by Renee George
Into the Midnight Howl
Peculiar Mysteries Book 5
By Renee George
Excerpt
About ten o’clock, I’d told Ruth I was going for a drive to clear my head, and maybe, that had been the original plan. But parked down at the end of Brady Corman’s driveway for two hours, headphones blasting soul-tugging music, I was certain a clutter-free head wasn’t happening anytime soon. Why couldn’t I get this stupid coyote out of my head? He had more baggage than an airport on Christmas Eve. My brain told me to run, get as far away from Brady as inhumanly possible, but my heart, my gut, and all my lady parts wanted to launch myself on top of him, and seduce him into submission.
I’d never been in his home, but the night of the Halloween party, I’d given him a ride home. We’d both run headfirst into a burning barn. Brady, because his son Jo Jo was trapped inside, and me because I had the opposite reaction to danger than I should. My father used to say I had “no self-preservation instinct.” I like to think of myself as more thrill seeker than suicidal. Anyhow, the rescue had got my adrenaline pumping, so when Jo Jo asked for his dad’s car to take his date home, I’d offered Brady a ride.
Our conversation on the way had been energized, the way conversations can get when two people escape death together. When I’d pulled into his driveway, Brady thanked me, and I’d felt the, “I’m gonna kiss you,” vibe from him. So, I just jumped right in there and laid one on him.
Gah! Talk about sizzle, that heat of the man’s lips lit my loins like a match to gasoline.
Then, just as abruptly as I’d kissed him, he disengaged, opened the truck door saying, “I can’t do this,” and then closed the door behind him with a hard slam, and rushed into his house.
I’d never been so confused, hurt, turned on, and dejected all at the same time. Which is why I sat at the end of Brady’s driveway now, because our lunch earlier hadn’t made me any less confused, hurt, turned on, and dejected. I wanted Brady the way I wanted air and food and water. In other words, I felt like I couldn’t live without him. Was that strange? I thought so. I’d had a lot of lovers over the years, but not a one of them moved me like this cranky single dad. At least, I was pretty sure he was single, considering the way Ruth and Sunny pushed me at him.
The first time I saw Brady, last June when Jo Jo had been kidnapped with Ruth’s daughter Michele, he’d gone to the police station to report his son missing. Luckily, we’d found Jo Jo and Michele later that night tied up in the woods no worse for wear. Brady’s vulnerability, the way he worried for his child, had tugged on every girly string inside me. It hadn’t hurt that he was incredibly hot in a young Jeffrey Dean Morgan way. (Yes, I’d gone through a Supernatural phase. No, I still wasn’t over it.) He’d worn a wedding band at the police station, but at Halloween and today, he’d been without it. Why would any woman in her right mind leave a man like him?
I cranked up the volume on my mp3 player and launched into the chorus of “Love Hurts” by Nazareth, a favorite of my father’s. When the driver side door of my truck opened, I tore out the earplugs and jumped hard enough to hit my head on the cab roof. Considering how short I am, the maneuver was a feat. “Jeezus. H. Christ. You scared the ever-loving shit out me!”
Brady appeared befuddled for a moment, but he managed a glower when he said, “You’re the one scaring, well, everything out here. I thought someone was dying.”
I blushed. “I have a fine singing voice.”
“More like a cat yowling.”
“You’re being a jerk.”
“You’re parked on my road in the middle of the night.”
“I’m parked off your road in the middle of the night.”
“Fine.” He shook his head. “What are you doing here, Willy?”
“I’m thinking.”
“And you couldn’t do that back in town?”
“I found a body tonight. You could be a little kinder to me.” Besides, earlier he’d said it was nice to see me. Had something changed between then and now?
“What?” He dipped his head. “You found a body? Like an actual person?”
“No, like a fake person.”
“Willy...”
“Yes, fine. An actual person.”
“Who? Where?”
“Now all we need is the what and why, and the crime will have solved itself.”
In The Midnight Howl
Peculiar Mysteries, Book 5
Renee George
Published 2017 by Renee George.
Copyright © 2017, Renee George.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Renee George.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.
Manufactured in the USA.
Blurb
When an anonymous whistleblower from Peculiar, Missouri alleges that the mayor’s wife is a fraud, the Shifter Tri-State Council sends one of their best investigators: werebobcat Wilhelmina "Willy" Boden. Willy's reluctant to investigate her friends who live in the small shifter town, especially handsome werecoyote Brady Corman--but she has a job to do.
Yeah. A job that gets a helluva lot more difficult when the town's local pain-in-the-ass, Evelyn Meyers, is found dead. Willie jumps on board the investigation and soon discovers that both the town's beloved Sheriff and Brady's teenaged son are prime suspects, along with half the town.
Willy's sense of duty won't let her ignore evidence or turn a blind eye to injustice. Her loyalty to her friends will be tested as she digs deeper into Evelyn's death and a secret kept by most of the town. And her relationship with Brady may be over before it even begins. What's a werebobcat to do when her instincts tell her one thing, and her heart the exact opposite?
