by Livia Quinn
“Tempe?”
The motorcycle roared past as I turned. “I’m here. Guess I was holding up traffic. Let’s just say Jack isn’t taking no for an answer.”
“Good.” There was a pause on the line and then Montana said, “Tempe, we’ll find River. Have you thought about how you’re going to balance the pretend life that Jack sees, with your burgeoning new life?”
“It’s all I’ve thought about most of my life, Montana. If Jack finds out and leaves me, it’s no more than I’ve expected all along. I don’t have a choice though, do I?”
We both knew it was the truth.
Chapter 37
Over the centuries I’d learned to ignore the pain.
* * *
Dylan
It had been a week, and Lang wasn’t getting anywhere solving the murder or finding River. As a law officer myself, I was sure he was frustrated, but he didn’t realize that many of the clues he was aware of were misleading because of what he didn’t know. I called Tempe Tuesday as she was leaving UMC and told her to meet me at the clubhouse at dark.
Ever since our moment at the bar, I’d been nagged by guilt. I had my reasons for the things I’d done—good reasons—reasons I couldn’t share with anyone. But rationalizing or explaining didn’t keep me from feeling lower than a sewer rat when she looked at me with her big stormy eyes. It was like a kick to the gut to realize it hadn’t been false, that I’d come to really care about her. And now Lang was in the picture. I wasn’t entirely sure I liked him.
There was truth in what I’d told Lang though. I am a true friend of the family and whatever I could do to help Tempe find River, I would do. I figured I was much better equipped to track the minutia of creature evidence left behind at the clubhouse. I should have thought about it before the scrubbing the manager had ordered despite Lang’s orders, but it wouldn’t keep me from finding what I needed.
Before she arrived I used the time to sniff around the grounds of the clubhouse. Because of my nature, even after the recent precipitation, I was able to pick up more trace evidence than the sheriff could have.
I wondered if he’d seen the length of flattened grass and the deep nonhuman footprints just the other side of the starting tees. And I was sure he would have been unable to catch the scent of the variant who’d dropped his guard momentarily on the sidewalk near the locker room exit.
I used the alarm code I’d gotten from the club manager, who had not been too happy at yet another violation of his facility. That man threw out a lot of empty threats and strutted around like a banty rooster. He couldn’t be good for business.
The change isn’t something I go through if there’s any possibility of exposure to humans, so I threw out a web of invisibility which shimmered like haunted house mirrors, creating a camouflage affect, much like that of a stealth bomber. Then, I became Finrir. It happened in the blink of an eye but it didn’t feel like it. Time always seemed to drag in those milliseconds my bones and organs were shifting, breaking and reforming. Over the centuries I’d learned to ignore the pain.
On all fours, I licked the surface of the floor, tasting the foul bleach and industrial cleaner. The sheriff was good at his job but he didn’t have the advantages of olfactory perfection, senses so acute they were, well, inhuman. I mentally catalogued the traces of the non-human DNA—two variants, including the victim. Not enough evidence to identify the variant’s nature. My guess would be something incorporeal, a possession of some kind.
Nucklavee did fit that scenario. They were very rare. And if he’d been involved with Phoebe, it wasn’t for romance. Their motives were totally self-serving. I was surprised, though. Ray, Sam and Nigel had been checked out and given the highest recommendation. So most likely, Ray the victim, wasn’t the real Ray Meeker, Phoebe’s guardian companion.
I stood up, but couldn’t straighten. The room’s seven-foot doorways were not tall enough for me to walk through. So I ducked through the door leading to the locker room, stopping just inside to allow my superior senses to sift through the cleaning chemicals to the minute traces left behind by the killer.
I opened my mouth to collect dormant or leftover particles from the air in the room, my tongue sifting and sorting them like a living centrifuge. I allowed those senses to lead me around the room, by the bar, the exit door, the entertainment center and finally in front of the locker where the strongest spores remained…
“Dylan! What are you doing?”
I dropped the invisibility cloak, since it didn’t do any good with Tempe anyway, and changed back to human form.
“Checking to see if there was any trace evidence left after the cleaning.”
“Did you discover anything?”
“I believe the victim was a Nucklavee, but I don’t think he was really Ray Meeker.”
I heard a vehicle pull up outside and within seconds, the sheriff entered through the doorway. He looked at me over Tempe’s shoulder. How much had he heard?
“After you two explain what you’re doing here, you can tell me what a nuckle v is, and what you meant by that comment.”
She jumped nervously, maybe guiltily, as Lang transferred his gaze to her. I felt a stab of jealousy when I saw the flash of heat coming from him and the flush that rose on Tempe’s face. The nerves along my back bristled. I fought for control over my Finrir who wanted to tear Jack Lang to pieces.
* * *
Tempe
Jack looked mad, but I couldn’t tell if he was mad because he thought we’d once again trespassed on his crime scene and were “sniffing” around—if he only knew—or because he walked in on Dylan and me alone…again… especially after last night.
Zeus’ stars! A thought struck me out of the blue. What if he started thinking the reason I didn’t want to go to the ball was because I had lingering feelings for Dylan. Misunderstandings and assumptions have a way of putting relationships in Splitsville.
