The Real Werewives of Vampire County

by Ivy, Alexandra; Fox, Angie; Dane, Tami; Haines, Jess

  Silence.

  It was a freaking miracle.

  CHAPTER 9

  An hour later, Lindsay, Erica, Samantha, Nicole, and I were sitting in the middle of a war zone. The police had just left, toting away Rachel for assaulting Kelly with a fireplace poker. We hadn’t known it, but she had a record for felony assault. If not for her alibi, she would have moved to the top of our Persons of Interest list.

  As it was now, we had only one name on that list—Dr. O, the OB. And at this point, we didn’t have any substantial proof he belonged there.

  “What now?” Lindsay asked, glancing at her watch, then at Nicole. “It’s almost eight. I need to get home and relieve the sitter soon.”

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “I think we’ve accomplished all we can tonight. I’ll take what we found out to the police tomorrow. Maybe they can do something with it.”

  Erica and Samantha agreed that was a good idea.

  Lindsay looked unsure as she stood. “All right. I’ll go. Do we want to meet tomorrow sometime?”

  Erica shook her head. “Tomorrow’s bad for me. I have meetings all day. What about Saturday?”

  Everyone checked their calendars. Saturday it was. Lunch at Samantha’s.

  Nicole gave us all a handshake. “This was the most interesting dinner party I’ve ever attended.” She left with Lindsay.

  Erica headed into the great room to look at her smashed television. I joined her.

  “That is a sad, sad sight,” I said.

  Erica shrugged. “I was thinking about getting something bigger. I work my ass off. What the hell?” She circled around the far end and stooped down to pick it up. I took the other end, and together we hauled the broken TV out to the garage. When we went back inside, Samantha was hard at work, cleaning up the kitchen. Erica found some trash bags, handed me one, and together we picked our way through the great room, broken glass crunching under our feet. A little while later, Erica went back to the kitchen, her bag full.

  She dunked a glass into the punch bowl.

  I waved my hands. “Um, Erica ...”

  Too late. She’d downed the punch faster than a thirsty sailor. Smiling, she smacked her lips. “That punch is good.”

  “It’s lethal,” I reminded her.

  “It is not. It’s just punch. And a few organically grown herbs.” That was yet to be proven. “I’m not going to get violent, and I have nothing to hide.” She refilled her glass and emptied it. “Samantha, this is some damned good punch.”

  Samantha beamed. “Thanks.”

  “Maybe you should ease up on the punch.” I tried to take the glass from her. She didn’t let me. “You took those Valiums earlier.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” Erica chugged a third glass then crunched across the room to the couch. She plopped down, flung a leg over her knee.

  She patted the seat and crooked a finger at me. “Come here. Let’s talk.”

  I lifted an empty flowerpot. “But don’t you think we should get things cleaned up? I’m happy to help.”

  “Fuck that. The kids and that ass I’m married to will be home in a few minutes anyway. But the hell if I care. The lazy bum has nothing better to do. He can clean it up tomorrow.”

  I exchanged looks with Samantha.

  Samantha glanced at her watch. “I need to get the twins into bed.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It’s getting late—”

  “Fuck that. Joshua can get his own ass in bed. He’s not two. I need someone to talk to.”

  Samantha made a hasty exit, leaving me with Erica, who was in the mood to talk.

  Erica let her head flop back. Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Did you know that dumb bastard hasn’t even tried to get a job? It’s been five years. Five long years. He knew I wanted to have another baby before Paris started school. But now ...” Rocking her head to the side, she looked at me. “It’s too late.”

  “Oh, Erica. Are you sure it’s too late? You’re not even thirty-five yet, are you? I’ve heard of women in their forties—”

  “I can’t stand him. Can’t stand his voice. Can’t stand looking at him. And most definitely can’t stand him touching me.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she gripped her upper arms. “Can you blame me for taking a lover?”

  “Um ...”

  “Okay, maybe some people would. But I didn’t plan on cheating. It just sort of happened. We were both there. Lindsay had to leave, and the next thing I knew, we were making out in her living room.”

