Hopefully that’s long enough to solve the case. Now that Misty’s in town, I’m certain we’ll figure out what’s going on. I only wish I knew if that was a good thing.
She’ll get to the truth, and that’s all that matters.
I swallow as my jaw creaks. The tremor comes and goes in seconds. My muscles are aching, but I feel it when the urge to shift form begins to fade. The accompanying tidal wave of relief seems to empty any last hint of an itch. I’m safe for now.
I head into the alley that leads up to my studio apartment above the bakery. Not the most ideal place for a shifter to live, really, considering the owners are usually around in the early hours of the morning. Gators know how to be sneaky, how to lay in wait. I guess that’s the only reason I’ve managed to go undetected so far.
Going inside, I head straight to the kitchen table. It’s where my notes are laid out for the case.
I don’t have anything to add to them, but I look back over what I have and try to figure out if there’s any real chance Sam had something to do with the murders. I don’t know what he was doing every one of those nights, but I do know he only has an alibi for one of them.
My stomach begins to churn when I think about that night. The waitress who died was a runaway from another town. I’d spoken to her before, seen her eyes light up when she smiled. She was happy here. What happened to her was fucking horrible, but that’s not why it makes me feel like throwing up.
I wasn’t human that night. I shifted, became gator, and woke in the morning on my kitchen floor. All kind of normal, except for the blood. There was so much of it, and if it was mine as I’d first assumed, the wounds had healed completely, which didn’t feel possible.
There was just too much of it.
I’d spent more than an hour showering to clean it off, and longer than that scrubbing the damned floor. The blood cleaned up. It was like it had never been there. I forced myself to forget about it.
That tactic worked, until I found out the waitress had been killed the night before. Not just killed. Bitten and rolled until pieces of her were torn up all over the fucking place. A chunk eaten from her middle.
It was too messed up to ignore. She’d been killed by a gator. The same night I was out getting myself covered in blood that wasn’t mine.
The realization had turned my stomach. Thankfully I didn’t lose my lunch until I got back to my apartment. That was the moment I decided not to give in to the urge to shift.
I was used to letting my reptile side out once a week. It seemed enough to sate him.
Now? I can’t risk it until I know what’s going on. The night could have been a coincidence, but I don’t really believe in those. It happened for a reason and I’m going to find out what.
Thirteen
Misty
Lying awake all night has one upside; getting up early becomes a breeze. I shower and do my make-up, before I realize I’ve left my clothes in the bedroom. Which wouldn’t be a problem, if I didn’t have a roommate who’s never seen me naked. I wonder what Just would do if I walked in there in my birthday suit. If I thought I’d seen him flustered before, it would be nothing compared to his reaction to this. I smile at the idea, but I’m not quite devil enough to do it.
If only because giving him a sign that I’m interested would be playing with fire. Justin isn’t a one-night stand kind of guy. He’d want more, and I don’t have more to give.
So I wrap the biggest towel there is around my middle and walk out of the bathroom.
He’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand, the TV remote in his other hand as he stands in front of the set. He jumps a little when he turns my way.
“Oh! Hey, let me...” He looks around as if there’s somewhere he should disappear into while I’m about to get changed. He eyes the closet for a desperate second before shaking his head and going straight for the bathroom.
I poke through my case before pulling out a denim skirt and vest top. Today and tomorrow I can be as casual as I like. The skirt is bleach-washed but the top is dark blue. I like to think the outfit downplays my big booty and chest, but I don’t know who I think I’m kidding.
I push my feet into low wedge sandals and check through my handbag. There are a few hours before we need to meet Marina. I probably should have told her about Justin. It’s not like I can just leave him here all day while I go about my business. I dragged him all the way out here. Least I can do is make him ride shotgun to this case.
I hear the shower running and realize he’s made the same mistake I did, going into the bathroom without a change of clothes. I should probably go wait out at the van once the shower stops. Call out that I’ll be outside. I sit on the edge of my bed and listen until it happens. I can hear vague noises that make it sound like he’s muttering to himself. A few minutes later, he comes out in the same clothes he wore into the room.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t bring a change of clothes?”
He flushes. “Of course. I just left them out here.”
I get to my feet, kind of disappointed I didn’t get the chance to check him out. I know he’s not a wall of muscle like Ty or Sam, but he’s strong and he’s lean and it’s not too much to ask for a little peek at his chest, a little hint at the trail of hair that leads down to... Shit, I’m staring at his crotch.
Bad girl, Misty. Look away.
“I’ll just be outside.” I catch his gaze as I leave, and I see the shock in his deep brown eyes.
It was obvious I was checking him out. I could kick myself. Now if he makes a move, I only have myself to blame. I groan at the thought of being tested like that. It’s been so damn long I don’t think I can stick to my self-imposed rules. I’m one thirsty bitch and that man is a tall glass of water on a hot day.
“Remember why you’re here,” I murmur to myself. I take Sam’s pendant in hand and wonder if I should just present it to him. See what his reaction is. Problem is I know what it’ll be. Surprise, relief. It won’t tell me if he’s guilty, and I’m not sure I’m even capable of believing he might be.