“Jack, you startled me.” I wanted to turn him away from any of those ideas.
“Tempe had nothing to do with this, Lang. I got the key from the manager. Looks like he ignored your orders not to have the place cleaned. I asked her to meet me here. I’m looking into a related UMC incident, which was in progress before this happened. If you like, I can fill out an official request but usually, the inspectors work closely with local law enforcement.”
Jack had a first class bullshit meter and paid no attention whatsoever to Dylan’s words, except where his laser focus had remained since he entered. “What’s a nuck..nukl—” he scratched his head trying to remember what he’d heard.
“Nucklavee,” Dylan said glancing at me with a let-me-handle-this look. “A Nucklavee is a small group—” Well, yeah, as in rare faerie, I thought. “—of professional thieves and con-artists. If this man has been involved with Tempe’s mother then he’s up to no good.” I stared at Dylan, wondering at his ability to create alternate truths on the fly.
Jack’s expression didn’t change a wit. It was as if he’d made up his mind when he saw us not to believe anything we said. He studied both of us in that still, predatory way he had. I was getting a bad feeling. He had something on his mind.
“Dylan is just trying to help us connect the dots,” I said.
His sardonic smile should have been a warning, but I still wasn’t prepared. “Oh, right.” Jack said, looking straight at Dylan. “And is your dead father on one of those dots?”
Dylan’s hand tightened on my shoulder. I frowned, put off by Jack’s insensitive words. “What about him? What has my father’s death got to do with this?”
I was sick of him giving, then withdrawing support, blindsiding me just when I thought I could trust him. Was it some kind of interrogation tactic used by law enforcement to trick the truth out of suspects? Dylan shifted uncomfortably. At the time, I mistook it for worry on my behalf.
Those piercing silver eyes turned toward me. “His death has nothing to do with this.”
I grabbed my hair and growled in frustration. �
�Then—”
His narrowed eyes met mine. “Because he’s not dead.”
Chapter 38
When I finally grasped the truth, I felt the rip in my soul.
* * *
Jack
When Peggy had given me the news that Dutch Pomeroy was alive, I’d been surprised, and a million questions had bombarded me; but Tempe looked like she’d been hit by a lightning strike out of the clear blue sky. More interesting even to me was what Peggy had relayed after that. “I forget that you weren’t here then, Jack. Everyone around here knows that Tempe woke up the day after she found out her father was dead to those bright streaks in her hair.” I ached for her, as I imagined what it would have been like for Jordie to hear her daddy wasn’t coming home, ever again.
Tempe’s skin was translucent; she swayed like a fragile willow on the verge of collapse and reached for the counter, something solid to hang on to. This woman always rolled with the punches, and there had been a lot of them. I hoped this one didn’t send her over the edge.
McGuinness on the other hand was grinding his teeth and sending me laser missiles from eyes suddenly black and deadly. What? I was just the messenger. Oh, yeah, he had his own secrets.
Finally a whisper of a question escaped her, “What do you mean he’s not dead?”
She glanced at the inspector who didn’t return her look, then back at me. She was slowly coming to her senses, like a fighter from a knockout punch. A tear escaped from her flooded eyes and spilled down her devastated features. I could only imagine what she was feeling, having built her life around the belief that the father Peggy said she’d been rarely seen without was dead, and now to find out that was a lie.
I hadn’t wanted to believe Tempe knew about her father, and was a good enough liar to keep it from me. But that would have been better than the anguish and hurt she was experiencing now, and the betrayal that would be exposed in the minutes to come. Don’t shoot the messenger, Sweetheart.
I was still getting the scary looks from Dylan, but now they were mixed with what looked like concern—for Tempe? Or the relationship he hoped to resume? She might have thought it was over between them, but I got the sense that McGuinness was still interested.
I cleared my throat and slapped my hat against my leg. This whole investigation had been like a cancer with feelers going out from the tumor at the center. The problem was I had been missing important information.
Thinking all along that Tempe had been at the center, when all the while we’d each been tending to our respective responsibilities—me, to the investigation of the murder—and Tempe in her worry over her brother.
At each stage of the investigation, I’d learned more about Tempe, about what she’d been through to keep her brother with her, about her loyalty to her friends, the strained relationship with her mother. I’d seen the longing in her eyes when she talked about her father’s “death”. Her vibrant hair was proof of the shock she’d received and what it meant to her.
Now I wondered if everything didn’t boil down to why her father had faked his demise. And if she hadn’t known about her father, then there was something else she was hiding. What was it?
I felt a wave of rage wash through me as I thought about what her parents had put her through. I hated that I was about to add to that pain. Our budding relationship was liable to hit the skids once I explained, but I owed it to her. “The other day, I gave Peggy instructions to dig into your family background.”
She tilted her head and burned me with a glare. “That was—”
“Before I knew your brother had gone missing.”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit and she nodded, waiting for the rest.
“If it hadn’t been for a security leak a few days ago we might never have known. This morning Peggy got a wire from an official at a high-max prison where your father has spent the last nineteen years.”
