You've Got Tail (21 page)

I was still in my jeans and light-green tank top from the night before. There were brown spots of blood from my mouth spattered across the ribbed cotton fabric. For the first time, I didn't feel faint at the sight. Maybe it was true, the whole saying, what didn't kill you made you stronger. I just wasn't sure how tough I wanted to be.

Neville Lutjen showed up next. It was turning into a real party. He wore a tan suit with a light-blue shirt and a chocolate tie. “How are you doing this morning, Ms. Haddock?”

Oh, so formal. He was in civil servant mode. “Fantastic, Mayor. Don't I look fantastic?”

He cleared his throat nervously. “Well, I, well,” he stammered. “I just wanted to check in. I'm sorry about what's transpired here in our quiet little town. I assure you stuff like this doesn't happen here.”

I begged to differ. I was living proof stuff just like this happened in Peculiar. “I'm not holding you or the town responsible, Mayor. The only person who can be held accountable is the person who attacked me.”

Neville shuffled his toe against the floor, shifting uncomfortably. “Even so.”

He put his palms together and tapped his fingertips. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here. I remembered what Ruth said about Neville's wife, her long-term illness and death. In my state, I must've reminded him of her.

“Thank you for coming by, Neville.” I forced my mouth into a tight smile. “I appreciate your concern.”

He dropped his hands to his side and grinned. “You're mighty welcome, Sunny. The Red Hat ladies sent over several covered dishes. They're in your refrigerator. Just holler if there's anything I can do for you.” He winked.

I'm dead serious here. If I hadn't been so flabbergasted, I'd have laughed.

Billy Bob clapped his hands together once. “Everybody out. Sunny needs to rest.”

Finally, a boon for my sanity.

“I'll post a man outside the apartment,” Sheriff Taylor said.

“Not Deputy Thompson.” All eyes turned to me. Including the deputy.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Sunny?”

“He doesn't like me very much, and I'd prefer my protection to, at the very least, be cordial with me.” There, I'd said it. I put the elephant in the room, and they could all like it or lump it.

The sheriff glanced at Tyler Thompson, who had the good sense to look mildly ashamed. Then the sheriff nodded. “Okay. Not Thompson. Anything else you can remember?”

I pretended for a moment to think about it, but the truth was I couldn't tell him anything concrete. Nothing I could prove. The stuff about Rose Ann, I wasn't ready to say out loud.

The police vacated my apartment slower than I'd have liked, but eventually it was just me, Billy Bob, Babel, and Judah, who was watching me from the bedroom doorway. I huffed at the ghost. It seemed there was no getting rid of him. I desperately wanted to shower the filth from the night before. “You guys can go. I'll be all right.” I wanted Babel to stay, but I wasn't going to ask. He'd been cold and distant since Billy Bob had arrived, and I'd barely seen him throughout the morning. I didn't have a right to feel so put off, but I did anyway.

Billy Bob grabbed his bag and nodded to me. “Take the pain pills if you need them. Try not to overtax yourself.”

After he'd left, it was down to the two brothers. Babel picked chipped white paint off the door molding. “I'd like to stay.”

My heart fluttered. If I didn't watch myself, batting eyelashes would soon follow. “I'm really tired, Babel.”
Please stay.
“I'd just like to take a hot shower and sleep.”
Please stay.

He walked toward me, his usual swarthy swagger gone. Insecurity looked sweet on him. I wanted him to stay so badly it made my mouth dry. Everything about Babel made me want to hold him, have him hold me, and never let go. But there was Sheila. They shared a past I could never compete with, and I didn't think it was right to try. She'd be a better match for him. They were both therianthropes, and I was just a human.

Everything that I'd gone through since coming to town, the trauma and danger, couldn't dampen down the emotions I felt for Babel. That was perhaps the most dangerous bit of all. I was falling for him. Hard. To the point of distraction. To the point that everything else be damned. I avoided eye contact. I knew if I looked into those blue, blue eyes, I might not be able to say what I had to say.

“Babel, I'd like you to go now.”