  Was Erica telling me ... was she sleeping with Lindsay’s ex-boyfriend? Was Erica the other woman?

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Matt. I thought you figured it out already. That’s why you asked me about him, right?” Erica got up, sauntered into the kitchen, helped herself to another glass of punch, and drank it without taking a break to breathe.

  In the interest of preserving her marriage—which was probably on its way to hell, anyway—I took the liberty of emptying the punch bowl down the drain. “Actually, no. I asked because I wanted to return his stuff. It’s still in my garage.”

  “Here.” She scribbled a phone number on a napkin. “His phone number.” She slid the napkin across the granite counter. “The best time to reach him is early afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked it into my pocket just as the echo of voices signaled the return of Erica’s family. “Well, I’d better be going.”

  Erica threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’re going to be good friends. I can tell already.”

  I wasn’t sure about that, not after she found out about her cat. Speaking of which ... “Um, Erica, I need to talk to you about your missing cat.”

  “What the hell happened here?” Erica’s husband bellowed.

  “Later,” Erica said, shooing me toward the door. “Paris, upstairs.” She pointed and a pretty little girl of about ten stomped toward the staircase. Then Erica turned an angry glare at her husband. “Listen up, asshole. I’ve had one hell of a day. Don’t you dare take that tone with me.”

  I made a beeline for the front door.

  The sounds of their argument followed me through the house and even outside. As I scuttled across the front lawn, heading home, someone grabbed my arm, giving it a tug.

  I gave a little yipe! and spun around, half-expecting something to fly at my head.

  Jon chuckled. Sneaky bastard.

  “Ohmygod, where did you come from?” I asked him, clapping a hand over my racing heart.

  “I was just heading to the party.”

  “You’re a little late.”

  “I’m sorry. I had some things to handle at work. They couldn’t wait.”

  “Yeah, well. You missed the whole thing.”

  “Tell me.” Looking all tall and dark and mysterious—the moonlight did amazing things for the man’s face—he gathered my hair over one shoulder. Then—no surprise here—he started nibbling on my neck. Outside. In the middle of the front lawn.

  “Jon ...” I said, tipping my head to give him better access. Little tingles were quaking through my body. They felt mighty good. I decided I didn’t need to tell him about the party right now. It could wait. “Where’s Josh?”

  “Up in his room. Why?” He nibbled on my earlobe.

  “Because I don’t think he should see us.”

  “See us doing what? We’re not having sex ... yet. I’m just having a little snack.” He nipped at my neck.

  “But I don’t think he likes me as it is. I don’t want him to dislike me even more.”

  “What makes you say that?” He dragged his tongue down the column of my neck and I shivered.

  “Because he hasn’t spoken to me in days.”

  “It’s just stress. Tests. That kind of thing. Don’t worry. He likes you just fine. Now, since you’re so concerned about people seeing us, why don’t we go inside?” Before I could respond, he scooped me off my feet.

  Grinning at nobody in particular, I tossed an arm around his neck. As
he climbed the stairs, I squinted at a dark shadow sitting smack-dab in front of the door. My blood, which had warmed up nicely, chilled. “What is that?”

  “What?” He halted at the door. “Can you grab the doorknob for me?”

  “What’s under your feet?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It looks like something.”

  “I don’t see anything.” In he went. He set me on my feet before pushing on the door to shut it.

  I caught it just before it slammed, snapped on the porch light.

  “Oh shit! What is that?” I stabbed a finger at the little pile of brown fur lying in front of the door. “See? I told you I saw something.”

  “It’s probably a dead rabbit or cat,” he reasoned, acting as if it was no big deal to find dead animals lying on the welcome mat. “I’ll take care of it later.”

  “But, Jon, there was a dead cat there last night. That’s two nights in a row. Whoever heard of such a coincidence?”

  “It’s hardly a coincidence. There are a lot of stray animals around here. I used to leave food out for them. Some of them keep coming back, looking for more.”

