The Judah Black Novels: Boxed Set of books 1-3

by E. A. Copen

  “I’m not sure—” I started but Patsy cut me off.

  “And I know this is one of Marcus’ favorite colors. It’ll look lovely on you. What time did he say he was picking you up?”

  “Er, five.”

  “Perfect,” Patsy exclaimed. “Plenty of time for me to get together some jewelry, makeup, and something to do with your hair, you poor dear. I think we can fix it, though.”

  I frowned and touched my un-brushed hair. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all, but you may want to do a little hairspray, dear. You look like you’ve just gotten out of bed.”

  “Uh... I think I’ll survive with just a hairbrush and access to a bathroom sink for now.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she made a dramatic show of dropping the dress in the chair next to her. “Oh. Well, you’ll find that on the other side of the kitchen. There’s a spare toothbrush and toiletries if you’d prefer a shower.”

  “Thanks,” I said, rising.

  The bathroom was as tiny and cramped as the rest of the house, but Patsy hadn’t lied. Everything I’d ask for was in there and more. I popped a new toothbrush out of plastic, smeared some toothpaste on it, and got to work getting the taste of coffee and argument out of my mouth. Patsy stood in the doorway, watching me, her head cocked to one side.

  “I heard about your house, sweetheart. Shameful, really. Probably those same hooligans who broke the window out of Marigold’s trailer last week. Threw a flaming brick in there. She got second degree sunburns, you know. We barely got the fire out.”

  I spat out the toothpaste and wiped my face clean with my hands. “Nobody reported that.”

  “Of course not.” Patsy shrugged. “Why would they? It would just get buried and nobody could prove it was a hate crime.”

  I turned, resting my hip on the sink. “Stuff like that needs to be reported, Patsy. Investigating that kind of thing is my job.”

  She puffed out her cheeks. “Well, it’s not like it’s the first time something like this has happened.”

  “Any idea who’s behind it?”

  Patsy just shrugged. I pulled my hair down, picked a brush up off the shelf and ran it through the worst of the tangles.

  “You know, I was really surprised Marcus called me.” Patsy lifted her chin. “I figured if you needed something, that werewolf that lives next door to you would be the first one you’d call.”

  I stopped brushing my hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Honey, everybody can see you two making eyes at each other all the time. I, for one, just think it’s adorable. I’m just a little concerned, is all. You know about their... tendencies.” She spat the last word like a curse.

  I turned to face Patsy, my jaw set. “And what tendencies would those be, Ms. Adams?”

  “You know how they are. Passing their women around. The women of the pack belong to everyone. They share them.”

  “Ms. Adams, I don’t know what to say to that. You don’t really think...” I trailed off. Arguing with her wouldn’t do any good. Everyone in Paint Rock knew Patsy was the town gossip. She’d take anything I said and twist it. It bothered me a little that rumors of that sort were circulating about me and potentially my son, too.

  So I swallowed my objections and put the hairbrush in my back pocket before stepping past her. No sense in leaving hair lying around. That kind of thing could easily be used in a spell and that was just what I didn’t need. “Thanks for your hospitality, but I’ve got to go and collect my car from Tindall’s place.”

  “Wait,” she called after me as I put my hand on the doorknob. I turned back to find her face sympathetic. “He’s not... hitting you, is he?”

  “Goodbye, Patsy.”

  I opened the door and stormed out, almost as angry as I’d been when I left Sal’s. Sal and I were barely an item and I was already fighting rumors in town. Maybe we were better off friends. What was I thinking?

  By the time I made it to Tindall’s place, I was fuming even more. He answered the door, his tie still undone, and a cup of coffee in his hand. “Er... Judah,” he said, blinking. “What are you doing here? I thought I was bringing Hunter to you?”

  “I needed a walk to clear my head.”

  He looked me up and down, taking in yesterday’s wrinkled clothes. “Everything okay?”

  I ignored the question. “Where’s Hunter?”

