by M. J. Scott
“Yes, and we save those powers for when they’re needed. Cell phones are more reliable.”
Beside me, Jase started to laugh then turned it into a cough as I jerked my hand free of his. I didn’t know whether Dan was being annoying to distract me or just because he couldn’t help himself but I didn’t want Jase joining in.
“Well, maybe you could use your phone and find out what’s happening with my Aunt.”
“Ashley. They will call me if there’s any news. Let me concentrate on driving and we’ll get there a lot sooner.”
“Fine.” I settled back into staring out the window, not really seeing the scenery, willing every mile to go by faster. The drive seemed endless. I was ready to explode when we finally reached Caldwell. Dan’s phone had stayed silent the entire trip.
When we pulled onto Bug’s street, I spotted flashing blue lights in the distance. I was out of the car almost before Dan pulled to a stop, Jase close behind me, heading for Bug’s at a run. I came to a halt when a young-looking unfamiliar Caldwell cop blocked my path at the end of Bug’s drive. I looked around, trying to see who was in charge. Dan appeared next to me and pulled his badge out of his wallet. He flashed it at the cop and we were waved through. Only Jase’s hand on my arm stopped me sprinting for the house.
A knot of officers stood on Bug’s porch. They looked up as we approached, watching with professionally detached expressions.
“She’s not here.” One of the cops—tall and competent looking—came over to Dan. He flicked a glance at me, but then focused back to Dan. “We’re checking out some places where she usually goes but no one’s seen her since early afternoon. The neighbors—” He waved a hand to the left and I swiveled around to see Mr. and Mrs. Peterson standing on their porch, looking worried “—said they saw her drive in around midday. And the maid told us she was given the afternoon off. Mrs. Brenner said she was going to have an early night.”
“Someone’s taken her,” I said.
Dan, Jase and the cop all looked at me. I could see them deciding how to respond, how to calm the upset female. I tried to keep my voice even, so they’d take me seriously. “Bug doesn’t just wander off. If she’s gone, someone’s taken her.”
“It’s too early for us to know that,” Dan said. “Officer—” he looked down at the cop’s name badge “—Carlson. Are you in charge here?”
“No, sir. That’d be the Sheriff. He’s up at the house.”
I broke into a run, heading for the house. Jase and Dan both cut me off before I could reach my destination.
“Hold on,” Dan said, catching hold of my shoulders. He rubbed a thumb along my collarbone. It should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t.
I shoved at his chest. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“I know. But running up there like a crazy woman isn’t going to achieve that. Let me go and talk to them.”
“She’s my aunt.”
“I know. And I’m sure they’ll have questions for you. So you need to stay calm. Can you do that?”
Fury boiled inside me, feeding the urge to push past him and go and demand information from the police. But just enough sense remained to see his point. An irrational niece wasn’t going to help the situation and if I charged in hysterically, the cops wouldn’t do much more than pat me on the head and send me off to the corner with a nice deputy.
There was time enough for yelling if the calm approach didn’t get me what I wanted.
The wary expressions on Jase and Dan’s faces didn’t make it any easier to control my temper, but I knew I had to for Bug. I had to treat this like I would talking down a difficult client. Stay cool. Stay detached. Keep the personal out of it until I had time for a breakdown. I closed my eyes briefly, breathing through my nose until the knotted mess of anger and fear in my stomach eased just slightly. “Okay,” I said when I opened them again. “We’ll do this your way. For now.”
Dan nodded, and then walked away. I watched from a distance as he introduced himself to the knot of cops on the porch and had a brief conversation. It probably only took a minute or two but it felt like hours as I stood there, not knowing what was happening.
After far too long a time he turned back and gestured for us to join him.
Fear flared back to life. I sucked in a breath and Jase took my hand again as we headed toward Dan.
“What is it?” I said, taking the stairs two at a time. Dan put a hand on my arm and I shook him off. “Just tell me.”
“No one’s seen Bug,” Dan admitted. “They’re out looking but so far, nothing.”
