Shifting Dreams

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “Why?”

  “Why?” He glanced at her, then back at the road. “Because… because things change like that.” He snapped his fingers. “People lie. And the things you thought you could rely on disappear, or you find out they were never what they claimed to be in the first place.”

  It hit her like a punch in the gut, and she leaned back in her seat, staring at the harsh desert landscape they bumped past.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  “It’s not…” He shook his head. “I understand why you did. Why everyone did. It’s not you I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “I didn’t mean it to be.” He paused before he muttered, “I was thinking about New Mexico.”

  She considered his profile, tracing the worry lines that marked his eyes, the corners of his mouth. He felt responsible for her grandmother and he hadn’t even known her that long. How much more would that kind of worry translate to a beloved cousin who was ruining his life? The men under his command? How would it feel to have to choose between them in a split second?

  “And aren’t you responsible?”

  “Pathologically.”

  “You’re a good man, Caleb Gilbert. And they were wrong to blame you,” she said softly. “I don’t care if it’s my place to say it or not, but it was a shitty thing to do. I don’t care what their beliefs were. That was not your fault. And I’m sorry I’m not… I don’t know. Better at this, I guess. If it makes you feel better, it’s my problem, not yours.”

  “Jena…” He stared out the windshield, but his hands relaxed slightly. “Let’s just focus on Joe Quinn, all right?”

  She knew there was more to say, but she nodded and let him lead. “Okay, let’s talk about Quinn.”

  “He’s a lizard.”

  “Yes. His natural form is horned toad.”

  Caleb frowned. “I would have thought snake.”

  “Nope. Sean’s a rattlesnake, though. Old Quinn is his great-uncle. He raised him.”

  “No kids of his own?”

  “Nope. He never married.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  Jena shrugged. She’d never really thought about it. There were plenty of people her age that didn’t marry for various reasons, but her grandmother’s generation?

  “I guess it is sort of unusual. I never really thought about it before. He was just Sean’s uncle. Kinda sketchy, but in a funny way. The kind of old man that the phrase ‘Don’t take any wooden nickels’ was invented for.”

  Caleb chuckled. “Got it. So what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever seen him shift into?”

  “A giant iguana, which is actually pretty big. He only did it to scare us once when Sean snuck in late. Lowell and I drove him home and Old Quinn was waiting in the kitchen, hissing. We all about peed our pants.”

  Caleb burst into laughter, and so did Jena. “I can imagine!” he said. “Okay, no I can’t. Damn, Jena. I don’t want it to be him. This is just a formality, right?”

  She wiped her eyes, still snickering a little. “I think so. Honestly, I can’t imagine Joe Quinn shifting into anything quite that…”

  Jena trailed off as they turned the corner and pulled up to the clapboard house that rested under a stand of cottonwoods. An old truck sat parked in front with a giant lizard resting on its hood, its tail so long it practically dragged on the ground. The lizard was lying in the sun, but it turned and hissed at them, baring a forked tongue that tested the dusty air as they parked.

  “Just a formality, right?” Caleb stopped the truck, blinking as the radio switched off.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Just then, the air around the lizard shimmered and stretched, and the scaly black dragon turned into a wizened old man sitting buck naked on the hood of his truck. Jena pushed open the door and stepped out.

  “Oh hey, Jena!” Quinn waved, completely undisturbed by his own nudity. “Guess where Sean is right now? Indonesia. He sent me this picture of a Komodo dragon and bet me I couldn’t shift into one. Can you take a picture for me? I been practicing for weeks.”

  Jena just shook her head. “Son of a bitch.”

  The old man brightened. “Did you bring my hat?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’d be here about Alma, then.” Old Quinn shoveled the coleslaw that Jena brought him in his mouth. The elderly man was tall, stooped a little with age, but his eyes were still keen and his voice did not waver. Thankfully, he’d put on some clothes. “I heard you was one of us now, Chief.”