  As soon as I spoke, Tindall stepped aside. Hunter sat at the kitchen table in pajamas with a stack of pancakes in front of him. He gave me a grin and a wave before shoving another huge forkful into his mouth.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Mrs. Tindall stepped into view while cleaning her hands on a white dish towel. “Mrs. Heartly next door has twins about Hunter’s age. They’re a little taller, but she didn’t mind sharing some of their clothes. I’m washing the rest for you to take home with you.”

  I turned away, the weight of guilt pressing down on my shoulders. I felt like a deadbeat parent, abandoning my son once again to the care of someone else.

  “See if you can get him some decent clothes to put on Barb,” Tindall said to his wife and ushered me outside. “I need a cigarette.” He closed the door behind him and we both sat on the front stoop. “What’s eating you, Black? You’re wearing trouble like a bad cologne.”

  I told him about the house. I didn’t mean to. Don’t get me wrong. Tindall is a good guy, but he’s also a good cop. As soon as he heard my place had been wrecked, he chomped down on his cigarette and scowled. I finished my story about the same time he finished his cigarette.

  “Jesus, Black. That’s extreme. You should’ve called me.”

  “That’s exactly what someone would have expected me to do.” I shook my head. “So far it’s an isolated incident. Maybe even just a prank.”

  “Destruction of property and threatening a federal officer is pretty far from a prank. Never mind the animal abuse and whatnot.”

  “They didn’t threaten me, Tindall.”

  “I’d take it as a threat.” He lit another cigarette. “So, do you have crash space?”

  If I said no, Tindall would have offered me and Hunter the spare bedroom. I didn’t want to bother him. I didn’t know yet what to do about Sal. I wanted to break things off with him, but I also didn’t want to face showing Hunter what had happened to our home. If I let him stew, maybe I could last a few more days before we sat down. Yeah, then I could let him down easy. That’d be the way to do it.

  “I have a place.”

  Tindall nodded. “Well, if you need a hand with your place, I can get some of the knuckleheads down at the department to do some pro bono work. They paint and put up barns in their spare time. Not pros, but decent.”

  “Thanks, Tindall, but I’d rather sort it out myself without getting the station involved. For now, I just want the keys to my car so I can take my boy to school.”

  Tindall studied me, the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He knew something wasn’t right and probably even had a guess about what it was. You can’t work beside somebody like Tindall for a long time and not get them involved on some level in your personal life. Tindall wasn’t the kind of guy to pry, and I wasn’t the type of woman to offer.

  “Come by for dinner with us sometime, you and that boyfriend of yours,” Tindall offered.

  I frowned. “Are you sure you’d want to have dinner with an officer of the Tomahawk Kings?”

  “You got a point.” He sighed. “Is everything all right there, Black? I mean, how does that mesh with, you know, your work? I don’t know a lot about what the Kings do. They’re good about keeping off my radar. Still, I’m smart enough to know they’re probably not on the level. I know they probably own half of Eden PD. Hell, I guess with the way Marcus put it, they sort of own me now, too.” He wrinkled his nose at the way that hung in the air before lighting another cigarette. “Shit, they’re going to be trouble, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know. At least, I hope not.” I rubbed my foreh
ead. “Tindall, doesn’t it bother you? I mean the way Marcus and the Kings throw their weight around the county?”

  He plucked the cigarette from between his lips and gestured to the street with it. “Of course it fucking bothers me. I’m a good cop. But even a good cop knows he’s got to choose his battles. There’s things out there way worse than a couple of bikers. So long as they aren’t dropping bodies on my doorstep or dealing drugs in my town, I’m not going to bother them in the hopes they’ll continue to behave themselves.”

  I squinted up at the sun rising in the sky. “In a few months, you’ll be sheriff. Your jurisdiction will extend beyond Paint Rock, Tindall. What if we don’t know what they’re up to just because they’re doing it outside the rez? What if they are dealing and killing, and we just don’t know because we’ve got our heads in the sand here?”

