by Lynsay Sands
“Yeah?” Quinn asked, following her. “Is he as good-looking as Julius?”
“He’s . . .”
Pet was struggling for what to say when her sister suddenly said, “Wait a minute. Mrs. Wiggles? Isn’t that Mr. Purdy’s cat? Why is Parker going to get Mr. Purdy’s cat?”
“Mr. Purdy’s in the hospital,” Pet said calmly, glad she could say that honestly. “Parker’s been looking after Mrs. Wiggles for him.”
“Oh, Patrick isn’t going to like that,” Quinn said with a grimace.
“Patrick doesn’t like anything,” Pet said with amusement.
“No, he doesn’t,” her sister agreed with a sigh, and then frowned and asked, “Has he called home at all?”
“Not that I know of,” Pet said with a shrug. “But I suppose I could have missed it if he called while I was picking up Parker or something.”
It wasn’t until Quinn moved to the phone that Pet began to worry about what she might hear. Pet knew Parker had called last night after she’d stumbled into his room. She also knew they’d been letting the answering machine take all calls while they were here. If Parker’s call had been recorded . . .
“Delete,” Quinn muttered, and pushed the button as a voice started talking about free vacations, all you had to do was buy . . .
Pet stood tensely as Quinn went through call after call, only relaxing when the last message ended. There had been three calls from their mother, one from a friend suggesting she and Quinn get together for drinks, but the rest of the calls had been sales. If Parker’s no doubt frantic call had been recorded, someone had had the good sense to erase it.
“Bastard,” Quinn growled as she erased the last sales call. “I can’t believe Patrick is being such a jerk. He hasn’t answered my calls, called me, or even texted. I have no idea when he’s coming back.”
“Speaking of which,” Pet said now, “I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow. What happened?”
“Oh. I didn’t feel like staying for tonight’s dinner. It’s usually just a drunk-fest the last night at these conventions anyway, so I switched tomorrow’s flight for one this afternoon.” Quinn moved to the refrigerator and opened the door. “I was going to text you, but then I thought I’d surprise you instead.”
“Cool,” Pet murmured, but couldn’t help thinking it was a good thing Quinn hadn’t “surprised” them that morning, or she’d have walked into a houseful of immortal Enforcers holding a strategy meeting.
“Man. What did you do? Buy out the whole grocery store? Look at all this food,” Quinn murmured, bending to peer at the lower shelves. “And it’s all healthy food too. Jeez, Pet, what’s going on? You don’t eat healthy.”
What was going on was Pet hadn’t bought the food. All she could think was that Marguerite had arranged for the groceries as a thank-you for the use of the house, but she had no idea when the groceries had been bought or by whom. She supposed they’d picked healthy stuff, though, because she’d mentioned that Quinn was a health nut when she’d explained the chocolate chip and bacon cookies to Santo. He must have passed on that tidbit to Marguerite. She couldn’t say any of that, though, so lied . . . again.
“I just figured you’d be tired after your trip and not want to bother with shopping,” she mumbled.
“Wow. Thank you.” Quinn closed the door and rushed over to give her a hug. “Sometimes you’re the best!”
“Yeah.” Pet relaxed on a laugh and hugged her back. “Sometimes you are too.”
Grinning at each other, they separated and Quinn moved to her purse and began to dig through it as she asked, “So. Want to stay for dinner?”
“No. I have some essays to grade,” Pet lied, using the excuse she always used in a pinch. Sometimes it was handy being a professor, she thought.
“Are you sure?” Quinn asked, distractedly, frowning into the dark depths of her suitcase-sized shoulder bag. “You have all weekend for that, and we could open a bottle of wine or four.”
“If we get started on the wine, I’ll be hungover all weekend and won’t be able to read the essays, let alone grade them. Besides, you could probably use an early night after all that rushing around at the conference,” Pet commented, wondering what Quinn was looking for. She got her answer when Quinn pulled out a small set of keys.
“Damn.” She eyed them malevolently. “These are Patrick’s keys. I used his car Monday to go to work and we switched keys.”
