by MJ Compton
“You should have gone to Restin instead of coming to me. You know I don’t do treaty work since I mated,” Tokarz said.
“You’re still my alpha.” There they went, talking in their secret code again. Mates, alphas, omegas. She remembered alpha and omega from Sunday School, but she knew without a doubt whatever Luke and Tokarz were talking about had nothing to do with religion. Luke acted as if he wanted to say more, but the doorbell rang.
A few moments later, Delilah Garnier, Tokarz’s beautiful red-haired wife knocked on the study door. “Jasper’s here,” she said in a low voice. “With a couple of FBI agents.”
Tokarz’s face gave away nothing of his feelings or thoughts. “Put them in the sitting room,” he said. “I’ll be out shortly.”
Delilah nodded and went to do her husband’s bidding.
Tokarz studied the assembled Omega family. “What do you want me to do? I can try to delay them, but Elizabeth is a minor, and we could be accused of endangering the welfare of a child. Or, I can try to negotiate someone from the family—not Abigail—to be with her while she’s questioned.”
Abby didn’t like either choice. Gary was dead. What difference did anything make? His murder might have nothing to do with his sideline. Except everyone in Oak Moon thought he was a saint. So who else besides her would want to kill him? Abby turned to Luke. Of everyone in the room, he was the person she knew the best. Macy and Granny were great, as were Gramps and Marcus, but Luke . . . no matter what, he eventually always tried to do the right thing, and she had no choice but to trust him at that moment.
Luke kissed the top of her head. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “I promise.”
Tokarz called Colette and instructed her to bring Libby to his house. He’d managed to negotiate that the interrogation be held in his home rather than some sterile federal facility that might frighten Libby. She was eleven years in age, but her mind wasn’t that mature. Mama had once said something about the lack of oxygen when she was born making Libby a little slower than normal. When that was coupled with the ADHD, to say Libby could be difficult was an understatement.
While waiting for Colette to arrive, Delilah served snacks in the sitting room. The FBI agents searched Tokarz’s office for bugs.
“You shouldn’t eat the sushi,” Granny told Abby.
As if she’d touch the stuff. Luke’s family gobbled it down.
“Don’t worry,” Delilah said. “I have you covered. I remember what it’s like being pregnant and surrounded by lycans. Luke once brought me a live rabbit.”
“What?” Abby asked. “What’s a lycan?”
Instead of answering, Delilah shot a questioning look at Luke, who shook his head. The questioning look turned into a scowl, which was reflected on everyone’s face. “I have some cheese for you,” Delilah said. “And grapes and almonds.”
Abby surreptitiously unbuttoned the waist of her skirt. She was still dressed in her funeral clothes, and they were starting to get a little snug. She took the glass of water Delilah offered with a smile. One thing she’d noticed about living in Loup Garou was that everyone drank water, but not from a bottle. No one was ever drunk. She hadn’t seen a bottle or can of Moonsinger in town. The town owned Moonsinger. Funny how no one drank their own product.
She knew she was distracting herself with minutia.
Luke stood behind her, gripping her shoulders. She sat in a rocking chair in Delilah’s formal sitting room. The other members of Luke’s family were present, as well as Delilah and Tokarz’s son, Daniel, who was being passed around and cooed over as if he were the greatest thing since sliced bread.
“Have you thought of names?” Delilah asked. She sounded sad. “We named Daniel after my brother. He died shortly after Tokarz and I met.”
“Rosie Dawn if it’s a girl,” Luke said.
“No,” Abby said.
“We decided on that this afternoon,” Luke continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Luke is confused,” Abby said.
“That’s a pretty name,” Macy said. “I like it a lot.”
“She’s going to look like her mother,” Luke continued. “As pretty as a sunrise.”
“I can see that,” Marcus said. “What if it’s a boy? Mom, do you still do your needle thing?”
Colette and Libby arrived before Granny could answer. Colette appeared worried, but Libby was happy to see everyone again.
“Is this a party?” she asked. Her Santa Claus pillow was tucked under her arm.
“Not really.” Abby held out her hands. Libby joined her, and Abby hugged her close. “There are some people here, friends of Toke Lobo, who want to ask you some questions.”
“Okay,” Libby said. “I like Toke Lobo. I’ll bet his friends are nice.”
“I can’t be in the room with you,” Abby explained, “but Luke will be there.”
“Great.” Libby beamed at Luke.
Luke released Abby’s shoulders. “Hey, kiddo. Abby and I were up at my house,” he said as he led Libby from the room. “What color do you want your bedroom painted?”
“Orange,” Libby replied, her voice carrying. “Orange like the moon.”
Abby sank into her chair.
“Yes,” Granny said, filling the awkward silence. “I still know how to do the needle and thread test.”
“That’s a great idea, Marcus,” Macy interjected. “Delilah, do you have a sewing basket?”
Delilah nodded and drifted off to fetch it.
“This is really scary how often Mom is right,” Macy continued, a little too loudly. “She’s better than a sonogram or amniocentesis.”
“I don’t understand,” Abby said.
“We’ll show you in a minute.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Luke?” Colette asked. “It’s his baby, too.”