The door opens behind me and Justin coughs. I turn to see him in light jeans and a pale blue shirt. He looks good, but I manage to avoid staring at his crotch this time.
“Ready?”
He nods. “We’re meeting your informer?”
“Nope. You’re meeting my mother.”
Fourteen
Misty
I feel kind of cruel about this move. My mother isn’t the worst, but she tends to make gentlemen callers nervous. It doesn’t help that I’m always trying to pull one over on her.
We get to the house and I take Justin’s hand as we walk up the path to the front porch.
His gaze falls to our hands when we stop at the door. He’s wondering why I did that. He won’t need to wonder for long. My mother opens the door wide, letting it swing until it bumps the wall. As usual, she’s in a loose shirt and short skirt and she basically looks like my older sister which is a little embarrassing at times. I mean she dyes her hair, but who can tell? Her skin is way too perfect for her age. I just hope she passed that trait on to me.
“Misty!” she cries out, pulling me into a breathtaking hug and then smooshing my cheeks when she lets go. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. You look well. But you could be doing with some pancakes and ice-cream, I’m sure.” She turns her sunny smile to Justin, surprise in her eyes. “You brought a friend! Hello, young man. You must be the fiancé she’s been telling me so much about.”
Justin’s face reddens, and his mouth opens and shuts enough to replicate a fish.
“Yep, that’s right. Justin’s the guy I’m marrying next weekend. Kind of why I’m home and all.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, clearly wondering what the hell’s going on. That’s when my mother cracks up, and my own giggles spring forth.
“Sorry,” I tell him, shrugging. “It’s kind of a tradition around here when someone brings a man home.”
“Come in, come in,” Mo
m says, ushering us inside. “I wasn’t joking about those pancakes, Misty. Just made a whole batch if you’re...”
I realize I’m still holding Justin’s hand, and for a second I don’t want to let it go. Stupid girl. Doing the fake fiancé bit with a guy you’re crushing on is a terrible idea. I untangle my fingers and he jerks back slightly, nods and folds his arms. Oh, Just. You’re so sweet, but that doesn’t cut it around here.
“Do I look like I need any more junk in my trunk, Mom? I’ll take a coffee if it’s going spare, though.”
She disappears into the kitchen and we follow, Justin ambling behind, looking around curiously.
“Black, no sugar?” she asks as she pours.
“Yep,” I confirm.
“Some things never change,” she says, handing me the mug and glancing Justin over. “Coffee?”
He nods. “Please.”
“Same as mine,” I tell her.
She pours and hands Justin a mug. “Pancakes?”
“Enough with the pancakes, Mom. We don’t need diabetes.”
“Well, your man looks hungry, sweetheart.” She smiles at Justin. “What do you say? I have bacon and maple syrup if you’re not an ice-cream fan.”
He glances at me, shrugs apologetically before he opens his mouth to say, “Sure. Sounds great.”
She beams at him. My mother has always cooked like she’s trying to feed an army. I have no idea why. There’s always so much extra that the neighbors and their pets all ‘look well’.
I bite on my lip as she goes about cooking up the bacon. The pancakes are already piled up on plates beside the oven. The room does smell delicious. I’m probably gaining five pounds by just breathing in the air. Considering I ate three donuts on the way to town last night, I don’t need to add a pancake and ice-cream breakfast into the mix this morning.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I tell them, as Mom instructs Just to make himself at home.
I was kind of half hoping she’d entertain him while I snuck out to check where Sam lives now, but when I get to the front door and look out across at the Jones’ house next door, I chicken out.
Five years since I left town and our last words to each other were said in anger. I’m probably the last person he wants to see.
I go into the bathroom and take Sam’s pendant out of my pocket. He must have still been wearing it. That has to mean something. Right?
I stare at my reflection and wonder. Five years is a long time to not speak to someone. Even if we had parted on better terms this would still feel pretty awkward. As it is, I’m kind of nervous. What if he’s not the same guy I knew? What if he’s turned into someone who’s capable of the things Ty told me about?
I don’t want that to be true. I’m not sure I could stomach it.
This story is going to be the hardest I’ve ever cracked. It might make or break me, and I don’t just mean career wise. “Please don’t let Sam be the one.”
I put the pendant back and wash my hands before I leave the bathroom. Justin’s being presented with the biggest breakfast plate he’s probably ever seen when I walk back into the kitchen, in time to see Sam cross the backyard out of the window before he knocks on the door and steps into the room.
My heart is hammering as my greedy eyes drink him in. He’s a little more buff than he was when I left, and his easy smile seems to have an edge to it. There’s no shock, or even surprise, in his warm hazel eyes when they meet mine, only pure, unfiltered desire. I wonder how the hell I could have missed it in the past. It’s so fucking obvious. What was I, blind?
“Misty, you came home,” he says, moving forward and enveloping me in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“In the flesh,” my mom cuts in, breaking the mood. She shrugs when I frown at her. “We all watch you on TV every night, Hon. It’s no big secret. You’re a local celebrity.”
