by Renee George
“Sure enough,” he replied.
Her wide smile made me want to throttle myself for caring.
“Thanks for coming out, Tanya. I appreciate it.” When she put a ten dollar bill on the table, Ford shook his head. “On me.”
“Next time, I’ll buy.”
Ford smiled at her, and I wanted to lunge across the table and beat the crap out of both of them. “You’re on.”
Did they just make a date? Right in front me? Was I freaking invisible? Ahhhhhhhhhh! Outwardly, I maintained my cool. “See you around.”
She gave me a tight lip smile that basically said, “Not if I see you first.”
What-evs.
“Thanks for that,” I told Ford. He hadn’t had to share information about Boyd Decker. It wasn’t the case Baba Yaga gave me permission to investigate, but I was pretty sure the two were connected.
He shrugged. “There is nothing against the rules that three high school friends can’t get together for a bite to eat.”
Was he trying to tell me something? “Why isn’t there more information about Danny’s death? There were no suspects or witness statements. No follow-up reports. The officer in charge, Dennis Mitchell, is either a complete incompetent or he is covering something up. Do you know what emergency took him out of town? I’d really like to speak to him.”
Ford looked at me with a bland expression on his face but remained silent.
“Who is tying your hands, Ford?”
“How’s life in Kansas City?” he asked. “I hear you’re posted there now.”
“In town for less than five minutes, and the word about me is already getting around.”
“I heard about it two years ago when you were first posted there.”
“Seriously?” I narrowed my gaze at him. His delicious scent grew more intense. “You didn’t even act like you knew who I was earlier. Or do you just get the 9-1-1 on all the ex-residents in town?”
“I do when that ex-resident is my mate.”
“Huh? Wait. What?” You could have surprised me less if a piano had suddenly fallen out of the sky and dropped on my head. “Mate? Like friend? Compadre? Buddy? I don’t think we were any of those things.”
“Don’t be dense, Hazel.”
“I…” Was at a loss for words. “I think I need a translator. I don’t speak nonsense.”
“Do you remember the night of Woolsey's party, the one out on Eden’s road at the end of our senior year?”
“Sorta.” Truth be told, I’d had a lot to drink that night. “I remember waking up the next day with a hangover that lasted until graduation.”
He steepled his fingers. “So you don’t remember kissing me?”
“Uhm, no.” Nooooooo! It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t have kissed him and not remembered. This was turning into a cautionary tale about drinking and kissing for lovesick teenagers everywhere. “Was it good?” It must have been, right?
“Awful. Abrupt. Sloppy,” Ford said. “Your scent took me over.” He sniffed the air as if he could still smell it. “Vanilla and rum.”
“That was probably the booze,” I murmured, mortified by this conversation.
“Now,” Ford said. “Your scent is all I can think about.”
He stood up, all sexy six-foot-nine inches of him, and slid into the booth next to me. He smelled my hair, and I nearly peed my pants.
“You didn’t even know I existed in high school.”
“Until that night.”
“You were with Greta.”
“We broke up shortly after graduation.”
“I always thought you two would get married.”
“It was impossible,” Ford said.
“Why?”
“Because she wasn’t my mate. You are.”
“Oh.” I consider myself a smart cookie. Quick on the uptake, but I was having a hell of a time processing this conversation. “We aren’t mates.”
“Yes,” Ford said. “We are.”
I opened my mouth to rebut him, but my phone rang, saving me from having to make words. “Kinsey here,” I said without even checking out the caller’s name.
“Haze,” Lily shouted. I could hear music and yelling in the background. “I think you better come out to Eden’s road. Tiz is in trouble.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “On my way.” I clicked the phone off and looked at Ford, gulping as his sparkly blue eyes hypnotized me. “I have to go now.”
“I’ll drive,” he said, standing up.
“Fine.”
Chapter Seven
THE DRIVE OUT TO EDEN’S ROAD was intensely quiet. I hadn’t known how to respond to Ford’s revelation. Had he really not married or mated or whatever because of me?
