You've Got Tail

by Renee George

  “How old are you?”

  “How old are you?” he countered.

  “I asked first.” I smiled and wished I hadn’t. Too much pressure on the jaw.

  “I’m forty-seven.”

  “Damn, men have all the good aging genes.” Hell, yeah, I was jealous. I was over a decade younger than Billy Bob and I certainly had a bit more age to my appearance. Of course, he looked like he was still in his twenties.

  “Your turn.”

  “Uh-uh, no way.” The corners of my lips tugged upward in a small smile.

  “Come on.” He winked. “Doctor-patient confidentiality and all.”

  “You think you’re slick enough to get it out of me, huh?”

  He skimmed my cheek with his thumb. “And then some.”

  My breath caught as he moved his lips toward mine. He was fun and easy, without attachments. In other words, he was not Babel Trimmel. And while he was hotter than August on the sun, again, he wasn’t Babel. My body ached only for one man.

  Jo Jo walked in and the doc went full stop. “Sunny.” Jo Jo hesitated. “Is this a bad time? Babel said I could come in.”

  Of course he had. Admittedly, I was put off, but Jo Jo’s timing had probably saved me a lot of embarrassment down the road. “Nope. Not a bad time.” I held out my hand to the teenager.

  He smiled and took it. “I’m so glad you’re all right. The sheriff made me go home last night or I would have stayed. I’m sorry you got hurt. So sorry.”

  Guilt was written all over Jo Jo’s pensive face. Even with all the tattoos, piercing, funky dye-job and the sleeveless black T-shirt, he looked like a scared kid.

  I knew in that moment—Jo Jo thought his dad attacked me.

  I wanted to do something to ease his mind. Even if his dad had been the culprit, it wasn’t Jo Jo’s fault, and he shouldn’t have to carry the burden. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you. You’re my hero.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m just sorry I didn’t show up sooner. I’d have kicked some major ass.”

  Billy Bob stood up and took a step back. “I’ll let you visit for a few minutes, then Jo Jo, Sunny’s going to need to rest.” He stepped out of room.

  “Oh, Jo Jo,” I said softly as the boy sat next to me on the bed. He bowed his head, avoiding eye contact.

  “I’d come by last night to tell you how bad I felt about my dad talking to you like he did. He didn’t mean nothin’, Sunny. I swear it.” He was so sad. A sad young man. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

  Squeezing his hand tighter, I could feel my eyelids fluttering in spasms and I was running.

  A blonde woman, Jo Jo’s mother, ran past me at a faster pace than I could manage, but I tried to keep up. The fear in her brought about a surge in my adrenaline. She jumped over logs and bushes like a gazelle, but it was a clump of grass that tripped her up. She fell, sprawling face-first onto the damp ground.

  “Get up, Rose Ann,” I said. Why wasn’t she fighting them? Couldn’t she turn into a big were-creature and whip the shit out of them? “Fight! Don’t give up.”

  Two men grabbed her arms and dragged her backward, laughing to themselves at some clever personal joke. Why couldn’t I see their faces! I felt nauseas. Her pink suit dress was torn and filthy, her beautiful blonde hair dirty with nature, and her shoeless feet were cracked and bleeding.

  I saw all of her, but none of them. I wanted to scream with frustration. Then I heard one of them say, “Maybe we pumped her too full of tranquilizer for the change?”

  And the other said, “Yeah, if he was even telling the truth about her. Just because he can, don’t mean shit.”

  “Well, if she don’t, we’ll just have to hunt his ass down.”

  “Please,” Rose Ann whispered. “Don’t. I have a family…”

  One of the men smacked her head with the butt of his rifle.

  “Rose Ann!” I roared.

  Much to Jo Jo, Billy Bob, and Babel’s surprise. Apparently, I was back in the real world, and I’d brought the tail end of the vision with me.

  “Oww,” I said. The shout had hurt.

  Jo Jo leaned off the bed and threw up. Rose Ann had been hunted like Judah, only now I knew one of her own people had sold her out. A man. Had Chavvah found out who? Is that why she disappeared? Had she been taken as well?

