“That’s horrible!” Tom gasped. “What happened? Is she—I just…don’t know what to say.” He tried not to oversell it.

The cop gave a sympathetic furrowing of the brows, and a silent nod.

And the award for best actor goes to Tom Graves for the picture ‘Wasn’t Me’…

Grampa raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms disapprovingly behind the cop. He’d been around Tom long enough to recognize bullshit. The cop didn’t know Tom’s tells, though. As low as Grampa’s tolerance for lying was, he chose to hold his peace, since calling Tom out would likely get him sent to jail.

“It seems like there was some theft involved.” The cop continued, unaware of the eye-conversation going on behind his back. “According to the groundsman, she may have had a ring of some kind taken from her hand. He took a picture of the damage before he closed up the grave.”

Of course he did, Tom thought, repressing an eye-roll.

“Grave robbing is a serious crime. Believe me, we’re taking this very seriously. We’ll find the people who did this and make sure they pay for it,” the cop said, searching Tom’s eyes for something.

“I’m sorry if this dredges up bad memories, but do you happen to know what Lily was wearing on her ring finger when she was buried? If we know what it looks like, it’ll be easier for us to track the offender down if they try to pawn it.”

Tell the truth or lie? Tom inwardly debated for a fraction of a second before he decided to go with the truth. If he lied and the cop found out, Tom would immediately become Suspect Number One.

“It was a silver band with cubic fool’s gold and weird little runes all over it. Lily and I were gonna get married, but I couldn’t afford any kind of engagement ring, so we used one of hers.” Tom actually found himself tearing up as he spoke, the words a little too real for him.

“Did she have a lot of rings, then?”

Tom frowned for a fraction of a second before returning to his previous solemn expression. Why does he care how many rings Lily had? he thought.

“A half dozen or so? She kind of accumulated weird jewelry. Garage sales and things like that. Kind of a goth thing, I guess.”

“Right.” The cop made a note on his phone. “So it’s standard procedure to interview family and acquaintances before we start looking at random passersby. Do you know of anyone who might have had a grudge against Lily? Did she have any acquaintances besides you? Extended family, perhaps? Anyone she might have owed money to, or spent a lot of time with?”

“No,” Gramma answered for him. “Besides Carol, we never really saw her together with anyone except Tom.”

The cop glanced at Tom, who nodded.

“Last name?”

“Smith.”

“And where is this Carol now?”

Carol must have been listening at the door, because she chose that exact moment to step out into the living room from Tom’s bedroom with mussed up hair, wearing nothing but a pair of undies and one of Tom’s T-shirts.

And a silver ring with cubic fool’s gold.

Oh, you absolute bitch, Tom thought, seething.

The demon stretched out with a big yawn before smiling and waving at Tom, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a box of cereal, making herself some breakfast, filling the silence with the clinking of spoon against ceramic bowl.

“What’s up, you guys?” she asked as she came back into the living room, crunching cereal, the ring glittering on her finger as she did.

Tom’s eye twitched.

“That’s Carol,” Tom said, pointing with his thumb.

“I see. And the ring on her finger?” the cop asked.

“Me and Lily had matching rings,” Carol said. “Symbols of how passionately we loved each other and Thomas, here.”

Tom couldn’t accept that. “I want to point out that I wouldn’t touch Carol with a ten-foot pole,” he said, but was met with skeptical looks from the assorted authority figures.

“That’s cute,” Carol said, ruffling Tom’s hair. “It’s a nice pole, but it’s not nearly ten feet.”

Tom buried his face in his hands.

“And you, Carol, in the time you spent with Lily, did you meet anyone who might have reason to rob Lily’s grave?”

“Lily was a recent immigrant,” Carol said. “She didn’t have any strong connection to anyone here. She had no family, and if someone from her former life arrived, I would know.”

“Alright, Carol. May I see the ring?” The cop held out his hand expectantly.

“Nope,” Carol said, turning her scornful smile on the police officer, her immaculate grin widening. “You may not. The day the three of us combined bodies and souls in tantric union, we swore we’d never take the rings off until the day we die. I intend to keep my word.”

