Search Me(44)

“Damn…that’s some intense Sherlock Holmes stuff.”

I laughed. “I know, right?”

Maddox slid the book over where he could read it. “The location of the cave is a two mile hike off rural Talking Rock Springs trail. Historians note the irony of the location of Pretty Fawn’s cave. It was northeast of her tribe’s settlement. Since Cherokee’s believed that the direction of North meant defeat and trouble coupled with West’s meaning of death, it is thought that Pretty Fawn and Jensen were doomed to begin with.” He closed the book. “Great. Nothing like a little superstition or bad omens to go along with the cave location.”

“At least we know where to go. We could still be stuck at square one about where in the county the cave was.”

“True. Very true.”

We both sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the map with astonished looks on our faces. “I can’t believe we actually figured it all out,” I said.

Maddox grinned. “I guess we make a good team, huh? Maybe we can become crime fighters or some shit.”

I laughed. “Does that mean we’ll get to wear really cool outfits or have code names?”

“Maybe. Or we could become FBI agents and get to flash around our badges.”

“You’re a man with a plan, that’s for sure.”

Maddox eyed his watch. “Since the day is practically shot, whatcha think about staying put here, and then getting a start bright and early in the morning?”

“Makes sense to me.” I glanced around the bar that was starting to fill up with some of the early evening crowd. “Just what do you suggest we do while we’re here?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Anything and everything.”

Inwardly, I groaned. I had a feeling it was going to be a really, really long night.

Chapter Thirteen

I had just started packing the Cherokee Lore book and our notepad of clues into Maddox’s bag when West ambled over to the table. I quickly slid the map back into my mammoth purse before he could see it.

West tossed a quarter up and down in his palm. “You guys finished?”

“Yes, finally,” I replied.

“So that means you guys can finally start unwinding?”

Maddox laughed. “Yeah, it does. What did you have in mind?”

“How about some music?”

I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

West nodded and then headed over to the jukebox across from us. Maddox had just taken a large swig of his beer when the song blared out of the speakers. Immediately, he started choking, spewing a stream of Budweiser across the table.

“Are you all right?” I asked, handing him some napkins.

“Fine,” he muttered, although his usual tan features seemed to have paled. Between bouts of coughing, he blotted up the soda.

West came sauntering back over to us with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Thought I’d torture you a little with this one.”

Maddox glowered at him. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate the trip down memory lane.”

“What’s the deal with the song? It’s one of Poison’s, isn’t it?” I asked. My knowledge of 80’s metal, big hair bands came from Maddox. His dad had been a huge fan and had even taken Maddox to some reunion concerts. He had passed on the appreciation to me during our summers together.

West ignored Maddox’s pleading look. “Yep. It’s I Won’t Forget You by Poison.” He dragged a chair over to our booth. He spun it around and then straddled it, draping his arms over the top rung. “Let me tell you what this douchebag used to do. Friday nights at the hospital, we would have karaoke. And every freaking time, Mad Dog had to sing I Won’t Forget You.”

“I didn’t know you could sing,” I said to Maddox.

West grimaced. “Trust me. He can’t.”

I giggled as Maddox snapped, “Asshole!”

“Dude, after what you put us all through, you deserve a little ragging.”

“The singing was that bad?” I asked.

“Nah, it wasn’t just singing the song over and over. He’d usually get shit-faced after the song went off on smuggled in beer and start crying about this girl who—”

Maddox interrupted West by kicking him in the shin. At West’s questioning look, Maddox gritted his teeth. “That’s enough.”

West stooped over to rub his leg. “Fine man. Christ, you didn’t have to kick the shit out of me though.” He shook his head. “You must be in dire straits for something more hardcore alcohol than beer.” Pushing himself up out of the chair, he said, “I tell you what. Since my old man isn’t here tonight, I’ll slip some of the best Patron we’ve got under the table for you.”

Maddox’s face stretched into a wide grin. “Now there’s something you remember about me that’s good.”

West winked before limping over behind the bar. He grabbed a couple of shot glasses, a large bottle of what I presumed was Patron, and then hustled back to our table. He poured two glasses full and then passed one over to Maddox. “Here’s to us, man.”

“To us. Screaming Eagles forever.” Maddox knocked his shot glass to West’s and then downed the liquid in one gulp. He grunted and brought his hand across his mouth to wipe his lips. “That’s some good tequila.”