“But Sunny…” I heard the hurt and misery in his voice.

“No.” I held up a hand. “Just go.” I closed my eyes and waited until the door the apartment closed before opening them again and sighing. Wrong man, wrong place, wrong time. The story of my life.

Judah curled up in the corner of the bathroom near the small vanity as I went inside.

“Get out.”

He whimpered and rested his chin on the linoleum floor.

I shook my head. “Fine. Then hide your eyes.”

Like a good spirit, he obeyed. I dropped my clothes to the floor and stepped into the shower and let the warm stream wash away my cares. It worked. For a whole second.

Judah started whining. I turned off the shower, anxious he might be warning me. Had someone come back? Armed with scrub brush in hand (it was either that or the small bottle of shampoo, and the scrub brush was heavier), I peeked around the shower curtain.

No one stood waiting on the other side. I gave Judah a cross look, but he ignored me, pawing at the floor through my jeans. “What now?” I asked, my exasperation growing.

Grabbing the towel from the hook, I wrapped it around my chest and stepped onto the cold floor. I leaned down trying to figure out what about my pants the stupid ghost found so damned interesting.

The folded corner of the diner check jutted from the edge of my jeans pocket. I pulled it out and showed it to him. “This? This is what you wanted me to find?”

He barked.

Great, now if I could only learn to speak fluent coyote, we'd have this whole mystery wrapped up in no time.

For the second time, he'd brought me to this clue. The numbers and letters made absolutely no sense to me. I suppose it was too much to ask that he'd left a letter along the lines of “I, Judah Trimmel, due to some sinister plot by insert guilty party's name here have been murdered in the most heinous of ways. Please bring my killer(s) to justice.” Now that would have been helpful.

I could take the scribbles down to the police station. Put it in the capable hands of the sheriff and put my sleuthing cap in the closet. Seriously, other than the visions, it wasn't as if I'd been very good at the whole detective business. Hell, I wasn't even very good at the whole psychic thing.

Looking at the numbers again, I got a niggling feeling, like I should know what they mean. “Screw it,” I decided in a breath. I'd take the damn thing down to the sheriff and he could look into it or burn it, either way, I just wanted the mystery in someone else's hands.

After a disproportionate amount of time, I'd managed to put on enough makeup to cover most of the bruising growing on the sides of my face. Unfortunately, no amount of cream foundation could keep the swelling in my cheeks from making me look like a reject from
The Planet of the Apes
.

The black and white car outside my building was a little flashy. Pretty weird needing police protection in such a tiny town. I nodded to the deputy behind the wheel (Not Tyler Thompson, thank goodness!) as he started the engine to follow me, and I made my way down the street with few stares. Most of the people I ran into those few short blocks made a point of looking down at the ground or off to the side of me when they greeted, and passed with genial remarks like “nice day” or a simple nod hello.

If I could have jogged without jarring my head around, I would have. Anything to get away from the collective discomfort my presence aroused. When I reached the police station steps, I could almost hear an audible sigh from town.

The first deputy I came across was not Tyler Thompson. I was thankful for that small favor. His name was Eldin Farraday. He was youngish, thin and tall, and his kind smile made me feel better. He had me take a seat in the chair by his desk and went to the back to let Sheriff Taylor know I'd arrived.

A blackboard screwed into the sidewall of the station caught my eye. I hadn't noticed it the first time I'd been there. At the top, scrawled in chalk, were the underlined headers: Date, Incident, Resolution, Officer on Call. The following row had the date 04/23, Vandalism-Window Broke at Courthouse, open investigation, and the initials EF. Which I took to mean Eldin Farraday. There were six incidents total, with my assault being the last, and ST—Sid Taylor—as the officer on duty. I'd been reduced to just another “open investigation.”

Dates, incidents, initials.

I stood up and walked to the board, smearing the sheriff's initials with my thumb as the numbness of realization swept over me.

Dates, incidents, initials.

The dream.

