by Shara Lanel
But that was cart before the horse stuff. He’d not even met his lawyer yet. The man would arrive in Wolf’s Crossing Monday morning to argue for bail. Haden prayed that owning the pub would show his standing in the community and prove that he wasn’t a flight risk.
“If someone planted it, someone had to know who you were, right?” Kit’s small fingers wrapped around the bars between them, looking dainty and out of place. “Any idea who?”
He shook his head. “That’s what making me crazy. I haven’t seen anyone from Wolf’s Crossing in years, so not only would they have to know my true identity, they would’ve had to have access to my office.”
“Who does have access?”
“Mostly Angelica, but when the pub’s open, the place isn’t exactly locked. I have safes for the cash and important documents.” He’d mentioned to his lawyer that if he had kept a souvenir ‑‑ and why would he? ‑‑ he would’ve kept it at his house or locked it in one of the safes, not left it where anyone could get to it. Leaning his forehead against the bars, he remembered that Daniel had mentioned a warrant being issued for his house. “They’re searching my house, too.”
Kit grinned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “All they’re going to find there is bad décor, right?” She was trying to lighten his mood. He smelled her concern.
Should he tell her what else they might find? His notebook full of the articles about Leslie’s investigation, the folder on his hard drive with files on everyone remotely connected to Leslie. Worse, the encrypted folder with his werewolf and shape shifter research. He had files and links on every were myth he could find. Also on wendigos, berserkers, shamans, anything that might help him make sense of his curse. He’d given up on finding a cure, but he’d hoped to discover others like him. Instead, he’d found fictional accounts, myths, and delusions.
“What are you thinking?” Kit asked, the images in Haden’s mind too weird to make sense of. He was worried about the cops examining his computer. That part was obvious, but why encrypt a file with scanned images from Sasquatch articles? And why worry about the cops finding it?
“The cops might find some things they’ll use against me, like articles about Leslie’s murder,” Haden admitted.
“But having those makes sense if you’re trying to clear your name, right?”
“Does it?”
“Absolutely. And articles aren’t physical evidence. That’s what they’re going to need.”
He put his fingers over hers on the bars, warm and comforting. “Why do you believe me?”
She took a deep breath. Should she tell him her secret? Tell him about the hatred she’d sensed when they’d tucked him into the police cruiser?
“There’s something about me…”
The buzzer sounded, signaling Daniel’s return. Kit took a deep breath and glanced down the hallway. The sheriff wasn’t alone. An older man and woman followed, the woman twisting her hands nervously while the man stroked her shoulder. They were both trim, matching in height, but the man’s careworn face said early sixties, while the woman wore makeup to disguise her years. She moved with ease in her two-inch heels, which were black patent leather and seemed out of place with her polyester skirt and ruffly blouse. They didn’t fit at all with the man’s flannel and denim.
Kit couldn’t read their thoughts as they drew closer, because Haden’s memories suddenly overpowered her. Bittersweet images tumbled through his mind, and the force of his emotions tightened her throat. She wanted to cry from the love, the confusion, the sadness, the regret. His hand squeezed her fingers tightly, then he dropped his hands to his side to tuck in his shirt. Kit found herself straightening her shoulders in response.
“You’re a popular guy today,” Daniel said jovially, but Kit spotted the crinkling around his eyes that showed his concern. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest as the man and woman faced Haden.
“Hi, Mom. Dad.” His fingers tapped on his thighs, and his mind examined the differences in their faces from when he’d last seen them. More worry lines, more stoop to their shoulders. They looked older.
“Aidan,” his dad said gruffly, accenting the word with a curt nod. Kit sidled over to Daniel, feeling like a voyeur to this homecoming scene. Mrs. Blackthorne stretched her fingers on the bars. Kitty couldn’t see her face, so she took in the other details. She had rich brown hair with highlights that Kit thought came from a salon. Her pumps were scuffed, but polished. Mr. Blackthorne wore work boots. His wallet puffed out his back pocket, and his salt-and-pepper hair swept his collar.
