by Renee George
“You up for a traffic stop?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I just passed Roger Parks, and he still has illegal tinting on his windows.”
“Which way is he heading?” Eldin sounded eager.
“He was on Holden heading north about half a minute ago.” I turned my truck around. “I’ll head north, you come in from the top. We’ll stay on the phone until one of us sees him.”
“Sounds like a plan.” A few seconds later, Eldin said. “Got him. He turned off on Fifth Street heading east.”
“Take him. I’ll back you when I get there.”
I heard the wail of sirens both over the phone and in the distance. I was close. I kept the phone on, not because I was worried for the deputy, but you just never knew how people might react when they felt cornered.
When I approached the scene, Roger had his window down, while Eldin wrote in his ticket pad. I got out of my truck and came up on the passenger side. I knocked on the window.
Farraday instructed him to roll his window down immediately. Josh complied, but he still wouldn’t look at me.
“What are you up to today?”
“Nothing,” he grunted and then shrugged.
“We’re just cruising around. That’s not against the law,” Roger said.
“It is when you’re doing it in a vehicle with aftermarket tint on the front windows and windshield,” Farraday said. “I told you yesterday to take it off. You were warned.”
“Where’s your backpack, Josh?” I asked.
The kid face turned ashen. “I...what backpack?”
“The one you had when you got in Roger’s car back on Holden Street.” I poked my head into the window, getting in the kid’s space and checked the backseat. No backpack. Where would they have ditched it? It wasn’t like they’d been out of sight for very long. “If I search down the street am I going to find a black and brown backpack, Josh?”
“How do I know what you’re going to find?”
“You talk to your momma that way?”
Josh flinched and then squirmed under my cop stare. “I don’t have a backpack,” he maintained.
I wasn’t getting anywhere with the little twerp. It was the problem with teenagers. They thought they were invincible, which made them stupid and reckless.
Farraday finished writing Roger’s ticket. He ripped it off the pad and handed it to the sulky kid. The deputy looked at me across the roof of the car. “Are we done here?”
“For now.” I gave both Roger and Josh my best I’m-watching-you glare.
As Roger pulled away, Eldin turned to me. “You’re going to search the Twelfth Street and Holden, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “Yep. You busy?”
“Yep.” He smiled back. “Busy finding a backpack.”
It was ninety degrees in the shade outside. After forty minutes of searching yards and ditches, we were sweaty and no closer to finding a backpack than we’d been when we started.
“What a pisser,” I said, wiping the perspiration off my face with the bottom of my shirt.
“You’re a strange woman, Willy,” Eldin said. “I dig it.”
“I’m pretty sure you prefer Bambi over bobcats, but if you’re game...” I wiggled my brows and laughed when his face turned red. “Don’t worry, Foxy. I’m not hot after your tail. I’ve got a different predator in mind.”
Eldin smirked. “Like I said, strange woman. I’m heading back to the station, you?”
“I’m calling it a day and going to shower. I no longer smell of sunshine and roses.” I wrinkled my nose. “Call me if you get anything new on the case?”
“Sure thing.”
My phone rang. I grabbed it from my purse. It was Brady. I promised myself I’d be cool and poised if he called. I swiped it to answer and put the phone to my ear.
“What’s shakin’ bacon?” Gah! Brady must think I had brain damage. “I mean, what's up?” Not much better.
“Hey, Willy.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Nope. I was just fixing to go back to Ruth’s.”
“Can I pick you up in an hour? I want to take you for a picnic.”
In this heat? I’d have to ask the Thompson ladies if any of them had industrial-strength antiperspirant. “I’d love that, but can you give me two hours? I’m going to have to scrub the day off me before I’m fit for anyone.”
“You need some help with the loofah, you let me know.”
“Why Brady Corman, you are making me blush.” Not really, but I knew he’d be blushing now. I could hear it in his laugh.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. I jerked my gaze to the left in time to see Josh Miller running across a nearby backyard with that damn black and brown backpack. Damn it. Chasing that kid would put a serious dent in my two-hour timeline.
“I have to go. Looking forward to tonight. Bye!” I hung up, shoved my phone in my purse, and took off after the lying juvenile delinquent.
Josh made me chase him for two blocks, me yelling for him to stop the whole time, before he threw his backpack over a privacy fence and ran the other way. I had to decide, did I keep after Josh and beat his ass for making me even stinkier before my date tonight? Or did I go for the backpack? I could potentially do both, but if I went after the kid, someone else might grab the pack.
Screw it. I’d contact Sabrina tomorrow, and she could bring him down to the station for a talk. The backpack took priority.
I’m a cat shifter, which meant, I’m a good jumper...in bobcat form. However, even in hominid form, I was still light on my feet. I grabbed the top of the six-foot wooden privacy fence and hoisted myself up and over. I landed in a crouch on the other side. A big fucking dog lunged at me, his vicious barking and growling giving me a minor heart attack, as I leaped sideways and out of his reach. I seriously wished I had thought to bring my go-pack with the doggie treats. Thank heavens, the gorgeous brute was on a chain. On the other hand, it was freaking hot outside today. What asshole left their dog outside on a chain all day in this hellish weather?
