Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

M ystic Cove's police station is quite small, little more than a trailer, really. Actually, it is an old trailer home that was converted into a police station with the living room serving as a front office, the kitchen as storage for files, two of the bedrooms serving as offices, and the third bedroom serving as a sort of temporary lockup for minor offenders.

By the time Bella and I get inside, Damon is already leaning over the counter, chatting up the office manager, Lisa.

"I bet you know all of Mystic Cove's dirty little secrets," Damon is saying, his voice low and seductive. Lisa giggles and lets out a snort. She slaps her hand over her nose and then laughs again.

"Hey, Lisa," I say, nudging Damon out of the way and giving him an annoyed look.

"Well, hey there, Tamzin," she says in her southern drawl, smacking her gum. Lisa's father is a local werewolf, but when her parents divorced, she moved to Alabama with her mother. She only moved back to Mystic Cove a few years ago, right after college. "Hey, Bella. Want a treat?" She offers Bella the candy jar from her desk.

"Yes, please," Bella says, rifling through the cheap suckers looking for an orange one.

"Was there something you needed, hon?" Lisa asks Damon. "I don't think I caught your name…or your…umm…" She eyes his horns. "Affiliation?"

Damon takes her hand and strokes the back of it. "You can call me—"

"You don't need to call him anything," I interrupt, pushing him further to the side. Bella finds her sucker and puts the jar back on the counter. "He's with me. We need to see Detective Dawson."

"Oh," Lisa says, picking up the phone receiver. The trailer is so small, I can hear the phone ring on Detective's Dawson's desk. "I hope everything's all right."

"It's not," I mutter.

"Yeah?" Detective Dawson's voice sounds like an echo since I can hear it both from his office and through the phone receiver.

"Beckett hon, Ms. Tamzin Jones and a gentleman are here to see you."

"Send them back," he says.

"You can go on back," Lisa says, hanging up the phone.

"Thanks," I say. "Can Bella stay here with you?"

"Sure! Come here, sweetie. Want to watch some funny cat videos?"

"Always."

Lisa pulls up a chair next to her and she pulls up YouTube on her computer.

"Did you see the one where the cat was afraid of pickles?" I hear Bella ask as I leave her in good hands.

Even though Beckett's door is open, I knock just the same. "Detective?"

"Come on in, Ms. Jones," he says, offering me his hand. He looks at Damon and stares for a moment, his smile fleeing his face. Detective Beckett Dawson is a newcomer to Mystic Cove. He was recruited here for his history of solving cold cases. And he was pretty much drummed out of his previous department because he had an experience with an extraterrestrial. Now, Mystic Cove is not home to any known aliens, but in this town, anything is possible. Our sheriff figured that someone with Beckett's history would be open to living with werewolves, vampires, and whatever else we have living among us, and he was right. Beckett also ended up engaged to the town's resident ghost, my best friend Cora. So, Beckett has ended up fitting in like an old glove—but I guess he can't help but be startled by someone like Damon.

"And you are?" Beckett asks Damon.

"I should probably close the door," I say.

"You can call me Damon." The two men shake hands. "And, yes, I'm exactly what you think I am."

"Damon the…Demon?" Beckett asks, eyeing Damon warily as we all sit down.

"Exactly," Damon says, a wide grin on his face.

"O…kay," Beckett says, looking to me. "So, what's going on, Tamzin? Are you safe?"

"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "I mean, Damon isn't a threat. At least, I don't think he is." I set the cookie jar on his desk. "A few days ago, Bella captured Damon in this cookie jar. He says that he was trying to possess me. That he was sent by someone to torture me."

Damon holds up his hands. "Hey, it's my job. Nothing personal."

Beckett pulls out his notebook and jots a few things down. "Do you enjoy your job, Damon?"

"Is that a crime?"

"Depends." Beckett looks to me. "Are demons common in Mystic Cove?"

"He's the first I've met," I say.

"So, who sent you?" Beckett asks Damon.

"I was sent by the Dark Lord."

"So…Satan?"

Damon lets out an annoyed exhale. "You humans think so small. The Dark Lord and most of his minions have been around much longer than most human religions. The Dark Lord cannot be put inside such a rigid box."

"Okay, okay." Beckett rubs his forehead. "So, the Dark Lord sent you to possess and torture Tamzin. Why?"

"I don't know," Damon says. "I only go where the Dark Lord bids."

"Can I speak to this Dark Lord?"

"That would be a very, very bad idea."

Beckett looks to me. "So, just to make sure we are on the same page, why exactly are you here? Have you spoken to Beverly?"

"Beverly is doing her best to untangle what happened," I explain. "But Bella is just a kid and isn't exactly sure how she managed to trap Damon in the jar. But Beverly said that the best way to get rid of Damon is to find out what spell was used to send him to me in the first place."

"The possession didn't originate with the Dark Lord?" Beckett looks to Damon to answer that.

"From what I have seen, Tamzin has done nothing that would attract the Dark Lord's attention. Therefore, one of his human followers must have cursed her."

"Any idea who?" Beckett asks.