“Nothing happened between us in high school,” I finally said.
“That’s not completely true.”
“I’m a witch.”
“Yep,” he said.
“You’re a bear Shifter.”
“You aren’t wrong about that either.”
“How is this possible?”
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Do you think I know?”
“We come from two different worlds. It would never work.” It didn’t stop me from wanting to climb him like Mt. Everest and enjoy the view from the highest peak. But like Mt. Everest, the chance of me surviving the climb was slim. He was one big, boy…er…man.
“I have made my peace with being alone.”
My chest clenched. Why did I feel so guilty? It wasn’t my fault he thought I was his mate. Hell, I’d been an awkward nerdy witch during my teen years, better with math and science than witchcraft. I couldn’t have magicked a pimple away, let alone cast a love spell.
As we pulled up to the party, there were at least twenty cars lining the gravel road on both sides, three kegs sat in the open field, along with metal tubs full of ice and harder alcohol. I spotted Lily near an organized group. She jumped in the air with her hand up and gave me the “hurry up” wave.
I looked at the rowdy crowd and back to Ford. “I hope you brought your gun.”
When I got to Lily, she pointed at the spectacle at the center of the crowd. Tizzy was circling a beaver, and he was making all kinds of hissing and growling noises at her. She kept dancing around like a prize fighter, jumping and moving every time the beaver tried to whack her with his tail. A woman, wearing an inside out red sweater, faded blue jeans, smeared coral lipstick, and a frantic look on her face, kept yelling, “Leave her alone, Frank. It meant nothing. It was nothing. Just some harmless fun.”
Goddess, Tizzy. What the hell had my familiar done now?
Lily quickly said, “Tizzy was doing shots with Colleen, and for a five-pound animal she was holding her own, let me tell you. Then Tizzy told Colleen she was the most beautiful woman she’d ever laid eyes on, and that she’d always wanted to kiss a beaver, which I thought was funny at the time, but the next thing I knew, Colleen had shifted, and she and Tizzy were rolling around in the grass.”
“Then Frank showed up.”
Lily nodded. “Yep. Then Frank showed up.” Her eyes were haunted. “I tried to stop it, Haze. I really did, but you have no idea how hard it is to get between a squirrel and her beaver.” She giggled.
I think my BFF had been doing shots as well. “Tiz!” I shouted. The squirrel snapped her gaze to me, which gave Frank the Beaver the opening he needed. His flat tail whacked Tizzy upside her little squirrel head and threw her a couple feet.
“Hey!” I shouted. The crowd parted for me. I think they were just excited that someone else was joining the fight.
“Break it up,” I heard Ford say. “I’d hate to have to run you all downtown on a Friday night. Judge don’t arraign any cases until Monday. It’d be a shame to screw up your entire weekend.”
People backed up. But Frank, that little rodent would not be deterred. He lunged at Tizzy, who was still dazed from the smack.
“No,” I yelled. “Leave her alone.” I grabbed at his back, his fur slick and real
ly hard to get any kind of hold on. He squirmed away from me, but not before I zapped his ass.
He shifted back to human, a sorry excuse for a man, naked and nursing a butt burn from my lightning bolt. “That really hurt, you stupid witch.” He stood up, posturing like he was going to do something about it, but suddenly backed down. “Keep that rat away from my girl,” he said then turned his venom on Lily. “Unless you all want to end up like Danny.” Before I could zap his stupid mouth, too, he hurried off after the rest of the group.
“What a douchenozzle.” I looked behind me, and a very imposing Ford stood with his arms crossed, and his eyes trained on the running man. I’m sure he was the cause of Frank’s change of heart about coming at me. I crawled over to Tiz and picked her up. “Speak to me, Tiz. Tell me you’re okay.” I shook her tiny chest.
She heaved a sigh, a large feral grin forming on her face. “I like beaver,” she said. “A whole lot.”
