by Renee George
"The speeding ticket," I said.
"Yes," Cal acknowledged. "It was a routine traffic stop in the middle of a night shift on a long, lonely stretch of highway north of Tulsa. Until O'Brien opened fire on me at close range. He hit me in the chest first, then in the gut, taking me down to my knees before I could react or protect myself. He pushed his car door open and knocked me down. I have no doubt he planned to kill me, so I did what I had to do to defend myself. My human body was too frail and weak. I shifted to my partial form, and O'Brien put three more bullets from his forty-caliber pistol into me, hitting me in the hip and my back. And I..." His lips thinned as I saw the memory play out in his mind before he said, "I killed him."
"Oh, Cal." My hand had gone to my mouth as if it would somehow cover the horror of what had happened to him.
"How did you survive?" Sheriff Taylor asked.
"I was able to call my leader William Smith before I passed out from blood loss. He sent some medics and a team of cleaners, a group of lycanthropes who specialize in covering these kinds of incidents." He looked at me. "I was nearly dead when they found me, but luckily, lycanthropes heal pretty fast. About five times as fast as humans, so once they got the blood stopped, they were able to safely transport me back to White Rock."
I thought about the magic spit. Therian's healed a little faster than humans, but not by much. The fact that lycans were able to heal at a supernatural speed drove home how different we truly were as species.
Cal continued his story. "The cleaners disposed of his car and took him out to the woods and staged the body. One of them, who was similar in body type to me, wore one of my uniforms to return my patrol car and turn in my resignation letter." Cal put his shirt back on. "I hope you can understand, I didn't want to take his life."
The sheriff nodded. "I believe you, son." He gestured to us. "I needed to confirm the O'Brien incident was you to clear you as a suspect in this case. The claw marks and bites on Luke don't match in size or pattern to the O'Brien mauling. Along with Doctor Smith's reports that you two had been pumped full of ketamine, I think it's safe to say, that you are not responsible for what happened to Luke Dwyer."
The sheriff let us go, with a warning to keep a low profile until the investigation had concluded, or at least the fervor about lycanthropic involvement died down. I worried about what might be waiting for us when we got outside, but the sidewalks were still clear, thanks to my mom. Cal walked me to my truck.
"Are we okay?" he asked. "I didn't want you to find out about O'Brien that way."
"I knew you'd been shot, but that man nearly succeeded in killing you," I said. "I'm not okay with that at all."
He hugged me. "Go home and get some rest, then meet me at Jo Jo's"
I had a better idea. "Pick me up at seven. It's time you meet my brother."
"The deputy? Because we've already met."
"Not Tyler," I said. "His twin, Taylor. I think his boyfriend might be able to fill in some of the blanks." Like what the sheriff had covered up on his white board.
"Boyfriend?"
"Deputy Farraday. The officer who interviewed you."
"Huh. Okay," Cal said. He nodded. "It's a plan. Now, go get some rest. I'll pick you up at seven." He kneaded my back as I tilted my chin up to meet his goodbye kiss.
I was a little breathless when it ended. "You know I recently threw up, right?"
"Yeah," he said, his mouth turned up in a wicked grin. "That's why I left out any tongue action."
I smacked his chest. "You're crazy."
"For you," he said.
My pulse fluttered. I was crazy about him, too, and I wanted to tell him so, but Etta's talk about mates and such kept playing in my mind. I could date Cal if I wanted. I could have some fun, which I needed. But I could not get serious. Trouble was, things already felt pretty damned serious to me. Eventually, we'd have to have a long talk about expectations, but right now, I just wanted to go home, brush my teeth, take a bath, and get an hour or two of sleep in before dinner. "I'm exhausted." I yawned. "And my bed is calling me."
"That sounds like an invitation. How big is your bed?"
"You show up in my bed, and you're going to end up on the wrong end of my mom's rolling pin. And make no mistake, she will totally thrash you."
"I don't doubt it for a second." He chuckled and kissed me again. "But, you are totally worth it."
