by Tess Grant
The little glowing numbers on the clock now read ten forty. Faintly she could hear a piano solo from the TV downstairs. The window idea sounded better and better. She might have to investigate that, try it out in broad daylight when she wouldn’t fall and break her arm. Her head dropped back against the wall. Joe and she had argued for a long time about her leaving him behind, about her going in blind without the punji sticks. She couldn’t remember if they had ever agreed on anything; the whole discussion had fizzled out after going around and around endlessly.
She was going out alone. Period. If she could get out of the house. C’mon Mom.
Her legs were so warm and her arms were getting chilly. She pulled the covers a little higher. Her mother had seen this movie half a dozen times; surely she remembered how it ended. If not, Kitty would be glad to tell her. She slid further down the pillow to get a more comfortable angle.
The ring of the phone barely penetrated her sleep, but the squeak of the steps did. Kitty barely had enough time to sink all the way under the covers when the door cracked open. Anne walked softly across the room, laying a hand on Kitty’s shoulder. She shook it once, then again. Kitty grumbled and tunneled further under the blankets, trying to hide the hunting clothes she wore.
“Kitty.”
Something in her mother’s voice made Kitty sit up, taking care to keep the blankets around her shoulders. “What?” She didn’t have to fake sounding sleepy; she just needed to keep the panic out of her voice at the fact that she had fallen asleep. “What time is it? It can’t be morning already.”
Anne held something out, and in the light streaming in from the hall, Kitty could make out the phone. “Eleven thirty. It’s Jenna’s mom.”
Kitty shook her head, trying to focus her thoughts on the here and now and not out in the woods. She was so late. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.” As Anne backed out the door, Kitty crawled out from under the covers. She dropped her jeans to the floor and slid into the flannel pants on the bedside table. Shrugging out of the plaid shirt, she piled it on top of the jeans and headed to the door. She didn’t have to fake the bed head she’d already gotten. She squinted against the light as she came into the hall and held her hand out for the phone. “‘Lo?”
“Kitty? This is Dana Bell. Do you have any idea where Jenna is?”
Kitty sat down on the top step with a thump. Of course, she knew where Jenna should be. Home. Then why was her mom on the phone? “No. Isn’t she with you?”
A faint tap came on the outside of the window on the landing, and Kitty started a little.
The wind must be picking up.
Mrs. Bell sounded half-angry, half-tearful. “I was hoping she was with you.”
Kitty glanced over her shoulder. How much had Mrs. Bell already told her mother? From the way Anne had pulled Sam’s door shut and now hovered two steps away probably everything. “She’s not here, Mrs. Bell. Did you try Joe?”
“He’s next on my list, but I thought I should try you first.”
Kitty cut in. “You have called some of the dance team, right? Deb?”
Anne cocked her thumb at Sam’s door then gestured down the stairway. Kitty nodded and trotted down the stairs.
“Deb’s not home either. In fact, her mother called me. I thought Jenna was with Deb, Deb’s mom thought she was here. Only neither of them is at anyone’s house. It’s probably too early to report them missing. The movie they were going to see finished up at nine.”
Kitty flashed back to the Goth girl earlier that summer. One small mention of the girl missing in the paper and both Kitty and Phinney had ignored it, thinking it had been some quarrel with a boyfriend. In Oakmont wandering around in the middle of the night could be a dangerous proposition, because the girl with the flat dyed hair and white pancake makeup turned out to be the wolf that infected Phinney. Kitty still remembered the feel of that hair against her bloody arms as the girl metamorphosed back to a human. Kitty would look at every missing person report differently from then on. Only the missing person wasn’t supposed to be Jenna.
“Jenna’s not home yet,” she mouthed at her mother and Anne pointed up the hill toward Joe’s house. “Listen,” Kitty said. “Why don’t I let you go so that you can try Joe?”
Anne walked into the kitchen and began rummaging in her purse for her cell phone. Another tap sounded on the outside of the house—this time from the window nearest Kitty in the living room.