I rolled my eyes and looked at Lily then at Ford. “She’s fine.” Still, I cradled her in my arms just in case.
My drunken best friend shook her head, remorse in her bloodshot eyes. “Gosh, Haze. I really am sorry. It all just happened so fast.”
“She’s starved for company,” I admitted, effectively letting Lily off the hook. “I don’t know if a brick wall could have stopped her.”
“Hey, Ford,” Lily said shyly. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“We’re fine,” I said sourly. I turned to Ford. “Thanks for the backup, but I think we got it from here.”
“Do you want a ride back to the diner for your car?”
“Lily can take me.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Damn it. Why did he have to sound so mad at me all the time?
Oh, maybe because you rocked his world with a sloppy drunken kiss and he’s been alone ever since, stupid.
Again. How was this my fault?
I didn’t want to think about this or him right now. I wanted to think about Danny and the case. Frank’s threat made me think that maybe the douche-y beaver knew something he hadn’t reported to the police.
I heard Ford’s truck back down the road. I didn’t look back. I missed him already, and that wasn’t the kind of thing that was going to help in my investigation.
“I think it’s time we talked to a few of Danny’s friends.”
“What a sweet, sweet beaver,” Tizzy drunkenly crooned.
“Stop saying beaver,” I said.
“Beaver, beaver, beaver,” she sang.
“Oh dear Goddess.”
Lily put her hand on my arm. “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.” She gestured to the partying Shifters. “At least until people are sober.”
A squeaky hiccup made me nod. I’d never get any real answers with a drunk familiar on my hands. “Fine. Tomorrow.”
Lily handed me the keys. “You drive.”
“I have beaver fever,” Tiz sang. “Baby, baby, baby, oh.”
“No more partying for you.”
“Spoil sport.”
“That’s me.” I stroked Tiz’s head fondly. “Special Agent Spoil Sport.” I had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Chapter Eight
“ACCORDING TO THE POLICE REPORT, you were the last person to see Danny alive,” I said to Lisa Wells, a raccoon Shifter, and Danny’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. She blew smoke in my face. I waved it away. “Did he say anything that might give you the impression he was in danger?”
“Danny and me,” Lisa said. “We didn’t talk much about personal things. Mostly, he just liked to talk about cars.” She dabbed the glowing cigarette butt into an overflowing ashtray and blew out the last puff. “He really liked cars. He’d been working on an old Chevelle. He called her Sweet Beast. It really got him going, talking about that car.” Her eyes grew wistful. “I really miss him.”
She had cared for Danny. The revelation made me think of her more kindly. A lot of Shifters in this part of town lived in poverty. Who was I to judge? It was my job to find the killer. Or killers. It wasn’t my job to criticize the victim or his friends. “So he hadn’t fought with anyone leading up to his death?”
“Oh, sure.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Danny fought with all sorts. He got rousted by the police at least once a month. And Clayton Driver, the owner of Junkyard Dog, said Danny owed him money for parts. He tried to collect from me after, but like I told the fool, you can’t squeeze blood from a rock. Besides, it wasn’t like Danny and me were mated. He was fun and sweet. I think I loved him, but we never got the sign.”
“The sign?”
She tapped her nose. “The scent. The one that marks someone as your mate.”
A scent? Like Red Hots candy, maybe? Eep. “How much did he owe Clayton?”
“Five grand.” She sheeshed. “It might as well have been five million. Danny never had that kind of money.”
“Do you think Clayton would have killed Danny over the debt?”
“Clayton wants his money. You can’t collect from a dead guy.” She shook her head. “Besides, Clayton would have had him work off his debt before doing anything violent.”
“Anyone else, Lisa?”
“Not that I can think of.” She bit her lower lip. “I heard Danny say something about the Arete once.” Her eyes tilted up to meet my gaze. “He sounded real scared.”
“Who?”