Chapter Fifteen
My truck shook as I drove it the two blocks to our house. Instead of pulling into the driveway, I parked it in the customer lot at the auto shop. The garage doors were open, and my dad was working under the hood of a newer model Chevy Silverado. He walked out to meet me when I got out.
"You're going to have to fix that front end sometime," he said. He wiped the grease from his hands with a rag he always kept in his pocket.
"I know." I gave my truck a wistful look. "She needs a lot of work."
He nodded. "How are you doing?"
"Okay. Have you talked to mom?"
"Yep. I didn't like that kid much, but I'm sorry he's dead."
"I'm not sure I am," I replied honestly.
Dad raised a brow. "Care to elaborate."
"Not really. I've just found out some things today about Luke that makes me regret the months I spent going out with him." I leaned back on my bumper. "I thought you liked him. Mom was over the moon when I told her we were dating."
"You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats the people around him. I've watched Luke when he thought no one was looking. He was the kind of guy that made others feel small, so he could seem big."
"Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"
"You're a smart girl, Dakota. After all, you're your mother's daughter. I knew you'd figure it out on your own." He gestured toward the house. "By the way, Mary Ann Dwyer is visiting your mom right now, and she brought that Jack Trevors with her."
Crap. What in the world could I say to Mrs. Dwyer that wouldn't sound false or pandering. And why was Jack with her?
As if reading my mind, Dad said, "Mary Ann heard about the incident at the sheriff's. She is insisting Jack give you an apology, along with assurances that nothing like that will happen in the future."
"Why would he agree to that?"
Dad shrugged. "Jobs are scarce in Peculiar. Besides, they are renting him a trailer out at the edge of their property. I suppose he could potentially lose his home as well."
So, he'd moved from the lakefront apartments to a trailer out on the Dwyer's land. Was that significant? Maybe. Maybe not.
I nodded. "Thanks, Dad."
"For what?"
"For warning me."
"One more thing," he said. "Do you know what's going on with Lisa Ann? She's been acting strange since she got home from school."
"You know how she is. She's always danced to the beat of her own hooves. But if you're worried, I'll check on her."
Dad put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. "You're a good kid, Dakota."
I held back a sigh. "I know."
I crossed the yard between the shop and the house at a leisurely pace. I was in no hurry to speak with Mrs. Dwyer or Jack. I thought it was strange her bringing him to the house, for an apology of all things. The Dwyers really kept their employees under their thumbs. My dad was right, jobs were scarce in town. The fear that the lycans would take jobs from the locals was one of the biggest complaints people had with them in town. But I couldn't imagine being desperate enough to keep a job as a stock boy to put up with this kind of treatment.
The throbbing in my ankle had increased, which meant the lidocaine the doc had shot in there was wearing off. Also, I had rubbed a blister on my heel because of my little brother's ill-fitting shoes. On top of that, I hadn't peed in several hours and my bladder was stretched to capacity. Still, I contemplated running away.
Butch came out the back door about the time I was ready to flip a coin. He gave me a, you're in trouble, look, then said, "Mom's been watching you from the kitche
n window. She sent me out here to tell you to get your derriere in the house. Her word, not mine."
"I'm coming," I said. My shoulders sagged as I trudged up the stairs on the back porch. "Tell mom I need to run upstairs first to pee."
He rolled his eyes. "Good luck getting Lisa out of the bathroom."
My phone buzzed, but I ignored it as I went inside. Mom met me at the base of the stairs. "Everything go all right with the sheriff?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "We've been cleared as suspects. The sheriff has evidence to prove Cal wasn't responsible for Luke's wounds. And since I don't have claws or fangs..."
"Good," she said. "Now, hurry up and do what you've got to do. Mary Ann Dwyer would like to speak with you."
"Dad told me." I got one of those bladder twinges that happen when you wait too long. "I really have to go, Mom. I'll be down in a minute." If the tightness across my stomach was any indication, I was about to unleash a river.
"Go," she said. "But don't dally."
"Cross my heart. No dallying."
"Come on, Lisa. I need in the bathroom now!" I knocked on the locked door again. "Unless you are having a medical emergency, let me in."
