by Mary Frame
My head is buzzing. “Yes. I do.” I pace behind her to look at the lines of code on her screen.
“It has to be him,” she says. “Everything leads back to this guy.”
Images of the times I’ve seen Rudy flash in my head. The air of desperation. The cold shoulders from most of the women in town. “His daddy is the DA.”
Grace snorts. “Of course he is. Rat bastard.”
Someone with a large sense of entitlement probably doesn’t take rejection over and over again well. Men tend to base their self-worth on their luck with the fairer sex, which is a ridiculous and unfortunate side effect of our culture. Either way, he’s an unknown factor. Worry slices through me.
Especially when Grace adds, “He has ties to Joe Bickett. They’ve been sharing encrypted messages. Couldn’t break the code to read the details, but the fact that they are even communicating . . . ”
Joe Bickett is the leader of the Cornbread Mafia.
My whole world narrows into one thought.
Annabel.
Her cell goes straight to voicemail.
“Track Annabel’s phone,” I tell Grace.
My stomach is clenching, a sick churning filling my gut. My heart is pounding a staccato of anxiety.
I call the number for the paper.
“You haven’t heard?” Jane the receptionist answers in a whisper when I ask for Annabel. “She was arrested about a half hour ago.”
Grace is snapping at me, trying to get my attention, but my focus is narrowed down to the voice in my ear. “Why?”
“I don’t rightly know. Rudy came in here and handcuffed her and took her away.”
I hang up, white noise roaring in my ears.
Grace waits till I meet her eyes. “Her phone is at the police station. Within fifty yards of it, at least.”
So he really took her there? Not somewhere out in the backwoods or where there aren’t others around? He’s ballsy. Or desperate and making mistakes.
Why did he take her? Why not me? How much does he know and how did he connect her to any of it?
I wrestle with a tidal wave of worry and foreboding. I can’t help Annabel if my head isn’t clear, but when it comes to my feisty blonde amazon, my head has never been on quite straight.
“There’s nothing in the police records,” Grace says after a spell.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and settle my nerves, but it doesn’t work. If anything, the constriction in my chest gets worse.
Think, Jude.
“Chad,” I say.
“Who?”
“Taylor, from last night. Her fiancé is a cop. Chad.”
Grace’s brow lifts. “And we can trust him? Are you sure?”
“No. But Annabel does, and I trust her with my life.”
Her head cocks. “Well, I hope you trust her with hers, too. We have to move quick.”
I firm my jaw and get to work. Within fifteen minutes we’re all gathered in the living room. I called in everyone. Beast, Fitz, Reese, Chad, Taylor. Fitz is barely holding it together, fidgeting and rubbing his face. Reese has an arm around him, both of them pale.
The rest are only slightly better.
After breaking down the essential details, I explain the objective. “We have to get Annabel out of there and expose Rudy for the scum he is.”
Dressed in his police uniform, Chad is standing with Taylor by the couch. He snaps his fingers. “That was him.”
“What was him?” Taylor asks.
“At the parade.” His eyes meet mine. “He’s the one who said someone was breaking into a house and sent me after Annabel. But he was wearing a hat and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He had some kinda padding on under his clothes and he disguised his voice but I knew the angle of his face was familiar. It was Rudy.” He shakes his head. “I knew something wasn’t quite right about that guy. Always taking extra shifts and kissing the chief’s ass.”
Grace speaks up. “We have evidence to prove he’s been taking money from the mafia and laundering it through the university.”
“We can go in there and show it to the chief, then get Annabel out,” Fitz suggests.
Chad rubs his chin. “His daddy is the DA. It’s not going to be easy to convince the chief to do anything right away, even with the evidence. It will be hard for him to understand the technical aspect of it, and people in this town look out for each other. Y’all are outsiders.”
“Annabel isn’t,” I say.
“But her daddy isn’t important, either. Not in the way that will count here.”
Fitz runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Then let’s focus on getting Annabel out of the station.”
“But how?” Reese asks.
“Chad?” I nod to him. “Any ideas?”
“He could be holding her at the station somewhere. I have keys if we need them, but we should get him out of the way first. If he’s this desperate and armed . . . that could be bad.”
I nod. “We need to get Rudy out of the way first, then get Annabel out.”
Chad meets my eyes. “Stage a distraction. If something major happened requiring police patrol, we would all get called in, including Rudy. We only have six officers on staff as it is.”
“What kind of distraction?” Grace asks.
“Some kind of public disturbance maybe?” he suggests.
“Why, officer, are you suggesting we break the law?” I drawl.
He’s nodding slowly. “If there’s enough of you, they can’t get everyone in trouble. As long as there’s no violence. Of course, if you could keep your heads covered, that might be ideal so no one is recognized.”
If this were a cartoon, a lightbulb would be flashing over my head.
Grace’s eyes lock onto my face. “What are you thinking?”