  Tindall patted me on the back. “I gave Marcus my word I’d call him first, not that I wouldn’t be sitting in their driveway ready to bust down their doors while I was on the phone with him.”

  I swallowed. “I know But Sal—what if he’s...?”

  “Then you’ve got a choice to make, Black.” He poked a finger at my chest. “Do you follow the badge or do you follow your heart? Everybody’s got to make that choice sooner or later. Of course, not all of us have to do it the way you’ve got to. Every goddamn one of us has that case, that moment when we realize this is the one that breaks us. This is the one that goes to hell, no matter which one we choose to listen to.” He put the cigarette back in his mouth and stared off into the distance.

  I thought about what he’d said and tried to imagine Tindall making a similar decision. It must have been when his daughter disappeared during the Revelation Riots in Los Angeles. I imagined the anguished look on his face, his wife’s tears, as he pulled on his bullet proof vest and grabbed his guns, choosing the job over his family. I knew he’d made that decision. Because of it, they’d never found his daughter. Tindall and his wife lived without closure and it had nearly destroyed them both.

  “If you could do it over again, Tindall, what would you pick?”

  “I think,” he said, still staring far off, “no matter how it played out, I would have done the same damn thing. God, I hate saying it, but there’s a part of me that prefers not knowing for sure, Black. I know she’s dead. Not knowing for sure, I can lie to myself. I probably believe that lie a little more every day. That lie is why I still get up and put on the badge. If I knew for sure, what reason would I have? If a man can’t protect his own family, his wife and kid, what business does he have protecting everyone else?”

  He crushed his cigarette out in the ash tray and stood. “You and Hunter should drop by more often. Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders if he can keep himself out of trouble. It takes a village, you know.”

  I forced a smile, glad for the change in subject. “Yeah, I know. Too bad your village just became the whole damn county.”

  “Somehow, I think I’ll make it through. I got a good team backing me up.” He picked up the ash tray and went back inside to get my keys.

  My phone buzzed and my smile faded. It was Sal. I rejected the call.

  Chapter Eight

  I drove Hunter to school without telling him anything. The kid just wanted to talk about having pancakes for breakfast and the old drum set Tindall had. Mostly, I was just glad he was talking. He hadn’t said much to me at all in the last few months, growing more and more distant. Even if he wasn’t talking about anything of any depth or importance, I would have sat in the car, sipping coffee from the Stop N Go, and listened to him talk all day. There were times that I missed the way it used to be, just Hunter and me against the world.

  But all good things must come to an end. Just before the school bell rang and Hunter got out of the car to go in, a motorcycle swerved up onto the sidewalk beside us. Sal tapped on the window. I thought about just driving off, but Hunter was still in the car with me.

  “Sal,” he exclaimed and threw open the passenger door. My boy got out and stopped to trade grips with Sal as if Sal hadn’t blown him off last night. I rolled the window down to listen in on their short exchange.

  “Hey, kid. How’s the free throw? Still keeping up on it?”

  Hunter shrugged.

  “You’ll make the team next year for sure, kid. Tell you what. Why don’t you come straight over after school and we’ll work on it?”

  You would have thought Sal promised him cheese over the moon. Hunter beamed. “I’ll be there.”

  The school bell rang and I waved to Hunter. “Have a good day.”

  Hunter ignored me, waved to Sal, and turned to run full speed into the school. That’s how it always was. He never had the time of day to give to me, but he’d stop a moving bus to shoot the breeze with Sal.

  I turned forward and started the car. Sal’s hand came down on my car door. “Judah, wait.”

  Dammit. I’d forgotten to roll the window up. That didn’t mean I had to turn and face him. “I need to get to work,” I protested.

  “You need to give me a chance to explain.”

  “What’s there to explain?” I glared daggers at him. “And you had your chance this morning. You threw it away. Give me one good reason to give you another.”

  He lifted his goggles to his forehead, revealing droopy, bloodshot eyes. “If it were up to me, I’d tell you everything,” he said with a sigh that told me it was harder for him to say than he thought it was going to be. “But you know it isn’t.”

