by C. D. Gorri
But no one said I had to play fair...
Chapter One
There’s a dead body in my yard, and it looks like it was killed by an ocelot.
It.
I should be saying she.
Well, what’s left of her.
I call the cops because that’s what you do when there’s a dead body in your yard and I sure as hell didn’t kill her.
They send a new sheriff - Everett Fawkes - who has brown hair, brown eyes, and a jaw line that can cut diamonds. I’m glad he doesn’t immediately suspect me even though I wouldn’t blame him if he did. But the way his eyes linger on me, he knows more than what he’s letting on. It’s almost like he can see into what I really am - but that would be impossible.
“Did you know the victim?” His voice has a natural husk to it, setting my entire body on edge. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I just know I respond to it in a way I’ve never responded to a voice before.
“No.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. A breeze makes its way through the trees overhead and I glance around. Something isn’t right here, and it’s not just the murder.
“Have you ever seen her around town?” There’s a sincerity to his brown eyes too pure to describe. It’s hard for me to look at.
I shake my head. “Not that I recall.”
I wait for him to make a noise that says he doesn’t believe me. But it doesn’t come. I’m surprised. I shift my weight, cross my arms over my chest, and glance up at him as he writes notes in his notebook.
“You know how she wound up in your yard?” he asks, finally meeting my eyes.
This, I can answer.
“I saw marks by my fence,” I tell him, hitting my chin in the direction of the back end of my fence. “Seems like someone dragged her here, lifted her over the fence, and dropped her inside my yard.”
“Why?” He seems to ask himself this question, so I choose to say nothing.
I don’t know why, but something tells me it’s a warning. Something tells me that they know all about me - which is not something I can allow. There are rules about that sort of thing, especially when it comes to my pack. I could die if someone found out what I am. Even if I’m supposed to be ashamed about my baby gene, no one’s supposed to know about it.
“You think of anyone you might have pissed off that bad?” he asks. There’s a teasing going on his eyes and my heart skips seeing it.
“Sir,” I say. “I piss a lot of people off. But none I can think of this bad.”
He grins and nods, taking his leave.
I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and finally collapse on my couch when I’m alone.
Until someone knocks on my door.
Apparently, peace is fleeting.
When I get to the door and peek out the peephole, I frown. It’s not a person I want to see right now. Or ever.
It’s my mama.
Chapter Two
I’m not happy to see my mama. She’s kind of a bitch. Also, she’s not happy with me either. There’s no other reason for her to be here other than to tell me that I’ve done something wrong, something else I’ve done to bring shame to my pack.
Former pack.
Even though I can’t control my DNA, someone needs to be blamed and apparently, I’m the lucky girl.
I guess I’m just glad to be away from them. Toxic doesn’t even begin to describe my pack.
But I digress.
My mother’s fingers twitch by her side. I’m surprised she doesn’t have her usual cigarette hanging from her long fingers. I want to assume it’s because she knows I hate smoke but I don’t think she cares about me to change her behavior for me.
“Yes?” I ask. I don’t care that I’m rude to my mama. If you knew her, you’d understand. It’s the only way I can talk to her. It’s the only way she responds.
“They find a body on your property?” My mama is not one for small all. She keeps looking past me in the doorway, waiting for an invitation in. It’s an invitation I don’t intend on giving.
“I found it,” I correct. Any chance I get to correct her, I’m going to take advantage of.
“And?” She reaches in her jacket for a cigarette, pulls one out, but doesn’t light it, doesn’t even bring it to her lips.
I blink. “And?” I ask. “And what?”
She shifts her eyes to the side and then kicks up with her foot. How her WalMart flip flop hangs on, I’ve got no idea. It’s a special talent.
“You going to invite me in?” she asks, deciding to change tactics.
“Nope.” I don’t bother trying to be polite about it. It’s a waste of time.
She huffs out a breath. “You’re a pain in the ass,” she remarks. She finally lifts her sunglasses, pushes back her bottle-blonde hair as she rests the sunglasses on top of her head. I’m still shocked by the color of her eyes. They’re like this white-blue that’s unnatural for humans.
It’s an indicator my mama ain’t like everyone else.
“What do you want?” I shift my hips again. I don’t have time to waste, trying to guess why she’s here. I’ve got things I need to be doing - like figuring out who the hell left a body in my yard.
“You talk to people ‘bout what you are?” she asks, locking eyes with me. “Is this why some girl winds up dead and scattered in your yard?”
“How the hell should I know, Mama?” I ask. I press my lips together. “Is that the only reason you came here? To see if the pack secret is still a secret?”
“Why else would I come?”
Why else, indeed?
“I don’t know anything, Mama,” I say, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
She points her fingers at me, cigarette stuck tightly between them. “Well, you better figure it out,” she says. “‘Cause if they know about you, you’re as good as dead.”