“We’ve missed you, son, so much,” his mom said.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” He lowered his head a bit, but after a hesitation, reached out to touch his mom’s fingers.
She gripped him. “I love you, no matter what.”
Again, Haden’s emotions overpowered all others in Kitty’s mind, flashes of an earlier jail scene with his mother crying and his dad red-faced and mad. He jerked his hand back and scowled. “I didn’t do it.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“I told you before that I didn’t do it.”
Mr. Blackthorne crossed his arms. “Hmph, hard to believe it when you run off. Makes everyone think you’re guilty.” He shrugged in Kit’s direction. “Who’s the woman?”
Wonderful way to meet her lover’s family…in the hall of a jail.
Haden closed his eyes, struggling with his emotions. He opened them again. “This is Kitty Lazarus. She owns the store next to my pub.”
“Your pub?” his mom asked.
“She ain’t just some store owner if she’s here,” his dad said.
Haden met Kitty’s eyes. They’d never defined their relationship, and a child didn’t introduce someone as a “lover” to his parents if he could help it. “Well, Kitty’s my girlfriend, too.” It was almost a question, as if he was waiting for Kitty to deny it. She wouldn’t. It was as good a description as any.
But she didn’t know whether to offer to shake hands or hug or what. It was a confusing situation. His dad eyed her with suspicion. His mom seemed to shrink. She caught her thoughts. So many lost years, so much I don’t know about my own son.
“I’m sorry to meet you under such…difficult circumstances,” Kit offered. She smiled gently. “I take it you don’t know about Blackie’s Pub. Your son” ‑‑ she’d almost said Haden ‑‑ “has done an excellent job putting it together. It’s quite the hot spot in Richmond right now.”
“Richmond?” Mr. Blackthorne barked. He turned back to Haden, a storm brewing in his eyes. “You’ve been in Richmond all this time?”
“Not this whole time, no. I just returned to the States a few months ago.” Being around his parents, Haden’s accent seemed to slip into Appalachian Southern, but she could still hear a bit of Ireland in it. He sighed. “I came back because I wanted to try to clear my name, but I couldn’t do it from a jail cell. I wanted to start the pub, increase my standing in the community.”
“How would that clear your name?” His dad wouldn’t give him an inch.
“It would give me the income to hire a private detective and time to do research from a safe distance. I didn’t want to contact you until I knew the truth.” Haden’s eyes settled on his mother. “You’ve had enough heartbreak from me. I wanted to give you proof that I was innocent.”
“Then you shouldn’t have run,” his dad spat.
Kitty heard a hear, hear loud and clear from Daniel’s thoughts. Haden clamped his jaw, refusing to explain further, but his mind showed a wolf howling behind bars while his parents and Daniel pointed rifles at him. What did all these images mean? They pointed to an unbelievable conclusion, that Haden himself was some kind of monster. Kitty had a pretty freaky ability, but even with that, she didn’t believe in vampires, Bigfoot, or alien abductions. She certainly didn’t believe that her lover was a werewolf. His thoughts could be a metaphor for how he was feeling, like a trapped animal.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Well, fo
lks, better clear out so I can get back to work.” And give Aidan a break from awkward questions.
“But, Daniel, we’ve barely had time to talk to him!” Mrs. Blackthorne wrung her hands, her knuckles white.
“Ellie, he’s right here. You can come by this evening. Why don’t you go get some chow, maybe get to know Kitty here? She seems like a great gal.”
Eek, now he was throwing her to the wolves! They’d ask her questions, and she didn’t have any answers. “Um, I need to check in at the motel and call the store. Make sure my employees actually opened it this morning. Rain check on a meal, okay?” She wanted more time with Haden, but time alone so she could grill him. Poor man, he’d probably had enough grilling to last a lifetime, but his actions were hard to understand.
Mr. Blackthorne guided his wife away from the cage with his back ramrod straight.
“Kitty,” Haden said, as she was about to follow.
“Yeah?”