  Was I buying that explanation?

  He licked the spot on my neck, the one that sent tingly shivers down my spine, and I decided I didn’t care. If it was still there in the morning, I’d worry about it then.

  Laughter. In my dreams. Women laughing. Talking. A party?

  My eyes opened.

  The laughter continued.

  I wasn’t dreaming.

  Driven by overwhelming curiosity, I checked the clock. It was a little after midnight. I carefully extricated myself from Jon’s embrace—yes, he was a cuddler when he slept—and went to the window.

  More laughter. Shadows moving. There. It was coming from Samantha’s yard.

  I had to know what was going on. Having slept in a T-shirt and sweats, all I had to do was grab a pair of flip flops and quietly head downstairs. I bypassed the front door, opting for the French doors opening onto the back deck. Out I went into the cool, cloudless night. Yet another round of laughter beckoned to me, coaxing me to wander farther away from the house. My shoes smack-smacked under my feet, but nobody would hear. The laughter and lively chattering would drown out the sound.

  Creeping closer, almost at the far side of Samantha’s house, I kept to the shadows. For some reason, I didn’t want Samantha, or whoever it was, to know I was spying.

  But just as I rounded the far corner, everything went silent. No laughing. No chattering. Not even any insect buzzing. A strange chill raced up my spine.

  I turned to go home. Stopped.

  Were those ... ? Glowing eyes. Two. No, four. No ... six.

  Three pairs of eyes were staring at me from the shadows between the houses. I had no idea what they belonged to. Dogs maybe. Big dogs. Instantly, the vision of that little scraggly Skippy came to mind. One of these ... dogs ... had snatched him. I knew it. What would they do to me?

  Nothing if I could help it.

  I backed up, moving as slowly, as quietly as possible.

  Avoid eye contact, I told myself, remembering the first rule of Aggressive Dogs 101.

  Protect your head and neck.

  Remaining standing, but turning sideways, I inched along the back wall of the house. My foot landed on something soft. Rubber.

  Squeak.

  Damn.

  One of the animals stepped out of the shadow. It was big, muscular, a dog of some kind, with a long pointed snout and a thick, dark coat. For some reason, my gaze snapped to its eyes. Blue? A clear, ice blue. The dog’s ears twitched, and I yanked my gaze away, hoping it wouldn’t attack.

  I lifted my foot off the toy and another loud squeak cut through the thick silence as the hollow rubber inflated again. I held my breath when a second dog cleared the shadows. It stopped a few inches behind the first, flanking it on the right.

  Watching me.

  Still. Silent. Tracking my movements.

  The third stepped forward. It was holding something in its mouth. Small. Brown. Furry.

  Now I had an idea where all the dead cats were coming from.

  The dog with the dead animal slowly crept forward, ears back, tail low. I smooshed my back against the house and held my breath as it moved close, closer, too close. It stopped a couple of feet away, lowered its head, and dropped its prize onto the dewy grass. Then, moving just as cautiously as it had when it approached, it backed away. When it met up with the other two, the pack turned around and raced into the still, dark shadows.

  Finally, I was able to breathe again.

  Afraid the dogs would be back at any moment, I hightailed it out of there, dashing around the side of the house. Something jumped out of the shadows just as I was about to turn the front corner. I slammed into it, bounced backward and landed on my ass. The air left my lungs with an audible “oof.”

  Jerking my head, I looked up.

  Jon.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” I said, not hiding my exasperation.

  “What do you mean, me? I was just looking for you. You’re the one who keeps slamming into people. You need to watch where you’re going.”

  “I do watch where I’m going. You’re so freaking quiet and sneaky, I don’t see or hear you coming.” I started to push to my feet. I got a little help from Jon.

  He dusted my ass, then gave it a pat. “I’m not sneaking up on you on purpose. When I didn’t see you in the house, I got worried.”

  “Okay. Fine. Thanks for coming after me. As it turns out, you had good reason to be worried.” I started toward the house, Jon falling into step beside me.