  “Aren’t you even going to apologize?”

  “Dammit, Judah! What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?”

  I blinked. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he would shout at me, not after this morning, but he’d raised his voice enough that other people stopped to stare. I felt the weight of their gaze on us and remembered Patsy’s words. My face burned.

  “You know what, just forget it.” Sal shook his head and pulled his goggles back down. “I need to go get Chanter.” He revved up the motorcycle, drawing irritated glares from all the other parents lined up to drop off their kids, and then sped off.

  I sat in my car, trying to pull myself together. I still felt stupid, hurt, angry. All of it was rolled into a ball of flaming ice in my chest. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember being this angry at anyone. Ever. And I couldn’t explain why. People yelled at me all the time. Hell, I was a fed. Lying to me was what the bad guys did.

  That’s it, I thought and winced when I realized the truth my brain had been dancing around all day. Sal isn’t one of the good guys. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of this before you’re in too deep. My head knew that, but my heart resisted. I knew Sal. He and Chanter had pulled me out of more tight spots than anybody. They were my friends and I trusted my friends. How could it be that my friends, people whom I’d trusted with my life, were career criminals? Maybe even killers.

  Someone laid on their horn and gave me the finger because I was holding up the line to pull out. I waved back with the same finger and pulled out into traffic, headed for the precinct. Whatever was going on with Sal, I’d have to sort it out later. I had to save his daughter first.

  My office was smaller than most of the broom closets in the station, but it was big enough to house a desk, two chairs, and an array of boxes and nick knacks I’d never gotten around to putting up. My computer is hooked up to BSI’s databases, putting every major crime fighting and information gathering network in the country at my fingertips. I was also sure BSI had bugged the damn thing. For this job, my work computer was useless. I had to rely on the shoddy, old laptop I had in storage.

  When I pulled the laptop out of the bottom drawer, I blew a layer of dust off and choked on it. Then I grabbed the white cable I kept in the drawer with it and made the long trek to the port in the hallway, hooking one end there and the other in the laptop. That’s right. My laptop was such a dinosaur that the wi-fi didn’t work. The screen was cracked, and it blue screened on me every time I
used it. With all those problems, the one thing I could be sure of was that BSI wasn’t tracking where I went and what I looked at. I kept meaning to talk to Ed about an upgrade, but I’d always had my back up at home. Not so now.

  Once I got the relic up and running, I visited the non-BSI investigator’s best friend: Google. Mia’s symptoms went into the search box and returned millions of results, most of which decided she had either a traumatic brain injury, some rare form of cancer, or lupus. As the great and wise Doctor House M.D. said, “It’s never lupus.” Mia’s doctors had ruled out the other two as well. I had to refine my search.

  I went back to the search bar at the top and typed in paranormal aura sickness. As I suspected, I was inundated with results concerning psychic leeches, spiritual attachment and demons. Most of the general results weren’t useful at all, as they were amateur sites and second-hand accounts of urban legends. Buried deep on the third page, I found something that showed promise. An academic journal published four years ago ran an article written by none other than my old BSI mentor. The article was part of a larger magazine, but I found a pirated copy of it scanned online.

  For the record, I don’t advocate piracy. Had I been able to use my BSI accounts, I would have had access to it anyway. I just didn’t want to log in there and have my superiors wondering what I was doing.

  Anyway, the article was an extensive study concerning auric vampires. Nine out of ten times, when people talk about psychic leeches, they mean auric vampires. Auric Vampires feed off the life energy of others. Most of the time, they’re outgoing, alpha personalities with a long history of failed relationships. They weren’t spirit entities only I could see, so auric vampires were off the list.

  Ghosts fit some of what I was looking for, but it was incredibly rare for them to latch onto a person and follow them from place to place. Since Mia had been moved from Marcus’ home to the hospital and the thing had followed her, the chances that it was a simple case of ghost sickness were slim, unless there were other factors in play.