  “Something like that.” Caleb tipped back in his chair, looking around the old house. They sat in the kitchen while Jena looked outside, searching for any tracks that matched the ones she’d seen at Alma’s house.

  “Do you want my alibi?” For some reason, this amused Old Quinn and he snorted.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Don’t have one. It was cold that night. I tucked into my natural form and found a nice little niche in the rocks that was still warm. Took a nice nap and woke up the next day.”

  For Old Quinn’s sake, Caleb hoped Jena didn’t find any tracks outside.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “That’s it. No one saw me. No one came by.” Quinn grinned. “The scaly sort tend to keep to themselves on moon nights.”

  “So no one can verify…” Caleb crossed his arms and sighed. “Well, shit.”

  Quinn cackled. “You know I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “I have a hard time believing you killed Alma. Not so sure you’ve never killed anyone.”

  The quick glint in the old man’s eye told Caleb he’d hit a nerve. “I’m innocent as a baby.”

  “And a good liar, too,” Jena said from the door. Caleb turned and smiled at her.

  “Anything?”

  She shrugged. “I’m still looking. Checked the front. Now I’m gonna go out in the back. Just wanted a glass of water.” She reached for the cupboard just to the right of the sink and grabbed a Mason jar. Caleb wondered if she was even aware how easily she moved around the house. It seemed as familiar to Jena as her own kitchen. He turned back to Quinn and saw him watching her. The old man looked… soft. Kind in a way that Caleb hadn’t seen before. As soon as Jena spun around, the look was gone and Jena headed toward the door.

  “I’ll be back. Keep grilling him. If he doesn’t answer your questions, he doesn’t get his hat.”

  The screen door slammed behind her and Quinn said, “She’s a live one. You ain’t never gonna be bored.”

  “She’s not mine to deal with.”

  Quinn cocked his head. “Ain’t she now?”

  Caleb ignored the old man, taking in the surprisingly clean kitchen. It obviously belonged to a man, no cheerful towels or trinkets lined the counters or decorated the window, but it was tidy and boasted a gem of an old stove that looked almost new, despite the sixty years it had probably sat in the old place. It reminded him of Alma’s kitchen, in a strange way, down to the beautifully finished old cabinet that sat against the far wall, its distinctive pierced panels glowing in the afternoon sun.

  Caleb blinked when he realized what it was. A pie safe?

  Quinn was finishing his sandwich when Caleb stood and walked toward it. He saw the old man pause, watching him as he ran a hand down one long, smooth corner.

  “This is beautiful. Did you make it?” It looked handmade. No factory would put the detail into the corners like that, rounding them in such a way that the edges wouldn’t catch on a trailing apron or towel, while still curving in an eye-catching flourish.

  “Eh… yeah, I made it. Do a bit of woodworking as a hobby.”

  “Design it yourself? My stepfather was a woodworker. This is really nice.” He opened one door with an intricately pierced tin panel fronting it. Despite the age of the old cupboard, it was spotless, as if it had never been used.

  “I… uh, I copied a design I saw once.”

  Caleb looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Wouldn’t have t
aken you for a baker.”

  Quinn shrugged. Caleb ran a hand along the top of the cabinet. The wood had been sanded to perfection, the finish burnished to a soft, natural gold.

  “When did you build it?” It must have taken hours. Hours and hours of work for a piece of furniture never used, never dirtied, sitting ready for an owner who would never see it.

  Quinn’s voice was hoarse when he answered. “Almost thirty years ago.”

  Caleb turned and pretended not to notice the sheen in the old man’s eyes as he looked at the old cupboard. Old Quinn blinked and cleared his throat when he heard Jena’s footsteps coming up the porch. It swung open and Caleb smiled at her.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey back. We can go.”

  She looked surprised. “Are you sure? I’ve checked most of the grounds, but I was going to look around the house, see if—”

  “It’s fine, Jena. We can go.”