She took another cigarette from her half-smoked pack and tapped the filter end on her coffee table. “I don’t know. When I asked, he clammed up about it. I knew not to ask again.” She waved her lighter. “I told the cops all this already. Can’t you just read the file?”
There had been nothing in the file about Clayton Driver or any person or group called the Arete. Why would Mitchell, the lead detective on the case, leave the interview out of his reports?
“The Arete—”
Lisa cut me off. “I have to go, Agent Kinsey. I clerk at Gabe’s Green Grocery, and my boss said he’d fired me if I was late again.”
I nodded. Jobs were scarce, especially in a small town. “If you think of anything else…” I handed her my card. “…you’ll call me?”
“Sure,” she said, taking the card and tucking it into her purse. “I…” She chewed her lower lip for a moment then turned her gaze to mine. “I’m glad someone’s looking into what happened to Danny. There’s more of us that care than don’t.” She shrugged. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
“No one does,” I agreed. Though if I got a hold of the bastard who killed him, I might make an exception.
****
IT WAS UNSEASONABLY COOL for late June, so I’d worn a jacket in the morning, but by the afternoon, it had warmed up quite a bit. I took it off when I parked just outside Junkyard Dog. A note fell out of the pocket. “Thank you. L.” I smiled. She used to leave me notes in my pockets when we were kids.
Stone age text messages.
I should have been the one thanking her. Lily had saved my bacon more times than I could count when we were girls.
Lily had known of Driver, though she hadn’t known Danny owed him money. The junkyard owner was a werecougar like Lily and Danny, and he had been a business friend of her father’s. She’d really wanted to come with me to talk to the man, but I convinced her to stay behind and take care of Tiz. The squirrel was struggling to recover from a whopping hangover. She hadn’t even remembered getting hit in the face by a beaver’s tail.
Junkyard Dog, ironic name since Driver was a cat Shifter, was down a rough gravel road on the county line. Half the property was over the line, which would have made it a nightmare for law enforcement, considering jurisdiction would always be in question. A perfect location for criminal activity.
The strong scent of dust and rust made my skin itch. Even in broad daylight, the place, with all the vehicle skeletons stacked up like bodies after a battle, gave me the creeps. There was a dilapidated trailer with a sign with the word “management” on the fron
t. Just past that was a large building, about half the size of a basketball court. It had two large sliding doors, and one side was partially open.
The office was closed and the door locked. I yelled, “Hello. Is anyone here?” When I didn’t get an answer, I strolled to the big, metal building. “Hello,” I said again.
I could see a car up off the ground on a lift. A series of hooks and chains hung from the ceiling. Before I could see more, a tall man with short red hair appeared from the open door.
“What can I do for you, miss?” He wore dungarees and a stained blue t-shirt, and he held a large wrench in his right hand. “Are you looking for parts?”
“Are you Clayton Driver?”
“That would be me.” He nodded at me. “Who’s asking?”
I flipped out my badge. “Special Agent Kinsey, FBI. I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”
“Do I need a lawyer?” His green eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Not yet,” I said. “I just have a few questions about Daniel Mason.”
He raised his left brow. “He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Then I don’t know how I can help you, Agent Kinsey.”
“I heard he owed you money.”
“A lot of people owe me money.”
I was getting tired of this dance. “Did you kill Danny Mason?”
Driver squinted at me, his hand raising to shield his eyes from the sun. “Do I know you?” He walked toward me, his long stride closing the distance between us fast.
I put my hand on my holster but didn’t draw my weapon.
“You’re the witch. The one the Mason girl was always running around with.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” I patted the Glock. “Did you kill Danny?”
Clayton Driver shook his head. He let his hand holding the wrench drop to his side. “Of course not, girl.” He took the few steps up to his office trailer. “Can I make an observation, Ms. Kinsey?”
“If it will shed some light on Danny’s death, then go right ahead.”
“You’re out of your depth on this.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Before he could step inside, I asked, “What can you tell me about Arete?”
