?”

  I didn’t reply to his taunt.

  “Does Jane have you working on another one of her gopher-girl tasks?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll tell you what. To show you what a nice guy I am, how about I give you the day off to go have your nails painted.”

  Kiss my ass. I pressed my lips together and kept my gaze on my screen.

  “Maybe you could have that hot little brunette over at the Saddle-Up Salon teach you how to do something sexy with that mop of yours. The wet poodle look isn’t going to win you any beauty pageants.”

  I didn’t bite. I wanted to, starting with his head, praying-mantis style, but I gritted my teeth and kept to task.

  “Tiffany Sugarbell could teach you a thing or two about dressing for success,” Ray said, striking a little too close to the mark. “Want me to send her your way after we finish the deal on the Old Prospector Hotel?”

  I opened an Internet search window and typed human castration methods. Results with mentions of elastrator and emasculator tools made me smile as I returned to Cornelius’s offer document.

  “You know all of this realty business is just a waste of your time, sweetheart,” Ray continued his taunts. “I don’t know why you keep coming in here every morning. You’re like a bird with a broken wing. You keep trying to fly when there is no hope.”

  I rolled my eyes and scrolled through the document, scanning to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

  Kicking his Tony Lamas up on his desk, he leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. “I’m going to have that hotel in my pocket by nightfall, you know.”