Mrs. Bell talked to somebody in the background, probably Jenna’s dad. “I’ll do that, Kitty.”
Kitty heard the bark of Maddie from the barn—not her high-pitched intruder bark but her hey-that’s-my-friend bark. Her heart sank. The wind wasn’t tapping on the windows. “On second thought, Mrs. Bell, you’d better leave your line open. I’ll call Joe. If he’s heard anything, I’ll call you right back. If you don’t hear from me, he’s doesn’t know anything either.”
Kitty clicked off and walked after her mother. “Mom, Maddie’s barking out there. Let me go see if Jenna’s out there doing something stupid.” She held out a hand for the cell in her mother’s hand. “I’ll call Joe while I’m out there.”
Anne dropped the phone into Kitty’s hand. “I’ll call the ER. The night nurse can at least tell me if there are two girls there.”
Kitty pulled on her father’s coat and stuck her feet into the hiking boots. She didn’t bother to lace them but yanked on the door and headed outside. She cast a glance around the yard. The light hanging off the side of the barn cast a wide beam. Beyond its circle she could see enough of the barn to tell the workshop door was shut tight. She detoured around the side of the house where only the moonlight reached.
Joe leaned against the back wall of the house. “‘Bout time you got out here,” he whispered. “I thought we were heading out at ten-thirty.”
Kitty shook her head. “I was heading out at ten thirty.”
“That’s what you said,” Joe agreed. “But, being the chivalrous kind of guy I am, I came over to escort you.”
“Nobody’s going anywhere at the moment,” Kitty hissed. “Jenna’s missing.”
“Huh?”
“And if my mother comes out here and finds you, I called you to ask you about it, and you drove down here as fast as you could.” She knew it probably wouldn’t fly but it was always good to have a plan.
“Missing?”
“Mrs. Bell just called. Jenn is supposed to be with Deb, Deb is supposed to be with Jenn, and nobody is with nobody. The movie got out at nine.”
“Shit,” Joe breathed out. “That isn’t good.”
Kitty thought about Goth girl again. No, it wasn’t good at all. “You need to get out of here. Get home in case Mrs. Bell calls. Right now I’m supposed to be calling you, and then calling her if you know anything.”
“Right.” Joe’s hands wrapped around her arms then pulled her into a hug. Against her hair she heard him say, “She’ll be fine, Kit. Really.”
Kitty hadn’t realized how horrible she felt until Joe’s reassurance. She relaxed against him, laying her cheek against his warm solid shoulder. Breathe—in and out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time for luxuries. She pulled back to stare up at what she could see of his face. “Go home. No detours. You’ve got to be inside by midnight.”
He nodded.
“Joe, please.” Her voice quivered. She heard it and hated it. “I mean it. You’ve got to be behind a locked door by midnight. Promise.”
Joe leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Scout’s honor,” he whispered. He took off at a trot toward the road. He cut left at Phinney’s lane, and when she heard his car start, she climbed up the porch stairs and back inside.
Anne came into the entryway. “Any luck?”
Kitty hung her coat up. “Nothing.” She used the toe of one boot to pry off the other. “You?”
“Nothing. That’s good, I suppose. How about Joe?”
Kitty shook her head. Pushing off her other boat, she faced her mother. “T
hat makes three nothings.” Jenna, don’t do this. She looked at the clock on the far wall over the table. Five minutes to midnight. “What do we do?”
“You go to bed. I’ll wait.”
Kitty didn’t answer. She stood there and waited for Anne to come with Plan B.
A half smile crept across Anne’s face. “I’ll make tea. You can wait on the couch.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kitty tugged on the mailbox door. Last winter the snowplow had dented it, and a crimp at the edges held it tight. She skewed it right and yanked, popping it open with a screech. Nothing inside. Good. That meant Joe’s dad hadn’t delivered the mail yet.
She walked back to the porch steps and plopped her butt down. The cold hit her immediately and she pulled her sweater down far enough that she could sit on it. Gray and windy today—chilly enough to make her draw her fingers into her sleeves. Phinney had hunted wolves year round—the thought wasn’t too appealing. Slogging through knee-deep snow in a pathless wood was bad enough during the day.
