by Julie Chase
The transparent color of his eyes pulled me closer. “Yeah?”
“Let me protect you.”
Every fiber in my body longed to agree, to let Jack make sense of the nightmare. I wanted to unload my fears and every detail of my half-cocked plan.
So I did.
Chapter Twenty
Furry Godmother’s life lesson: Burning the midnight oil often leads to fire.
I waited anxiously by my shop window the next night, fiddling with my Faux Real display and wondering why Jack had agreed to this stupid plan. I darted my gaze over the busy street outside, watching every face that passed, searching the shadows for a giant black cat head or any sign that Josie was really coming.
One of the turtles dove off a rock, and I nearly collapsed.
“I think I changed my mind,” I announced to my bosoms—or more specifically to the tiny recording device I’d attached to my bra.
“Too late.” Jack’s confident tenor drifted from the darkened hallway to my ears. “Everyone’s in place. Let’s see if she takes the bait. Remember, try to get her to admit to knowing something. She won’t really announce her guilt, but maybe we can get a loose thread to pull her down by.”
I tracked shadows over the floor with each set of passing headlights. “This isn’t a scene from a scary movie,” I told myself. “This is a scene from an action film where the intelligent, creative female character saves the day.”
“What about the strapping young detective with a keen wit and striking blue eyes?”
I huffed in the direction of my dark stock room. “This is my movie.”
“No argument then?” he said. “You do think I’m all those things.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to be rude by arguing.”
He chuckled. “Yes. It would be so unlike you to argue.”
“I can hear you laughing.”
“Well, try hearing this. We’ve got plain-clothed officers watching the store from every conceivable entry point. I’m ten feet away, and you’re safe.”
I toyed with a thin silk head wrap, twisting the material around my fingers until they turned white. “I can’t believe you let me talk you into this. You’re supposed to be the voice of reason and stop me from doing dumb stuff like this,” I grouched. Memories of my abduction washed through my anxious mind. I rubbed my chest where it began to ache. “This is ‘The Good Ship Lollipop’ all over again.” When I’d tried to ferret out a killer on my own this summer, I wound up tied to a stage prop at gunpoint while Shirley Temple pumped from hidden speakers. I’d never hear that song again without crying.
“It’s not,” he said. “This is nothing like that.”
“I hate that song.”
“Me too.” His voice drew nearer, but he was invisible in the dark hallway. “You went behind my back then. This time you’ve brought me in on your plan, and NOPD has everything we need to make it work, so breathe.”
I inhaled deeply and blew the air out.
Security lighting illuminated the space in eerie, unfamiliar ways. The silence seemed to nip at my heels and crawl over my skin. The moment was frozen. Even Spot the vacuum rested in his recharge cradle. Outside, life went on as usual, as if nothing was amiss, as if I weren’t moments away from puffing into a brown paper bag.
The fuzzy white noise of Jack’s radio stung the air. “We’ve got eyes on the suspect,” a strange voice announced. “She’s approaching from the west. One minute to impact.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Operation Kitten is a go,” Jack said.
“Kitten?” I glared down the dark hallway. I hated when Jack called me that. “I thought we’d gotten past that.”
“Copy,” Jack responded to his team in the all-business voice I’d come to respect. “Radio silence from here.”
We’d have to revisit this operation’s stupid title later.
The little bell over my door jingled lightly as Josie crept inside. “Hello?” She was dressed in black from head to toe. Even her long, fine hair had been stuffed into a dark hoodie. My A-line dress and pearls seemed suddenly, comically inappropriate.
“I’m here.” I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin, forcing a lifetime of pageantry and debutante lessons into practice. “I’m so glad you came.” I rushed to her side and reached for her wrists. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked me over, distrust in her eyes. “You invited me, remember?”
I nodded emphatically. “I wasn’t sure you’d come, and I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you’re in danger.”
Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean? I thought this was about the pillow. You wanted to return it.”