  Oh, no! The full moon had happened a week ago. Was she dead already? Was I too late for my friend?

  I would find the bastard who’d sold out his own kind for sport, so help me, and I would make him pay.

  Chapter 14

  Babel helped Jo Jo to the bathroom to clean up. The guilt over his father possibly hurting me, and the shock of hearing me scream his mother’s name, had been too much for the boy. I didn’t blame him for throwing up—I didn’t know what was keeping me from doing the same.

  I tried to put the pieces together, everything I’d seen and heard since I’d gotten to Peculiar. None of it made any sense. It was as though I’d been given a jigsaw puzzle that had most of its pieces missing, and even worse, extra pieces from other puzzles. Nothing fit.

  The key had to be in the recent attack. Most towns, especially small ones, had their share of problems to hide, but this secret had someone bothered enough to assault me. Obviously, whoever it was didn’t want me dead, because if that had been the case, I’d be a corpse. This had been a warning to scare me and it worked. I was scared.

  I now suspected everyone and anyone in town, except Babel. After all, he’d only arrived after his brother’s disappearance. And while my choice in men had never been top-notch, I couldn’t believe Babel could do anything so dastardly.

  Billy Bob didn’t make my list of suspects either. It’s not that he didn’t have opportunity; he’d been around the town a very long time. But I couldn’t fathom any motive. Besides, he’s the one who encouraged me to help Judah make his peace. Jo Jo wasn’t on my list either. Too young, too vulnerable, and he loved his mother too much.

  Everyone else was fair game, though. I didn’t know these people from Shinola. Not only were they strangers, they were a whole ’nother species. Two people in this town had been hunted for sport, possibly more—my stomach lurched at the thought of Chav being hunted—and for certain one of them was dead.

  Sheriff Taylor arrived with Tyler Thompson in tow. Seeing the deputy sent flutters of fear through me. He was high on my “who would want to hit me” list.

  I avoided looking directly at Tyler. Jo Jo’s silent pleading kept me from implicating his father. I would let the teenager have his say after the police left. It wasn’t as if I felt I owed him, but a small part of me felt a kinship to the disenfranchised Jo Jo.

  I was still in my jeans and light-green tank top from the night before. There were brown spots of blood from my mouth spattered across the ribbed cotton fabric. For the first time, I didn’t feel faint at the sight. Maybe it was true, the whole saying, what didn’t kill you made you stronger. I just wasn’t sure how tough I wanted to be.

  Neville Lutjen showed up next. It was turning into a real party. He wore a tan suit with a light-blue shirt and a chocolate tie. “How are you doing this morning, Ms. Haddock?”

  Oh, so formal. He was in civil servant mode. “Fantastic, Mayor. Don’t I look fantastic?”

  He cleared his throat nervously. “Well, I, well,” he stammered. “I just wanted to check in. I’m sorry about what’s transpired here in our quiet little town. I assure you stuff like this doesn’t happen here.”

  I begged to differ. I was living proof stuff just like this happened in Peculiar. “I’m not holding you or the town responsible, Mayor. The only person who can be held accountable is the person who attacked me.”

  Neville shuffled his toe against the floor, shifting uncomfortably. “Even so.”

  He put his palms together and tapped his fingertips. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. I remembered what Ruth said about Neville’s wife, her long-term illness and death. In my
state, I must’ve reminded him of her.

  “Thank you for coming by, Neville.” I forced my mouth into a tight smile. “I appreciate your concern.”

  He dropped his hands to his side and grinned. “You’re mighty welcome, Sunny. The Red Hat ladies sent over several covered dishes. They’re in your refrigerator. Just holler if there’s anything I can do for you.” He winked.

  I’m dead serious here. If I hadn’t been so flabbergasted, I’d have laughed.

  Billy Bob clapped his hands together once. “Everybody out. Sunny needs to rest.”

  Finally, a boon for my sanity.

  “I’ll post a man outside the apartment,” Sheriff Taylor said.

  “Not Deputy Thompson.” All eyes turned to me. Including the deputy.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, Sunny?”