“Is that a problem?” Pet asked, eyebrows raising.
“Yes. I was going to check the mailbox. I forgot to do it before I left. It hasn’t been picked up since Monday, and you know how small those community mailboxes are. It’s probably crammed full of junk mail and nonsense,” she said with a sigh.
“Doesn’t Patrick have a key to the cluster mailbox on his key ring?” Pet asked with amusement.
Quinn snorted at the suggestion. “You don’t think Patrick would do anything as plebian as collect the mail, do you? He’s an oncologist.” She opened her eyes wide and waved her hands around as if to pantomime fanfare as she named her husband’s profession.
“And you’re a surgeon,” Pet said, imitating her pantomime.
“Yeah,” Quinn mumbled on a sigh.
Pet frowned at her expression. “Are you and Patrick having problems?”
Quinn straightened abruptly and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m just tired from the conference.”
“Right,” Pet murmured, and debated pushing the issue, but then let it go and took advantage of the opening. “Then I should head out and let you get some rest.”
Quinn didn’t protest, but followed when Pet turned to head out of the kitchen. “Thanks for stepping into the breach and looking after Parker, Pet.”
“No problem,” she said lightly as she reached the front door and opened it. “You know I love the little twerp.”
“Yep.” Quinn grinned and hugged her when Pet turned back, then suddenly gasped and stepped back. “You forgot your overnight bag.”
“Oh.” Pet frowned. Her bag was at the apartment where she’d taken it when she’d taken Parker there Wednesday after school. She couldn’t say that, though, so lied. “It’s in my trunk.”
Quinn blinked at the claim. “Why is it in your trunk? You didn’t know I was coming.”
“No. But I didn’t bring enough clothes, so took the dirty ones home and grabbed fresh clothes on my lunch hour today. By the time I picked up Parker after school and drove here, I guess I’d forgotten all about it.”
“Oh.” Quinn nodded, appearing to buy the lie. “Handy in the end, I guess. At least you didn’t schlepp it in just to have to schlepp it back.”
“True.” Pet forced a smile and turned away before anything else could come up that she’d have to lie about.
“Thanks again,” Quinn called, watching her jog down the porch stairs and head for the driveway.
“Anytime,” Pet assured her, and then paused next to her car door when Parker came running around the hedge with Mrs. Wiggles in his arms.
“Are you leaving?” he asked with obvious disappointment when he saw her by the car.
“Your mom’s home,” she pointed out, bending to hug him and Mrs. Wiggles when he moved to her. Giving him a squeeze, she whispered, “No mention of staying at my place or anything else but the guy at your window. We mostly played video games and watched movies after school all week.”
“I remember,” he whispered back, but frowned and pointed out. “My stuff is at your place. My television and PlayStation and—”
“Right,” Pet breathed, interrupting him, and then shook her head helplessly and said, “I’ll get them back here tonight. Tomorrow at the latest,” she promised, but wondered how the hell she was supposed to do that without her sister seeing and asking questions.
It looked like she was going to have to stop next door before going home, after all, she thought grimly. While Marguerite had told her to return when she left her sister’s, after Santo’s behavior, Pet had decided to ju
st go straight home. But she was going to need someone to control Quinn to get Parker’s things to him.
“Go on. I’ll see you later,” Pet said on a sigh, and straightened to watch him walk to his mother with Mrs. Wiggles in his arms. She then got in her car. As she turned the engine over, she wondered if it made her a horrible aunt to encourage the boy to lie like this. But she knew it was for the best. Anything he told Quinn would just lead to questions she couldn’t answer. Not that Quinn would want the answers anyway. At least, not if the way she’d refused to acknowledge anything to do with immortals and such from their childhood was any indication.
Forcing a smile, she waved out the window at her sister and Parker, and then backed out of the driveway. Much to her relief, the pair turned and walked into the house as she shifted into Drive. Even so, Pet drove up the block a bit in case Quinn looked out the window after closing the door. She parked on the road several houses down and walked quickly back to the Caprellis’, confident the RV would block Quinn’s view of her return to the neighbor’s house.
