by Ava Gray
“They’re all adorable.”
A devil made her say, “You should keep all three. You have the space and the resources to feed them and pay for their medical care.”
To her surprise, her mother shrugged. “How is three worse than one? At least they’ll have each other to play with . . . and they’re used to each other.”
That was true. Cats from the same litter tended to cohabitate better once they were grown with less territorial conflict than if they were integrated later. And it was how she knew her mom had really changed—or maybe it was more accurate to say she’d thawed. Because she hadn’t always been so frozen.
And she understood. Sometimes you had to suffer loss in order to remember what mattered.
CHAPTER 18
Zeke found a body in the woods.
And he couldn’t be the one to bring it to the attention of the authorities. Not after his tip led to the girl in the trunk. They just wouldn’t believe he had nothing to do with it. But he didn’t feel right about leaving her here, either.
She hadn’t been in the wild long. No animals had touched her. Tear tracks had been wiped from her cheeks, but in the moonlight, with his extra-sharp vision, he made out the signs of where she’d cried. Her lips were cracked, as if she had been denied water. Water made a woman piss and reminded a murderer she was only human, not a symbol or a vessel, or whatever he wanted from her.
The killer had surely painted her face after death because no woman would make herself up like this: eyeliner too thick, shadow too dark, lipstick too bold. Stage actresses wore it like this from what he remembered, and maybe so did whores. Zeke didn’t know enough about the latter to be sure.
Ribbons twined around her arms and legs like creeper vines, and someone had placed a bouquet of daisies on her crotch. From two flowers, the white petals had been plucked, and the yellow eye covered each of her nipples. They must be glued or stapled, or the wind would’ve carried them off. He took care not to get too close and certainly not to touch her.
The only marks came from where someone had strangled her. Deep, livid bruises glowed against the pallor of her throat. He didn’t know enough about corpses to tell if it had been done with bare hands. Maybe the sheriff could, or the uptight agent from the ABI.
Zeke only knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. He had to call someone. First he made a note of where he was, exactly, and then he ran back to the house for the truck. Sweeney’s Service Station had the nearest payphone, but he drove fifteen miles farther to a convenience store, where nobody knew him, and the phone was outside and around the corner from the cashier. He felt a little sick at what would surely be called cowardice, but he couldn’t be open about this.
He slipped from the truck and deposited his coins. The call connected. On the other end, the county dispatcher asked what he needed. Zeke deepened his voice as much as he could. “There’s a body in the woods.”
“Quit,” the woman said. “This isn’t funny.”
Maybe they’d gotten prank calls? He hadn’t figured on that. Now he needed to find the best way to persuade her—and fast. An edge, born of nerves and impatience, came into his voice. “Write it down, woman. I’ll only tell you where, once.”
Her breath caught. “Oh, crap. You mean it. Wait, I’m getting a pencil. Don’t hang up.” Rustling noises came across the line. “Go ahead.”
Zeke gave the directions as best he could and waited while she scratched them down. The sounds told him she did take him seriously now. If their county had any resources, he might worry about a trace but it would take a while to set something like that up, and he’d have to call a second time. He didn’t intend to do that.
“And there’s where you’ll find her,” he finished.
“Why are you killing these women?” she asked. “What do you want?”
Shit. She thought she was talking to the murderer. It was a reasonable guess under the circumstances, but he did not want to be caught in that net. Zeke cut the connection and sprinted for the truck. He was nearly back to Sweeney’s when blue and red lights whizzed past him, heading in the opposite direction. The car used its sirens, too. Maybe they couldn’t trace a call, but they could use caller ID and then get an address for the number. He hoped nobody had seen him, but if they had, he was royally fucked, because they would remember the truck. Maybe the deputies wouldn’t ask the right questions early on, and the clerk would forget.
By the time he pulled up at the farm, he was shaking. His first thought was for the kittens, but . . . they weren’t here anymore. Not his responsibility. Like everything else sweet and good, they belonged with Neva. Not him.
Zeke didn’t sleep much. He kept waiting for engines in the night and a knock at his door. And anytime he closed his eyes, he saw the dead girl in the moonlight; she haunted him with her painted face and her staring eyes. In the morning, he worked around the farm at jobs that didn’t call for his brain to kick in.
He managed to show up for work on time, but he didn’t speak to Neva. She didn’t look him in the eye when he went past her. Sadness covered her from head to toe, smelling of lemons and vinegar, and he couldn’t get away from it. Since he lacked the courage to do it to her face, he stopped at Julie’s desk while Neva saw a cocker spaniel with a piddling problem.
“Giving my two weeks,” he muttered.
The redhead slammed her pen down on her desk, and her brows pulled tight with anger. “They got to you, too, huh? How much did they offer?”
He raised a brow. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “What?”
“You mean you’re not quitting because they bribed you?”
“What the hell—”
Neva stuck her head out of the exam room and called to Julie to bring her something, ending the conversation. It left Zeke with more questions. Somebody had been paying the help to quit on her? That made it seem like she had an enemy, and he’d be a real piece of work to leave her drowning in trouble. But did it have anything to do with these gift-wrapped dead girls? Shit. The one he’d found in the woods had been a bit younger and slimmer, but she’d had brown hair and brown eyes. Could be it didn’t mean anything. But his animal self growled in warning. Nobody better try and hurt her. She’s still ours. Maybe he could stick it out for another month or two. Do his job and not think about how sweet she smelled, or how good she felt. If it hurt him, then he had it coming for making her so sad.