“My name’s really Aidan.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
He sighed, the weight of his past wearing him down. “And I didn’t do it.”
“I know.”
* * * * *
The town of Wolf’s Crossing ranged from quaint to rundown and passed in the blink of an eye. The five or six stores facing Main Street sported fresh paint on both walls and signs. They housed antiques, high-end clothing, and a retro five-and-dime. She had the feeling the stores were new additions trying to look old. Posters in the windows mentioned Easter egg hunts and Earth Day celebrations. When she’d driven through at an agonizingly slow twenty-five miles per hour, Kitty had spied a Walgreens, a Food Lion, and a gas and service station that still had full-service signs.
The motel was also on Main Street, but much closer to the town line. Kitty had taken a hot bath and called the store, fending off as many of Marsha’s questions as possible. She didn’t have any answers, especially to the question of why she was here instead of back in Richmond. If Haden made bail, he could find his way home on his own. If he didn’t, well, she couldn’t hang out here until the trial. It made sense that she’d drive out here to make sure he was okay, so first thing tomorrow morning she should pop back in her car and zip home.
Good, decision made.
Or not.
Her stomach growled. It was late afternoon, but she’d skipped lunch, so she asked at the front desk for the best place to get cheap eats. There was a diner right next to the library. Perfect. She could get some food and maybe do a bit more research on Leslie’s murder.
Not that it was her job to do research. This had nothing to do with her, and she was going home first thing in the morning.
Maybe.
The diner was practically deserted at this time of day. A waitress refilling salt shakers gestured for her to pick a seat when she entered. She found a booth and opened the menu. Grilled cheese, fries, Coke. Just the thing. The waitress, thoughts on achy feet and what to wear to the bar tonight, took her order and shouted it at the line cook. She went back to ignoring Kit as she switched from salt shakers to ketchup bottles.
Kit was practically in a Zen trance when the bell over the door tinkled again. Two men entered, voices raised in a heated conversation.
“You will get back to school. Don’t give me this bullshit. I know why you came back, and you can just keep your nose out of it.” The speaker was a man with thick blond hair slicked back in the perfect coif. The craggy face and sagging jowls gave away his age, probably mid-fifties. He was tall and well built, wearing a suit and red tie.
The younger man stalked to a table and gave the waitress a demanding look. She responded immediately by snagging the coffeepot and two cups, but she was rolling her eyes in her mind. Kit grinned as she sipped her Coke. Obviously the waitress was familiar with these two. The only read Kit could get from the younger man was anger directed at his father, no words, no pictures. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties and wore a preppy outfit ‑‑ khakis, pastel polo, loafers ‑‑ making the meat on his arms seem out of place. Someone who dressed so blandly should not have muscles like the Incredible Hulk. He obviously enjoyed hours at the gym. Personally, Kit didn’t like quite that much bulk on a guy.
The dad’s thoughts consisted of a running monologue on his son’s many faults. Geez, if he’d said even half of that out loud, his son probably had a major inferiority complex, and no wonder he was angry. But once the duo was seated and had placed their orders, Kit began to get something from the son, not images, more like a red haze over his father’s face as he looked at him. His features distorted, the wrinkles growing deeper, the jowls sagging to his chest, the mouth melting until only jawbone remained.
The waitress arriving with Kit’s food broke the spell. She realized she’d been staring at the two men, which was a social no-no, so she forced a smile to her face and thanked the waitress, whose nametag read “Linda.”
Conspiratorially, Kit whispered, “Who are they?” as if she was just after some juicy gossip. Was the son the one she’d sensed outside the pub when Haden was arrested? She’d never encountered such a visual representation of anger before, almost as if his “self” had been taken over by it.
Linda leaned down and responded in an even lower voice, “The mayor and his son.” Then she grabbed Kit’s glass. “Time for a refill. Be right back.”