Acknowledgments
This book was a muse and coffee-fueled driven piece of love. Willy and Brady’s story was so special and lovely to write. I especially loved getting to know Ruth better. She and Willy make the best BFFs. And on that note, I have some very special people in my own life that I must acknowledge and thank.
For Robbin, thank you for pushing me and staying up with me and brainstorming the shit out of this book with me. I should be kissing your ass every day. For Jeanna, you are the queen of continuity!! Thank you for jumping on board as a proofer and reader, I love you!! And lastly, but not leastly, (all of these ladies are first in my book!) Michele Bardsley for all her great edits, suggestions, and revisions. You are my QUEEN!
Next, I have to thank my Rebel Readers. I ADORE you guys! Thank you for being loyal fans. XXXOOOXXXOOO. I also want to thank the Peculiar Fans for making this mystery romance series one of my best sellers! I will keep writing them as long as you want to keep reading them.
Table of Contents
Excerpt
In The Midnight Howl
Blurb
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Cha
pter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Note from Renee George
Also by Renee George
About the Author
Join Renee’s Newsletter
In the Midnight Howl
Prologue
For more than a year, I dreamed, no, fantasized about getting back to Peculiar, Missouri. My first visit last June during the Tri-State Council Jubilee made me fall in love with the town. I’d made friends. Sunny Haddock, who was married to the mayor Babel Trimmel, was funny, sweet and self-deprecating. I could hang out with her all day doing nothing and still have a blast. Chavvah Trimmel, Sunny’s best friend and sister-in-law, not to mention all around bad-ass chick, was one of the most solid people I’d ever met. But I think I liked Ruth Thompson the best.
Ruth was the kind of woman, whom on paper, I would never have imagined wanting to hang out with. She’d been married more than twenty years, had nine kids, and seemed to know the dirt on everyone in the small community. And last, but certainly not least, on that list of awesome people was sexy, broody Brady Corman. We’d had a moment when I’d been in Peculiar for Halloween, and I’d hoped to take that sizzling connection and turn it into an extended adventure.
But right now, as I avoided the gazes of those people I wanted to call friends, I knew whatever chance I had to be part of Peculiar—and part of Brady’s life—was gone. As an investigator for the Council, I had a job to do, and I took my oath and duty very seriously. That’s why I was here, at this moment, destroying my new friendships.
I turned to Sheriff Taylor and said, “I’m sorry, Sid, you know I don’t want to do this.”
“It’s okay, Willy.”
“I have to make it official.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“Sheriff Sidney Taylor of Peculiar, Missouri, in accordance with the terms of therianthrope protocol as regulated by the Tri-State Council, I have the authority to relieve you of your duty in this investigation and suspend you from this office until said investigation is resolved.” This last part killed me to say. “I’ll need your badge and weapon.”
Sheriff Taylor, his eyes unnaturally dark, which was saying a lot since he’s a raccoon shifter, took his badge from his shirt and placed it on Deputy Farraday’s desk. Next, he unholstered his gun and set it down next to the silver star. His gaze scraped across the office at his people, including Deputies Farraday, Connelly, and Thompson. Mayor Babel Trimmel, Sunny, Chavvah, Dr. Smith, Ruth Thompson, the sheriff’s wife, Jean, and their daughter, Nicole. There was a rise of protest throughout the group, but Sheriff Taylor raised his hand.
“I stand by what I did,” he said, his voice as tired as his eyes. He looked at his daughter. “I’d do it again.”
“Dad,” she said.
Sheriff Taylor held his head high, stoic in his resignation. “Don’t.”
“Oh, Sid,” Jean said and threw her arms around him. She turned an accusing finger at me. “He trusted you. How could you do this?”
In the face of all the disappointed and angry glares from the gathered crowd, I wanted to relent, tell everyone what a big mistake I made. However, he had hidden evidence in a crucial investigation. His choice. Which is why the Council had pulled rank and forced me into this despicable situation.
Chapter One
Four Days earlier…
“You’re here!” Ruth said, standing in the open doorway to her two-story pink house with blue trim. “I’ve made up Dakota’s room for you. She’ll be sharing a bed with Michele while you’re here.”
Yellow and purple flowers lined the concrete walkway leading to her front porch, painting a real pretty picture of rural living. “I don’t want to put you through any trouble,” I told the enthusiastic deer shifter. “I could have just stayed in the motel.”
“Oh, pish-posh. I’ll hear none of that. Ed, the kids, and I are happy to have you. Besides, I’ve baked three pies for your visit, so you have to--”
I waved my hand. “You had me at pie.”
Ruth laughed. “Good. Now, let’s get your bags inside.” I only had one suitcase and a vanity. “I’m so excited to see you again. I’m glad you decided to come down for your vacation.”