"Fine!" my youngest sister said. I heard the door unlock.
I push past her, slammed the door behind me, and beelined for the toilet. "What is going on with you?" I shoved my pants to mid-thigh and sat down. It took a second for the flow to start, but when it did, it just kept going. So much relief!
Lisa sat on the edge of the tub, her eyes red and watery like she'd been crying.
"What's up, buttercup?" I asked as the urine stream became more of a dribble. I wondered if someone could go in to shock by peeing too much.
"Nothing," she said.
"You've been crying."
"I have not." She pivoted her knees away from me and wiped at her eyes with the back of her fist.
"Allergies, huh?"
Lisa rolled her eyes at me.
"Look, you're starting to worry the parents. So, you can either tell me, or you can get grilled by them later."
"I swore not to tell," she said.
"Swore to who?"
"I can't tell."
"Look, I can tell that whatever it is, it's really bothering you. Some secrets are too toxic to keep." I thought about Katrina Wells. "Trust me."
Lisa looked away as I wiped and got my britches pulled back up.
I went to the sink and washed my hands with peach antibacterial soap. The sweet fruity scent always reminded me of summer. "Is this about Bobby Davis?"
"Why do you think it's about Bobby?" Her shoulders tightened around her ears and her body was suddenly rigid.
"Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head but wouldn't meet my gaze. "No. It's not about Bobby, at least not like you're thinking."
"Did someone threaten you?"
"Just drop it," Lisa said. Her back pack was in the tub. She scooped it up. "I hate this house. I hate this family." She glared at me. "And I hate you!"
She flung the bathroom door open and fled the room.
"Well." I blinked in the wake of Hurricane Lisa. She hadn't been the first of my siblings to say they hated me. Emma Ray said it once when she was ten, when I told her she had to clean her room, and Thomas said it to me when I'd walked in on him masturbating. Truthfully, that experience had been traumatic for both of us. He learned to lock the bathroom door after that, and I had learned to knock. Still, hearing her say it had hurt, even if I knew it was a reaction to whatever had Lisa stressed and frightened.
After I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair, I had no more reasons to avoid Mrs. Dwyer. For a brief moment, I considered crawling out a window, but somehow found the courage to face whatever was coming my way. I walked past Lisa and Emma Ray's room. The door was closed. I knocked softly, and said, "Hey, if you want to talk, I'm here."
Lisa didn't scream at me again, so I took that as a good sign.
Mom and Mrs. Dwyer sat at the table, while Jack Trevor, looking like a naughty schoolboy waiting to see the principal, stood by the sink. His hair was light brown, and his eyes were the color of caramel. I'd never paid that much attention to him, since he hadn't gone to school with me, and while he might have been a pal of Luke's, he'd never hung around with us when Luke and I had dated. I was usually pretty good at picking out the type of therianthrope someone was based on their shared characteristics, but as I looked at Jack, I was confounded.
Mrs. Dwyer stood up when I walked into the kitchen. "Oh, Dakota," she said, clearly distressed. She held out her hands, her freshly manicured nails painted her signature red, and gave me a quick embrace.
"I'm so sorry about Luke," I told her. "I guess you heard, uhm, that I found him."
"It's just awful." She choked on a sob. "I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe we've lost our Luke."
He wasn't my Luke, and he hadn't been for a while. I'd told Mrs. Dwyer as much the day before, but I didn't correct her now. The woman was in mourning and I didn't want to add to her suffering if I could help it. Mostly, because it would have been plain rude. I'd wanted to offer more words of condolence, to say things like, "He'll be missed," or "Everybody loved him," the things you say to make the people left behind feel like the dead mattered, but in Luke's case it would be complete bull.
I tried not to fidget under her intense gaze. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I'm so glad you asked," Mrs. Dwyer said. "I was hoping you would sing at Luke's memorial service on Sunday. It's at one in the afternoon at Smart's Funeral Home. Luke had told me about a night you all went out to karaoke. He couldn't say enough about what a beautiful voice you had."