“He’s already made up his mind,” Marcus said. “A girl. Rosie Dawn.”
“What a pretty name,” Colette exclaimed. “I can’t wait to hold her.”
Delilah came in, handed her sewing basket to Granny, then excused herself to tend to her baby.
“Granny got it right with Daniel, and with Hank’s wife, Michelle, too. Sometimes old wives tales are as good as modern medicine.” Macy was doing her darnedest to distract Abby.
“Can someone thread a needle for me?” Granny asked. “These old eyes don’t work so well these days.”
“Abby, you have the youngest eyes,” Macy said as she took the basket from Granny. “You thread a needle. Use about a foot of thread.”
It took a few minutes, because her hands were shaking so badly, but Abby managed to string the needle onto a length of black thread.
“Okay,” Granny said. “Now pull your top up and lie on the floor.”
“What?”
“Pull your top up and lie on the floor,” Granny repeated.
They were trying to keep her mind off what Libby might be telling the feds in the other room.
Luke’s family was so sweet.
But she wasn’t sure she wanted them to see the now yellowish-green bruises on her abdomen. Macy and Granny had seen the bruises at worst. Did Marcus and Collette need evidence of Gary’s brutality?
She got on the floor and lay on her back. Tokarz had nice ceilings in his house. She lifted the hem of her shirt to the edge of her bra. Everyone could see she’d unbuttoned the waist of her slacks.
“Maternity clothes soon,” Granny said as she knelt next to Abby. Then she read Abby’s mind. “And your bruises are barely visible. Okay, now hold perfectly still.”
Granny had tied the thread to a pencil which she balanced on the index and middle fingers of her right hand.
No one spoke. Abby couldn’t see what was happening.
“Rosie Dawn,” Macy said. “It�
�s a girl.”
“I thought if the needle moved up and down meant the baby was a boy,” Colette said.
“Nope. Girl,” Granny confirmed. “Luke will be pleased.”
“I thought a girl was left to right. This needle is moving in circles.”
“It’s swinging up and down. Now Abby knows what color to have the council paint the nursery.” Macy pulled Abby to her feet.
What difference does it make? Abby wanted to cry. Luke plans to divorce me as soon as the baby is born.
But they were trying to be nice to her, so she couldn’t throw Luke’s inadequacies in their faces. She managed a smile. “Luke will be happy. But she won’t be named Rosie Dawn.”
And no pink bedrooms. No setting up her daughter as a sugar-and-spice-everything-nice victim. Abby’s daughter was going to be a strong woman. Someone who could escape the patterns set by Abby’s mother and Abby herself.
“So has Luke talked to you yet?” Marcus asked.
Abby nodded. Why did everyone think Luke working for the FBI was such a big deal? Right now, it was handy, because he was working on the case and could be with Libby while she was being questioned. About Gary. Abby closed her eyes. Please, let Gary have left Libby alone.
Luke leaned against the door, all of his senses open. Tokarz was also in the room. Restin was going to be pissed because he missed this. Tough.
Jasper was also in the room, but out of Libby’s line of vision. Two agents, one of whom was a woman specializing in child abuse cases, stood in the deepest shadows.
Luke was again struck by how open and cheerful Libby’s face and expression were. The FBI agents were taping the interview. Luke had been briefed on how to question Libby. Everyone agreed she would be more comfortable with her brother-in-law than with a stranger.
“So Libby,” Luke began. “These guys want to know some stuff about Gary. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Libby agreed. She got out of her seat and went to the window. Pushed aside the curtain. Gazed into the darkness.
Luke followed.
“Did Gary ever take pictures of you?”
“Not as often as he took pictures of Abby. She’s the pretty one, you know. Of course you know. You’re married to her.”
Luke’s stomach knotted. He needed to be impersonal here, and now that he’d started, wasn’t sure he could do it.
“Was there anything unusual about the pictures he took of you?”
“Like what?” Libby let the curtain fall, then went to Tokarz’s desk. Picked up a stapler. Put it down again.
“Did he ask you to do certain things?”
Libby scrunched her nose. “I don’t know. I mean, he told me to smile. Say cheese.”
“Did he ever ask you to wear certain clothes?”
“He didn’t like me wearing any clothes at all.”
The pain lancing through Luke’s head caused zigzags of bluish light through his vision. But he had to continue. He needed to prove to the FBI that he would be a valuable addition to the team working this case.
“Did he ever ask you to sit a certain way?”
Libby hopped up onto the desk. “Want me to show you?”
Luke nodded.
“Can I leave my clothes on? It’s kind of cold in here.”
“Please,” Luke managed to choke out.
“I’m going to need the sofa,” Libby said.
“No problem.” Libby stood on the corner of the desk and leapt to the sofa, where she proceeded to demonstrate a couple of provocative positions. She was completely unselfconscious about what she was doing. “Like this. And this. All without my clothes. So, Tokarz, are you going to buy any of Abby’s songs?”
Luke turned away for a moment. He couldn’t let Libby see his reaction to her movements. And he used to like looking at that on the Internet.
