by Renee George
He knew what I was asking him. Was his PTSD kicked into high gear because of me? “Ryan has all kinds of fur-kids in his kennels for me to pet, and dad is taking good care of Elvis for me. I want to be here for you and Smooshie. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself.” He paused for a second. “Lily, when they discharge you, I want you to come stay at my place. You can have the room over the garage again, or you can take the spare bedroom in my house. Whatever you want.”
“Why, Parker Knowles,” I said coyly. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
He stammered, and I laughed.
“I’m just teasing you. I know it’s a temporary offer.”
“The offer stands for as long as you’re willing to stay.” And with that response, he hung up on me.
I must have had a stunned look on my face because my uncle busted out in a belly laugh. “You look like the cat that got ate by the canary.”
“Ha, ha. Laugh it up.”
“So, you planning on taking the boy’s offer to shack up? In the short term, I’m all for it. It’s a nicer alternative to locking you in the basement.”
“Shack up?” Goddess take my breath, had Parker really just asked me to move in with him? “I’m pretty sure we should get through our first date before he hands me the keys to his kingdom.”
The doctor came in and interrupted us. “I’ve got the results,” he said. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Just the news, Doc. Good and bad.”
“The good news is that you’re not pregnant.”
I raised a brow at him.
“Just a joke,” he said. “We did have to run a pregnancy test though, they’re standard for carbon monoxide poisoning. The good news is that you aren’t showing any severe symptoms from your exposure. No dementia, seizures, and your lungs are clear. However, your blood work still shows high levels of carbon monoxide in your system. We’re going to keep you overnight on oxygen and monitor your progress. I’m confident you’ll be able to leave in the morning.”
“Okay,” I said, wishing there was a witch healer in town. The one back home could have gotten me out of here tonight. Human medicine was much slower. I turned to Buzz. “You should go home. That diner of yours doesn’t open itself in the mornings.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“This hospital is full of people. I won’t be alone,” I told him. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Buzz stood up and kissed my forehead. “Get well and try to stay out of trouble tonight.”
“Trouble finds me,” I told him. No three words spoken had ever been so true.
Chapter 17
The beeping of monitors in the intensive care unit kept me half-awake most of the night. That, and I found it difficult to sleep with plastic tubes sticking in my nose. Plus, the dry oxygen had started to irritate my nostrils. The nurses came in every hour to check my pulse oxygen with a thing they clipped on my finger, and they also had a similar gizmo to check for carbon monoxide in my blood. After the second check, they seemed happy with the results.
The doctor didn’t want to give me anything for sleep because he didn’t want a sedative decreasing my blood oxygen. Big bummer, because I could have definitely used an Ambien. Shoot, I would have taken a glass of warm milk and some melatonin at this point. I was the kind of tired that surpassed the ability to sleep, and as I looked at the clock, I reckoned I’d been awake now for almost twenty-two hours. I tried to relax, but I missed my furry bedmate. I missed her soft snore and snuggles. The hospital bed felt cold in comparison. It didn’t help that someone, whether it was Donnie’s killer or someone else, had tried to poison me. It felt like an extreme reaction to my involvement in the investigation. Maybe I’d rubbed the wrong psychopath the right way.
I rubbed my arms to knock down the goosebumps. Could it be that simple? I tried to think of who might hate me enough to want to see me dead. Naomi would have topped my list, but honestly, I didn’t think she hated me. I think she saw me as a scoop, a storyline, a notch in her career bedpost, so to speak.
But maybe I was wrong. After all, Tom Jones hadn’t been the only killer in his family. His wife Bridgette had been just as guilty, and she took her life after I’d confronted her about Katherine Kapersky. Naomi and Bridgette had been best friends in high school. What if Naomi blamed me for Bridgette’s suicide? Even so, was that motive for murder?
I pushed my thoughts from my almost-tragedy and focused my sleep-deprived brain on what I knew about Donnie’s death. He was a blackmailer, I don’t think there could be any doubt about that. But of how many people? And how long had it been going on? Maybe an earlier victim got tired of paying or couldn’t pay anymore. Or maybe it was a new victim who had no intention of ever paying Doyle.