Gramma covered her open mouth.

Grampa snorted.

Tom peeked out from between his fingers and frowned when he spotted the flash of inordinate anger flicker across the officer’s face before it was hidden behind a mask of professionalism.

“That’s all right,” the cop said, a practiced smile blooming on his face. “You don’t need to give it to me. I only need a photo of it, really.”

Carol’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded, holding out her clenched fist, skeletal knuckles popping out as she brandished them under the cop’s nose.

“Let me just…” the cop said, standing up with his phone in hand.

In an unusual display of clumsiness, the man hit his toe on the coffee table, the phone slipping out of his grasp.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

He stabilized himself on Carol’s shoulder for a brief moment, before apologizing and picking up his phone, proceeding to take a picture.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said once he got the picture. “I’ll show this to the local pawn shops. Hopefully we’ll have a match in a matter of days.”

“That would be ever so wonderful,” Carol said, her eyes cold.

“Before I go,” the police officer said, pulling out a business card and handing it to Grampa. “If you think of anything in relation to the crime, let me know.” He turned his gaze back to Carol.

“Good afternoon. My apologies for intruding.” He nodded before leaving the way he’d come, stepping out into the driveway where his partner was leaning against the cruiser’s door, enjoying a bottle of water.

“That’s irksome,” Carol said, following the cops with her eyes for a moment before taking off Lily’s ring and flicking it into the air with her thumb, catching it and slapping it down on the desk beside Tom.

Tom knew bait when he saw it, so he did nothing. Carol snorted, leaning into Tom’s face.

“Cowardly peasant,” she whispered.

“Malicious demon,” Tom shot back.

“Lying Thomas.” Grampa interrupted their staring contest. Gramma was standing beside him, looking at the two of them with a disapproving scowl.

“Did I not say to use your psychic powers to find treasure that was ownerless? Consequence free? What in god’s name—” Carol hissed quietly. “—inspired you to dig up Lily’s grave for that?”

“It’s Carol’s leash. Carol’s a demon guard dog Lily kept,” Tom said. Carol bared her teeth.

“Umm…what?” Grampa frowned, scratching his head.

“Look, I’ve found out some weird shit about Lily since I started using my powers in earnest. You believe the ‘psychic’ stuff I do is real, so I need you to go out on a limb and believe a few more things: Magic is real, souls are real, Lily was deep into that shit, and Carol is her demon bodyguard. I need you to believe that I took that ring off Lily’s body because it was the best way that I could figure out to make sure Carol was on our side, and not a bomb waiting to go off.”

“That’s…a lot to take in,” Grampa said.

“Is that true, Carol?”

“Maybe,” Carol said, scooping up the ring and putting it back on her finger. “But before we start throwing fingers and accusing people of not being human, perhaps we should focus on that police officer’s unhealthy interest in Lily’s property.”

“You saw that, too?” Grampa asked. “You think he’s sniffing around because of the gold?” Grampa had been selling it a little bit at a time, but it was mostly gone already, funneled into settling all their debts.

“The question is: What was the thread that he was tugging on?” Carol said, glancing out the window. “What string connected to Lily made him interested enough to talk to us?”

“Is everyone just gonna shrug off the demon thing?” Tom asked, glancing between Gramma and Grampa.

“Well, it’s big news, sure, but I mean, if it’s true…doesn’t really change anything, does it?” Grampa said with a shrug.

Damnit! No, it doesn’t.

“Tom,” Carol said, returning her gaze to him. “When you dream about today again, I need you to push that cop hard, see if you can knock some truth out of him.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” The dude had a hundred pounds of muscle on Tom, easily. The only thing likely to knock loose was Tom’s jaw.

“Just try,” Carol said, eyes narrowing. “I don’t like the stench of his soul.”

She glanced at Gramma and Grampa. “I mean, ‘cut of his jib.’”

“You’re making fun of me on purpose,” Tom accused.

