Page 31 of Sins of the Fathers
Grady shrugged. “I’m just now finding evidence that makes me wonder.”
Gibson’s expression suggested he was mulling over the possibility. “That would require stringing together a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes,’ but it would all depend on the ‘why.’ Given that the Kings have been hunting monsters in these parts for more than two hundred years, the family certainly has enemies. But to carry out a vendetta across three generations—there has to be a good reason.”
“And that’s what we don’t know—yet,” Dawson supplied. “I’ve got a theory that Frank and his wife were killed because they were on the trail of someone important. That ended the investigation. But what if my parents somehow picked up the trail decades later?”
“And what if my dad did the same, seven years after Ethan and Jackie died?” Grady put in. “They might not have even been looking for a connection—maybe they happened upon a related case or discovered the link by accident. Someone might have been tempted to make the ‘King problem’ go away—permanently.”
“So of course you two are tempting fate yourselves by carrying on the tradition,” Tucker observed.
“It’s in our blood,” Dawson said with a shrug.
“If someone’s willing to kill for it, whatever was going on back then must still be happening,” Grady speculated. “Otherwise, why make the effort? The damnedest thing is that none of our cases lately have been unusual or particularly important. Hauntings, feral creatures, a few curses—nothing significant.”
“Unless—assuming there’s one person throughout all this time doing the killing—you don’t realize the connection, but the killer thinks you know,” Tucker said.
Grady felt Tucker’s words like a seismic shift in his brain. “Shit. You might be right.”
“Maybe we can work our way from the ends to the middle if we collaborate,” Gibson suggested. “You follow the clues from your family history, the way you’d handle any hunt, focusing on finding who killed the bikers and coyotes and how that might relate to what happened to Knox. We’ll track our Syndicate leads and figure out if there’s a big picture view we’ve been missing.”
Dawson and Grady shared a wary glance.
“Sounds good,” Grady replied, “on one condition—you share what you find with us just as completely as you want us to share with you.”
“Deal,” Gibson replied.
Grady couldn’t stifle his yawn as his body warned it was time to crash.
“We’ve had quite a day, and Gray got shot. Thanks for the barbecue and intel, but I think it’s time for us to go.” Dawson stood, and they helped carry out the empties and shook hands with Gibson and Tucker.
“You have my number,” Gibson told Dawson. “Text me Grady’s, and I’ll text you Tucker’s. That way we can connect when something happens.”
“Will do,” Dawson agreed. He rested his hand on the small of Grady’s back as they walked toward the door.
“And Grady? If you’re right about the connections, you two better keep your heads down and watch your backs. Anyone capable of that kind of dark magic over all those years is a formidable enemy. You definitely don’t want to run into them in a dark alley,” Tucker warned.
“Agreed,” Grady replied. “We’ll be in touch.”
5
DAWSON
“These arethe protective amulets I told you about.” Denny held out two cloth drawstring pouches, one for Dawson and one for Grady. “I had them made by a root worker I know down in Charleston. Got some for Colt, Knox, and me too. Like I said, I was going to give them to you for Christmas but seems like you need them now so—’tis the season.”
Angel wagged and wove in and out between their legs, then sat down and looked at them expectantly for treats. Dawson reached into his pocket for the dog biscuits he always carried, and Angel padded off with her spoils to enjoy them by the couch.
Dawson opened the pouch and removed a silver medallion covered with sigils and another small bag tied off with odd string.
“The necklace has protective markings from several cultures, and it’s been blessed,” Denny told them. “The other is a mojo bag. Don’t open it; keep it in your pocket at all times, and occasionally feed it a couple of drops of blood and alcohol.”
“Feed?” Grady’s eyes widened, and he regarded the bag with suspicion.
Denny shrugged. “Each bag is said to have a protective presence inside. Can’t say I understand exactly, but I know it’s real and powerful—and you boys can use all the help you can get.”
“Thanks,” Grady said, putting the necklace on and slipping the bag into the pocket of his jeans as Dawson did the same. They had stopped by to drop off groceries since Denny was busy strengthening the wardings around the house.
“How’s Knox?” Dawson asked as he put away cans and boxes.
“Still recovering. Whatever he was given packed a wallop. I heard back from one of my contacts—he thought it might have been a drug formulated to affect the metabolisms of supernatural creatures. Apparently there were a couple of witches out in the Midwest who were running a drug ring—and had connections to that dark witch Steve and Kyle helped stop up in Boone a while back.”
