by E. A. Copen
Then I realized what he’d almost said on the phone to Valentino before he caught himself. He’d been ready to list me along with other possessions. “My business,” he’d said. “My town. My woman.” I filled in the last word, which should have been obvious by the way he cut himself off and looked to see if I were listening. He thought he owned me just like that stupid bike of his, and that’s why I didn’t deserve to know. Property doesn’t question its usefulness.
Even as I finally prepared a response, it was too late. Sal stood and let out a long string of curses before grabbing his keys, cigarettes, and lighter off the counter and storming out the front door. A minute later, I heard his bike start up, and he roared away.
I stayed seated on the arm of the sofa, stewing in my own rage, running over and over in my head how stupid I was for letting myself fall for him. It was my own fault. I’d known Sal wasn’t a straight arrow. I knew the minute I saw him at Aisling with his club colors on and some bimbo in his lap. I knew, and yet I’d let him smooth talk me into forgetting, into putting off talking about it. The night before, I’d let him haul me halfway across the county to a dirty roadhouse, where he tried to convince me they were good people. At least, that’s how he’d wanted it to seem. Maybe the only reason he’d taken me out there was to assert his ownership of me in front of his friends.
The phone in my pocket buzzed and I took it out, staring at the screen. It was a private number. “Black,” I said into the phone, trying to force the quiver out of my voice.
“Judah,” Marcus said. “I’m glad to hear you made it home last night.”
“Some assholes trashed my place. Ruined everything I owned. You wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would you?”
“No.” His voice was firm. He sounded irritated, so I believed him. “Where are you now? Are you safe?”
“I’m safe,” I answered and then thought of something else. “But you and I need to talk, Marcus, and not just about this case you handed me.”
“You’ll have to speak with my personal assistant about that. I’m afraid I barely even know my own schedule right now. I’m very busy. This is my only free moment until this evening. I only wanted to call and check in. I’m sure she can find you a suitable time.” There was a moment’s hesitation. “Should I send a car for you, Judah?”
I looked out over the sleepy reservation. The sun was just starting to come up, and Tindall’s place wasn’t far. I could reach it on foot and still be early. The walk would really help me clear my head. “No, I’ve got a car. Just make yourself available.”
Marcus sighed. “I really am busy. If you’re willing to wait, I have dinner reservations. Yes, let me treat you to dinner tonight. It’s the least I can do for all the help.”
I pressed my lips together in thought. What I knew of Marcus Kelley couldn’t fill a teacup. Any chance I could find to grill him for more information was one I should take, but I also knew dinner could be a tricky subject for vampires, especially vampires of Marcus’ disposition. I knew already that he and his daughter, Kim, fed in the same manner. Nothing says creepy and unsettling like Succubine and Incubine vampires. Nothing would get under Sal’s skin more than me accepting his invitation. It was mean, low, and petty, but I was a woman scorned, dammit. And Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off woman who’d just been played by a biker werewolf.
“Sure,” I answered after a moment’s thought. “As long as you actually talk to me about the case and answer my questions. This can’t be a social event, Marcus.”
“I’ll send a car to pick you up. Be ready at five. Oh, and you’ll need something nice to wear. Stop by Miss Patsy Adams’ place. She and her coven will see to your every need. I’ll instruct the driver to pick you up there.” There was a slight pause. “You know, I’m surprised you haven’t called on your neighbor for assistance. I was under the impression that the two of you were quite close.”
I hung up and almost threw the phone. “Jackass,” I muttered and stood. Patsy’s place was over on Vampire Avenue, not far from where Tindall lived. If I hurried, I could stop there on the way and save myself some time.
Chapter Seven
Patsy Adams lived in a circle of single-wide trailers at the end of a cul-de-sac, all pulled up as if they were a wagon train circled for the night. I couldn’t remember exactly which one belonged to Patsy, so I just walked into the middle. While I was deciding, the door to the trailer in the center opened. Patsy poked her head out, wearing purple curlers in her hair and oversized sunglasses. She was wearing a pink kimono knock-off with floral print.