“It’s good to see you too,” I murmur, listening to Sam’s fast-pounding heart as he’s pressed up close to me. He lets go suddenly and I try to keep my gaze from drifting to his muscles as he allows his own gaze to drop to fully take me in.
“Looking good, Flash.” He nods, before turning to my mom. “Pancakes and bacon. Shit, this guy must be something special.”
I remember Justin and bite back a curse. “This is Justin. He’s...”
“I’m her cameraman,” he blurts, as Sam sits down opposite him.
“I’ll get you a plate, Sam,” my mom sings as she dashes back to the oven.
Sam glances my way, eyebrow raised. “You’re filming here?”
“Uh, yeah.” I shrug. “Kind of a home town special.”
“Oh, cool,” he says. “Maybe you could film some of the game.”
“The game?”
“I coach the high school football team now. Go Gators!”
I think it over. “That could work.”
“Friday afternoon. Right around the time you’re usually on TV.”
Fills in one day, I guess. I really should work out what I’m actually going to film this week. At least until I have time to break the real story. I look Sam over and wonder if someone can really change enough to become a serial killer within a few years.
“Just give me the night to work out the details,” I tell him, checking the time on my phone. Still a couple hours before I need to meet Marina for lunch, and the smell of the pancakes are driving me slightly mad. I walk over to the counter and take a plate, putting the smallest pancake I can find on there, and hesitating before adding a slice of bacon. Donuts for dinner last night, and pancakes for breakfast? This trip is already screwing with my diet. Not that I was really on one. But, still, serious journalists tend not to do too much jiggling when they walk. I need to aim for a healthier dinner tonight.
I move toward the table and the impulse to take my usual seat next to Sam makes me pause. I can remember the last time we sat here together, working on some dumb school project, Sam moving closer and closer until we were touching. Me jokingly protesting that he was in my space, and him laughing it off while he tells me he can’t help it if I smell so good. I’d called him a weirdo. I mean, it was a fairly typical exchange for us. I’d had no idea he was flirting. The thought of that now is kind of jarring. I’d missed every possible hint that he was into me.
I sit down next to Justin and try to ignore Sam’s curious stare.
“So, you’ve worked with Misty for a long time, right?” Sam asks, turning his attention on Just when I don’t make any attempt to engage him.
“Uh, five years, give or take a few months.” Justin shrugs, pushing a piece of pancake around his plate until it’s swimming in syrup.
“Thought so,” Sam says, his tone indecipherable. “Watch out for this guy, Misty. He hasn’t been laid in a while.”
I almost choke on my first bite of breakfast. Sam’s smirking when I hit him with a glare. I take a sip of coffee and put the mug back down, irritation getting the better of me.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Justin’s my boyfriend.” I meet his stare head on and he frowns, giving Justin a second glance.
“No fucking way.” For a second I think he’s going to laugh, and he does, but it’s not followed by more disbelief. He grins briefly at Just. “Well done. She’s a hard woman to get a handle on.”
And that’s it. Just flushes, clearly confused by the whole situation I’ve put him in here. I so owe him for this. He’s taken a lot of shit today on my behalf. Sam goes on eating his breakfast with gusto. My mom just watches it all from the sink, where she’s drinking tea. When she catches my gaze, she mouths, ‘what are you doing?’ but I can’t exactly explain it so I just go on eating until my tiny pancake and sliver of bacon are gone.
Sam dumps a lump of pancake on my plate when it empties. “That wasn’t enough, Flash. You need a bigger stack.”
He’s kind of right. I’m still hungry, but I refuse to admit it.
“I’m done.” I get up, leaving the plate.
Justin follows
suit, relief in his gaze. It’s time to leave.
Fifteen
Sam
Always knew Misty would come back to town, I just didn’t expect it to be today and I never expected it to be with a boyfriend in tow. I mean, maybe that part was a lie. Misty’s not exactly known for being straight up. Still. The way she looked at him...
“More?” The question snaps my attention back to Misty’s mother.
She’s made more bacon, as if I could eat another bite. Must have had my weight in pancakes already. More would be a bad idea.
“Sure,” I say, knowing she’s made it because I’m still here.
She has this thing where she tries to keep company around with a constant supply of food. Misty never really understood that. I guess if this was my mom I might not either.
“I’ll need to head back after this though,” I tell her, trying to pull myself out of my thoughts.
“Training this morning?” She dishes out the meat and heads to the sink to rinse the pan.
“No, thankfully. Dad just needs my help with some stuff.” I don’t specify the stuff. It’s less fun to tell people he needs help to go shop for survivalist supplies and then count all the cans and shit in the panic room. He can’t do that weird crap himself anymore. The stroke slowed him down. Apparently that isn’t a thing that skips our species.
“Well, remember to give me the new code when he decides on it,” she says, sitting down with a cup of coffee, her hand going over mine. “When the world turns to shit, I want to be locked in that room with my two favorite men.”
“I’ll hand it in later,” I tell her, my smile starting to come back. “It’ll probably be one of the old codes you already know.”
He forgets a lot, and I don’t have the heart to tell him. What does it matter? We’re never going to need to use that bunker. It’s just something that keeps him busy.
Flashing Her Gators Page 4