When Julie came back, he was still standing by her desk. “Why are you quitting if they haven’t approached you?”
“Never mind that,” he said. “Tell me what’s up.”
Julie checked the exam room door to make sure it was closed, and then came back, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Just what I said. The last guy who had your job told me he was offered a thousand bucks to quit. So I went and asked the one before him. Same thing.”
“Who? Why?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. They received the offer by e-mail, the first part as a money order in the mail, and the second payment once they left Paws and Claws. It’s crazy, right?”
“Does she know?”
“No! And I’ll kick your ass if you tell her. She has enough problems right now.”
“Don’t think it might help?” Julie knew Neva. But Zeke had to wonder if it would make her feel better, knowing they hadn’t left because her clinic was terrible, cursed, or she was just a bad boss.
“I’m afraid she’d start digging,” Julie said quietly. “And discover her parents were behind it. See, they’re patching up their differences now. Her dad is dying.” She misread his expression, seeing confusion instead of the stunning pain he felt. “Cancer. Since nobody has tried to bribe you—and they just made up—the pieces seem to fit. So I don’t want her hurt more. They love her. They just don’t understand her. I’m sure they don’t realize how much damage they did with their good intentions. They thought if she couldn’t keep help, she’d give up and come home. Instead it just made her work harder.”
&
nbsp; He got it now. At that fucking party, she’d just learned her dad had a fatal illness. Ben, the bastard, had been on hand to comfort her. He hadn’t. Never mind that he should’ve been; it was a wonder she’d wanted to talk to him at all, afterward. Zeke felt like slime on the bottom of a river rock.
“Won’t tell her then.”
Julie’s face softened. “Good. I know you care about her, too.”
There was no point in denying it. But he shrugged. “Think they were behind the break-in, the vandalism, and the fire?”
“Hope not. That’s a lot worse than bribing staff, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Criminal, even.”
Neva’s friend was persistent and didn’t let his change of subject stick. “Look, I don’t know what went wrong between you guys, but I hope you make up. With you, she was happier than she’d been for a while.” She glanced at the time. “Crap, Travis is expecting me to be home by now. I’m sorry you won’t be coming for the next movie night.”
While he looked on, she grabbed her things and hurried out, glowing with eagerness. Had Neva ever looked like that about him? Maybe they hadn’t been together long enough for it to ripen into what it could be. Still, he thought he’d done the right thing, even if he felt like he was dying by degrees. Food didn’t even taste the same, and his house ached with emptiness.
Because his job was done, he left the clinic. But he didn’t go home. Instead he went over to the sandwich shop and ordered a soda. The girl behind the counter made eyes at him as she filled the paper cup; he couldn’t help but notice she had clumps of black goo caked on her lashes. It made his own eyes water in reaction. Ignoring her, he took a seat facing the window so he could make sure she got off okay. Knowing her, she would stay stupid late and walk out alone in the dark, long after everyone else disappeared. Only Armando’s was open as late, and the clerk paid no attention to the parking lot. Right now, she had on a tiny music player and was dancing to some thumping music. He had some idea he ought to find her swiveling hips and gunky eyes sexy. God help him.
At ten minutes to eight, Neva came out of the clinic. He heard her lock up, several shops away, but didn’t see her until she started walking toward her car. The animal part of him wanted to run to meet her and to apologize. Beg on his knees if need be. He wanted her safe and close, and the rest didn’t matter.
Only it did.
His truck was parked at the farm; he had run to work today, so he couldn’t follow her to make sure she got home okay. And he wouldn’t, even if he could. Some lines you didn’t cross, or it would drive you crazy, yearning after the impossible.
All he could do was watch her drive away.
On the way home from the clinic, Neva drove by a stalled vehicle. As she passed, a man climbed out of the driver’s side. He was tall and lanky, and he signaled her, miming a request to use her phone. She slowed, but warning bells went off in her head, and she remembered Luke’s abandoned vehicle. Caution kicked in; instead of stopping, she called Tim Sweeney. Since the Honda was somewhat unreliable, she had him on speed dial.
“There’s a guy who needs a tow.” She gave the location and mile marker.
“Thanks, hon,” Tim said cheerfully. “It’s coming up on the holiday season, so I can use the money. I’ll go help him out.”
When she got home, she was understandably nervous. Her mother had talked her into letting her care for the kittens while she was at work. Lillian had said, “Trust me with them. I promise you I can help. And I need something to keep me busy.”
She’d replied, “You understand they’re messy and—”
“I know. Just like all babies. I can do this for you, darling. Let me.” It was the ultimate olive branch, and she had been unable to refuse.