“Agent Black,” she called and waved me over. I walked up to her porch and stopped at the bottom stair. “Come in! Come in!” She made an exaggerated gesture. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Her place wasn’t as nice as Sal’s and not quite as big. It looked like a two-bedroom model. The ceilings were low, and the spaces more cramped. The furniture was bright and cheery in color, which made up for the blackout drapes on the windows. Patsy put a hand behind my back as if we were old friends and pulled me to the sofa. “You sit down right there. Oh, you poor dear! You look just awful! Tell Patsy what she can get for you.”
“Marcus was supposed to have called ahead.” I frowned.
“He did. You needed some clothes. Formal wear?”
I cringed. He’d said something nice, not formal wear. “I guess. He’d know more about it than me. He said he had dinner reservations. I’m helping him with a problem.”
“Oh, say no more!” she exclaimed, jumping up. “Let Patsy help you, dearie. I think I have just the thing.”
She waddled down the short hallway, her pink slippers making a clickity-clack sound on the linoleum floor. “I don’t have a lot in your size,” she called to me from down the hall. “You’re such a petite little thing, and you’ve always looked so comfortable in…casual wear. But then I remembered the time we had that young initiate. She was about your size. I know I kept one of her prom dresses, so it’s got to be somewhere in here. Ah! There it is!”
Patsy came bustling back down the hall, a hanger in her hand. The dress she held out to me was crimson with a beaded halter top and a plunging neckline, something I would never have chosen to wear on my own.
“I’m not sure—” I started, but Patsy cut me off.
“And I know this is one of Marcus’ favorite colors. It’ll look lovely on you. What time did he say he was picking you up?”
“Er, five.”
“Perfect,” Patsy exclaimed. “Plenty of time for me to get together some jewelry, makeup, and something to do with your hair, you poor dear. I think we can fix it, though.”
I frowned and touched my un-brushed hair. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all, but you may want to do a little hairspray, dear. You look like you’ve just gotten out of bed.”
“Uh… I think I’ll survive with just a hairbrush and access to a bathroom sink for now.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she made a dramatic show of dropping the dress in the chair next to her. “Oh. Well, you’ll find that on the other side of the kitchen. There’s a spare toothbrush and toiletries if you’d prefer a shower.”
“Thanks,” I said, rising.
The bathroom was as tiny and cramped as the rest of the house, but Patsy hadn’t lied. Everything I’d ask for was in there and more. I popped a new toothbrush out of plastic, smeared some toothpaste on it, and got to work getting the taste of coffee and argument out of my mouth. Patsy stood in the doorway, watching me, her head cocked to one side.
“I heard about your house, sweetheart. Shameful, really. Probably those same hooligans who broke the window out of Marigold’s trailer last week. Threw a flaming brick in there. She got second-degree sunburns, you know. We barely got the fire out.”
I spat out the toothpaste and wiped my face clean with my hands. “Nobody reported that.”
“Of course not.” Patsy shrugged. “Why would they? It would just get buried, and nobody c
ould prove it was a hate crime.”
I turned, resting my hip on the sink. “Stuff like that needs to be reported, Patsy. Investigating that kind of thing is my job.”
She puffed out her cheeks. “Well, it’s not like it’s the first time something like this has happened.”
“Any idea who’s behind it?”
Patsy just shrugged. I pulled my hair down, picked a brush up off the shelf, and ran it through the worst of the tangles.
“You know, I was really surprised that Marcus called me.” Patsy lifted her chin. “I figured if you needed something, that werewolf that lives next door to you would be the first one you’d call.”
I stopped brushing my hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Honey, everybody can see you two making eyes at each other all the time. I, for one, just think it’s adorable. I’m just a little concerned, is all. You know about their…tendencies.” She spat the last word like a curse.