“I needed a little getaway from the old job,” I lied. The fib, and not a little white one, made me feel like shit. I did not want to keep things from Ruth. But telling the truth, in this case, would be so much worse. The Tri-State Council had sent me to Peculiar to investigate a rumor about Sunshine “Sunny” Trimmel. They’d received an anonymous letter from a whistleblower that stated, “The mayor’s wife isn’t what you think she is. Sunny Trimmel is an imposter.” Personally, I didn’t care whether Sunny was a marshmallow creature from the moon, she’d become a friend, and I didn’t particularly like spying on people I cared about.
Better me than someone else though. At least I would operate under the impression that Sunny was innocent until proven guilty, unlike some of my jackass counterparts. The Tri-State Council had officially praised Peculiar and its police force for solving a several-years-old murder spree. Never the less, the killers had been the president of the Tri-State Council’s sons, and while it wasn’t Chavvah or Sunny’s fault, there had been some misdirected hard feelings toward the pair of friends.
Ruth insisted on taking the larger suitcase, and after the long drive down, I didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, I don’t think I’d have won if I’d tried.
I loved Ruth’s home. Especially the kitchen. It held a genuine warmth, a feeling of family. I followed her through the living room to a narrow stairwell, and we traveled up to the second floor.
“Dakota’s room is just up on the left here. The door at the end of the hall is the bathroom. What time do you normally get up in the morning?”
“Usually around seven. Why?”
“I’ll make sure the kids stay out of there from seven to seven-fifteen.” She smiled. “With nine people in the house, even with three bathrooms, one on the second floor, two downstairs, we have to use a system or chaos reigns.”
I laughed. “I can see that.”
“Here we are,” Ruth said brightly. She opened the door.
Her oldest daughter’s room was painted a soft rose with a darker pink border decorated in pastel blue swooshes around the ceiling. Her queen-sized bed was covered in a buttercream quilted comforter with royal blue and buttercream throw pillows stacked by the headboard. There was typical fare like pictures of her and her friends attached to a memory board, band posters, and various mementos. The furniture consisted of a rustic whitewashed dresser, a matching bedside stand, a vanity with a lighted mirror, and a chair with the seat covered in the same royal blue as the pillows. On the stand, was a lamp with a pink lampshade and a dog-eared copy of Michele Bardsley’s I’m The Vampire, That’s Why. I was a fan of the Broken Heart Vampires, so I approved.
“You in the mood for a little outing?” Ruth said as we hauled my bags into the room.
“What you got in mind?”
“Michele is doing community theater.” Ruth’s pert nose wrinkled in a way that told me she was hiding something. “I’d like to watch the rehearsal.”
“Uhm, sure.” I gave her some direct eye contact. “Is there something else?”
“Well…” A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I thought it’d be fun.”
“And?”
“And, you know… Oh! Sunny’s directing. You’d like to see Sunny, right? You haven’t been back since Halloween.”
I did want to see Sunny, even with the guilt poking at my gut. “What else?” She was keeping something back.
Ruth scratched her head behind her ear and wiggled her mouth. Finally, after a super heavy sigh, she confessed, “Brady is set building today. I thought you might want to
say hello. I mean, you all seemed to get along so well at the Halloween party.”
Ugh. The Halloween fiasco. The Johnson’s barn went up in flames, and it almost ended in disaster for Brady’s son Jo Jo. But that wasn’t the fiasco I meant. I’d thought Brady was handsome the first time I saw him last June. A little broken, but that had made him even more irresistible to me. I had a history of picking unavailable or emotionally damaged men. Brady, it turned out, had been a little of both. We’d had a real moment that evening. A connection. Until I kissed him, and he ran off like his tail was on fire.
“I don’t think anything will be happening between Brady Corman and myself.”
“Well, then don’t come for Brady. Come for Sunny. Come for me. I’d love the company.”
“As long as you don’t play matchmaker.”
Ruth grinned. “Deal.”
*****
The community center was down on Riverfront Street. It was only five small town blocks from Ruth’s house, so we walked. Damn, I loved this town. The sky seemed bluer in Peculiar. The grass greener, the trees lusher, and the air sweeter. I envied the folks who lived here year-round. I lived on the Kansas side of Kansas City in a busy, hectic, noisy neighborhood. It was a short drive to the Tri-State Council offices in Overland Park, which made it convenient for work, but I’d never thought about how much I hated apartment living until I’d spent time in this little town. Now, Peculiar was all I could think about.
“Laertes, you’re up,” I heard Sunny say with some authority. “Take it from act one, scene two. Claudius says, What would’st thou have, Laertes?”
Eight men and three women crowded the small stage. One of the women, I recognized as Ruth’s daughter Michele, one was a plain jane with dark curly hair, and the third, who sat on a crafted throne, had black hair pulled back in a severe bun.
Eldin Farraday, a deputy with the Peculiar Sheriff’s Department, stumbled out on stage. His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. Sorry,” he said.
The black haired woman’s face pinched with irritation. “This is ridiculous.” She stood up and straightened her skirt. “How are we supposed to put on a proper play when half the cast doesn’t take it seriously?”