The postman’s truck came up the road raising a little plume of dust and swirls of dead leaves as it fell off the side of the pavement onto the shoulder. This whole conversation was a bit of a gamble. Kitty didn’t want to lie anymore, so if this led to questions about Joe, things could get dicey. Plus Mr. Zubowicz would try to talk her out of it, dead brother or no dead brother. She scrubbed her palms on her jeans and started for the box. He saw her coming and grinned and waved, stopping at the driveway.
He held out a packet of mail. “Hey, Kit. Can’t wait for today’s senior installment?”
She took the pile—four envelopes. One bill for her mom and three college letters. She rolled her eyes and tucked them under her arm.
“I know,” he said, pulling the next pile of mail toward him. “I can’t believe how many of these Joe gets a week. No wonder tuition is so dang high. Paying for all the postage.” He chuckled at his own joke and reached for the gearshift dropping it into drive. When Kitty didn’t step back, he shoved it into park. “Kitty?” he said pulling down his sunglasses to get a good look at her.
Out of her back pocket, she pulled another envelope, stained brownish red and crumpled from being carried around. She extended it in his direction. His gaze flicked across the scribbled lines of the address. K. Irish, Oakmont, Michigan. “Remember when you delivered this?” He nodded once. “You brought it wrapped in this.” She extended the newspaper clipping of Austin Harris’ death. A jagged hole punched through the top where she had hung it on the nail in her dad’s workshop.
He nodded again.
“You’re the first name on Phinney’s list of spotters.”
His gaze slid sideways and for one second Kitty thought he was going to play coy like he didn’t know what she was talking about. Then his eyes came back to the letter and he asked, “When do we start?”
“Now,” Kitty said. “A week ago.”
“What do you need from me?” He slid his glasses back up his nose.
“Same thing you gave him.” She tapped the letter on the edge of his window. “Information about kills, stuff like that.”
He nodded once more and shoved the gearshift into drive. “You got it.”
Kitty took a step back but he hesitated and pushed it back into park. “Kitty?”
She drew closer to the open window.
“You realize…Jenna….” his voice trailed off. “She didn’t get home until two a.m. That’s more than enough time.”
“I know,” Kitty replied, her fingers tightening enough on the letter to put another crease in the paper. Jenna’s skin had been parchment white in class the next morning. The contrast between her cheeks and the bluish skin below her eyes was startling. Kitty chalked it up to not enough sleep. She refused to acknowledge the whispers in her head that Phinney had looked the same way after he had been infected. “She’s not talking. I’ll handle that one.”
Mr. Z. smacked the steering wheel with his palm and his sudden outburst startled Kitty.
“Cripes, I feel like a heel. I was going to drive away. Leave you with it. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need? I could….” He quieted. The fingers of his right hand pinched at his left forearm.
Yes, she wanted to scream. You could take care of it and I’ll go back to doing whatever…being whoever…I was before all this started. Yes, yes, and yes.
“Nope,” she said, surprised to hear her voice was rock solid. “I got it.”
“If you change your mind….” he said.
Kitty didn’t need two assistants. She could barely handle one. She finished the thought for him. “I’ll let you know. Really.”
Zubowicz nodded, then pulled the truck up on the blacktop and drove. A rock spun out from under his tire and smacked her in the foot. She kicked it back into the road. That had been easy. Not one question about Joe. Not one, “I can’t let you do this.” Whatever. Maybe she had misjudged Mr. Z. She kicked another stone out to join the first.
She should have asked him how he was going to get the information to her, but the answer seemed obvious.
Probably a letter.
“How’s Stan?” her mom asked when she came in from outside.
“Good,” Kitty answered and held out the envelope with her mother’s name on it.
Her mom took it, checked the return address and sighed. “Were you waiting for something? You haven’t met him at the road since you were a little girl.”
Kitty tossed her own letters on the growing pile on the counter. “Nothing special,” she said.