I turned to face Patsy, my jaw set. “And what tendencies would those be, Ms. Adams?”
“You know how they are. Passing their women around. The women of the pack belong to everyone. They share them.”
“Ms. Adams, I don’t know what to say to that. You don’t really think…” My voice trailed off. Arguing with her wouldn’t do any good. Everyone in Paint Rock knew Patsy was the town gossip. She’d take anything I said and twist it. It bothered me a little that rumors of that sort were circulating about me and potentially my son, too.
So I swallowed my objections and put the hairbrush in my back pocket before stepping past her. No sense in leaving hair lying around. That kind of thing could easily be used in a spell, and that was just what I didn’t need. “Thanks for your hospitality, but I’ve got to go and collect my car from Tindall’s place.”
“Wait,” she called after me as I put my hand on the doorknob. I turned back to find her face sympathetic. “He’s not…hitting you, is he?”
“Goodbye, Patsy.”
I opened the door and stormed out, almost as angry as I’d been when I left Sal’s. Sal and I were barely an item, and I was already fighting rumors in town. Maybe we were better off friends. What was I thinking?
By the time I made it to Tindall’s place, I was fuming even more. He answered the door, his tie still undone, and a cup of coffee in his hand. “Er, Judah?” he said, blinking. “What are you doing here? I thought I was bringing Hunter to you?”
“I needed a walk to clear my head.”
He looked me up and down, taking in yesterday’s wrinkled clothes. “Everything okay?”
I ignored the question. “Where’s Hunter?”
As soon as I spoke, Tindall stepped aside. Hunter sat at the kitchen table in pajamas with a stack of pancakes in front of him. He gave me a grin and a wave before shoving another huge forkful into his mouth.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Mrs. Tindall stepped into view while cleaning her hands on a white dishtowel. “Mrs. Heartly next door has twins about Hunter’s age. They’re a little taller, but she didn’t mind sharing some of their clothes. I’m washing the rest for you to take home with you.”
I turned away, the weight of guilt pressing down on my shoulders. I felt like a deadbeat parent, abandoning my son once again to the care of someone else.
“See if you can get him some decent clothes to put on Barb,” Tindall said to his wife and ushered me outside. “I need a cigarette.” He closed the door behind him, and we sat on the front stoop. “What’s eating you, Black? You’re wearing trouble like a bad cologne.”
I told him about the house. I didn’t mean to. Don’t get me wrong, Tindall is a good guy, but he’s also a good cop. As soon as he heard my place had been wrecked, he chomped down on his cigarette and scowled. I finished my story about the same time he finished his cigarette.
“Jesus, Black. That’s extreme. You should’ve called me.”
“That’s exactly what someone would have expected me to do.” I shook my head. “So far, it’s an isolated incident. Maybe even just a prank.”
“Destruction of property and threatening a federal officer is pretty far from a prank. Never mind the animal abuse and whatnot.”
“They didn’t threaten me, Tindall.”
“I’d take it as a threat.” He lit another cigarette. “So, do you have crash space?”
If I said no, Tindall would have offered me and Hunter the spare bedroom. I didn’t want to bother him. I didn’t know yet what to do about Sal. I wanted to break things off with him, but I also didn’t want to face showing Hunter what had happened to our home. If I let him stew, maybe I could last a few more days before we sat down. Yeah, then I could let him down easy. That’d be the way to do it.
“I have a place.”
Tindall nodded. “Well, if you need a hand with your place, I can get some of the knuckleheads down at the department to do some pro bono work. They paint and put up barns in their spare time. Not pros, but decent.”
“Thanks, Tindall, but I’d rather sort it out myself without getting the station involved. For now, I just want the keys to my car, so I can take my boy to school.”
Tindall studied me, the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He knew something wasn’t right and probably even had a guess about what it was. You can’t work beside somebody like Tindall for a long time and not get them involved on some level in your personal life. Tindall wasn’t the kind of guy to pry, and I wasn’t the type of woman to offer.