“I was afraid you were just going to drive home and not come back here,” Marguerite said quietly, opening the screen door as Pet mounted the porch stairs.
Pet shook her head. “We have a small problem. All of Parker’s things are at my place. Television, gaming gear, clothes . . .” Grimacing, she pointed out, “I’m going to need help getting his stuff back into the house without my sister noticing and asking questions. I think a little mind control is going to be needed.”
“Oh, my, yes,” Marguerite agreed, ushering her into the house.
“Where did everyone go?” Pet asked with surprise as she saw that the only people still in the living room were Eshe and Zani. The pair were hovering over the phone they’d found in Mr. Purdy’s house.
“Santo and Julius are having a little chat in the kitchen. Lucian went out in the backyard to call his wife, Leigh. Nicholas and Jo went for a walk. Decker went upstairs to take a nap. He came straight from another job and didn’t get a chance to rest first,” she explained, and then finished, “And Christian and Bricker went out to pick up some dinner for everyone. I hope you like fried chicken, because that’s what everyone voted for.”
“Yes, but I’m not hungry,” Pet murmured, and then hesitated, unsure where to go or what to do. She wanted to go talk to Santo, but if he was talking to his uncle . . .
“Sit down and relax, Pet,” Marguerite suggested lightly. “Julius and Santo should not be long, and then we can all decide what to do about Parker’s things.”
Pet nodded and moved to take the chair next to the couch where Eshe and Zani were murmuring and punching numbers into the phone. They both glanced up and smiled at her distractedly, but then returned to what they were doing. Pet watched them silently, but her thoughts were spinning. She was feeling uncertain and confused by Santo’s behavior since Christian had crashed in on them earlier. It seemed obvious to her that he’d changed his mind and decided she wasn’t his life mate, after all. She just didn’t know why, or what she’d done wrong to change his mind.
Unfortunately, Pet didn’t handle emotions like uncertainty and anxiety well, and they were quickly turning into anger. Which is why she scowled at Santo when he followed his uncle into the living room a few minutes later. The way Julius shook his head sadly when Marguerite raised her eyebrows at him didn’t help any. She got the distinct impression that the “talk” Julius had been having with Santo had been about her, and it hadn’t gone the way the other couple had hoped. Which she suspected she would have hoped for too.
The door opened then and Jo and Nicholas entered, holding hands. Noting the loving look they exchanged, Pet felt jealousy rise up within her. Santo had looked at her like that just that morning, and now . . .
Mouth compressing, she stood up abruptly. “I should get going.”
Marguerite hesitated, but then glanced to her husband and said, “All of Parker’s things are at the apartment, and Pet’s concerned about getting them back. If her sister sees, she will undoubtedly have questions.”
“Oh, yes,” Julius said with a frown, and turned to Santo. “I suppose you will have to accompany her home, Santo, and help her get the items back, and then control her sister and—”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll figure it out,” Pet said grimly, moving toward the door. She’d noted the way Santo had stiffened at the suggestion that he accompany her, and she’d be damned if she—
“Pet.” Marguerite touched her arm as she passed, bringing her to a halt. “You cannot do this on your own. And you do not need to. We are your family now, and keeping the events that took place here and the knowledge of immortals and that you yourself are now one falls on all our shoulders. Does it not, Santo?” she added firmly, turning to stare at her nephew.
Santo’s jaw clenched, and for a minute, Pet thought he wouldn’t agree, but then he sighed and nodded. “I will come with you. I can bring the SUV back that way. And I suppose I had better see to your door too. I should have taken care of it before this.”
Pet had glanced to the door as he spoke, her attention drawn by its opening to allow Christian and Bricker to enter. Both men carried several bags of something that smelled heavenly in their arms, but Santo’s comment about her door surprised her and managed to briefly dislodge her anger.
Turning to Santo as Lucian entered from the hall to the kitchen, she asked, “What’s wrong with my door?”