Chapter Three
I want to slam the door in my mama’s face.
I don’t.
I wait until she’s in her car, and then I slam the door.
I’m not sure why she even showed up to warn me about anything. It’s not like she cares. Not really.
My hands shake as I shove them in my pockets. I need something to do, something that will keep me busy. I decide to start a cheesecake, but my ocelot refuses to comply. She wants to run.
I’ve always been wary of running, especially around here. I just don’t trust that someone won’t see me. My mama isn’t wrong. Not when it comes to someone trying to kill me because they found out about what I was.
At the same time, my shifter needs regular running or it’s hell. Exercise, freedom, everything that goes into that. And it’s my job to let her be. Suppressing my shifter is a sure fire way to let my shifter overtake me, and I can do that.
I glance through my window at the sky. It’s going to be dark soon. It’s the perfect time to run, if only for a bit.
I press my lips together and decide to do it. I strip off my clothes - I can’t afford to rip clothes with my shifting - until I’m stark naked in my home. Then, I shift.
I probably should have shifted outside, now that I think about it. My ocelot is young and clumsy, even if she means well. I need her out of my house so she doesn’t mess it up in any way. If I can’t afford clothes, I sure as shit can’t afford to replace furniture or repair my home.
Carefully, I ease out the back door. My house is just against the forest. If I can leap over the fence, I can reach the forest with no one even knowing.
I let out a little grunt as I try. My back legs hit the top of my fence but I manage to make it over without issue. Thank goodness.
Once I hit the forest floor, I run. I run hard and fast. There’s a breeze that pushes against my face, combs through my hair. I close my eyes and take it in. There’s something about running as an ocelot - even a baby one - that’s incomparable.
The stress from earlier fades. My mama fades. Even Everett and his knowing eyes fade away. It’s just me
and my shifter, running through the forest without a care in the world. It’s moment like these when I realize I need to put more effort into caring for my ocelot. Just because my pack rejected her doesn’t mean I should. She is, after all, an extension of me.
She is me.
By the time I get back to my home, I’m ready to eat a frozen dinner and take a long bath. I want to get rid of the day.
Just as I slip on my clothes, however, there’s a distinct knock at the door. It’s no one I immediately recognize.
I head downstairs and look through the peephole.
It’s Everett.
I step back, my heart lurching in my throat. What is he doing here? Could he have seen me shift?
Chapter Four
To be honest, I have no idea why I invited Everett in. Just because I’m making cheesecake doesn’t mean I need to share it. However, he’s been nice to me, even though he doesn’t have to. More than that, he’s willing to look at me like I’m innocent rather than attempt to look for evidence to prove my guilt.
I appreciate that.
I know he can make my life a living hell, but he doesn’t, and I want to thank him for it in some way.
The cheesecake will do it.
While we wait for it to cook, I invite him to sit at my dining table.
“It won’t be ready until tomorrow,” I point out, teasing my hair with my fingers. My heart pounds against my chest, but I ignore it. Hopefully, he can’t hear it. I know humans can’t hear that sort of thing but I’m still unsure about what Everett really is. There’s something there, something he’s keeping from me.
“I’m willing to wait,” he says. When he smiles at me, a dimple pops up in his cheek, and I blush at it, like I’m some doe-eyed middle school girl with a crush.
“How’s the investigation?” I asked casually. I’m trying not to get too invested in this. I feel like the more I stay out of it, the less of a suspect I am. However, I can’t help my curiosity. I blame my shifter for that, being a cat and all.
“We notified next of kin,” Everett says. He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “They were particularly curious how their daughter died. It was difficult to explain.”
I swallow. “I can’t imagine,” I murmur.
“That didn’t look like an animal I know who lives out in the forest,” he continues. I don’t ask him to, but I’m also not going to stop him either. Any information I can get out of him is only going to help me with the investigation in the long run. “I’m waiting on results from the lab to confirm, but I have a sneaking suspicion it’s going to come back that something else committed the act.”
There’s something about the way he’s looking at me, something about the tone of his voice.
There’s no way he knows what I am, is there?
It almost sounds like he’s waiting for me to say something, to admit something intentionally or otherwise. And yet, his face is gentle, as though he doesn’t think it’s me.
At this point I don’t know what to believe.
“What else could have done something like that?” I dare to ask, and then hold my breath.
My kitchen light flickers on and off, but neither of us respond to it.
“That’s what I intend to find out,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “There are secrets in this small town. I know that. And I’m going to unravel them one by one.”
Chapter Five
I pack him up a piece of cheesecake and try not to think about it. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself, not when he already seems suspicious. Instead, I wait for him to go before I take the information he’s given me and plug it into my computer. There’s something to be said for getting gorgeous detectives to talk over homemade cheesecake.