“I can be concerned about a potential threat and make fun of you at the same time,” Carol said with an arrogant tilt to her head. “I’ve got range.”

“Well, I’ve got a job,” Tom said, staggering back towards his room. “And only four hours of sleep, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down and stare at the ceiling until the sun goes down.

“Almost got me arrested for gravedigging,” Tom muttered under his breath as he shuffled back to his room, blinking blearily.

“Please, I was the one wearing the ring. If anything, he’ll come after me first.”

Tom glanced over his shoulder, cocking a brow. That’s right, isn’t it? Did Carol do that just to make herself the primary suspect? Was she trying to protect us, because it seems like the total aggregate suspicion went up when he saw that ring. Wouldn’t it be better for him to suspect everyone just a little bit instead of you a lot, and me a bunch?

Unless Carol just wanted to get me arrested so she can raise Ellie by herself.

Tom lay down on his back and closed his eyes….until Ellie started screaming.

Yep. There it is. All the excitement had woken up Ellie and made her fussy.

******

Typical day at the ‘office’.

At this point, Tom was practically more at ease with Dan breathing down his neck. It meant the chubby manager wasn’t scheming anything worse than a little light harassment to keep the troops in line.

Tom wondered what it was about power that got to people’s heads like that. Was it simply a transference of bitterness from Dan getting burdened with unreasonable expectations from corporate, or did having power allow people’s normally starving sadistic streak to flourish?

Tom tried to imagine what he would do with power over all he surveyed. Power fantasies were a great way to get through the day while you were unpacking cheap china plates from cardboard and unloading them one after the other.

Wasn’t much else to do.

Harem, maybe? No, I’m a reasonable man; just two girls. One to take care of the baby, and one to take care of me. The ideal ratio. Maybe one or two more in case of emergency.

Occasionally, Tom’s mind turned back to ‘the cop problem’. As far as he knew, there wasn’t any security camera footage, and if they’d gotten his face on their dash or body cams, they’d already have his ass in jail…wouldn’t they?

Wouldn’t they?

Tom had an inkling how many things were recorded on a daily basis, so he found it difficult to believe they’d gotten away scot-free. A nervous ache swirled around in his guts as fear and uncertainty ate away at him.

On the other hand, Jacob was across the aisle, slamming through freight with cocaine-enhanced speed, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Tom was unsure if Jacob was capable of feeling nervousness.

Come on, man, you robbed a grave and ran from the cops yesterday. Act more guilty!

Jacob caught Tom’s gaze and gave him a cheerful thumbs-up before he returned to his work, ducking out of sight into the next aisle over. The cokehead was a convenient friend to have, but it was incredibly irritating to Tom to have to suffer through the after-crime guilt and fear alone.

That anger washed away a bit of the ache in his stomach, and Tom shook his head, getting back to work just in time for Dan to walk past the aisle, casting a critical glance at Tom and the number of empty boxes at his feet.

A moment later, Dan was out of sight again.

The rest of the day sped by in a fugue as Tom’s sleep-deprived brain went through the workday on autopilot. Working freight, packing up pallets, storing them for tomorrow, driving home.

Tom shook off the mindlessness and yawned as he closed the car door behind him.

Tom stomped up the creaking steps and threw open the door with the same casual end-of-the-day energy as he always had. It was eight o’clock in the morning, and he was beat, but he had enough energy to peel off his shoes before entering the house. Gramma had basically beat a ‘no shoes in the house’ policy into him from the time he could wear ‘em. Grampa still got away with it every now and then, but he got his.

Wonder what’s up with breakfast? This was normally about when Gramma would be getting started on some toast, onions and sausage for Grampa, or maybe eggs and bacon.

Tom smelled none of those things as the blast of indoor air hit him in the face. He smelled something, but it wasn’t food.

Maybe they slept in? Tom thought, smothering a yawn as he stepped inside.

His sock-covered foot came down on something wet.

Tom blinked the anticipation of sleep out of his eyes and really looked at the floor.

Small spatters of blood dotted the living room.