Tempe swayed again and I grabbed a chair from the dining room. She waved me away, “Go on.” She rubbed her temples as if the words weren’t making sense. Dylan put a hand on her shoulder.
I grit my teeth and continued, “Apparently, when he was working in the Mideast, he ran high stakes cons from Dubai to Kiev and stole from some powerful people, until it came crashing down. He pled guilty, but the authorities said unless he turned over the numbers for the offshore accounts, he’d rot behind bars.”
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding while I related the details. “Where is he now?”
“Well, that’s kind of interesting. He was released the day after your brother was there. Sunday—which was just prior to the murder of your mother’s alleged lover, her disappearance, and that of your brother.”
“What—” she turned a bright shade of pink. “What are you saying? That he had something to do with the murder? With my brother’s disappearance?”
I scratched my head, trying to ignore what I saw in her eyes. I softened my words, “I don’t know, Tempe. The timing is just so damning.” And what kind of scum keeps his family in the dark, letting them think he’s dead, hmm? “It makes sense,” in a sick kind of way.
“About as much sense as me being a murderer, Jack,” she said, hands on her hips and color blooming in her cheeks.
I winced. As gently as I could, I asked, “Did you miss the part about your brother visiting him last Sunday?”
She turned away, her head shaking furiously. Then her shoulders went stiff and she spun around transferring her glare to McGuinness. She’d figured it out. A tiny sliver of satisfaction poked me in the heart, but found itself lodged next to the resident empathy as she made one step toward Dylan and swung her knee up, nailing him in the groin, before either of us could react.
Not that I would have stopped her.
He went to his knees, the groan that escaped making me sympathize, but not much. “Tempe, let me—”
“You!” She grabbed the bright strands of her hair, twisting it with her fingers. “I can’t believe it. What was your game in all this?” She paced back and forth.
I just stood by like a spectator and waited to see what secrets would be unveiled. Maybe now she’d confide in me.
Tempe
I couldn’t believe Dylan could do this to me…to my family. We’d been lovers, friends—at least I’d thought so. It made me sick that I’d fallen for that false sincerity, and thinking of his apology and that kiss… Arrgh. I turned back toward him. My vision blurred for a minute. What was the likelihood that River and Dylan were the only ones who had known about Dutch? Did Aurora know?
Something didn’t ring true. Dutch gambling? It wasn’t that he couldn’t have done what Jack said. But why? He was an old, powerful Djinni. He had merely to wish a billion dollars into an offshore account, or into Jack’s trunk for that matter, and it was there, no-no or not. Could it have been boredom? Did he need some kind of diversion because my mother was such a flake?
I felt the stir of electrical forces race to my nerve endings. Dylan straightened, his expression closed off, while I came to the most shocking conclusion of all. Suddenly, his dark eyes held compassion and understanding.
“She knew.” When I finally grasped the truth, I felt the rip in my soul. A choked sob was torn from my chest. “Phoebe knew.” I turned away from them, my heart sinking into a deep valley of confusion.
Dylan made no attempt to affirm or deny my conclusion. I paced again, trying to make sense of my life, the people I loved—the order of things tumbling around me. Everything I thought I knew for sure had been upended and stomped into the Louisiana gumbo.
Menori responded to my distress, revving my molecular engine, stirring the elements to a dangerous tipping point. I heard my own heartbeat race, thumping in my ears, drowning out the sounds around me. I panted as if I’d just completed a sprint, then it simply… stopped, like a pot of boiling water removed from the heat. I made my way to the chair and sank down on rubbery knees. My head dropped into my palms.
I seemed to be the only one who’d been left out o
f the loop. Why? How long had this been going on? When did River find out? What did all of this have to do with his disappearance? Now what?
I sighed and lifted my head to look at Dylan. I felt Jack on the periphery but all my concentration was on this new knowledge. I asked the question, “What now?”
“Now it begins, Tempest.”
Finally, my name.
What I saw in his eyes was disconcerting… kindness, triumph, relief? How long had it been since I’d heard my real name come across his lips, before that night at BBs. “You didn’t use one of those ridiculous ‘P’ names…” I half muttered.
“There’s no longer any need,” he said cryptically.
Chapter 39
Offspring. That was an archaic way to put it.
* * *
Jack
I threw up my hand. “Wait, wait!” There was a whole level of communication going on between Dylan and Tempe I wasn’t privy to. They didn’t even act like I was there. That was about to end.
Okay, so my theory about Tempe’s father being responsible for the murder, or being connected to Phoebe and River Pomeroy’s abrupt vacations didn’t seem to work for them, but why couldn’t they see the connection?
“What am I missing?” Both of them turned to me, surprised. “Yeah, still here.”
I addressed Tempe first, “I get the feeling that you don’t see your father for the scumbag he was. All of the problems you and your mother and brother had, the financial hardships, the discord, were caused by your father running off, faking his death and ending up in prison, unable and unwilling to be a part of the family, or support it. He sounds like a pretty self-centered bastard at the very least and a criminal to boot.”
She just stood there with her hand on her hip like I was more irritating than her friend, McGuinness. I turned to him.