Apparently, the victim’s name is Violet Rutherford and she’s from two towns over. She’s what they might call a good girl, from a good family. She graduated high school a few years ago and is – was – working at some diner, trying to save up and pay for the local community college. It’s a sad story if you think about it. Why’d she deserve to die?
I decide to start investigating who she is, and the next logical step is to check out her social media. I head to my kitchen where my old, ten-year laptop hangs out. After a long boot-up, I type in the different social media accounts and search for her.
I find her almost instantly.
She’s pretty in this earthy sort of way, and her smile is full of life. My heart pangs with sympathy as I start to click through her pictures. Why would someone kill her?
She’s young, maybe a college kid, and there are a bunch of pictures of her with plastic red cups in her hand, dancing. Not my scene, but she seems to enjoy it.
I scroll down her main page, reading her thoughts and chuckling at her memes. Clearly, she had a sense of humor and there didn’t seem to be passive aggressive comments about friends or ex-boyfriends. It’s like she could have been someone I would have hung out with.
I click into her tagged pictures and explore those. Some of these are more formal – I think one is of her at prom.
Until I get to one that makes my heart stop beating completely.
Next to her is someone I am painfully familiar with. The sharp blue eyes inherited from Mama, that twisted grin he got from daddy.
My brother is next to her.
Why the hell Patrick is with her, I have no idea. Mama would never allow a leopard to date a human. It is unheard of. And the way he’s looking at Violet… that fool is more in love than he probably realizes.
I need to talk to him. Immediately. I shoot up and grab my coat. The second I open the door, I nearly run into Everett, who has his fingers curled into a fist, poised to knock.
“Hey,” he says with a smile. “Wanted to share something with you.” He glances at me. “You leaving?”
“What’s up?” I ask, dodging the question.
Luckily, he doesn’t push. “Well,” he says. “Strangest thing. There was hair found on the body. But not just any kind of hair. Leopard hair.”
Chapter Six
My heart skips a beat at the news, and the way he looks at me, it’s like he knows there’s a chance I may know why there’s leopard hair at the scene. The question is – is that my hair since she was found on my property, or is it someone else’s – like the killer’s? Could it be Violet Rutherford’s?
“You wouldn’t happen to know why hair might be on your property would you?” Everett asks, shifting his weight.
As per usual, there’s no accusations in his dark eyes, which almost makes this all worse. If he accuses me of something, I had a reason to lash out. As it is, he’s being polite. There’s nothing much I can say except no.
“You mind if I check the property for more hair?” he asks, perking his brow politely.
I want to tell him no, but what good what that do? Instead, I say nothing, but I step back from the doorway and let him in.
“You know,” he says as he walks through. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that cheesecake. You’re really very good. Most people I know who bake cheesecakes can never get it right, but you?” He kisses his fingers as we head to my backyard. “Perfecto.”
I refuse to acknowledge the warmth that spreads through my chest. Honestly, I shouldn’t care. So what if he likes my cheesecake? How does that help me?
I’m just glad he can’t read minds because all I can think about is my brother holding onto Violet like there was something between him, romantic-like. It’s hard for me to picture my baby brother with anyone at all because I’ve always seen him as an obnoxious cretin, but clearly he has something going for him if he and Violet used to date.
I wonder if she knew what he is.
I wonder if my mama knew about them together.
Suddenly, I get an eerie feeling deep inside my gut that I try not to think about.
Humans aren’t supposed to know about leopards. That’s always been the most important thing. Secrecy is how we’ve managed to survive. The pack
always comes first. If Violet knew about my brother and my mama knew that she knew…
I can’t finish my thought. I just know that she got rid of me all because I don’t have the proper genes.
I’m lost in my thoughts as he searches my backyard. He comes back a few minutes later, frowning.
“I don’t see anymore,” he says. “That’s so strange. You wouldn’t happen to know why leopard hair would be on her, would you?”
“I didn’t know her,” I remind him.
He gives me that long knowing look before nodding his head once. I walk him to the door and follow him out. After a quick thanks, I head to my car. I don’t care what Mama thinks when she sees me pulling up. I need to see Patrick immediately.
Chapter Seven
Patrick lives in a nice trailer on an acre of land in a more rural part of Winter Town two counties over, which means I’m driving for about an hour. As I drive, I realize I haven’t seen my brother in almost a year. Part of me is upset with myself because I should make more of an effort. Part of me is upset with him because he hasn’t made the effort.
When I get to his place, I’m relieved to see his pickup sitting on the street. He should be home. And since there are no other cars around, he should be alone.
I doubt he’d want to see me, because regardless, my scent will linger, and if anyone in his pack comes over, they’ll know I was there, which might get him in trouble.
I don’t really care.
I just want answers.
I have a piece of cheesecake – my way to bribe him to let me in – and I grab it from the passenger seat, careful not to tip the plate any which way and have it fall off. I’m pretty sure he’d still eat it though, which describes Patrick in a nutshell.