I had sung choir in high school, and I'd won the senior solo. So, when Luke and I first started dating it had been my idea to go to karaoke night in Lake Ozarks. I'd wanted to impress him, so I'd sang, "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan. Totally corn-ball, but I guess I'd accomplished my mission. Luke had been impressed.
Before I could make an excuse to turn her down, like I had a sore throat, or what have you, Mrs. Dwyer said, "Good, I'm so glad that's settled." She cleared her throat. "Now, Jack has something he'd like to say to you."
"Sorry," he muttered like a petulant child.
"Jack," Mrs. Dwyer said, her tone full of warning.
"Sorry," he said louder.
"For," she said.
"For organizing the protestors at the Sheriff's station."
"You organized it?" I crossed my arms defensively. "Why would you do that?"
He shrugged, his gaze flicking back and forth between me and Mrs. Dwyer. "I did it for Luke."
Mrs. Dwyer's voice was high and sharp. "Dakota was the only real bright spot in Luke's life. He would have hated you for this."
Jack's face reddened as if he'd been slapped. "Yes, ma'am," he said.
Mrs. Dwyer nodded her satisfaction. "We have a few more stops to make, so we'll get out of your hair, Ruth. Thank you for your kindness, and for the casserole and pie."
"It is my pleasure, Mary Ann. You shouldn't have to be thinking about meals at a time like this. That's what a community is for."
"And Jonathan and I are so blessed to be in Peculiar. Especially now." She glowered at Jack. "In the meantime, I assure you that this one won't be causing any more problems. Right, Jack?"
He nodded again. "Yes, ma'am."
"Wait," I said. "Jackson Smart said that Jack tried to get Luke to go home last night."
"That's right," Mrs. Dwyer said. "But Luke never did." She pulled a tissue from her purse and wept into it. "I never got to say goodbye. Now, we really must go. Come on, Jack."
I was beginning to feel sorry for Jack. He seemed to be the whipping boy for all the Dwyers.
After they departed, we watched them walk out to Mrs. Dwyer's sedan. Jack opened the passenger door for Mrs. Dwyer then ran around to the driver's side and got in. As they pulled out, I noticed Mom's horrified expression mirrored my own.
"Wow," she said. "Mary A
nn is one scary boss lady."
"Truth." I poured myself a glass of water and sat down at the table. "Did you think she was acting strange?"
"Grief can come out in a lot of different ways. She's lost her only child, so why don't we cut her some slack."
"I really don't want to sing at the memorial service."
"That doesn't sound like you, Dakota. You're always the first one to offer help to those in need. Even if you were no longer with the boy, it's the right thing to do. His parents are our friends."
I couldn't explain to her why I didn't want to sing for Luke's service, and it irritated me that she was pushing me to "do the right thing."
I shook my head. "Fine. You win," I said. "I'll sing at the stupid memorial."
"I win?" My mother got a look on her face usually reserved for Tyler or Michele when they did something really ignorant. "Is that what you think? That I want to win? That woman lost her son. Her only child. She won't have another one. And all you can think about is that fact that I've somehow won? I'm so disappointed in you, Dakota. And I don't like the feeling, not one bit."
I sighed, my heart sick with the turmoil brewing inside me. There are things you don't know. Things I can't tell you, I wanted to say. Instead, I agreed with her. "I'm disappointed, too, Mom. And I don't like the feeling one bit."
Chapter Sixteen
Thinking about you, Cal texted at five-thirty. You ok?
I'd been stewing in my room since my dressing down by my mom. I wondered if Michele felt this awful when it happened. Probably not, or she wouldn't keep getting into trouble. Fine. Wish it was 7 already, I texted back.
I can come over now. Just say the word.
Better not. Mom in a mood.
Uh oh.
Luke's mom by earlier. Tell you about it tonight.
K. ... What are you wearing?
The question made me giggle. I had put on a pair of harem athletic pants, the stretchy kind with the loose crotch and an oversized green t-shirt after my shower. But I texted, A sexy, high-cut chastity belt. Medieval design. Double bolted for added security.