I pulled the diner check out of my pocket and grabbed a pen off the nearest desk and translated the sequence of numbers and letters. 150000715JT, became 07/15 JT $15,000, then 175000725RC became 07/25 RC $17,500, and finally 200000719GH became 07/19 GH $20,000. The dream at Babel's had been a vision, not a dream, and the curious ledger had been real.

My throat felt tight, like I'd swallowed a marble. I rubbed the paper between my palms, hoping for a psychic episode that would clear it all up for me. But I knew better than anyone, my gift didn't work that way.

I heard the sheriff's deep voice. “Sunny? Did you remember something else from last night?”

Turning to Sid Taylor, I stared dumbly at him, and held out my hand. A breeze from an oscillating fan in the corner of the room blew the diner check from my fingers and onto the floor.

Whether from psychic mojo, or just intuition, I knew what had been in the ledger—what Judah must have figured out. The letters represented people, the dates were when they were taken, and the monetary amount had been the prices for their lives.

“S
unny, I don't know what you want me to do here.” Sheriff Taylor ran his thick fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“I want you to do your job.” My rebuke ruffled him, but I'd been sitting in his office for two hours while he sifted through mounds of folders for the last five years.

Sheriff Taylor twisted in his seat. “Young lady. I've done what you suggested, and other than Judah, there haven't been any missing people in town that fit those initials or otherwise. You don't think I want to find out what happened to Judah? He was a friend of mine. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I worked to find out what happened to him.”

He leaned back with a heaving sigh. “Sometimes, the hardest part about this job is knowing that some cases will never be solved. I'm afraid whether Judah took off on his own, or something bad happened to him, we might never know.”

“He's dead,” I said as bluntly as I could, all my anger directed at the sheriff. “And that list has something to do with the reason why. You're the police. Get to policing.”

It hadn't been fair to take my frustration out on Sid Taylor, but it seemed like every new development led to more questions instead of answers, and I was getting sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

“Sunny,” Sid said as I stood to leave. “Don't forget your scrap of paper.”

I shook my head in dismay. “Keep it.”

Tyler Thompson was waiting outside on the steps when I exited the building. Bile rose in the back of my mouth as I braced myself for another confrontation.

“Ms. Haddock.”

“I don't know if I can take any more today, Deputy Thompson. So let's make it brief.” I tried to keep the animosity out of my tone.

“I just wanted to apologize, ma'am. For my behavior yesterday. It was rude and unwarranted.” He sounded sincere.

Huh. “Okay. I accept your apology, Deputy.”

“And,” he said, chewing the inside of cheek. “Thanks for not telling my mom about it.”

Before I could respond, he headed back into the station. Inside I laughed, because a real chuckle would have hurt, and I was already sorry for all the talking I'd been doing. It was hard to stay mad at a guy who had a healthy fear of his mother. Although, his apology in no way crossed him off my list. Maybe he was apologizing for more than just being impolite.

Cars and trucks drove past me in the easy, slow way they do in small towns. I saw a man standing outside my restaurant door, he turned and smiled charmingly. Neville Lutjen could be disarming most of the time. He had the type of personality and bravado to ingratiate himself with people. Real likeable.

I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him.

It had less to do with the man before me and more to do with the fact that he reminded me of my father. One of those guys who always knew the right thing to say and do. He could diffuse a bad situation, even one he caused, with a wink and a smile. People, especially men, with that ability were inauthentic.

“Hello, Mayor Lutjen,” I greeted as I neared the front door.

“Call me Neville. Please.” His voice held its normal warm quality, but I noticed he'd kept his hands to his side. It was the first time he hadn't offered me a handshake or tried to touch me in some manner. I'd seen this reaction before in people who found out about my ability. It made them wary to make skin-to-skin contact with me.

I took my keys from my purse to unlock the front door, glanced at the police car, and waved to the officer on duty as he watched me.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked Neville.

“Uh, well, I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”

“About as well as I was when you popped in earlier.”

I opened the door and discovered I'd forgotten to turn on the restaurant lights before I'd left. Or had I forgotten? Was someone or something lurking in the darkness waiting for me?