“No.” I feigned shock. “No. I just needed to talk with you. Alone. Do you remember the man in the pictures I showed you? The guy carrying those boxes?”
“Yeah,” she spoke slowly, scanning the darkened shop. “What about him?”
“When you couldn’t identify him, I did some digging. He’s Annie Lane’s brother, and he’s been arrested before. He’s a drug dealer. I think Annie found out, and he killed her.” I lowered my voice further. “I think he’s been following me.”
She lifted her brows. “Really?”
“Yes.” I used my most breathless voice. “After I met with Gideon, the man from the animal shelter, someone broke in and attacked him! He’s in the hospital. It’s really bad.” I looked over my shoulders and scanned the street beyond my window. “I spoke with you right after I spoke with him. I’m afraid you’ll be next.”
Josie produced a cell phone from her pocket and tapped her thumbs against the screen. “What about the pillow? Is it here?”
“Sure, but I’m keeping it. Annie was my hero.” I couldn’t make out her expression. A long shadow had fallen over her mouth as she moved deeper into the shop. “Josie? Did you hear what I said? You’re in danger.”
She glanced up from her phone. “What were you saying about drugs?”
Nerves bundled in my gut, tightening until I thought I’d be sick. I refused to think about who she’d probably contacted and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand. “I think Annie’s brother was dealing drugs in the cities where she visited. I think she caught him and confronted him. I think he killed her to shut her up. I don’t have all the details,” I hedged, “but I’ve seen him in town this week, and the timing of Gideon’s attack is worrisome at best. If I’m right, and he’s been following me like I suspect, then he saw me talking to you. You could be next. You need to go somewhere safe until the police can find him.”
She made a duck face. “Where’s the pillow?”
“What?” I made a show of looking directly at it on my counter, then snapping my attention back to her. “I don’t have it with me.”
She sauntered to the counter and lifted it. “You don’t say?”
I faked my disapproval. “Did you ever see or hear anything that could support my theory about Ryan? Maybe you can help me build a case for the police to arrest him. We’ll be safe once he’s in jail.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she said. She slid her phone into her back pocket and stared at me.
“Why? Aren’t you worried? Everything I told you is true. He’s a drug dealer. He had access to Annie and motive to lash out.”
She didn’t answer.
Operation Kitten wasn’t going as planned. I’d assumed she’d cheerfully throw Ryan under the bus to deflect suspicions from herself. Desperation clawed at my chest. She needed to give me something to pull on.
The door swung open, and my ears rang as the little bell banged and rattled against the glass, much like my heart against my ribs.
I struggled for breath. “I knew it.”
The cat-man released the door behind him. It echoed in my head as it sucked shut, sealing me in and the world out. He moved toward me in slow motion, tilting his weird head over one shoulder and herding me back from the windows. Out of view from my plain-clothed backup. I could only pra
y that Jack was still listening.
I opened my arms like an airplane and positioned myself between the intruder and Josie, continuing the ruse and praying I’d survive my stupid plan. “It’s him, Josie. Call nine-one-one.”
She swept around me to the cat-man’s side and curled her body against his.
Ryan Goodman twisted the big head off his shoulders. A younger, more masculine version of Annie glared at me. His sandy, cropped hair dripped with perspiration from time spent under the cat head. “Did you get the pillow, babe?” He devoted rapt attention to me, even as he spoke to Josie.
“Yep.” She presented the little pillow to him on her palms, an offering to her god. “Just like I promised.”
“I don’t understand,” I balked, probably overacting. “You knew?”
Ryan’s smarmy smile was the definition of creepy. His ruddy cheeks and sheer size made him appear significantly more dangerous than he had in the pictures from Annie’s moving day. “Good job.” He kissed her nose. “Now let’s take her for a ride. She’s seen my face.”
