The Third Daughter's Wish

Gabe asked a few more questions about Josie’s sisters, but she simply answered and didn’t get enthused about her tales. And as soon as he stopped asking, she stopped talking. “What’s bugging you, then, kid?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re completely distracted.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You hardly paid attention to Luke.”

“Yes, I did. He commented on all our costumes. He thought it was strange that I was dressed as a guy.”

“Oh, yeah? What did he want that he didn’t have?”

“A gun and holster. He’s asked for them every year since he was two. Callie always refuses.”

“What did he say when I offered him a tool belt and hard hat?” Gabe asked.

“You didn’t.”

He caught her gaze, held it.

Josie sniffed. “I guess I missed that. I was probably watching Lilly.”

“Callie had taken her out of the room by then.”

Josie scowled.

“See? You’re acting funny.”

“If I am, it’s none of your business.”

He dropped the subject. In his family, everything was everyone’s business. But Josie had grown up with a mother who’d held a high regard for privacy. This wasn’t the first time Josie had told him to mind his own business. Perhaps she’d talk after they’d relaxed at the party for a while.

Or maybe Gabe would stop worrying about it. He’d decided he ought to start dating again—it’d been almost nine months since he’d had that fling with Kendra.

Gabe’s married sister, Nadine, had said she might bring a single teacher friend tonight. She thought the woman and Gabe might hit it off.

Maybe Gabe would focus on his own good time. And Josie could talk when she was ready.

Chapter Four

Minutes later, Gabe neared his mom and stepdad’s huge house just outside Wichita’s northern city limits. Cars and trucks were already lined up along the grassy area between the house and barn. Gabe had to park next to the ditch, about fifty yards away.

As Josie started to get out of the car, she gaped at the bag in her hand. “Crud! I meant to give this to Luke.”

“What is it?”

“Some of those cereal treats. I made them to resemble pumpkins and ghosts. He loves them.”

Gabe wasn’t surprised at the contents of the bag. Josie wasn’t a cook, but she doted on her nephew. “Don’t worry about it. He hauled in enough sugar to last him a while.”

“Guess so.” Josie left the bag in her seat and they began the long trek to the barn. The ground beneath them was uneven, so Gabe took Josie’s elbow. Usually, they would have talked. Josie was still quiet, and that was strange, but Gabe wasn’t supposed to let that bug him.

Gabe’s mother had outdone herself with decorations. One side of the barn’s double doors had been strung with cobwebs and spiders, and it appeared as if a life-sized witch had flown through the top front wall. Six torches lit the area just enough to show a black, bulbous backside, some broom bristles and a pair of boot-clad feet, all poking out of a painted, jagged hole. After Gabe had followed Josie into the barn quaking with spooky music, he spied the witch’s green warted face and broken broom handle jutting through the other side.

Holding a diaphanous pink mermaid tail draped over an elbow, Cindy Connolley, Gabe’s graying but ever-gorgeous mother, swished over to greet him and Josie and direct them to the drinks. “That’s hot buttered rum in the cauldron,” she said. Then she nodded toward a shaggy student type standing behind the table. “Otherwise, The Thing there will set you up.”

“Thanks, Cindy.” Josie immediately approached the young guy, then stood talking to him for a moment after he’d handed her a bottle of beer.

The Thing might be the hired help tonight, but he’d dressed for the party. With three surplus eyeballs dotting his forehead and four muscular arms—two held fake martinis—he should be able to handle the job.

Gabe was relieved to see Josie smiling. She leaned forward to peer at one of the guy’s extra arms, then laughed about something he’d said.

If Josie’s ailment was loneliness, this guy could be her cure. Apparently, he was a seasoned partyer.

He was a little too young, though. And scruffy. All five of his eyes ogled Josie’s chest as he made some comment. Gabe could hazard a guess about what the other guy was saying.

The little runt had better be nice to Josie.

Turning toward his mother, Gabe muttered, “Who’s he?”

“The Thing? Accountant in Kurt’s business office. Graduated cum laude from Wichita State’s business school.”

“When—last week?”

“Maybe five, six years ago? He’s probably close to thirty, Gabriel.”

“He’s okay? Nice to his mom? Avoids drugs and orgies?”

Furrows formed on his mother’s brow. “I think so. You never know, really.” She looked horrified for a moment before her expression cleared. “Oh, no. I remember meeting his parents once. He’s fine.”

As if a meeting of parents meant anything. Serial killers had parents, didn’t they? “Hope so.” Gabe forced his attention to the party decorations. “I love the crashed witch. You get the details right, don’t you?”

“Guess you got that from me,” she said, examining his mustache. “Is that real?”

Gabe had seen his mom a few days ago for dinner. Did women not realize that a decent mustache took weeks to grow? “Nope,” he said. “Mine’s as fake as Josie’s.”

Those twin lines creased his mother’s face again. “You two haven’t broken your ‘just friends’ pact, have you?”

“No. Why?”

“You’re acting a bit odd, son. Sort of…overprotective. And you two did come dressed as a couple.”

Gabe scanned the crowd, noting that Josie had left The Thing and was headed toward the dance area. “We’re both dressed as men, Mom. Men who I presume were straight. And I only watch over Josie because she doesn’t have anyone else to tackle the chore.”

“Oh, okay, then,” his mother said. “Well, the best costumed couple takes home the trophy, same as every year. Vote at the box near the snacks. Maybe you can woo the crowd and win.”

“Yeah, right. Where’s Kurt?” Gabe scanned the room.