For the first time since I learned Annabel was arrested, a smile spreads across my face.
“I might know a few people.”
An hour later, the backyard is packed with babies. My babies. And furries. There are costumes on various clothing racks scattered throughout the area.
It’s chaos but it’s beautiful.
I can’t quite believe this many people showed up as quickly as they did. I made a few calls and most didn’t even ask questions. I simply told them I needed them and they all arrived in force.
“Will you help me with this?” Rachel hands Grace a length of yellow fabric.
“What is it?” Grace asks.
“It’s my yellow belt.”
“Uh, yeah, but why?”
“I bring out the heavy. This just helps put the fear into ’em.”
Taylor breaks out laughing, stepping into a zebra outfit.
Granny pops up next to me. “I want to be a fox. They’re wily and mean and I like them.”
“This is going to be the event of the century,” a coed says into her cell as she walks to the next rack of clothes.
“We got any fox outfits?” I ask Bryce.
“Of course. Granny, I got you.” He leads her over to another stash of costumes.
Reese and Fitz are helping more people pick out their outfits around the backyard.
“Babies,” I yell into the megaphone, “pick your ensemble with haste, please. We head out in ten, and it’s gonna be quite the party.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
—Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”
Annabel
How is it possible that a day that began with so much wonder and beauty could turn into shit on a cracker so quickly?
I stare at my hands on the sterile grey table. Everything in here is grey. The floor, the walls, the handcuffs currently keeping me attached to the metal table in front of me. Even the chair I’m sitting on is grey. Could they not sprin
g for even an ounce of yellow or red?
Although I suppose that’s the point. To be depressing. It’s like every other interrogation room I’ve ever seen. On TV, anyway.
There’s no two-way mirror, though. But there is a camera blinking at me up in one corner. Surprisingly high-tech for little ol’ Blue Falls. I’ve had a while to sit here and stare at it. Nothing much else to look at.
Rudy left me in here like an hour ago. Maybe. Time is hard to gauge with no clock and nothing but blank walls.
I shut my eyes in embarrassment, the scene playing on a reel through my mind.
I was at work, typing up articles, having a fantastic day, enjoying the delicious soreness of my body, having shiver-inducing flashbacks to my night with Jude, and then . . . and then goddamn Rudy showed up and arrested me.
He handcuffed me in front of everyone and they watched, mouths gaping.
He ignored my loud and repeated requests for him to explain why, exactly, I was being arrested. No one spoke when he read me my rights—full of smug glee, by the way—and then hauled me away. He took my phone and purse, too.
It was terrifying. Humiliating. It must have something to do with Grace. He must be after her. I don’t know why he would suspect me of being connected. I haven’t done anything illegal.
He shouldn’t even be able to link Jude to Grace, since she took so much care to stay away from him and Beast . . . unless he somehow saw us last night? But why not stop us then?
He gave nothing away on the drive to the station, even though I yelled and questioned what the charges were, along with demanding a lawyer and a phone call. He didn’t bother booking me. I didn’t even see anyone else as he dragged me through the reception area, took a few turns in a maze of hallways, and ended up in this room. He handcuffed me to the table and disappeared again.
And here I sit. Lost in the grey.
I’m tired and thirsty and I really have to pee.
The door handle jiggles and my heart races in my chest.
It swings open and Rudy strides in.
He’s the same person I’ve seen nearly every day of my damn life, but he’s different. He’s not smiling, meek, desperate Rudy.
This Rudy is arrogant, with hard eyes and a cruel twist to his mouth.
He shuts the door behind him and then reaches up and unplugs the camera.
This isn’t looking good for me so far.
He stands on the other side of the table, leaning toward me on his hands. His officer badge glints in the overhead lights. “Annabel.”
“Rudy.” I’m pleased when my voice isn’t shaking because I’m feeling jittery and anxious as all hell.
“This can all go away if you tell me where she is.”
I keep my face as blank as possible. “Who?”
“You know who. I have your prints all over a property that doesn’t belong to you.”
Ah. He ran prints on the shed. Didn’t even think of that as a possibility. I had to get fingerprinted years ago, when I worked at a childcare center during high school, but still . . .
“It’s not illegal to touch the outside of someone’s shed. You haven’t explained why you arrested me, you haven’t booked me with anything, and you’re keeping me isolated from the rest of your cop buddies. It seems to me this is all a bunch of bogus bullshit.”
Grace has been involved in illegal activities and it would make sense if I was brought in as part of an investigation against her, but this is clearly not that.
He leans forward into my space.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Annabel. I don’t want to do it.”
Kiss my go-to-hell, is what I want to say, but better to keep silent.
He steps around the table to my side, his thigh resting against my shoulder and upper arm. I resist the urge to lean away. He’s a bully. Bullies respond to weakness. I sit up straighter and wait.
“This is the last time I’m going to ask you. Tell me where she is, and I’ll let you go.”