For a moment, the officer’s faces seemed to swirl around me. Caldwell wasn’t that big. It had a main street, the churches, the schools and a mall on the outskirts of town. There were a limited number of places for someone to go. And usually five other people knew exactly where you were the second you stepped outside your yard. If no one had seen Bug . . . oh God. Cold panic swept over me, my stomach churned and my heart raced. I bent over, sucking in air before I hyperventilated.
Sheriff Thompson, ‘that new sheriff’ as Bug had been calling him for close to six years, helped me stand. I tried to smile but my mouth wasn’t cooperating. The whole thing felt unreal. I’d seen Bug just yesterday and now Kenny Thompson—who’d been the star quarterback the year I’d entered junior high—had men out searching for her.
“Ashley, why don’t you come sit down?” Kenny said, his voice gruff but concerned. I let him lead me into the house, sat obediently in one of the velvet wing chairs in the front room, listening as the police outlined to Dan what they were doing.
Being here in Bug’s house should have been comforting. But it felt all wrong. The smell of men—sweat, cotton, tobacco, and aftershave—filled the room instead of the normal rose scent of Bug’s perfume. Male voices rumbled around me instead of soft music and the southern tones of Bug’s maid. Plus, the front room was for company—I never sat there. It was weird and just made me feel even more panicky. I ended up pacing the room until Jase came and made me sit down again.
This time I chose the stairs, where at least I could see what was going on.
The house got more crowded as more police and agents arrived. I sat on the staircase, feeling helpless, watching the movement swirl around me and trying to fight down the panic rising with each breath.
I couldn’t lose Aunt Bug.
Not on top of everything else.
Everyone has their breaking point—a limit to the pain they can take. I knew this would be mine.
I clenched my hands together, watching the knuckles turn whiter and whiter. Jase bustled around making coffee and tea but I shook my head when he offered me one of Bug’s pretty china mugs, feeling sick.
Instead I retreated further upstairs to my old room, sitting on the bed and hugging the pillow to my chest. I tried not to breathe in the familiar smells of lavender, Bug’s laundry powder and sunshine-fresh linen too deeply. That was Bug all over, keeping the linen fresh in my room even though I wasn’t planning on visiting for weeks. The combination just reminded me what I might lose.
It was impossible to think of a world without Bug. Even though I told myself I was being crazy, that they would find her any minute and that I was freaking out for nothing, part of me couldn’t help looking around the room and remembering. There was the row of my gymnastics trophies she kept polished and the line of photos on a shelf above my bed, one from each of our summer vacations. The wooden bed frame, desk and bookcases she’d let me paint bright purple when I turned seventeen, though I’d relented three years later and repainted them to a pale blue we could both live with.
Even the quilt I sat on had been made by Bug soon after I came to live with her, after endless arguments about colors and patterns and me protesting I didn’t want anything as old fashioned as a hand-made quilt when my friends all had cool rooms.
But secretly I’d loved the quilt. I still did. I’d even gotten Bug to make me another for my bed at home. Though it wasn’t the same as this one. I
ran a trembling hand over the wash-softened cottons, feeling the ridges of the quilting. I’d watched Bug sew it, in those early months when I was still reeling from my losses. We sat quietly in the evenings, the classical music she loved playing in the background while she stitched and I watched. It almost felt like she was stitching my life back together.
And now it was threatening to come apart at the seams again.
I buried my head in the pillow, biting back the sob that rose in my throat. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t cry.
“Ash?” The voice was soft in the doorway. Daniel. The pressure of tears grew stronger.
“Go away,” I said, not lifting my head. I was only just holding it together. I didn’t think I could take Dan as well.
He didn’t move. I could smell him over the other fragrances of the room, even over the comforting scent of the pillow against my face. I willed him to leave. “I said, go away.”