Damon shakes his head. "It's not like there is a directory."

"Okay," Beckett says, letting out a long exhale. "So, basically, you want to find out who cursed you so you can banish this demon permanently."

I nod, though there is a hard thump in my chest at the idea of Damon being sent away and never seeing him again. Why? He's bad news, for me and probably all of Mystic Cove. But I have to admit, it's been nice having someone around. I certainly haven't been as lonely as usual. And I've been so busy, I've hardly had time to wallow in just how unhappy I am. Still, getting rid of Damon is what's best. I need to get back to my life. But maybe I don't have to go back to my life as it was. Maybe I can work toward being happy again. I'm not exactly sure how. I'll have to talk to my therapist about that.

"I have to admit that I don't have any experience in this sort of thing," Beckett says.

"Why do you have to admit that?" Damon asks. "Shouldn't you at least pretend you have everything under control?"

"I'm just trying to be honest with Tamzin about our chances of finding out who is behind this."

"Good Lord, man. The girl is miserable. Can't you see that? She came to you for a little hope. Tell her what she wants to hear."

"I'm not totally miserable," I say.

"Okay, okay," Beckett says, rubbing his forehead. "I'm going to have to approach this the way I would any other crime against you. So, who would want to hurt you?"

"I don't know," I say. "I don't have any enemies that I know of."

"Except that Karen from the car line," Damon mumbles.

"Who is Karen?" Beckett asks.

"Her name isn't Karen," I say. "There's a mom in the school drop-off line who always honks her horn at me when I take too long. I think her name is…umm… Darla? Darleen? Daria? I'm not sure. Her daughter is Elsa."

"And you think this woman might hate you enough to send a demon to torture you?"

"Of course not," I say. "Damon was just joking."

"Were you just joking?" Beckett asks Damon.

"Not really. Look, I've been around a very long time. Humans curse each other all the time for very petty and stupid things. Of course, there are the humans who want revenge for murder or more serious issues. But I knew a man who once cursed his own son for losing a hoe."

"Really?" I ask.

"Well, they were very poor. And the hoe was necessary for farming to keep the family from starving. But still, you get my point. You never know what a person might curse someone for. Humans don't always take their words as seriously as they should."

"Do you think someone could have cursed her without knowing it?" Beckett asks.

"I don't think so," Damon says. "In this case, the order came from the Dark Lord himself. That takes some serious intention."

"Okay, so I will try to track down this Darla and just have a chat with her," Beckett says. "But usually crimes like this are very personal. I would like to start with your family just to see what they have to say."

"Okay." I give him the names and phone numbers of my parents.

"And what about your late husband's family?"

"I don't…really talk to them much."

"It's my understanding that they blame you for his accident."

My eyes well up. I only nod to keep from crying.

"I'm sorry to bring this up, Tamzin," Beckett says. "But that seems like a very good place for me to start."

"I just… I can't imagine Mark's family wanting to hurt me further," I say, the tears running down my cheeks. Thankfully, Beckett has a tissue box on his desk. "They know how much I already blame myself for what happened."

"What did happen?" Beckett asks. I look at him, begging him with my eyes to not make me say it out loud. "I need to know, Tamzin."

"It was just a fight. A stupid fight." I blow my nose. "He'd been spending a lot of time with his boardgame group. Like, four, five nights a week. I just wanted to spend time together as a family. Not even doing anything, just watching TV together.

"We argued. I threatened to toss out all his games and set them on fire. He stormed out anyway. He drove off. According to the police report, he had the right of way. He didn't run a red light or anything. But… I don't know. I think maybe he wasn't paying attention. The truck… The truck hit him square in the driver's side. He was dead… He was dead before the emergency vehicles even showed up. We didn't…didn't even get to say goodbye."

"Was the driver of the other car charged?" Beckett asks.

"Umm… I think so. I don't remember. There was a trial, but I didn't go."

"Okay, I'll look it up later," Beckett says. "So, why does his family blame you? Seems like they should blame the driver of the other car."

"I told them what happened," I say. "I told them about the fight. I told them I blamed myself, and I do. I still do."

"You know it wasn't your fault," Beckett says.

"So my therapist keeps telling me," I say, trying to make a joke. But it falls flat. I feel warmth on my hand and look over to see Damon holding my hand in his. He has a kind look on his face. A feeling of calm washes over me and I stop crying.

"Okay," Beckett says. "I think I have enough here to get started. I'm going to look up Mark's case, see if there is anything else there. Then I'm going to talk to your parents and Mark's. I'll let you know if I find out anything."

I thank Beckett and make sure to dry my tears and blow my nose before seeing Bella.

"What happened to your face?" Bella asks as soon as she sees me. So much for that. "Have you been crying?"

"I'm fine," I say. "Thanks for watching her," I say to Lisa.

"No problem, hon," Lisa says.

As we walk out to the car, my phone rings. It's Beverly.

"Hello?"

"Hello, dear. Is Bella with you?"

"Yes."

"And you-know-who?"

"Of course. I can't shake him."

"Good. Come by the shop, will you? I have news."