“Dagger,” a guy yelled as the glass door on the back of the house slid open. “Shut up!”
Roger Freakin’ Park. His douchebaggery knew no bounds. What kind of therian allowed his dog to suffer in the heat? A therian knew what it was like to exist in animal form. The little shit saw me a moment later. “Hey! What are you doing in my yard?”
I picked up the bag. “Get your dog inside, asshole. It’s hot as balls out here.” And on that note, I grabbed the top of the fence again and launched myself over to the other side. I could still hear Roger yelling multiple expletives as I jogged back to the truck.
Hah! At least, now that I had the bag, I could find out what Josh and Roger tried to hide. When I got it back to my vehicle, I set the backpack on the seat and unzipped it. My confusion compounded as I stared at what appeared to be several coils of quarter-inch herringbone metal chain.
Chapter Sixteen
Why the hell had Josh tried to ditch a bag full of metal chain? Had he stolen it from somewhere? Was there even a market for this kind of thing? Maybe it was a new teen kink I hadn’t heard of yet.
These were the questions going through my mind while I scrubbed down in Ruth’s master bathroom shower. Along with, should I shave my legs? If I shave my legs am I being presumptuous about the date? Should I shave my bikini area? I should definitely shave the bikini area. It didn’t matter whether Brady went to the third base or not, there was no sense in a taking a chance he might get lost in the current jungle down there. The pits were a no-brainer. That stubble was the first to go.
I was going on a picnic. My turbocharged heartbeat started making my chest hurt. At one point while I was washing my hair, I got light-headed. Why was I getting all worked up? So, I liked Brady. Maybe more than liked Brady, but guess what? He liked me, too, or he wouldn’t have asked me out for a picnic. Right?
God, when did I turn into a thirteen-
year-old-girl?
After my shower, I dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a pale green camisole. I’d tied my hair with the towel to absorb the excess water. Getting my hair date ready was a whole long and involved process. There were times when thick hair really created a time-suck.
“Green really brings out your eyes,” Ruth said.
“Does yellow?”
Ruth raised her brow in question.
“You know, yellow belly. I’m scared as shit.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that I’d never dated a man I didn’t ditch because I don’t know how to have a relationship.” I took the towel off my head and grabbed the blow dryer from the vanity. “I’ve run from them all my life.” I waved the blow dryer like a mad woman. “The minute the guy gets serious, I get the hell out. What if that happens again? What if the minute Brady stops acting coy, I decide I don’t want him anymore?
Ruth giggled.
I aimed the blow dryer at her. “It’s not funny. This is serious, Ruth.”
“I can tell,” she said. “You’re really worked up.”
“Yes, I am!” I stared at her, my hands shaking, the dryer still pointed at her.
Ruth burst out laughing. She raised both her hands. “Don’t shoot.”
I lowered the dryer, “Stop it,” I whined.
“I’m sorry, sorry,” she wheezed, still laughing.
“I’m pathetic.”
Ruth held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Little bit.” She threw her arms around me. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here? It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun.”
She was a little taller than me, but I rose on my tiptoes, put my chin on her shoulder, and hugged her back. “I’m not sure this qualifies as fun. You may need to re-evaluate your idea of a good time.”
Ruth gave me a pat and leaned back. “I think you need to re-evaluate your relationship fears.” She picked up a thick wet curl from my shoulder. “You better get on this, or you’ll be going on your date with damp hair.”
“Wait,” I said before she could leave me. “Do you think I’m bad for Brady?”
“Oh, honey.” Ruth sighed the sigh I’d heard her use with her children when telling them something obvious. “You’re not afraid you’re going to break Brady’s heart.”
“I’m not?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re afraid he’s going to break yours.”
I took a second to process and nodded. “You’re one smart cookie, Ruth Thompson.”
She grinned. “You would have eventually got there.”
“Hey, Mom.” Michele popped her head in the door. “Hey, Willy.”
I guess she wasn’t mad at me anymore. Score one for me.
“There’s a man at the door. He wants to speak to Willy.”
“Is it Brady?”
“No. He says his name is Richard Stenson.” She shrugged.
“Oh, dear,” Ruth said.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
Michele came in the room, closed the door behind her, her expression fierce. “If he’s some stalker ex-boyfriend, tell me, and I will kick him to the curb.”
“None of that,” Ruth said. She ushered Michele to the door. “Go put President Stenson into the kitchen. Offer him some pie and coffee, and tell him Willy will be out shortly.”
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I asked.
“He didn’t say anything to you?”
“The last time we talked, Stenson told me to investigate Evelyn’s murder. That’s it. He didn’t say anything about driving down here himself.”
“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
“Well, double shit.” I wasn’t going to have time to do my hair. I twisted the wet mess into a high bun and frowned at Ruth. “You got some pins?”
*****
Richard Stenson sat at the kitchen table gobbling down a piece of blackberry pie. He looked up at me when I walked into the kitchen, a dark-purple berry piece hanging from his thick, white-blond mustache. He finished chewing and swallowing his mouthful and gestured with his spoon for me to sit down.
“This is some great pie,” he said.