  “He doesn’t like me very much, and I’d prefer my protection to, at the very least, be cordial with me.” There, I’d said it. I put the elephant in the room, and they could all like it or lump it.

  The sheriff glanced at Tyler Thompson, who had the good sense to look mildly ashamed. Then the sheriff nodded. “Okay. Not Thompson. Anything else you can remember?”

  I pretended for a moment to think about it, but the truth was I couldn’t tell him anything concrete. Nothing I could prove. The stuff about Rose Ann, I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

  The police vacated my apartment slower than I’d have liked, but eventually it was just me, Billy Bob, Babel, and Judah, who was watching me from the bedroom doorway. I huffed at the ghost. It seemed there was no getting rid of him. I desperately wanted to shower the filth from the night before. “You guys can go. I’ll be all right.” I wanted Babel to stay, but I wasn’t going to ask. He’d been cold and distant since Billy Bob had arrived, and I’d barely seen him throughout the morning. I didn’t have a right to feel so put off, but I did anyway.

  Billy Bob grabbed his bag and nodded to me. “Take the pain pills if you need them. Try not to overtax yourself.”

  After he’d left, it was down to the two brothers. Babel picked chipped white paint off the door molding. “I’d like to stay.”

  My heart fluttered. If I didn’t watch myself, batting eyelashes would soon follow. “I’m really tired, Babel.” Please stay. “I’d just like to take a hot shower and sleep.” Please stay.

  He walked toward me, his usual swarthy swagger gone. Insecurity looked sweet on him. I wanted him to stay so badly it made my mouth dry. Everything about Babel made me want to hold him, have him hold me, and never let go. But there was Sheila. They shared a past I could never compete with, and I didn’t think it was right to try. She’d be a better match for him. They were both therianthropes, and I was just a human.

  Everything that I’d gone through since coming to town, the trauma and danger, couldn’t dampen down the emotions I felt for Babel. That was perhaps the most dangerous bit of all. I was falling for him. Hard. To the point of distraction. To the point that everything else be damned. I avoided eye contact. I knew if I looked into those blue, blue eyes, I might not be able to say what I had to say.

  “Babel, I’d like you to go now.”

  “But Sunny…” I heard the hurt and misery in his voice.

  “No.” I held up a hand. “Just go.” I closed my eyes and waited until the door the apartment closed before opening them again and sighing. Wrong man, wrong place, wrong time. The story of my life.

  Judah curled up in the corner of the bathroom near the small vanity as I went inside.

  “Get out.”

  He whimpered and rested his chin on the linoleum floor.

  I shook my head. “Fine. Then hide your eyes.”

  Like a good spirit, he obeyed. I dropped my clothes to the floor and stepped into the shower and let the warm stream wash away my cares. It worked. For a whole second.

  Judah started whining. I turned off the shower, anxious he might be warning me. Had someone come back? Armed with scrub brush in hand (it was either that or the small bottle of shampoo, and the scrub brush was heavier), I peeked around the shower curtain.

  No one stood waiting on the other side. I gave Judah a cross look, but he ignored me, pawing at the floor through my jeans. “What now?” I asked, my exasperation growing.

  Grabbing the towel from the hook, I wrapped it around my chest and stepped onto the cold floor. I leaned down trying to figure out what about my pants the stupid ghost found so damned interesting.

  The folded corner of the diner check jutted from the edge of my jeans pocket. I pulled it out and showed it to him. “This? This is what you wanted me to find?”

  He barked.

  Great, now if I could only learn to speak fluent coyote, we’d have this whole mystery wrapped up in no time.

  For the second time, he’d brought me to this clue. The numbers and letters made absolutely no sense to me. I suppose it was too much to ask that he’d left a letter along the lines of “I, Judah Trimmel, due to some sinister plot by insert guilty party’s name here have been murdered in the most heinous of ways. Please bring my killer(s) to justice.” Now that would have been helpful.

  I could take the scribbles down to the police station. Put it in the capable hands of the sheriff and put my sleuthing cap in the closet. Seriously, other than the visions, it wasn’t as if I’d been very good at the whole detective business. Hell, I wasn’t even very good at the whole psychic thing.