We still didn’t have a medical examiner’s report. I supposed that wouldn’t happen until today. I blinked. It was officially Sunday. Parker and I had a date. I wanted to call my BFF from back home, Hazel. She would have rushed here and brought a healer witch with her in the process, even if the only healer witch was her soon-to-be mother-in-law and longtime nemesis. That’s how much she loved me. But I couldn’t rely on witch magic or Shifter bonds if I wanted to live in the human world. Which meant I would just have to wait this out.
I opened my eyes when I heard the knock on the door. It opened right after. I expected it to be the nurse, but instead, it was a short, curvy brunette in peach scrubs. Oh. This was Shelly, Jerry’s wife.
“Hey.” She had a slight diphthong in her accent, which put her origins farther south than the Bootheel. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No.” I waved her inside. “You can come in. I’m not sleeping.” I recognized the woman right away from the bar and the video. I tensed, ready for flight or fight if this wasn’t a friendly visit.
“Your nurse, Laura, told me you were struggling to rest.” She smiled. “You’re Lily Mason, right? I’m Shelly Atwell.”
I thought about her starring role in Donnie’s blackmail video, and I hoped that the sheriff’s department would be discreet. The women Donnie had filmed were victims, even as they were suspects. I wondered if he’d blackmailed them all or just the ones with something to lose. I thought about Rachel. She’d wanted Donnie’s love, and she’d obviously cried her eyes out when he died. Surely, if he had been extorting her for money, she wouldn’t have loved him. Maybe Shelly had loved Donnie, too.
“My husband Jerry volunteers at the shelter with you.”
Shelly’s twang brought me back to the present, and I realized I hadn’t responded to her greeting. “It’s nice to meet you. Jerry is amazing with the dogs.”
She nodded. “He’s always been good with animals.” She chuckled softly. “It’s people he doesn’t always get.”
I didn’t know Shelly and Jerry’s home life. For all I knew, he was a terrible husband. Or maybe he was great, and she was terrible. Either way, I wouldn’t want anyone taking apart my life brick by awful brick, so I tried to keep my tone neutral and without judgment. “Animals don’t criticize or judge. It’s easy to love something that you know is going to love you back. People are way more complicated.”
Shelly let out a soft laugh and rubbed a birthmark on the back of her hand. “Ain’t that the truth of it.” She lowered her lashes. “I work in housekeeping here at the hospital. Jerry called me last night after your incident. He asked me to look in on you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s sweet.” I wanted to ask her about Donnie. Had he come after her for money? To tell the truth, I wasn’t exactly sure that he filmed his sexual conquests for blackmailing purposes. Maybe he just wanted to make some personal porn. Either way, yuck. Shelly stood across from me, appearing somewhat fragile. I could use my power on her, but if she had been blackmailed, it might provoke her into doing something rash—like trying to hurt me. People with their backs against the wall were dangerous. “Tell him I’m going to be fine and thank him for taking care of Smooshie until the
vet arrived. That made all the difference to me.”
Shelly reached her hand back to the door handle. “I best get back to work.”
Jerry’s wife had been lovely. I’d have to bring him in a box of donuts as a big thank you for last night and for sending his wife to check on me.
The hospital discharged me in the afternoon. Reggie, Nadine, and Buzz had all called to check on me. I told them all I’d be out soon, so they didn’t have to come visit. Nadine told me that they didn’t have any leads on who blocked my vent, and it looked like the carbon monoxide alarm and the vent had been wiped of prints, though they’d found a partial on the battery I’d found on the floor. However, a partial was hard to match, and it would be even harder if the person didn’t have an arrest record.
Parker, who insisted on picking me up, had dropped off a happy, healthy, and carbon-monoxide-free Smooshie with his dad and Elvis before arriving at the hospital. I was on the side of my bed, waiting for the nurse to bring in all my discharge paperwork when he arrived. Dark circles framed his bloodshot eyes.