Without warning, he backhands me across the face and my neck jerks with the strike, the sting echoing through my head.
He got me right where Grace got me last night, except he packs a heavier punch.
“You ready to talk now, princess?”
No, my damn mouth hurts.
My head is hanging off to one side, strands of hair blanketing my face. I take a few breaths through my nose, trying to blink back the automatic tears prompted by the blow.
I take one deep breath and then turn and spit in his face. “Fuck you, Rudy. What do you want with a little girl anyway? What did she do to you besides best your ass? Having an important daddy doesn’t make you important. It doesn’t make you better or entitled to anything. If you can’t run with the big dogs, keep your ass under the porch.”
He wipes my spit off his face with the back of one hand, slowly, keeping his eyes on me. They’re as black as night and as evil as sin.
My heart races. My whole body tenses, anticipating his next strike, but the radio on his belt beeps.
“Calling all units, we got a 415 downtown on Main and First.”
He freezes, his eyes still intent on mine.
A few long beats pass. His breathing is fast and unsteady. I brace myself for more abuse, but then the radio crackles again.
“Unit 33, what is your location?”
He curses, then puts the radio to his mouth. “Copy, 33 responding.”
He stands, clipping the radio back on and then bends over, getting right in my face. “I’ll be back, princess, and then we’re talking. One way or another, I will make you talk, and then I will make that little bitch hand over her secrets.”
Secrets? He must want the rest of her code. Or maybe to get into her computer. She mentioned he has it, but he probably can’t unlock it, as she said.
“You can’t keep me in here forever. I’ll scream.”
“No. You won’t.” He pulls something from under the table.
Duct tape.
Dammit I should have kept my mouth shut.
He slaps the tape on my mouth and then leaves, locking the door behind him.
I stare at the wall, thinking. I need to get the hell out of here before he gets back. I jerk at the handcuffs. Definitely not getting myself out of this mess.
The side of my face is one big dull pounding ache.
I still have to pee.
This sucks.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m still staring at the grey wall when the door handle jiggles.
Shit. Is he back already?
There’s more rattling, and then it swings open.
“Taylor?” Except my mouth is bound, so it sounds more like, “Mmmaayorr?”
She’s already fumbling at my handcuffs. “Chad gave me his keys but it took me forever to figure out where he had you stashed. It’s always the last place you look. Quick, everyone’s out at the disturbance, but Rudy’s gonna catch on right quick.”
She unlocks the cuffs and I yank off the duct tape.
“Come on.”
“Wait! I gotta take a leak before I burst.”
She leads me through a maze of hallways to a bathroom. I pee faster than I ever have in my life while Taylor gives me a brief rundown of what’s been going on and I share with her what happened with Rudy.
Within minutes, we’re outside at the back of the station.
Taylor’s car is there, an old station wagon. Grace is in the back seat. She’s wearing a furry costume, a blue one without a head, and she’s got a laptop in front of her.
I get into the passenger seat and buckle up as Taylor starts the car and we peel out of the lot. “Where are we going now?”
Grace grins at me, practically bouncing in the back seat. “To find the real FBI.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
We need never be ashamed of our tears.
—Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
Jude
“Welcome to the first ever Furry-palooza!” I yell into the megaphone.
The cr
owd roars. Main Street is crowded with people in colorful costumes for this completely unsanctioned, unpermitted event.
“Ladies and gentlemen, now is the time to let loose and get wild and run free! Let’s get this party started!”
Someone brought speakers and at my cue, music blasts overhead. The entire street is slammed for over a full block, and the poor officers of Blue Falls have no idea what to do with themselves.
They aren’t equipped for a crowd of this size, and we have at least a half hour before any neighboring counties can provide assistance. I’ve been keeping an eye out for our friend, Rudy Quinn.
There’s now an officer at each intersection, so it doesn’t take long for me to find him when I weave around the periphery.
He’s pacing back and forth, talking into his phone, which likely means Annabel has been emancipated. I get close enough to keep an eye on him and pass my megaphone off to a turtle walking by.
My phone rings. Taylor’s number. I pull off my furry head and answer on the second ring. “You’ve got her?”
“Yep.” It’s Grace. “Annabel is here. She’s fine, and we are all safe.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “Did y’all find the FBI?”
“I did. Got them everything they needed to take Rudy in. Now we’re just waiting for him to leave the ‘disturbance’ going on down there. They don’t want to try and collar him with civilians around while he’s armed.”
“Good call. I’ve got an eye on him now.”
“What’s he doing?”
He’s mighty agitated as he paces outside the party near a troop of monkey furries. His phone is pressed to his ear. He keeps glancing behind him and throwing his hands in the air. What is he looking at?
I move around a neon-blue wolf to get a better view down the street, stopping when a zebra prances around me before disappearing between two sparkly unicorns.
Down the block, in the direction he’s throwing his hands and yelling, there’s a black van.
“Something isn’t quite right,” I murmur.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