  Looking at the numbers again, I got a niggling feeling, like I should know what they mean. “Screw it,” I decided in a breath. I’d take the damn thing down to the sheriff and he could look into it or burn it, either way, I just wanted the mystery in someone else’s hands.

  After a disproportionate amount of time, I’d managed to put on enough makeup to cover most of the bruising growing on the sides of my face. Unfortunately, no amount of cream foundation could keep the swelling in my cheeks from making me look like a reject from The Planet of the Apes.

  The black and white car outside my building was a little flashy. Pretty weird needing police protection in such a tiny town. I nodded to the deputy behind the wheel (Not Tyler Thompson, thank goodness!) as he started the engine to follow me, and I made my way down the street with few stares. Most of the people I ran into those few short blocks made a point of looking down at the ground or off to the side of me when they greeted, and passed with genial remarks like “nice day” or a simple nod hello.

  If I could have jogged without jarring my head around, I would have. Anything to get away from the collective discomfort my presence aroused. When I reached the police station steps, I could almost hear an audible sigh from town.

  The first deputy I came across was not Tyler Thompson. I was thankful for that small favor. His name was Eldin Farraday. He was youngish, thin and tall, and his kind smile made me feel better. He had me take a seat in the chair by his desk and went to the back to let Sheriff Taylor know I’d arrived.

  A blackboard screwed into the sidewall of the station caught my eye. I hadn’t noticed it the first time I’d been there. At the top, scrawled in chalk, were the underlined headers: Date, Incident, Resolution, Officer on Call. The following row had the date 04/23, Vandalism-Window Broke at Courthouse, open investigation, and the initials EF. Which I took to mean Eldin Farraday. There were six incidents total, with my assault being the last, and ST—Sid Taylor—as the officer on duty. I’d been reduced to just another “open investigation.”

  Dates, incidents, initials.

  I stood up and walked to the board, smearing the sheriff’s initials with my thumb as the numbness of realization swept over me.

  Dates, incidents, initials.

  The dream.

  I pulled the diner check out of my pocket and grabbed a pen off the nearest desk and translated the sequence of numbers and letters. 150000715JT, became 07/15 JT $15,000, then 175000725RC became 07/25 RC $17,500, and finally 200000719GH became 07/19 GH $20,000. The dream at Babel’s had been a visi
on, not a dream, and the curious ledger had been real.

  My throat felt tight, like I’d swallowed a marble. I rubbed the paper between my palms, hoping for a psychic episode that would clear it all up for me. But I knew better than anyone, my gift didn’t work that way.

  I heard the sheriff’s deep voice. “Sunny? Did you remember something else from last night?”

  Turning to Sid Taylor, I stared dumbly at him, and held out my hand. A breeze from an oscillating fan in the corner of the room blew the diner check from my fingers and onto the floor.

  Whether from psychic mojo, or just intuition, I knew what had been in the ledger—what Judah must have figured out. The letters represented people, the dates were when they were taken, and the monetary amount had been the prices for their lives.

  Chapter 15

  “Sunny, I don’t know what you want me to do here.” Sheriff Taylor ran his thick fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “I want you to do your job.” My rebuke ruffled him, but I’d been sitting in his office for two hours while he sifted through mounds of folders for the last five years.

  Sheriff Taylor twisted in his seat. “Young lady. I’ve done what you suggested, and other than Judah, there haven’t been any missing people in town that fit those initials or otherwise. You don’t think I want to find out what happened to Judah? He was a friend of mine. I can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I worked to find out what happened to him.”

  He leaned back with a heaving sigh. “Sometimes, the hardest part about this job is knowing that some cases will never be solved. I’m afraid whether Judah took off on his own, or something bad happened to him, we might never know.”

  “He’s dead,” I said as bluntly as I could, all my anger directed at the sheriff. “And that list has something to do with the reason why. You’re the police. Get to policing.”

  It hadn’t been fair to take my frustration out on Sid Taylor, but it seemed like every new development led to more questions instead of answers, and I was getting sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.