  She frowned for a minute, looking at the back of Old Quinn’s grey head. “Does he get his hat back?”

  Quinn cackled, and Caleb grinned. “Yeah, he gets it back.”

  Jena turned and grabbed it from the bench on the front porch, then stepped back in, plopping the battered old hat on the man’s head. “You still owe me on your tab, Quinn.”

  Caleb saw him smile. “I’ll pay you next week, Jena. Didn’t I tell you?”

  She shook her head. “That’s what you always tell me.” Then she turned and headed out the door.

  Quinn caught Caleb’s eye and nodded. Caleb nodded back and headed out the door, taking one last look over his shoulder at Alma’s pie safe.

  He caught up with Jena at the truck.

  “So, what did he say? Did he have an alibi?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and opened her door. “Didn’t need one.”

  She hopped in. “What do you mean? Can we really rule him out if we can’t—”

  “Joe Quinn did not murder your grandmother, Jena.” He leaned in quickly and kissed her cheek. “He was in love with her.”

  “Wow.”

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he drove. “You keep saying that.”

  “I mean… wow. Thirty years.”

  Caleb shrugged. “Or more. He might have had feelings for your grandmother longer than that. It could be why he never got married.”

  “Imagine loving someone for that long and never telling them.”

  “It’s hard to imagine.”

  “I wonder if he did tell her.” She was staring out the window. “I kinda doubt it.”

  “And that is one mystery we will never solve.”

  “I guess not,” she murmured. The car fell silent as they bumped over the rocky hills. “I wonder if I would’ve loved Lowell that long.”

  He tried to mask the shock on his face. Was she talking about her dead husband?

  Did he want her to?

  It was hard competing with a ghost, but that’s what Caleb felt like he was doing at times. Then what she had said struck him.

  “Why would you even wonder? You grew up together, right? You married him. You loved him.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t know. I wonder sometimes. I don’t think we… I always knew we didn’t have long.”

  It was harder to imagine than any unrequited love. It took a strong and determined woman to build a life with a man, knowing that he was going to die young and leave her with the challenges of raising two children alone.

  “I don’t know how you did it,” he said. “That would be harder than anything, I think. To lose someone you loved like that. And to know you were going to lose them.”

  “It was hard. But then it wasn’t. It was just the way it was. He had his moments, but overall, Lowell wasn’t bitter about it. And he probably got away with a lot of shit because of it, too.” She laughed. “I never really said no to him. Not that he took advantage or anything. He was a good guy. But there were things he did that annoyed the shit out of me.” She laughed again and shook her head. “And I didn’t say a word. It seemed petty when I knew I wouldn’t have him for long, you know?”

  “No.” Caleb stared at the dark road in front of them. The sun had gone down and the cool air was rising with the moon. He cracked open a window and sniffed damp creosote from a sudden shower that had hit that afternoon. “I love that smell,” he muttered. “I can sympathize, Jena, but I can’t really relate. My ex and I didn’t even make it five years.”

  “Why?”

  It was such a big question with such a boring response. “You know what it says on the divorce papers? Irreconcilable differences? That was us. Really and truly. We never cheated on each other. There was no abuse. I think she even loved me, in a way, but…”

  She angled her shoulders toward him. “What?”

  He smiled. “I was a fixer-upper to her. She liked the idea of the rugged detective with the complicated family, but then she wanted to ‘fix’ me. Make me into someone more like her.”

  “What was she like?”

  He hadn’t talked about Leila in ages. They’d split up before the mess with Charlie happened, though the divorce hadn’t been finalized. She even made noises about getting back together when it all happened. The cynical part of him wondered if she was more willing to be with him since she’d no longer have to deal with his family.

  “She was very driven. Ambitious. She was an assistant district attorney. Very smart. Passionate about her work.” He paused. “That was the thing that brought us together. We really got that about each other, which was cool. But she hated my family. Wanted me to like cocktail parties and wine and plays and shit like that. And when I didn’t ‘civilize’ for her, she got irritated. Like, if I really loved her, I’d like all the things she liked, too.”

