10. Emma

TEN

Emma

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to a cacophony that hit me like a physical wave. Nurses scuttled across the hall, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum in urgent rhythm. Monitors beeping erratically, and amidst it all, an angry man’s booming voice sliced through the din.

"Get off of me! Do you know who I am? I’m Jamur Freaking Hede! Do you hear me? Jamur Freaking Hede!" The man's shout made me flinch as Beth and I stepped onto the floor. Security guards, arms rigid and faces set, grappled with him, trying to usher him away from the nursing station.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Beth wedged herself between a guard and the struggling man without hesitation, her stature small but her presence undeniable.

His face was red with fury, veins bulging at his temples. "They're thieves, all of them!" he spat out. "They won’t steal my lands from me! The committee's been plotting behind our backs?—"

"Whoa, slow down." Beth held up her hands. "Who is trying to steal your lands?”

"The committee! They want to make my ancestral lands into protected lands, stealing them right out from under me, now that they know how much they’re worth!” He yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

In a ridiculously calm voice, Carol asked, "How are they your lands?"

"There was a deal with my great-grandpa, years ago." His words were a torrent, eyes wild. "I have the papers, even though the town refuses to acknowledge them."

"Then, that should be easy to prove,” she told him simply.

His gaze swung back to one of the doors leading to hospital rooms. "Not with these crooks! These bastards! These thieves!”

Security managed to regain their hold, pulling the man down the corridor, his shouts still echoing long after the elevator doors closed. Beth exchanged a look with me, a silent signal to press on despite the chaos. The thing was, I was filing all that information away, just in case, because it seemed important.

As we continued down the hall, reading the numbers on the hospital rooms, I spotted two nurses at their station. Both looked beyond weary, with foam cups of coffee clutched in their hands, and bags in their eyes. They were shifting from foot to foot, as if they’d been standing all day.

Seeing the tired nurses, my heart went out to them. Their job was already hard enough without having to deal with jerks like that. Using a little of my magic, I stretched it out to the two women who looked like they wanted nothing more than to get off their feet. Nothing happened, but it would. I knew that. Sometimes karma worked on its own time.

Beth and I continued heading toward Nam Durgin's room, following the numbers on the outside of the doors to find our way since everything looked the same. When we reached it, we found that the door was ajar, so Beth put her face near the opening.

"Mr. Durgin?" Beth called out gently.

"Come in," came a voice from inside, surprisingly steady.

We stepped into the room to find three people there, Trudy, a strange man, and who we assumed was her husband, Nam. Nam Durgin was propped up on his hospital bed, white bandages wrapped around his chest. His short, white hair and equally short, white beard brought out the rich brown color of his eyes. His face was kind, but tired, and there were wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

"Miss Ari. Miss Foxx." He smiled at Beth and greeted me with a nod. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, Mr. Durgin." Beth pulled up chairs for us from the corner of the room.

Trudy stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the late afternoon sun. Beside her was the man I didn't recognize. Trudy turned, her face solemn but composed.

"This is Mestin Finespike," she introduced. "Mestin, this is Beth Ari and Emma Foxx. They are private investigators I’ve hired."

Mestin was one of those people who were instantly forgettable. He had brown hair, left a little long, brown eyes, and casual clothes. He was neither tall nor short, and I didn’t get a good feeling or a bad feeling from him. It was like he was a piece of furniture.

"Good to meet you." Mestin extended a hand briefly, which Beth and I both shook, before turning back to Trudy. He handed her a small, dark bottle, its contents obscured by the glass.

"Thank you, Mestin." Trudy took the bottle and placed it carefully on the bedside table. Then she picked up a suitcase from the floor and handed it to him.

"Everything's there," she said to him.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Durgin," Mestin replied with a curt nod before slipping past us and out the door.

"Business?" Beth asked, an eyebrow raised as the door clicked shut behind him.

"Later," Trudy said with a dismissive wave of her hand, gazing fondly at her husband. "Right now, we need to focus on Nam."

Beth nodded, turning her attention back to Nam as well. "We'll do everything we can to figure this out," she promised.

Nam gave a grateful smile, his eyes flickering with a spark of something that might have been resolution or just a reflection of the afternoon sun. "I know you will."

We sat down in the chairs, and my gaze went to the man in the bed. "How are you feeling?”

"Not my best certainly, but I can talk,” he said quietly.

"But not for too long,” Trudy hurriedly said.

"We’ll make it quick,” I reassured her.

"Nam, can you tell us what happened that night?" Beth asked.

Nam shifted on his hospital bed, wincing in pain. "Of course." He took a deep breath. "I'm no stranger to work; I've never needed to do it, what with my legacy, but I like it. It keeps me grounded."

"Grounded in what way?" I interjected, curious about the man who didn’t fit the typical victim profile.

"Working with flowers, at my shop, Floral Fun, it's therapeutic. I've done it at least once a week for years, even though I own many businesses, and this one is hardly my most important or most profitable. It’s simply that I enjoy working with flowers, and with people." Nam’s eyes lost focus as if recalling the scent of blossoms and the stems between his fingers.

"And that Wednesday, after closing up?" Beth pushed gently, bringing him back to the present.

"Right." Nam cleared his throat, the white of his bandages contrasting sharply with his skin. "I was leaving for the night. I walked out the back door, headed toward my car, when it...it came out of nowhere."

"By 'it,' you mean the werewolf?" I asked.

His brown eyes darkened with the memory. "Exactly. The beast pounced on me before I could even react. Just jumped on me and attacked." His hand moved instinctively to the bandages, a protective gesture.

"Did you see it coming or hear anything unusual?" Beth leaned in closer.

