"Tess!" Jack put an arm around me and herded me even farther away. "I don't know what that is, but it can't be good."
But I was still watching the statue, though with one hand shielding my eyes from the brightness, and I stopped walking and tugged at his hand. "Jack. Jack! Something's happening!"
He turned, shielding me with his body, because once an alpha male, fiercely protective tiger shifter, always a … well, you get it, and we both stared at the statue while the sparkling light dimmed and then disappeared altogether.
And then the statue—now no longer stone, but a very human, very alive, man who was normal-sized, not twelve feet tall like the statue—hopped down off the pedestal, brushed dust off his clothes, and then looked around at everyone staring at him.
"Well," he finally said, in a rusty and slightly shaky voice. "It's about dang time."
Then, with emerald green eyes that looked exactly like Jack's, he caught sight of his great-great-whatever grandson and pointed at him.
"I have a message for you, grandson," the former statue said, his voice deepening and ringing through the square. "You have five days to return what you stole or—on Friday at dusk—this town and everybody in it will be destroyed."
Then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed.
8
Tess
When I'd planned out my Sunday, which was my one day off from the shop, spending part of my afternoon at the Dead End jail/sheriff's office had been nowhere on the list.
Susan had insisted, though, that we bring the man to her office, since, as she'd put it, "total town destruction is in my jurisdiction."
Jedediah, or whoever he was, was sleeping on a cot in a jail cell. His pulse was strong and his breathing steady, but Susan had called a local off-duty EMT to come in and check him out.
Katelyn, the EMT, examined him and then walked out to join us and shrugged. "He seems perfectly fine. But is he also fine for a statue? Or fine for a man who died in 1732? Who knows?"
Logan, who was still hanging around, looked up. "He died in 1732? How do you know that?"
Katelyn perked up at the sound of his Scottish accent and perked up more at the sight of his scoundrelly good looks and smiled. "It was on the statue. Who are you?"
"Logan Mackenzie at your service, lovely lady. Should we go get a cup of tea or, better yet, a cocktail, and discuss life in your very interesting small town?"
Katelyn grinned. "I think that's a lovely idea. I like your accent. Pippin was my favorite hobbit!"
Logan looked confused. "Hobbit?"
She grinned. "Never mind. Have you had Southern sweet tea?"
"Keep an eye on your wallet," Jack called out.
Katelyn gave him a puzzled and somewhat offended look. "I wouldn't steal from your friend, Mr. Shepherd."
"He's not my friend. And I wasn't talking tohim," Jack assured her.
Then he turned to Logan. "This is my town. You know what that means."
Logan rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. No stealing, swindling, scheming, or stabbing. I swear to be good."
Katelyn froze, but Logan turned on the charm again.
"We were just joking, lass. Now tell me about this career you have. You're a doctor, are you?"
She hesitated but then left with him, and I didn't know whether to be worried about her or relieved that Logan was gone, at least for now.
"I should have asked her about the headache," I said, sighing.
"I asked her when we were in with Jedediah," Susan said, handing me a water bottle. "She said get some rest and be sure to drink plenty of water. Dehydration is a common headache trigger."