  He heard Jena laugh and he turned with a smile, relieved she hadn’t been put off by him talking about his past. “What are you laughing at? You like wine.”

  “But you don’t.” She shook her head. “You know, there’s a saying the old women in the Springs have.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “You don’t bring home a wolf and wake up with a bear.”

  He paused. Was there some kind of shapeshifter humor he wasn’t getting?

  Jena must have sensed his confusion. “People are the animal they are. We may change, but not that much. You love someone for who they are, or you don’t love them. That’s all.”

  That’s all.

  Caleb turned to her, slowing the car until he stopped. She sat in his truck with a smile on her face, watching him with curious eyes.

  This woman. This incredible, strong woman. Smart, confident. She knew who she was in a way that Caleb had always envied. She’d loved and lost, was still grieving her grandmother, but helping Caleb investigate her death, no matter how painful it was. Kind enough to give an old man back his hat, knowing he’d probably never pay her the money he owed. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was good.

  I’m falling in love with you. Do you know?

  He whispered, “Come here.”

  Caleb tried not to let the fear show on his face when he leaned toward her, cupped her cheek in his hand, and pulled her into a gentle kiss. It reminded him of the kisses they’d shared in the trailer when he was sick from shifting the first time. Not hungry and wanting, just there. In that moment, kissing Jena was the perfect place to be. He pulled away after a few minutes. Her eyes were still closed, her mouth still pursed. He smiled and touched her chin.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “Does going to question a suspect count as a date?”

  She smiled and her eyes fluttered open. “Nope. Sorry.”

  “Damn. So I’m still not dating you?”

  She suddenly looked embarrassed. “You’ve given it way more effort than anyone else.”

  “Anyone?” Even the wonderful Lowell?

  “Anyone.” She blushed and sat back in her seat. “And we should probably—”

  The shot rang out, shattering the window and piercing the se
at between them where Caleb had been leaning only seconds before.

  Jena gasped and pulled back, the safety glass shattering and falling in one chunk onto her lap. Caleb cursed and immediately rammed the truck into gear, gunning the engine so the dust flew behind them. “Hold on!”

  His first instinct was to jump out of the truck and pursue whoever had shot at them, but he had Jena with him, and he had to get her to a safe place first.

  She was tugging at her seatbelt. “Let me out.”

  “No! Are you insane?”

  “Let me out, Caleb!” She’d unbuckled herself and was… taking off her shirt?

  “What the hell are you doing?” He finally pulled over when she forced open the car door. “Jena!”

  “I’m finding out who shot at us.” She shucked off the rest of her clothes in seconds and before Caleb could put the car in park, Jena was gone. A loud flapping sound echoed in the truck as a wild shriek filled the air. He pulled over and ran around, but she was in the air, soaring into the night, a shadow against the moonlit clouds.

  He let out a harsh breath. “What the hell?”

  She was gone. Turned into a hawk and took off. What was he supposed to do with that? He kicked the truck tire and cursed, then reluctantly bent down and gathered her clothes. Belatedly, he realized there was still a gunman out there who had taken a shot at them. And Jena was in the air.

  How hard was it to shoot a hawk? He had a feeling it was pretty difficult, but he had no real idea, and the thought of her in danger made him sick.

  Caleb went back to the truck, throwing her clothes in and pulling his gun out from under the seat. He dug around in the torn-up upholstery until he pulled out the fired round. Between hitting the window and the seat, it was hard to tell, but it had to be a rifle round of some kind. Probably a 30-06. Animals couldn’t fire weapons, so whoever was shooting at them was human, or had been. Caleb wondered whether Jena could tell who the shooter was if he shifted to animal form. Would the shooter stay human or shift? An animal would have a far easier time running and hiding in the desert than a human. And if he did that…