So she had taught her what needed doing and how often to care for them. She’d told Lillian they needed to be held as much as possible. It would be the last straw if her mother hadn’t done a good job, had forgotten them or fobbed them off on the staff. She promised—
But when Neva came into the lavish sitting room, decorated in blue and silver striped wallpaper, she found her mother cuddling all three kittens. She had fur and formula on her sweater . . . and she looked remarkably happy about it. A knot dissolved inside her. She remembered a time when Lillian hadn’t been so rigid, and it appeared her mother did, too. The chasm between them wasn’t unbridgeable.
“They’re fine. See?” Lillian held the orange one up. “She’s so lively!”
“Yes, they’ll be ready to start exploring a bit soon. But you’ll need to keep an eye on them. They could easily get lost in a house this size.”
Her mother seemed thoughtful. “What about a playpen? One of the new ones with the netting? I looked at your old one up in the attic but it has wooden bars. They’d slip right out.”
Astonishment dawned. “That would be perfect. You could put a few soft toys in there for them. More space for them to play, but not enough for them to get lost or feel frightened.”
“They need to be in their box at night, of course. I’m sure they’re used to it.” Lillian stood, all three babies cradled in one arm. “I’ll send the housekeeper out. Would you make a list of what toys would be suitable for them?”
Tears prickled at her eyes. Ridiculous—she hadn’t cried in years—and now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. It meant so much, maybe more than it should, to see her mother taking an interest in what she loved, even if it was just three orphaned kittens. Before she could embarrass herself, her phone rang. Neva glanced at the screen and was surprised to identify the caller as Tim Sweeney.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Are you sure of the directions you gave me?”
She frowned. “Absolutely. There’s only one route to Harper Court from the clinic. I was on Harper Road.” Embarrassing, but the street had been named for her great-grandfather because he brought money in when the town needed it most, during the Great Depression.
“Well, when I got there, I didn’t see any stalled vehicle. Just an oil stain.”
“Maybe he got the car moving again?”
“I guess. Next time I’ll just wait for the customer to call me.”
“I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
When she hit end, she looked up to find her mother watching her. “What was that about?”
Neva summarized, feeling uneasy for no reason she could name. She remembered the shadow out at the farm and the glint of light on what might have been binoculars. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms didn’t banish the chill.
And then Lillian put a finger on it. “If his car wasn’t really broken down, and you’d stopped . . . oh honey. I’m so glad you were careful.”
It was a predatory trick. Unease flared, leaving her shaken. “I just had a feeling. You know, those instincts Ben always makes fun of?”
“And thank God for it. Do you think we ought to call Cliff?”
Ordinarily she would dismiss it. But they had found a dead girl in a trunk. Maybe that woman had stopped to help and wound up killed for her kindness. Maybe the same thing had happened to Luke. There were so many places to dump a body around here. Acknowledging the possibility hurt, almost more than she could bear.
“Yes,” she said through numb lips. “I think maybe we should tell him. If it’s nothing, then he can decide it is.”
Lillian nodded and took Neva’s phone. She had the sheriff’s personal number memorized, probably because she arranged his golf meetings with Conrad. “Cliff, it’s Lilly. Could you come out to the house? I’m sorry for the short notice. You can stay for dinner if you like.” A rumbled affirmative came in answer. She hung up and said, “Good. He’ll be here in about half an hour. Do you want to go change? I’m fine with them.”
For once, Neva didn’t take offense to the suggestion. She did smell like she had been working with animals all day. Since her mother wasn’t precisely pristine, either, the question lacked teeth. It was a considerate offer, nothing more.
“Yes, I think it’ll bolster me before talking to Cliff.”
“Go on then, darling.”
On impulse she dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek as she went by. The sudden mist in Lillian’s eyes ratified the decision as a good one. Neva took the stairs at a slow jog, nodding at a maid or two as she went by. In their black-and-white uniforms, they were neater and better dressed than she. But it didn’t matter.
She washed up quickly and changed into a pair of jeans and a red sweater. By the time she got back downstairs, the sheriff had arrived. As she approached, she heard him making small talk with her mother.
“I’d name that one Garfield, I surely would.”
Lillian smiled at him and shook her head. “It’s a girl, Cliff.”
“Oh. Then maybe not.”
“Ah, here’s Geneva.” Her mother didn’t get up, understandably, as she still had kittens all over her lap.
If I could just get her to call me Neva, things would be perfect. But she was happy with the middle ground they’d found. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard the argument before: I called you Geneva because it’s a beautiful name. If I had wanted to shorten it, I’d have done so on your birth certificate. No bitterness attached to the memory this time, though.
Cliff strode over and shook her hand firmly. Some men got old and dumpy, but Sheriff Raleigh really did look good for his age. “Your mother says you have something to tell me?”
“It may be nothing, but . . .” She filled him in on what had happened with the not-stalled car.
He wore a frown by the time she finished. “People do use it as a ruse. Sometimes they rob or rape the person who stops, but I’ve also read about killers who use it as a method to lure victims.”
She stilled, hardly daring to breathe. “Do you think we have someone working the highways and county roads around here?”
“I’d love to tell you no because the very idea it might be happening on my watch offends me. But the truth is, there’s a lot of pavement out there and a lot of psychos. It’s . . . possible.” The sheriff studied her for a moment. “The girl we found at the clinic, she looked a little like you.”