I scooted back, suddenly preferring the demented cat head. “You know what? I’m actually fine here. No ride needed. You can take the pillow and go.” I worked my fear into a smile. “Enjoy the city. Take a carriage ride. I can see you two crazy cats are in love.” I cringed at the unfortunate word choice and scurried deeper into the room, prepared to make a run for it if needed. “I’m going to go home and rethink my theory. Clearly Josie’s not in any danger.”
“I’m not,” she said, “but you are.” She beamed. “You shouldn’t have taken this pillow, or stuck your nose in our business, or invited me here tonight, but you did all those things, and now you get punished.”
“No, thank you.” My mouth dried, and my palms began to sweat. I looked beyond the criminal couple to the window and listened intently to the silence of my shop. Where was Jack? Where was my backup? Everything was going wrong.
Josie snapped her thin arm out and captured my wrist. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“No.” I yanked free. I sidestepped the register and came face-to-face with Ryan. “You might have Josie fooled, but not me.” My voice warbled with terror, betraying the faux-confident expression I struggled to keep in place. “I’m not going anywhere with someone like you.”
He tucked the big cat head under one arm. “I didn’t fool Josie. We’re in love. And you are coming with me.”
“In love? I think it’s pronounced brainwashed,” I said.
His frown turned dark and malicious. “You’re awfully mouthy for someone about to get hurt.”
Josie made another grab for my arm and missed. “We’re in love,” she demanded. “Who wouldn’t fall in love with a rich, handsome entrepreneur like Ryan? I knew I had to have him the minute I saw him.”
“And she did,” he bragged. Josie landed her next attempt on my capture and jerked my arm hard enough to form tears in my eyes. I batted the tears and tried to pry her bony fingers from my arm. Where the heck was my backup? Why wouldn’t these two admit to anything? “Is that what you call drug dealers these days? Entrepreneurs?”
“Hey,” he protested. “I have my own business, just like you. I DJ at parties all over the country.”
I cleared panic from my quickly closing throat. “Raves,” I said. “Not parties. Don’t try to make what you do sound classy. You sell your pills from the DJ booth? Is that how it works?”
He didn’t flinch or confess.
These two were tough. I pulled in another deep breath and tried again. “No. You probably have a system. You’re too smart to just walk in with a pocketful of pills. How does that work, exactly?”
He turned his beady eyes on the little pillow. “Did you check it?” he asked Josie.
She released me and tore into my handiwork, digging desperately through its contents, covering the floor and my feet in shreds of fiberfill. Desperation seized her face. “There’s nothing in here.” She turned pleading eyes to her beau. “It’s empty.”
Josie dropped to her knees, pulling bunches of white fluff into bits. “Where are the pills?” she seethed. She rose to her feet in defiance. “You stole them.” She closed in on me until our chests nearly touched. Her statuesque frame loomed over my acceptably average one. “What’d you do with the pills that were in the pillow?”
I dropped my head back for a better view of her livid face. “You had drugs in that pillow?”
“Yes! We want them back. Now!”
“Or what?” I squeaked. “Or you’ll kill me like you killed Annie?”
Josie fell away, and Ryan’s hands were around my throat in an instant. The cat head rolled onto my clean shop room floor, stopping where Josie had landed with a soft thud. A slew of profanity and spittle hit my face with his every rancid breath. “I’d never hurt my sister! Ever! Do you hear me? She was my sister!”
My windpipe ached beneath his grasp. My body swayed in his control as I gasped for air. Finally, my flailing fingertips hooked on a nearby display and pulled it over with a crash.
Spotlights poured through the darkened windows instantly. The overhead lights snapped on, and Jack materialized from the hallway like a vampire from the rafters. “NOPD,” he shouted. “Release her!” Before my attacker could obey, Jack clubbed him with the butt of his gun. Ryan landed in a heap beside his nutso girlfriend.
I stumbled against the wall and slid down until my backside hit the ground. I rubbed my throat and swallowed deep lungfuls of air as my shop burst into a flurry of activity. The attack had lasted only seconds, but it had felt like eternity. Hot tears blurred my vision and poured over my fiery cheeks. Fresh out of dignity and decorum, I tipped over onto the cool floorboards and cried.