“Probably,” Tokarz said.
“Was Gary always alone when he asked you to do these things?” Luke forced himself to look at her. To smile. To be professional. Forced out the questions the feds wanted answered.
“No. Most times, Uncle Dougie was there,” Libby said.
“Abby told me you don’t have an Uncle Dougie.”
“I don’t think he’s really my uncle,” Libby replied. She sat up. Jiggled her foot. Picked up her Santa Claus pillow from the loveseat and hugged it to her chest. “I think it’s an honorary title. That’s what Gary said. He was there a lot when Gary took pictures. And when he didn’t.”
“Do you know how he knew Gary?”
“He told me to call him Uncle Dougie. That’s all I know. Except I like him. He’s nice to me.”
“So this uncle. He was around when Gary took pictures?”
Libby frowned, as if annoyed. “I just told you.” She launched herself from the sofa to the window again. “What’s that noise?”
“Wolves,” Tokarz said.
“Why are they crying?”
“There are strangers in Loup Garou.”
Libby nodded, as if Tokarz’s answer made perfect sense to her.
Luke swallowed hard. “Did he ever do anything besides watch Gary take pictures?”
And the interview went downhill from there.
After half an hour of watching Libby bounce around the room and reply in non-sequiturs as often as not, Luke asked: “Have you seen Uncle Dougie since Gary died?”
Libby nodded as she ran the curtain fabric between her fingers. “Sure. He was at Gary’s funeral.” Luke sat up straighter. “If we showed you pictures of people at the funeral, could you point him out to us?”
“Sure. Except he was wearing kind of a disguise, like he was hiding.”
Damn. Didn’t that figure? “But you know it was him?”
“Yeah. He whispered in my ear that he misses me.
“Are you going to tell Abby about Uncle Dougie?”
Luke hesitated. “Maybe not,” he said after a long pause. “We need to make sure Abby doesn’t worry about anything. It’s not good for the baby.”
“I’m excited about the baby. But Gary was mad. He made Abby pee on a stick and when it came back with two pink lines he started punching her and calling her names, and she puked all over him. It was pretty funny. He didn’t think so, but it was all Uncle Dougie and I could do to keep quiet so they wouldn’t know we were watching them.”
“Did you and Uncle Dougie do things together where Gary didn’t take pictures?”
Libby nodded. “Sometimes Gary told Uncle Dougie the pictures were the thing, but Uncle Dougie laughed at him.”
Luke thanked the Ancient Ones Abby wasn’t hearing this. She had been so certain she’d protected Libby from Gary’s baser instincts. Learning she’d failed would devastate her.
He had to change tacks. They now knew that Gary and this mysterious Uncle Dougie had sexually exploited Libby by using her to produce pornography. Federal offense. And while they were too late to get Gary Porter, they would get Uncle Dougie. Luke planned on getting him real good. “What was Uncle Dougie wearing today?” Luke asked. “You said he was wearing a disguise.”
Libby screwed up her face. “I don’t remember. He was dressed different than usual. His hair was different, too. And he smelled funny.”
Luke tried asking the question from half a dozen different angles, but Libby was tired and went into a mode where she simply was finished talking. Luke figured the only person who might get anything more out of Libby that night was Abby, and he wasn’t willing to subject his wife to that.
“Okay, Libby, I guess we’re done,” Luke said after Jasper signaled him. “Oh, and we don’t need to tell Abby about anything we talked about. Okay?”
“I don’t like keeping secrets from Abby.”
“You shouldn’t keep secrets from Abby,” Luke sai
d. His secret didn’t count. Not really. “But this isn’t a secret. You just told me some stuff she doesn’t need to know about. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The FBI agents left, followed shortly by the Omega clan.
Luke kept one eye on his rear-view mirror, but he didn’t spot anyone following them. Libby had gone home with his parents again, and, as usual, he and Abby were heading to his grandparents. Abby kept looking at him, as if she expected to be able to read him like a dime novel.
He wished he were taking her back to his house, where there wouldn’t be witnesses to the cruelty he had to perform. No matter what he did, or how he handled it, Abby would know the truth, and the truth would ravage her.
She waited until they were alone in their bedroom—he knew the only reason she allowed him entrance was because she wanted to know about Libby. After his disastrous conversation at his house, before the FBI summons, he didn’t expect ever to be in her bed again.
“You know I can’t discuss an on-going investigation,” he said in his calmest, most emotionless voice.
Abby crumpled like a used tissue. Luke was quick enough to catch her. Cradled her as if she were the most fragile spider web ever spun. He half-expected his grandparents to burst in.
“We’ll get him, Abby. I promise.” He placed her on the bed and gathered her close. “Libby will have some questions for you. I don’t completely understand what her . . . abilities are, so I’m not sure how much she understood about the questions.”
“Who asked the questions?”
Luke wiped Abby’s nose with the hem of his dress shirt. Felt like he’d been in funeral clothes all damned day. FBI clothes. “I did.” He unbuttoned the shirt and dropped it to the floor.
“She understands everything.” Abby hiccupped. “She’s not stupid. She’s slow and impulsive.”