"Nothing. It was silent until it was too late."

"Did it seem like it knew you? Like it was waiting?" I asked.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing as he relived the moment. "Yeah, it did. It wasn't just roaming around, it felt personal."

"Personal how?" Beth interjected, intent on Nam’s face.

"Like it came for me ," Nam replied quietly. "It didn't chase or hunt. It attacked, then it stopped. Just looked at me and backed off." He paused, clearly puzzled by the memory.

"Stopped? Just like that?" I asked.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed. "As if it had done what it came to do."

"Which was?" Beth prodded.

Nam shook his head, frustration etched into his furrowed brow. "I don't know. But it wasn't random. This thing... it targeted me."

Beth scribbled more notes. We exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing, this attack had a purpose. We didn’t know what it was yet, but we’d find out.

"Nam, if this wasn't random, what could someone want from you?" I leaned forward in the hospital chair. "Do you have any enemies?”

"Enemies?" Nam chuckled dryly, shifting uncomfortably. "In a town like Mystic Hollow? Hard to believe, but no.” He paused, then raised one finger. "Well, except for one."

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Jamur Hede," he said with a slight grimace, and my mind immediately went back to the man in the hall. The name alone seemed to sour the air around us. "He was the man yelling out in the hall earlier."

"Right, we saw security dealing with him," Beth noted. "What's his beef with you?"

"Land," Nam replied in a serious tone. "There's talk about making some areas in Mystic Hollow protected lands, including the Durgins' land, which the man is upset about. It's been a communal effort by the committee, and Jamur doesn't like it. He thinks we're stealing from him."

"Is the land actually his?" I asked, skeptical.

"It was given to his great grandpa in a deal long ago, or so he claims. None of us believe it though. It’s not the first time he’s made claims to something that doesn’t belong to him. But, either way, times have changed, and we can't let personal greed endanger the whole community."

Beth nodded, jotting down something on her notepad. "And this has made him angry enough to cause trouble?"

"Angry, yes," Nam sighed. "But whether he's behind this attack... I can't say for sure." He was quiet for a moment, then Nam shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, despite the pain it surely caused. "Jamur? No, he's not one for getting his hands dirty."

"Surely, he's got motive," Beth pressed, her pen poised above her notepad.

"Jamur is all talk," Nam explained, easing back into his pillows with a careful breath. "The man's rich enough not to need more, but greed's got a firm grip on him."

"Rich and greedy often leads to danger," I said.

He chuckled, which turned into a wince. "Well, Jamur's the sort who'd stage an accident just to claim insurance. I’ve seen him do it before. But once someone catches on, he backs off and moves onto the next scheme. He’s a pest, but not a predator."

"Scams are one thing, a werewolf attack is another level," said Beth, skeptical.

"Exactly," Nam agreed. "He wouldn't risk his reputation on something like this. He loves money, but he loves his name more."

"Who else would have a reason to send a werewolf after you?" I asked.

Nam shrugged, his eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and pain. "I can't think of anyone. I've been here all my life. I feel like I’m a part of the town's fabric."

"What about your family?" Beth asked.

"They’re… well, they’re beloved," he replied with a hint of pride. "They owned half this town once upon a time. It's just me now, the last of my line."

"Any feuds or old grudges?" I prodded further, searching for any thread we might pull.

"None that I know of." Nam's brow furrowed as he considered the possibility. "Mystic Hollow's been good to the Durgins, and we to it."

Beth shifted her weight, clearly unsatisfied but ready to move on. "The other victims, what about them? Do you know anything relevant?"

"They’re both pillars of the community," Nam said. "Wealthy, respected. Like me, they've got their hands in many pots, but I can't say why they'd be targets either."

"Connections to the committee?" I tried to find some common ground.

"Sure, we're all involved in town matters, but who isn't?" He let out a long breath, the effort visible. "It doesn't add up."

"Okay, thanks, Nam." Beth clicked her pen, signaling the end of the questioning. We were back to square one, but at least we had a few more pieces of the puzzle.

After saying goodbye, we made our way down the sterile hallway, passing rooms with hushed whispers seeping through their partially open doors. When we reached the rooms of the other two attackees, a stern-faced nurse blocked our path.

"Family only," she stated, her arms folded over her crisp white uniform.

"Can you just tell them?—"

"Family only," she repeated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Beth exchanged a glance with me, her blue eyes holding a silent conversation I knew all too well. Time to leave.

"Thank you," I muttered, though the nurse was already turning away. Beth and I retraced our footsteps back to the elevator.

There, I looked to the nurses’ station and saw them gathered around some gift baskets filled with food. New chairs with red bows sat beside them. Both nurses were grinning and laughing, eating brownies together. I smiled.

"Did you do that?” Beth asked.

My smile never faded. "Maybe they just deserved a little good karma.

She laughed. "Sometimes I wish I had your powers.”

"I’m grateful for them every day,” I told her sincerely.

Beth jabbed at the ground floor button. The doors closed, sealing us in with the muffled sounds of the hospital. For the first time in a while, I relaxed. It wasn’t fun being around the injured and those that are suffering.

Beth looked at me and screwed up her lips. "What do you think?"

I leaned back against the cool wall. "About what?"

"About all of this," she gestured vaguely, her blonde hair swaying with the movement. "The attacks."

"It feels like grasping at straws," I admitted.

"The only connection so far," Beth looked at her reflection in the elevator's metallic doors, "is that they're all wealthy and on that committee."

"That seems too simple and obvious," I said. But sometimes the simplest answer was the right one. We'd have to dig deeper once we got out of here.