Soft treads on the carpet came toward me, not away. The mattress dipped and I felt the heat of his body next to mine. I tensed but when he put his arm around me and drew me close, I couldn’t resist any more. I dropped the pillow and buried my face against the comfortingly solid expanse of his chest, breathing in the Dan smell, trying to pretend, somehow, that I was back four years ago and nothing bad was happening.
“We’ll find her,” he said, one hand moving slowly up and down my back leaving a trail of warmth that made me press close to him. “I swear, Ash. I’ll find her for you.”
I knew he would, if it was at all possible. The question was; what would he find? My mind shied away from the thought, and I pressed harder against him, trying desperately not to cry. His lips brushed the top of my head so softly I wondered if I’d imagined it. But the tingle that passed through me told me I hadn’t, which forced me back to reality.
Leaning on Dan was crazy. As tempting as it was to fall completely to pieces in his arms, I couldn’t afford to. It would be too hard to let him go again. I drew a shaky breath, summoned my last few ounces of strength, and managed to sit up, inching away from Dan.
“Is there any news?” My voice sounded rough, as though I’d actually cried the tears I was holding back. I swallowed hard, trying to ease the burning sensation that came from fighting down fear.
He shook his head, his expression a mix of worry and frustration. “The sheriff’s men are still canvassing the town.”
Something in his tone made my stomach sink. “You don’t think they’ll find her, do you?” I looked into his eyes for the first time since he’d entered the room, seeking the truth in the gray depths. But he had his cop face on, his eyes slick mirrors that revealed nothing. “Do you?” I repeated, voice rising.
He bent his head, one hand toying with the crease in his trousers. “Don’t do this, Ash.”
He wouldn’t look at me. Why wouldn’t he look at me? Fear clawed my stomach, redoubled the burning fingers gripping my throat. “What else am I supposed to do?” I said. “My aunt is missing, I’m sitting here, going crazy and I can’t do anything. It’s not like you need an accountant right now.”
I was useless. Useless and Bug was missing because of me.
“No,” Dan said, almost as if he could read my mind. His head lifted and his eyes sharpened. “There is something you can do.”
“Anything,” I pounced on the chance to have anything to take my mind off the endless circles of horror it was manufacturing.
“I need you to make a list of any place you can think of Bug might go. Check around for any appointments she may have written down.”
“She puts everything in her phone. Did you find that?”
Dan shook his head. “The cops found her purse but no phone. Do you know if she syncs her phone calendar with her computer at all?”
I shrugged helplessly. Bug knew her way around a computer but I didn’t know if she was likely to have linked her phone to the PC. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you take a look? Her laptop has a password. You’ve got a better chance of getting into it than anyone else here.”
True. Okay. I could do this. I took a deep breath. “All right. But I’d like to get some air first.”
“Good idea.” He pushed off the bed and held out a hand. I could still smell his scent, wild and oh so good, all around me. I wanted to pull him down to the bed and make him hold me again. Which was madness. I couldn’t risk weakening when I was fighting so hard to stay strong. I stood without his help, looking away so I couldn’t see his expression when I avoided his hand.
Dan followed me down the stairs but Kenny waylaid him when we got to the bottom. I took the chance to slip away, heading for the backyard. I hoped it would be quieter than the front.
My phone rang just as I opened the screen door and I jumped. I hadn’t even known I had it with me; Jase must’ve slipped it into my pocket. I was tempted to ignore the call, after all it was probably just one of my clients bitching about something but then again, a distraction would be welcome. Anything to take my mind off the churning of my stomach, and the fear trying to take me over.
“Ashley Keenan,” I said, walking into the yard a little, away from the noise of the house. I stopped by one of Bug’s roses, breathing in the perfume floating on the warm evening air. It helped. A little.
“Hello, Ashley.”
The voice was low and smooth and cold. I didn’t recognize it.
“Who is this?” I pulled the phone away from my ear quickly to check caller id. The number was blocked.
“You don’t know me.”
I wasn’t in the mood for prank calls. Especially not ones made by men with voices that made something stir uneasily in the pit of my stomach. “Well then, you’ll have to excuse me but I’m kind of busy at the moment.”