“You look like you got about as much sleep as I did,” I told him.
He quickly strode to me, his hands seizing my upper arms as he drew me into a firm embrace. My arms dangled at my side as he held me so tight, I could do nothing but rest my cheek against his chest.
“I’m happy to see you too,” I said with the little breath I had left in my lungs.
He pushed me back from him. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m okay,” I said gently, feeling suddenly shy under his intensity.
“Let’s get you out of here.” He grazed the side of my face with his fingertips and tucked an unruly curl behind my ear. “I hate hospitals.”
“Just waiting for the hospital to finish up the paperwork.” I stared up at him. The way his dark hair fell over his baby-blue eyes made him look more predatory than many of the predators I knew. I inhaled his scent, honey and mint, but not overpowering, just fresh and sweet.
If he were a Shifter, I would swear I was smelling a mate scent. It’s something that happens between Shifters who are destined to be together. It had been that way for my mom and dad. And even my best friend Hazel, who was a witch, had developed a mate scent with her husband, Ford, a werebear. But the one thing all Shifters know is that the mate scent isn’t possible with humans.
“What are you thinking about?” Parker asked.
I grinned. “How good you smell.”
“Seriously? I’ve been up all night with dogs.” He chuckled, and the low, rich sound warmed me to my toes. “Hey,” he said. “If you think Eau de Dog Poop is attractive, then we really are meant for each other.”
“Do I smell like anything, you know, out of the ordinary to you?” I gently bit my lower lip, and half held my breath as I waited for his reply.
He frowned. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”
The weight of his words—even though I hadn’t expected anything more, not really—crushed me. I guess, deep down, I’d hoped that Parker and I would be the exception to the rule when it came to Shifters and humans.
“No reason.”
“Unless you count your hair. I haven’t told you this, but thanks to your shampoo, I have a thing for cherry-and-vanilla soda, cherry pie with vanilla ice cream, and I even bought a cherry-and-vanilla air freshener for the truck. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”
I hadn’t noticed. Whenever Parker was around, the only thing I smelled was him. Honey and mint. That’s it. “That’s so nice,” I said, my throat tight. “Do you smell it on me now?”
“Yes. What brand do you use?” When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Are you okay, Lily?”
I blinked up at him. “I’m…yes, fine.”
My shampoo was juniper and mint, the same brand Parker used. Not cherry and vanilla.
I didn’t know how to explain it. I needed to talk to Hazel or Buzz, or both of them, because if I was right, the impossible had happened. Parker had caught my mate scent. And I’d caught his.
Nurse Linda, the day shift ICU nurse, picked that moment to knock and walk in. “I have your paperwork. I just need you to sign a few forms, and we’ll get a wheelchair up here and get you on your way.”
Parker put his arm around me. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” I said, but inside, I was terrified, excited, worried, and elated. Could Parker really be my mate?
On the way to Parker’s, Opal Dixon kept circling my thoughts. Buzz had called to tell me that he’d picked up Opal from the sheriff’s department last night and taken her home. The hospital, understandably, banned her from entering the premises, and with Pearl still in the hospital, Opal was probably crazy with worry.
“Can we go out to the Dixon place before you take me home?” Those sisters had each other and not much else. If one or the other died, it would be a blow the survivor might not come back from. “I want to check in on Opal. Make sure she’s okay.”
Parker nodded. “You’re a kind woman, Lily. I’m sure Opal will appreciate the visit.”
I wasn’t as sure as Parker. Opal was headstrong, stubborn, and fiercely independent. She wouldn’t want my pity. So, I wouldn’t give it to her. I smiled when the crops of flamingos came into view. We parked and walked to the door. It took three knocks before I heard Opal’s crusty voice shout, “Just a damn minute!”
She flung the door back, her expression angry and ready to fight. “What do you— Oh, it’s you.” Her hand, which had been behind her back, dropped to her side. She held the gun from last night. Opal did not play. She waved her non-gun hand at us. “Come on in.”