Damn, she wanted to ask her more questions, but they’d be overheard, anyway. Maybe she could catch the waitress alone later. She munched her sandwich and fries, not really tasting them as she tried to eavesdrop, but as if sensing their audience the two men lowered their voices. The mayor was mentally comparing two women from his past, judging by the clothing and hairstyles. Lots of hair on both ladies, skintight jeans, big hoop earrings. Late seventies, early eighties, maybe? One of them looked familiar, and Kit realized who it was when the mayor thought her name. Ellie. Haden’s mom. Who was the other lady? His wife? An old lover? Why was he thinking of them now as he looked at his son?
Finding her plate empty, Kitty decided it was time to leave. She wanted to check out the library before it closed. Hopefully, she wasn’t already too late. It wouldn’t be open tomorrow, since most libraries thought of Sundays as a day of rest.
Libraries used to instill peace in Kitty. She loved the smell of books and the mantle of quiet, but that same quiet amplified everyone’s thoughts making it impossible to concentrate. Because of her “gift,” she’d lost another haven. Now she reserved books via her library’s Internet service and went in long enough to pick them up when they came in.
The Wolf’s Crossing Library, so close to the diner and motel, was housed in a converted rancher with a wheelchair ramp and long, horizontal windows. She guessed it might’ve been built in the sixties or seventies from the architecture. Inside she found cheery, modern colors, especially in the children’s section off to the left. To the right, in what used to be the living room, signs read “Biography,” “Large Print,” and “New Releases.” She headed straight to the back and debated the Internet versus microfiche for her research. Unless they’d computerized the local papers, in which case, the debate was moot. Finding the reference desk, she asked just that and discovered that they’d scanned in everything from the year 2000 on. Anything else was still on the microfiche. Perfect.
The librarian led Kit to the computer room in the back of the building. She passed a teen engrossed in an Internet role playing game at the first computer and a man playing poker on the next. The librarian settled Kit into her own cubicle, since she’d sounded interested in serious research. The librarian’s thoughts made it plain what she thought of everyone coming into this bastion of books to play stupid games.
Kit asked the librarian a few questions, until she thought she had a handle on how to surf the library’s cache of scanned newspapers, then she was left on her own. She’d start with Leslie’s murder, then see if there were threads that would direct her research elsewhere. She only had a couple of hours before the library closed.
* * * *
*
He’d recognized the video store owner, of course. How did Aidan instill such loyalty so quickly? His brother ‑‑ half brother ‑‑ had an unfair ability to charm women, but sensing Kitty had allowed him to get a grip on his anger at his father. If he’d let it grow, he might have lost control of his beast and ripped the man apart right then. He’d never killed a man, and he needed his father’s connections, so that wouldn’t do at all.
No, wait, that wasn’t right. His beast couldn’t come out until the full moon, so if he’d ripped his father apart in daylight in the restaurant, it would have to be with his supernatural strength, not with claws and fangs.
That made sense.
He pictured the scene. First his father, the wailing, the blood, the fear, then Aidan’s woman, cowed by the carnage, crawling on her knees to him, begging him to spare her.
No, he didn’t want her to beg him to spare her. He wanted her to offer herself to him as a sacrifice.
Again he pictured the scene, but this time it ended with Kitty crawling to him, her butt moving gently from side to side. When she reached his leg, she slithered up it, hands first, rubbing her whole body against him. He was growing hard just thinking about it.
Thank God, his father had run off for “an important meeting.” He didn’t need the bastard ordering him back to UR. So what if he missed a couple of classes? Seeing Aidan behind bars was far more important…and satisfying.
Kitty had eaten her sandwich and left the diner, and he’d watched her cross to the library and go inside. He wondered why Aidan liked her so. She wasn’t as voluptuous as Leslie or Angelica. He’d always preferred taller, long-legged ladies with gold in their hair. He’d assumed Aidan did, too, since he’d loved Leslie. He was disappointed in Kitty, but that could be fixed. He wanted to try chains and cords instead of rope. She would look beautiful entangled in black and silver with a leather mask covering her face. Or he could dye her hair yellow and bind her in a corset to plump up her boobs.