Eddie

I didn't have any sort of religious upbringing. I think my mom was Catholic, but I don't know and neither does Wayne. My old man didn't believe in anything greater than himself, and while Wayne is great on a lot of things, theology wasn't one of them, so we were pretty agnostic through the years.

So learning about Judaism has been kind of cool, actually. I got a quick rundown from Lib about the next couple of months and what was coming up next.

"Rosh Hashanah is the New Year celebration," she told me. "Readings and the honeyed apple slices and the shofar. Just keeps trying but they sound more like little farts than horn blasts and it's hard not to laugh."

"I bet," I agreed. "Then Hanukkah, right?"

"Wrong. Then Yom Kippur," Lib told me. "The Atonement. That one's hard because we fast from everything: food, water, sex—"

"Sex?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Nothing to distract from one's focus."

I tried not to look disappointed, but Lib giggled. "One day. We'll both survive. And after that, Hanukkah, with eight nights of latkes or until we get sick of them. Just never does."

"And a latke is?"

"Sort of a potato pancake. Like a big hash brown, very yummy," Lib told me. "You know that you and Wayne don't have to participate, right? If any of this is not your thing-"

"—I know, but so far it's all very cool," I assured her. "But if like, he and I make you guys uncomfortable—"

"Nope. The more the merrier," Lib replied. We were folding laundry and I carried Wayne's stuff down to him while my sweetie went to distribute towels and washcloths.

Definitely getting chillier; I needed gloves and a scarf in the mornings, and Just kept his beanie on most of the day. Fall around here is really pretty, but ya gotta dress accordingly. That was good news for Misty; the surplus of blankets she'd made while on the road were selling fast at the Saturday Farmer's Market. She'd made some place mats and table runners too and those were moving as well.

I wasn't sure about freelancing for Rick anymore, especially since he was just a middleman at this point. Misty pointed out that having him helped add another layer between us and the law, though, and that could be helpful. "Rick is a wholesaler picking up crops from all around this part of Indiana," Misty mused. "We're not the only farm and having him as the focus makes more sense. It's never been a lot of income but it's steady."

I agreed. Misty knew a lot about weed along with lots of other herbs and I saw Lib use some of the dried ones hanging in the kitchen to season food. Got so I could recognize things like basil and dill, which was fun. Even Just could name off plants around the place aside from the pumpkin vines.

We debated how to get Big Orange to the turn-off and decided to roll him once we'd cut the stem. Just cleared the path in front of his pumpkin while Wayne and I shoved and rolled it along the leaves. The problem was that one side was flatter, so we'd have to lift and shove when that section hit the ground. Lot of work, but once it was out there, Wayne and I got it set up with the flat side in the back. Just was thrilled.

"When can we carve it?" he demanded while Wayne looked it over.

"Bout two days before the party," Wayne told him. "Can't do it too soon or it will rot. You put what you want on it with a marker, and I'll get the branch trimmer and get to work on it. We might need a Coleman lantern for the insides."

"Mom told me to save some seeds," Just added. "So we can plant again next year."

Wayne snorted. "Do that and next year we'll have a whole army of 'em!"

Just thought about that. "They really would go rolling along, wouldn't they?"

Wayne and I looked at each other and cracked up.

Lib

I was in my element. I loved cooking and I was pretty good at it. Fall meant I could get into my spices and have fun with food so I did. Lots of apple pies with pretty tops; and loaves of pumpkin and cranberry bread; even a kugel or two for fun. I made enough to sell at the Farmer's Market with the less than beautiful items for us to enjoy through the week. Having a full house made it easier to cook than when it was mostly Just and me, so I was having a good time.

Definitely chillier now, but I knew the barn would be warm enough if we kept the doors closed. Mom told me to get some strings of lights so I did, stopping in at Melvald's to pick up the most inexpensive ones I could. It was nearly empty, but I saw Mrs. Byers and Chief Hopper talking down at the far end of the counter when I brought my stuff to the register. They both came over and Mrs. Byers rang me up.

"So your daughter Jane is coming to the party too, right?" I asked Chief Hopper. He looked kind of stern, but his expression softened when I mentioned her.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It's going to be chaperoned, right?"

That was a word I hadn't heard in ages, but I nodded. "Yes. My mom will be there, and Mr. Munson, and of course both of you are invited too."

"Misty Haberstein as chaperone," he murmured and kind of shook his head, but Mrs. Byers just grinned.

"Oh stop," she chided him. "We're not gonna be hypocrites, Hopper. Besides, the kids are really looking forward to it."

"Mom's not wild, just . . . out there," I grinned. "She's told me stories about her high school days you know."

Now Chief Hopper looked alarmed, and Mrs. Byers was definitely giggling.

"Oh yeah? What did she tell you?" he wanted to know, but I could see a dimple on his cheek as he fought a grin.

"That ALL of you would plead the Fifth," I shot back and left the store as they both broke up behind me.

I grinned. Mom HAD in fact said that, after mentioning that both the Chief and Mrs. Byers knew more about recreational drugs and drinking than their kids did. The fact that they'd made it to adulthood was kind of reassuring.

I had to pass by the community pool on my way to the library and out of curiosity, went to look at the dumpster on the far side. Nothing unusual that I could see, but there were some brown stains on the concrete that looked like dried blood. I bent to peek under the dumpster and when I rose up, Billy Hargrove was leaning against the cinderblock wall, watching me.

"Slumming?" he asked, staring at me.

"Was the head missing?" I asked, trying to stay businesslike.

He blinked, thrown off by my question. ". . . Yeah," Billy admitted slowly. "How did you know?"

"Because I don't think it's a dog," I confessed. "Dogs hamstring what they chase and snap the necks of smaller prey before eating it. Something that eats just the head . . . that's not a coyote or wolf or dog. That's not how they hunt."

He didn't say anything, but I could see him considering what I said, turning it over in his mind. Finally, Billy shrugged. "Let the dog catcher deal with it. I got better things to do," he added, swaggering toward me.

I nodded. "Same." Before he could corner me, I spun around and darted back out to the sidewalk whistling loudly and swinging my backpack. It looked stupid. I was counting on it looking stupid so that Billy wouldn't follow. Seemed to work, and I set out for the library, determined to see what other predators might be . . . .

Head hunters.