“Ah, yes. Your Aunt.”
I froze. How the hell did he know about Bug? “Who is this?”
“Call me an interested party.”
“If you know anything about Bug—” I looked around, wishing one of the officers would suddenly appear. I needed to tell someone what was going on. How far was it to the door? Fifteen feet, maybe. I turned toward the house.
“I wouldn’t do that,” the voice warned.
Oh God. Could he see me? Fear that had nothing to do with Bug spiked down my spine. “Do what?” I said, trying to sound casual as I scanned the garden. There was still a little light but not enough to see clearly. Shadows clustered around the branches of the trees and the sides of the garage. Anyone could be hiding in the depths.
I shivered. Nothing buzzed in the air to let me know a were was nearby but the man on the phone might be human, or a vamp.
“Just stay put. We’re going to have a little talk, you and I.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “I don’t talk to strangers.” Great. Apparently I was three years old when I got scared.
“Ah, but Ashley, I’m not a stranger.”
Shit. That was even scarier. I swallowed hard then asked the question I had to ask. “Tate?” I closed my eyes for a second, praying I was wrong.
“If I was, do you think I’d answer?”
“No but I—”
“Ms. Keenan?”
One of Kenny’s men—a tall wiry guy with a Caldwell PD cap pulled down low on his head—loomed up in the darkness. I didn’t know him but I’d never been so happy to see someone in my life. Then I heard the dial tone in my ear. My mystery caller had hung up. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated that I hadn’t gotten any information out of him. I looked at the officer. “Yes?”
“Agent Gibson asked me to bring you this.” He held out a blue spotted mug. I took it automatically, holding it tight so my hands wouldn’t shake. The smell of hot, sweet coffee rose in the air and I took a mouthful, trying to calm my nerves. I was safe. There was an officer right beside me. The house was half full of vampires and weres and police. No psycho caller could grab me.
But the fact that there was a psycho caller was something Dan needed to know. “Thank you,” I
said to the officer. “Is Agent Gibson in the house?” I drank again, feeling the caffeine and sugar clear my head a little.
“Yes, ma’am. Was there something you wanted?” He was watching me intently and I suddenly realized my skin was tingling like he was a were. But as far as I knew, the Caldwell PD was one hundred percent human. Had been since Tate’s attack.
I paused mid-swallow. Who was this guy?
Or was I just being jumpy? Maybe Caldwell had decided to join the 21st century. Only I was pretty sure Bug would’ve mentioned it. I swallowed and studied the man over the rim of my mug. There was nothing that screamed werewolf about him. Of course, there wasn’t anything that screamed werewolf about Dan either, if you didn’t know. Except for the tell-tale sensation that flowed over my skin around him. The same one giving me goose bumps now.
This guy was definitely non-human. And if he wasn’t a Caldwell cop, I was in trouble.
“Nothing important,” I lied. I didn’t want to tip whoever this was off that I was onto him. My instincts screamed “run!” but that was pointless against a were. I had to try and bluff, hope that someone else would come out.
Jase, if you can hear me, help.
I didn’t know whether Jase’s talents extended to telepathy or whether he could hear a human like me but I was desperate.
But there was no movement from the house, no vampire running out the back door to my rescue.
I turned slightly, so I was more clearly visible from the house and drank more coffee while my brain raced. “Could you ask Agent Gibson to c-co-“ I stumbled over the word, wondering why my tongue suddenly felt thick. “Come out here?”
My voice sounded weird and echoey. I tried to move and couldn’t. The were’s pale eyes seemed to flare then blur in the dying light. I shook my head, trying to remove the fog stealing over my brain. The coffee, I realized belatedly. There was something in the coffee. I opened my mouth to scream for help but nothing came out.
“Sorry ma’am,” the were said, his voice falling and rising in a wave of distortion. “But we’ve got other plans for you.”
The world went dark.