  “What happened?”

  “I ran into a pack of dogs. Big ones.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “No. Not at all. They didn’t seem aggressive. Although there was something really weird about them.” At the front of the house now, I glanced back.

  “Weird? Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Just ... something.” I wrapped my arms around myself as a little shiver shot up my spine. “One of them had a dead animal in its mouth. It brought it to me, dropped it at my feet. Like it was some kind of gift.” I stepped up onto the porch and checked the welcome mat. Dead animal–free.

  “I’ll call animal control tomorrow.” Jon reached around my side and opened the door. “I think it would be better if you stayed inside after dark until those animals are caught. It’s after midnight. What made you go outside in the first place?”

  “I heard voices.”

  “Voices?” he echoed, stepping into the foyer.

  “Yeah. Women’s voices. I thought it might be Erica. And maybe Samantha. So I came outside to check.”

  As Jon reached for the door to close it, the soft sound of a woman’s laughter carried through the still night.

  “There it goes again! Did you hear that?” Pushing past Jon, I rushed back out onto the porch, following the direction of the sound with my eyes.

  Not far away, I caught sight of a tall shadow. Thin. “Samantha?” I called as I skipped down the front porch steps. I halted in the middle of the front yard, realizing there were shadows bouncing around the taller one. Big, dog-shaped shadows. Taking a step backward, I bumped into a walking brick wall. “I think those might be the dogs I saw before. Is that Samantha? She’s not afraid. Are they her dogs?”

  “Uh, you might say that.” Jon looped an arm around my waist, hauling me up to him.

  “But ... I didn’t know she had dogs. I’ve never heard barking, never seen them outside doing their doody—”

  “We shouldn’t disturb them. Let’s go inside.”

  I took one last look at the strange scene—straight out of Dances with Wolves—then let Jon lead me back into the house. This time, he shut and locked the door as soon as we were inside.

  Feeling even more shivery than before, I asked, “Is it just me, or do you think it’s a little strange that Samantha is outside after midnight playing with her dogs?”

  �
�Some people might think a lot of what goes on in this neighborhood is strange.”

  That statement got my attention. “Like what?” I asked.

  Jon shrugged and, taking my hand, headed toward the stairs.

  I yanked my hand away, planted my feet, and refused to budge. “Jon, what did you mean by that? Ever since I arrived, I’ve been feeling like things around here are a little ... off. Is there more going on than a few dead stray cats?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He swept my hair over one shoulder. There was no doubt what he was about to do next.

  I shrugged away before he got his first nibble. “Jon.”

  “Chrissy.” He cupped the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss.

  Just as his mouth settled over mine, I shoved him. “It’s not going to work. You’re not going to distract me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not keeping anything from you.” Undeterred, he lunged forward, tackling me, looping his arms around my knees. I flopped over his shoulder like a big bag of ... something ... as he stood up.

  I smacked him on the back, once for each step he ascended, the sound of each strike punctuating my words. “Jon.” Smack. “You can.” Smack. “Get all caveman.” Smack. “On me.” Smack. “But I’m not giving up.” Smack. “Tell me.”

  He set me on my feet at the top of the stairs and gave me some seriously hungry eyes. “Have I told you how sexy you are when you’re annoyed?”

  Argh! I shoved past him, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

  Jon knocked. “Baby, let me in.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on. You’re hiding something. What is it?”

  He audibly sighed. “You’re going to have to ask them. I can’t say.”

  “I left my job, my home, to come here. You should be able to tell me anything.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Fine,” I said, giving the door my best mean eyes. “You can sleep in the guest room.” Frustrated, I flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Six hours later, I gave up. There was absolutely no chance I was going to fall asleep. Feeling groggy, confused, foggy headed, and slightly depressed, I jumped into the shower, hoping some scalding hot water would wake me up a little. It helped. Figuring a half of pot of coffee would help even more, I staggered down to turn on the coffeemaker.