“Come by for dinner with us sometime, you and that boyfriend of yours,” Tindall offered.
I frowned. “Are you sure you’d want to have dinner with an officer of the Tomahawk Kings?”
“You got a point.” He sighed. “Is everything all right there, Black? I mean, how does that mesh with, you know, your work? I don’t know a lot about what the Kings do. They’re good about keeping off my radar. Still, I’m smart enough to know they’re probably not on the level. I know they probably own half of Eden PD. Hell, I guess with the way Marcus put it, they sort of own me now, too.” He wrinkled his nose at the way that hung in the air before lighting another cigarette. “Shit, they’re going to be trouble, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know. At least, I hope not.” I rubbed my forehead. “Tindall, doesn’t it bother you? I mean the way Marcus and the Kings throw their weight around the county?”
He plucked the cigarette from between his lips and gestured to the street with it. “Of course it fucking bothers me. I’m a good cop. But even a good cop knows he’s got to choose his battles. There are things out there way worse than a couple of bikers. So long as they aren’t dropping bodies on my doorstep or dealing drugs in my town, I’m not going to bother them, in the hopes they’ll continue to behave themselves.”
I squinted up at the sun rising in the sky. “In a few months, you’ll be sheriff. Your jurisdiction will extend beyond Paint Rock, Tindall. What if we don’t know what they’re up to just because they’re doing it outside the rez? What if they are dealing and killing, and we just don’t know because we’ve got our heads in the sand here?”
Tindall patted me on the back. “I gave Marcus my word I’d call him first, not that I wouldn’t be sitting in their driveway ready to bust down their doors while I was on the phone with him.”
I swallowed. “I know But Sal—what if he’s…?”
“Then you’ve got a choice to make, Black.” He poked a finger at my chest. “Do you follow the badge, or do you follow your heart? Everybody’s got to make that choice sooner or later. Of course, not all of us have to do it the way you’ve got to. Every goddamn one of us has that case, that moment when we realize this is the one that breaks us. This is the one that goes to hell, no matter which one we choose to listen to.” He put the cigarette back in his mouth and stared off into the distance.
I thought about what he’d said and tried to imagine Tindall making a similar decision. It must have been when his daughter disappeared during the Revelation Riots in Los Angeles. I imagined the anguished l
ook on his face, his wife’s tears, as he pulled on his bulletproof vest and grabbed his guns, choosing the job over his family. I knew he’d made that decision. Because of it, they’d never found his daughter. Tindall and his wife lived without closure and it had nearly destroyed them both.
“If you could do it over again, Tindall, what would you pick?”
“I think,” he said, still staring far off, “no matter how it played out, I would have done the same damn thing. God, I hate saying it, but there’s a part of me that prefers not knowing for sure, Black. I know she’s dead. Not knowing for sure, I can lie to myself. I probably believe that lie a little more every day. That lie is why I still get up and put on the badge. If I knew for sure, what reason would I have? If a man can’t protect his own family, his wife and kid, what business does he have protecting everyone else?”
He crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray and stood. “You and Hunter should drop by more often. Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders if he can keep himself out of trouble. It takes a village, you know.”
I forced a smile, glad for the change in subject. “Yeah, I know. Too bad your village just became the whole damn county.”
“Somehow, I think I’ll make it through. I got a good team backing me up.” He picked up the ashtray and went back inside to get my keys.
My phone buzzed, and my smile faded. It was Sal. I rejected the call.
Chapter Eight
I drove Hunter to school without telling him anything. The kid just wanted to talk about having pancakes for breakfast and the old drum set Tindall had. Mostly, I was just glad he was talking. He hadn’t said much to me at all in the last few months, growing more and more distant. Even if he wasn’t talking about anything of any depth or importance, I would have sat in the car, sipping coffee from the Stop N Go, and listened to him talk all day. There were times that I missed the way it used to be, just Hunter and me against the world.