“Well, bring that pizza in here!” she said.

Just the sound of that made him feel better. He couldn’t get in there fast enough. He pulled his squad car right into her drive and parked.

Eleven

Troy worked at Cooper’s bar on Halloween night. Cooper had been snagged by his wife to go to town to trick-or-treat at a few spots with their three-month-old daughter, who was dressed as a little duck and didn’t have a clue how they were exploiting her cuteness. Rawley had gone into town to help Carrie hand out treats at the deli and it wasn’t likely to be busy at the bar, not with the weather as cold as it was and all the real action in town.

He wasn’t particularly sentimental about Halloween, but he did have to admit the kids he saw were pretty hilarious. The doctor’s kids came out to the beach for a little show-and-tell before going house to house in town with Devon, the coach and their kids, Mercy and Austin. The little girls were, predictably, princesses. Austin was a zombie and five-year-old Will was with SEAL Team Six.

By seven o’clock Cooper was back and by seven-thirty the coach and his kids were done for the night. It wasn’t even nine when Troy had swept, mopped and put everything straight. He headed for town, looking for a little diversion. He’d chosen to walk to work since it was a dry night. Going back to town across the beach, he passed a pretty big bonfire and a bunch of high school kids bundled up and chasing each other around the sand. When they saw him there was a lot of shouting. “Hey, Troy, hey!” It made them feel so cool to call him by his first name when they weren’t at school and when he wasn’t with other teachers. He got a kick out of them. He did manage an adult move and told them to be careful around that fire.

Troy had a small two-bedroom apartment in town in a pretty ratty and cheap building—one bedroom to sleep in, one to store toys. Besides semi-decent furniture the only thing he’d done to improve his surroundings was reinforce all the locks—his toys and sports gear were valuable.

He walked past his street and up the hill toward Iris’s house. Parked in front of her house was the Sheriff’s Department SUV. That was pretty blatant. Usually Seth at least parked in his parents’ drive, though that was just about as close to Iris’s back door as her own drive. Even though they insisted theirs was merely an old friendship, Troy could pick up the vibes. He wasn’t convinced either Iris or Seth would admit it, but Troy could see what was happening. There was some kind of chemistry going on there that was more intense than friendship.

He turned around and walked back down the hill. He could head to Cliff’s or maybe even Waylan’s. He felt like having a beer. Maybe a little distraction. He should’ve thought it through before taking a job in a little town like this because as far as single women went, they were few. The chances of finding himself lucky on Friday were pretty slim. Of course, when there was snow on Mount Hood, he could head up there and after a day of skiing he would usually find someone to flirt with.

He’d met Iris soon after moving to Thunder Point and had congratulated himself on both good taste and wisdom—she was pretty, smart, funny and sexy. It didn’t take him long to ask her out. Figuring he could enjoy a long time with someone like Iris, he’d settled into the little town very happily. But it didn’t work out for them. Troy had been around the block a few times—it happened that way sometimes. He was disappointed, but he told himself that would pass.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with himself. Waylan’s door was standing open and the tinny sounds of oldies from an antique jukebox drifted out. Waylan’s wasn’t a bad place but there was no conversation there. There were a few old boys who drifted in after work because the drinks were cheap, but night usually brought out a solitary and tight-lipped crowd who just wanted to drink in peace. He decided to see if the mini-mart was still open, grab a six pack and—

And then he saw the witch sweeping her sidewalk and pulling in her harvest decorations. “Hey,” he called out.

She turned toward him and cackled a little wildly, grinning broadly to show her blacked-out teeth.

He laughed at her. “I thought you were going to dress up this year?” he said.

“Funny. I put a hex on you. When you get up to pee in the morning you will be very surprised at how little your thing is.”

“You are evil.”

“You shouldn’t beat up on witches. We’re sensitive.”

“But are you thirsty, that’s the question.”

She leaned on her broom. “I don’t know. I’m pretty worn-out—I’ve been putting curses on people all night....”

“Is there a whole town full of little wangs?” he asked.

She grinned again. “Some people got big ones.”

“Wow! What do you have to do to get a big one?”

“Sometimes just be a bitchy girl. That’ll do it.”

“You are a bad, bad witch. You could get thrown out of the witch’s union. Come on, let’s get your stuff off the sidewalk and stop in at Waylan’s for a cold beer. No one will notice the costume in there.”

“I guess that’s supposed to be a plus,” she said. “Can you pull this stuff in while I brush my teeth? I need to be free of this black stuff. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t change clothes, Dillon,” he said, using her last name. “Now that I think about it, I want to buy a drink for a witch tonight. It fits my mood just right.”

“I’ve never been in Waylan’s,” she said.

“It’s right across the street!” he said.

“It looks a little...seedy.”

“It’s completely seedy. And very forgettable. But the beer is cold. Hurry up.”

Troy did as he’d been told and pulled in the flowers, jack-o’-lantern and other decorations and took them back to the workroom. He looked around the shop and workroom appreciatively—Grace kept a nice little shop. It was very tidy and classy. There was a huge glass-fronted cooler that stretched the length of the back room and it was filled with flowers. On the other side of that room was an office space and small bathroom. The floors were shiny wood, the walls painted cheerful yellow and shelves were stuffed with supplies, all neatly arranged. Troy heard a stomping sound and the back door opened. Grace entered and locked the door behind her.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Upstairs. The stairs are in the alley behind the shop.”

“What’s up there?” he asked.

“Me,” she said. “There’s a little space. Very little. Rose used it as storage. She even let other people rent cheap storage from her—like some of the other businesses. I cleaned it up, made a couple of minor improvements and I live up there.” When she smiled, her teeth gleamed. He thought he might miss those black patches.

“Come on, witchy. Let’s get a drink across the street.”

The inside of the bar was dark and gloomy and smelled like years of spilled beer and stale smoke from back when people were still allowed to smoke in bars. That was the real reason Waylan always had the door propped open, unless the cold wind howled or sleet blasted the windows. The lights were dim and there were only three people at the bar, with a lot of space between them. There was one couple in a booth near the back of the place, sitting very close, nuzzling each other. Other than that couple, there were only men, all of them apparently alone. The place was a dump, really. But the bar itself was nice and the mirrored shelves behind the bar were pretty classy.