Jack’s face swam into view seconds later. He tugged my eyelids open and hollered for a paramedic.
I was floating, flying in his arms, through my shop and into the night. Carousels of red-and-blue lights swept through the sky, punctuated by the occasional yellow-and-white flasher on an ambulance or fire truck.
Jack settled me onto the warm wooden slats of a bench and placed a handkerchief in my hands. “I am so sorry.” His voice was low and tender as he peeled hair off my tear-streaked cheeks. “This is all my fault. I didn’t know he had his hands on you. I heard him yelling, but I didn’t know. I couldn’t see.” He stopped to clutch the back of his neck and swear. “I shouldn’t have let him get near you. I should’ve interrupted the minute he walked in. I should’ve never agreed to use you as bait.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I croaked. “This was my idea.” I pressed the soft cotton handkerchief against my eyes.
Jack moved back a few inches. “I could have said no to you. I should have.” He dug angry fingers into his hair and pulled until it stood in every direction, then turned away mumbling.
A pair of paramedics climbed down from a newly arriving ambulance and headed our way.
Jack motioned them to stop. “We need someone over here. This woman was assaulted by the man inside.”
One paramedic opened my shop door, looked in, then back at me. “What happened to the guy?”
“He fell,” I croaked.
Jack rubbed his stubble-covered cheek. “Take a look at her first. He’ll keep.”
The second paramedic nodded.
I waved him away. “I’m fine.”
He crouched before me and pulled a penlight from his pocket. EMT was written in big white letters on his navy-blue shirt. “Hey. I’m Tucker.” His bright smile and deep-brown eyes were engaging. Under better circumstances, I might have said so.
“Can you follow this light without moving your head?” he asked.
I obeyed.
“That’s great. Is it okay if I touch your neck? I see some bruising there.”
“Okay.”
“My hands are cold.” He smiled. “My grandmama always said, ‘Cold hands. Warm heart.’”
I was instantly thankful for the coolness of his skin on the tender flesh of my throat. He worked his finge
rs down the slope of my neck and gently prodded behind my ears. “Any pain when I do this?”
I knotted the handkerchief in my hands. “A little.” Emotion clogged my throat, garbling the words.
“It’s okay.” He dropped his hands from my neck, placing them on the bench instead, one on either side of my thighs. “There’s bruising. It’ll look worse before it looks better, but that’s okay because it will mean you’re healing physically. It’s okay to do whatever you need to recuperate emotionally. Lots of rest. Hot tea. Bourbon.” He winked. “I recommend a good talk when you’re feeling up to it.”
“Talk?” Jack asked.
Good to know he was eavesdropping. Then again, he’d told me once that nosy was part of his job description.
Tucker nodded, eyes focused on me. “I find that victims of trauma gain a lot by saying what’s on their minds. Releasing the fearful thoughts into the universe is often cathartic. Trust me.”
“All right.” Jack postured behind him, arms crossed, face grouchy. “I’ll take it from here, buddy.”
“Tucker.” He stood and extended a hand to Jack, who reluctantly shook it. Tucker gave me a parting smile. “If you ever need to talk.”
“Thanks.”
He wandered inside, leaving me with a cranky Jack.
“Well,” I prodded, “did you get enough to arrest them for the drugs?”
He grunted.
“Jack. What’s that mean? I don’t speak Neanderthal.” I gave him a gentle shove.
He twisted at the waist and cast me a fleeting glance. An almost smile tugged his mouth. “Maybe enough for a warrant. I don’t know. My thoughts are . . .” he waved his hands over his head in big circles.
“You look silly doing that.”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
I forced myself onto shaky legs and moved into his personal space, careful to keep my voice low. “Well, we couldn’t have known Ryan would show up. I was supposed to bait her with the pillow, then get her to flip on Ryan, either for the drugs or for Annie’s murder. I was certain she’d say something to direct suspicion away from herself.”