“I thought to put a dead bolt on it that wouldn’t be so easily picked. At least, I presume that’s how they got in,” he added, and then arched one eyebrow and asked, “Or did they come over the balcony? Your balcony door was open.”
Pet stared at him, recalling the jingling sound followed by the scrape of a key in the lock before her door had opened last night. “No,” she said finally, “the intruder used a key to get in.”
“What?” Marguerite asked with surprise.
“A key,” Pet repeated, and scowled as she thought of it. She’d forgotten all about that what with one thing and another. Or perhaps what it meant just hadn’t registered. Life had seemed to be moving fast the last couple of days.
“Your attacker had a key?” Santo asked slowly. “Who has a key to your apartment?”
“My sister and Mr. Laurier. But it wasn’t either of them,” she said with certainty.
“I thought you said you didn’t get a good look at the intruder?” Santo reminded her with a frown.
“I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I saw his silhouette. Mr. Laurier’s an old guy with stooped shoulder and a potbelly. This guy looked young and fit, not . . .” She paused as the image flashed in her mind and she recalled something she hadn’t really noticed at the time. “He had a coat on.”
“A coat?” Julius asked with surprise.
“It’s been rather warm for a coat,” Marguerite pointed out.
“Yes,” Pet agreed, and then shrugged helplessly. “A long coat that didn’t reach quite to the knees. Like . . .”
“A doctor’s coat?” Marguerite said, obviously reading her mind when she paused.
“Patrick wears a lab coat to work,” Pet said slowly, her thoughts turning in her head. “He puts it on at home before he leaves for work and takes it off and throws it in the wash when he gets back. Quinn says he’s obsessive compulsive about it. I think he just likes the world to know he’s a doctor. He thinks it gives him a prestige.”
“He has your sister’s keys?” Marguerite asked sharply, obviously having pulled that thought from her mind. “And you think he was the intruder that night.”
That was exactly what she was thinking. In fact, several things that Pet hadn’t really thought much of were starting to paint a scenario in her mind that she didn’t like.
“But why would he try to break into his own house?” Santo asked, his eyes narrowed. “He has keys.”
“There are dead bolts on the front and back doors. I made sure both were bolted before bed that first night. Even if he’d unlocked th
e door, the barrel bolts would have kept him from opening the door,” Pet murmured, her thoughts tracking other things.
“But he could have knocked to get in,” Zani said, joining the conversation now. “He didn’t have to try to break in.”
“Wait a minute.” Bricker set the bags of food on the coffee table before turning to peer at her. “Are you thinking it was your brother-in-law who broke into your apartment and attacked you?”
Was she? Pet wondered. Or . . . Biting her lip, she pointed out, “It was Parker’s window the intruder was at the first night, and Parker was at my place during the second attack.”
When silence fell over the room, she sighed and added, “And Patrick hasn’t been answering Quinn’s calls.” Pet hesitated, but then turned to Nicholas and said, “You guys were talking as you returned from cleaning Mr. Purdy’s house and I thought I heard you say he mentioned that someone named Pete came to the house and there was a scuffle?”
She’d asked Nicholas, but both he and Jo nodded.
“Are you sure he wasn’t trying to say Peters?” she asked. “That’s my sister and her husband’s last name. Peters.”
No one spoke, and Pet stood silent and still, her stomach churning. If Patrick had gone over first thing in the morning as he’d promised Parker . . . But why didn’t he take the cat? And why had he not just come home afterward? Had Dressler turned him? Was he hiding?
“Zani,” Lucian barked suddenly. “Show Pet the phone you found in Purdy’s house.”
The younger immortal stood at once and carried the phone to Pet. He held it out, but she just looked at it silently.
“Could that be your brother-in-law’s phone?” Lucian asked grimly.
Pet shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I’ve never really noticed what kind of phone Patrick has. Open it up.”
“It’s locked,” Zani reminded her. “We’ve been trying to figure out the combination.”
“Oh, right,” she sighed, and stared at the phone. There were six blank circles above the number pad on the screen.
“Try 052209,” Pet said quietly, and then explained, “It’s their wedding anniversary.”