I rubbed my upper lip to mirror where the berry filling clung to him. Stenson didn’t catch on.
“President Stenson, this is unexpected.”
“I’d like a progress report on the Evelyn Meyers case.” He took another scoop of pie with a bit of vanilla ice cream.
“I was planning to call you in the morning. I have a few leads, but nothing concrete.” I held up my hands. “I wish I had more to tell you.”
He shook his head, the filling glob precariously close to dropping on his shirt. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with the mayor, the sheriff, and Doctor Smith tomorrow. I’d like you to join me.”
“Yes, sir. Can I ask why?”
“Isn’t it enough that a prominent member of this community has been killed?”
“Sure, but therians get killed all the time. This is the first one that you’ve taken an interest in.”
He narrowed his light blue gaze on me. “This is the first one where I’ve had a personal interest in the case. Last month, Evelyn Meyers informed me about a scam that was taking place in Peculiar. I have since found out that it has far-reaching implications for other therianthrope communities. It is a poison. A cancer that needs to be excised.”
Which was pretty far away from the original reason he’d sent me to Peculiar. Not that I’d done any real investigation on Sunny. Still, Stenson’s sudden appearance in town and his switch of mission goals surprised me. “Why wasn’t I given this new information?”
“I needed to verify Ms. Meyer’s claims independently. I wanted you in Peculiar to keep an eye on things.”
The machinations of the therian political community made me crazy. Instead of just saying, go hang out in town and let me know if you see anything strange, he’d sent me off on a wild goose chase about Sunny. I didn’t think he knew that Sunny was a human, or this would be a whole different conversation.
“And how does Sunny Trimmel fit into to all this?”
His face grew pinched. “Evelyn didn’t give me details. Only that it involved several Peculiar locals, including someone connected and very well-respected.” He leaned forward, and the berry-dingle fell onto his plate. Absently, he licked the pie juice from the furry caterpillar above his lip. “Mrs. Trimmel is fairly new to the town. Have you noticed any suspicious behavior in her?”
“No. Between directing the community play, running her restaurant, and raising two kids, I don’t think she has time to implement evil plans.”
“What about Doctor Smith, the Sheriff, or the Mayor? “Nope. I haven’t noticed anything.” Out of those three, I only Sid’s behavior bordered on suspicious.
Stenson flicked his gaze upward at me. “You’ve always been a solid investigator. My predecessor and fellow Council members have had the utmost faith in your capabilities. Your stint with the FBI has made you an asset.”
“I know how to get a job done,” I said dryly.
“That’s what I like to hear.” He leaned back and patted his stomach. Stenson stood up. His narrow framed reminded me of a pale blond Ichabod Crane from the Sleepy Hollow story. He went to the sink and washed his hands. Used a paper towel to dry his hands and wipe his mouth. “I’ll expect you at the mayor’s office tomorrow at eight-fifty in the morning. The appointment’s at nine, but I’d like us to enter together.” He rubbed his brow then gave his head a slight shake. “And please dress business appropriate.”
When Stenson left, Michele bumped my shoulder. “That guy is wound tighter than my momma’s cookie jar lids.”
I snickered. “True story, my friend.” I looked at the teenage girl on the verge of adulthood and gave her the nod. “We good?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I overreacted.”
At that, I snorted. “More like over-acted.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She gri
nned sheepishly. “Boys’ll make you crazy.”
A knock at the door had me standing at attention. “Another true story,” I said.
Linus sprinted past us, wearing white flip-flops, green and purple polka-dotted shorts, and no shirt. “I got it,” he yelled as if someone was going to race him to the door.
“Who dresses that kid?”
“Good Will,” Michele said. When I gave her a look, she added, “Seriously, when mom takes us shopping in Lake Ozarks, Linus insists on going to the Good Will store.”
“He can wear whatever he pleases,” Ruth said. She wrapped her arms around her daughter from behind and kissed the girl’s cheek. “I make it a point not to judge my children’s appearances. Otherwise, Michele here wouldn’t have spent three months of her fourth-grade year wearing rainbow-colored rain boots to school every day.”
“I wish you would have,” Michele said. “Some people still call me Shelly Welly.”
“Better than Smelly Shelly,” I noted.
Michele squinted at me.
I held up a hand. “Just saying.”
“Mr. Corman’s here!” Linus yelled as he ran past us the opposite way, his flip-flops slapping against his heels with every step.
Brady strolled inside. His eyes met mine, and those amber orbs gazed at me with fevered intent.
“It just got hot in here,” Michele said.
Ruth took hold of her daughter’s arm. “Uhm, let’s leave Willy and Mr. Corman alone.”
I barely noticed them go. Brady looked as yummy as ever. He’d shaved his five o’clock shadow, and without it, he looked young. Fresh. Like a man who hadn’t almost destroyed his life. Like a man I wanted to kiss. Badly.
He wiped his palms on the front of his cobalt blue t-shirt. “Damn, woman, you make my palms sweat.”
“And hello to you,” I said, my voice shy. At least I hadn’t said, “What’s crack-a-lackin’?” or some other inane greeting. “You look nice.”
“You look...” The tip of his tongue briefly licked his lower lip.