Parker and I followed her inside. “I heard the hospital won’t let you back in to see, Pearl. Is there was anything I can do to help?”
“Damn bureaucrats,” Opal grumbled. She was just an inch taller than me, so when she turned, we were nose to nose. “Actually, you can help. They are keeping Pearl for a few days for observation. Her heart is acting funny. She’ll need her makeup, denture cream, hairbrush, and few other things. Oh, and clean underwear. If I give them to you, can you make sure she gets them?”
I nodded. “I sure will.”
“Come with me then,” she said. “You can help me pack her bag.”
“I’ll wait here,” Parker said.
“Good,” Opal replied. “You weren’t invited anyhow.”
I stifled a chuckle as I followed Opal down the narrow hall. Her trailer was bigger than mine, but it was still a trailer. Pearl’s room had a twin bed with a Pepto-Bismol pink headboard. There was also a pink dresser and pink vanity in the small space. The walls had pictures of the Florida coast, palm trees, and real flamingos.
“Pearl really loves Miami,” I said.
“She loves the idea of Miami,” Opal said. “It’s not like she’s been there. How can you love something you’ve never seen before?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I asked, “Are you okay? I mean, from last night?”
Opal’s dark expression, her furrowed brow as she gathered Pearl’s things, concerned me. “I’d be better if I had shot that sorry so-and-so. He had it coming. And at least then I’d understand why the hospital won’t let me see my sister.” She opened a drawer and pulled out five pairs of folded white underwear and put them on Pearl’s bed.
I went to the vanity.
“What makeup will she want?” I opened the drawers of the stand. Lipstick, eyebrow pencils, eyeliners, old mascara, foundations, creams, and more littered the base. I saw an envelope with a mailing address for a Murray Davenport in Las Vegas. It had a stamp on it, reading to send, but the colorful makeup stains around the worn, frayed edges told me it had been in the drawer for a while. And there was something else familiar about the envelope. I looked closer at it.
I recognized the block lettering.
Opal closed the drawer, almost catching my fingers. “That’s none of your business.”
“Who is Murray Davenport?”
I h
adn’t meant to, but I must have pushed, because Opal sat down on the edge of the bed, and said, “The son of the man I killed.”
I held my breath as the words sunk in. “What happened?”
“I always knew the day would come when I’d be found out. You can’t hide from something like this. Not forever.” She cackled softly. “Though, for a while, I thought I might get lucky.”
“Why’d you kill him?” I had a good idea what the answer might be based on her reaction to Jock the night before. “Was he hitting you?”
Opal shook her head. “Not me.” She glanced at a picture on the dresser. It was two young, beautiful women standing by the road in a desert. “Pearl and I grew up in Vegas. She married an older man, Benjamin Davenport, who was an accountant. In the beginning, he was good to her, but it didn’t last.”
“Is Murray her son?”
“No. He was Benji’s from his first marriage. Murray was sixteen and away at boarding school when I shot Benji. That letter is Pearl’s apology. Leaving him behind was her biggest regret.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
Now that Opal had opened up, she kept talking. “I started noticing little things, bruises here and there. Pearl would tell me stories of how she’d tripped or slipped or bumped into this and that. To my shame, I believed her. My sister has always been a klutz. But the day I walked in on him dragging her by the hair across their living room, it triggered something in me I couldn’t contain. I knew he kept a gun in the side table in the living room. He was mobbed up, you see. Pearl was crying, begging him to stop. Benji was drunk, and he kept telling her he was going to kill her. I grabbed the gun.”
Her hands started trembling almost uncontrollably as she recalled the memory.
“I shot him. I didn’t stop shooting until the gun was empty.” She met my gaze. “He stopped moving long before that.”
“Oh, Opal.” My chest squeezed as emotion choked me. “How’d you end up in Moonrise?”
“Pearl wanted Miami, but I knew we had to go someplace where no one would ever look. I picked this town off a map because I liked the name. It turned out Benji had more than one million dollars in his office safe. It was as if fate wanted us to have a fresh start.”