Anne leafed through the pile. “All these are college letters?” Pain flitted across her face.
Kitty had known better than to keep them. She’d thought she might go through them at some point, but she should have tossed them in the recycling bin as she’d come in the door. Green means gone. Even if she managed to decimate the entire werewolf population before fall semester, no school out there was going to let her get a degree for free.
Her mom picked the top letter off the pile. “The education department at Deep River? Honey, I didn’t know you wanted to teach.”
Kitty remembered putting an X in the box next to teaching on some interest form Ms. Olivera had thrown at her during one of their college prep counseling sessions. She had kind of been interested. Teaching little kids their ABCs sounded better than taking x-rays at the hospital or working on computers.
“It only makes sense,” her mom went on. “You’re so good with Sam. You’d be a great teacher.”
I’d better be good. I need to teach Joe how to shoot.
She took the envelope from her mother’s hand. Ripping it open, she ran through the letter from Deep River University inside. She had visited the place earlier in the summer to research Phinney’s news about the werewolves under the guard of the tweed-coated librarian, Ms. Norton, who prowled the special collections building. Ms. Norton and she needed to have a little chat anyway; the librarian was the second name on the veteran’s list of spotters. This was as good an opening as any. “Mom,” she said. “Can I use the car sometime soon? I wanted to drive down to the university and check out the campus again.”
Mom walked toward the coffeepot and started filling a mug. “Sure. I could get off early. Go with you….” Her voice rose in expectation.
“I’d like to go alone this time,” Kitty hedged. She didn’t look at her mother. She didn’t want to see her disappointed. Again. “I want to narrow it down to two colleges or so before you come along. No sense dragging you to places I don’t even like.”
“That’s really good thinking. I’m ready to go anytime though. Just let me know.”
“Mmm,” Kitty mumbled, but she wasn’t thinking about college or her mother.
She had one spotter on board. First one down, second to go.
****
The special collections building hadn’t changed any since Kitty had spent hours in its basement combing through town obituaries before joining forces with Phinney. This visit sho
uld be a whole lot shorter. Maybe not easier. Ms. Norton hadn’t looked like an easy sell.
Kitty pulled the door open and stepped inside. Ms. Norton stood behind the counter, looking as square and solid as ever. Same tweed coat, same broad shoulders. Her eyes flicked toward Kitty and just as quickly slid away. If the woman recognized her, she didn’t show it. Kitty knew she had been dismissed.
She walked straight to the counter. Three steps before she got there the librarian turned her back. Dismissed times two. Kitty put her hands on the counter. “Excuse me, Ms. Norton?” she said, making her voice as pleasant as she could. “Could I speak to you for a few minutes?”
The woman looked over her shoulder and gave Kitty a longer once-over than the first time—a how-do-you-know-my-name sort of look. Kitty smiled, big and toothy, and the librarian turned all the way around. “Have we met?” she said, eyes narrowing a pinch as she sized up Kitty. “You look familiar.”
Kitty leaned her elbows on the oak countertop. “I was in looking for my grandmother’s obituary. Back at the start of the summer.”
No answer. Kitty tried to jog her memory. “Oakmont.”
At that the tweed-coated woman nodded. “They fixed that leak in the library roof up there. Everything that was here got moved back.” She dropped her gaze to the counter and began stacking papers.
Kitty took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to get written off. “I’m not here about the obituaries. At least not the old ones.” Was it her imagination or had the tweed shoulders stiffened?
“I don’t have any of the local history items from Oakmont here any longer.” Ms. Norton shoved a heap of papers into a stapler, punching the top down with the side of her fist.
“Back then,” Kitty started. “I was looking for the town’s old records, but now…” Movement at the edge of her vision caught her eye and she stopped. A scholarly sort—Harry Potter glasses, tousled hair, wrinkled sports coat—poked through a shelf over by the window. Kitty half turned away from him, hoping the barrier would block her voice. Ms. Norton caught the movement and her eyes roamed from Kitty to the bookshelf browser and back suspiciously. Kitty went on, “Now I’m looking for…”
