You've Got Tail (22 page)

“Well, if I can help in any way.”

“Thanks, Neville. I'm feeling better now. Still a little afraid.” Peering inside, I thought of a way to make the mayor feel useful. “Could you have a look around inside before I go in? Maybe turn the lights on? I'm just a little nervous.”

Men loved it when you appealed to their protective he-man nature, and Neville was no exception. He beamed a large, bright white smile in my direction. “Why, of course. I'm happy to be of service, m'dear.”

Flipping on the lights, he made a big to-do about checking every nook and cranny, even the back door. Which I'd found had a terrible lock on it and no deadbolt. I'd stick a chair under the handle tonight, and buy new locks for it tomorrow, I decided.

Neville finished checking the apartment, and gave me the “all clear.”

Instead of breaking into my best faux southern drawl and telling him how “I've always relied on the kindness of strangers,” I simply said, “Thanks.”

I really needed to get the cable hooked up, if nothing else than to get out of my head a little. Then another thought, did they have cable in Peculiar?

I looked around the desolate restaurant, my dreams of vegi-deli-dom with my bestie drifting away from my grasp. Where was Chavvah? I knew if she could have called or texted she would've. I was scared that I'd lost my best friend. I was scared that I'd have to tell Babel that he'd lost his only remaining sibling. I was scared none of us would recover from the hidden truths in Peculiar.

Tucking my tail (no pun intended) between my legs and running seemed to be my modus operandi. I'd ran away from the community I grew up in because it hadn't given me the freedom I so desired. When Chavvah had suggested Peculiar, I'd jumped on the idea so I could run away from a painful relationship. And now I wanted to leave Peculiar because…

Well, for once, I had great reasons for wanting to skedaddle from a place. Everyone but me was a were-animal, something super-sinister way above my pay grade was happening, and on top of those reasons, I'd been attacked twice. But still, did I want my whole life to be a series of getting while the getting was good?

Of all the places to make my stand, I was choosing Peculiar.
Idiot.

It was noonish, and the rest of the day seemed a wash. What to do with myself for the remainder of time became the issue. So, I was determined to get rid of Neville and start really cleaning the restaurant area. Maybe I'd find another clue while I was at it.

Either that or nap. A nap sounded good.

“Well, little lady, I'm off.” Neville, chipper and nearly giddy, moved toward the door.

“Thanks for your help.”

“Always a pleasure to help a neighbor.” He gave me a gallant nod and a wink.

Oy, another wink. Inwardly, I groaned. I was ready for Neville to take his shiny-happy ass out. The lanky boy in the doorway kept him from going.

“Great timing, Jo Jo,” I mumbled.

Neville hung near the front as Jo Jo shuffled nervously toward me, completely ignoring the mayor. “Sunny, I need your help.” His eyes were red, as if he'd been crying.

“What's happened? Are you all right?”

“Fine. I'm okay.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I got into a fight with my dad.”

“Over me?”

“Kind of.” He leaned in closer, suddenly aware we weren't alone. “He didn't do it. I know what you think. But I'm sure he didn't.”

I patted his shoulder. “Don't worry about me,” I reassured him, even though I didn't feel so reassured myself.

“You mentioned my mom. You had a vision?”

Reaching for Jo Jo's hand, the one he didn't wipe the snot from his nose with, I gave his fingers a squeeze. I didn't want to tell him what I'd seen. No kid should have to know his mom had such a horrible end. “What kind of help do you need?”

“I want you to come out to our property.”

The alarm must have been plain on my face, because he added, “My dad's not home. Probably won't be all night. It would only take a little while.”

“What do you think I can do at your house, Jo Jo?” I tried to keep my question even and calm.

“I want you to do your magicky mumbo-jumbo and see if you can give my dad…some peace.” He looked down at his toes, fully expecting a rejection.

I didn't know if I would
see
anything to illuminate his mother's disappearance. But I didn't have the heart not to try. “Okay.”

That garnered me a small smile. I wanted to ruffle his short leopard-spotted hair. Nah, too condescending.

“No promises,” I warned him.

“None.” He shook my hand. “Agreed.”

Neville cleared his throat. “I've got a meeting, but I'd be happy to take you out to the Corman place, Sunny. Since you don't have a vehicle.”

I winced at the reminder. “Uh, well…” Did I really want to spend a trip confined in a vehicle with Neville? Not really. I looked to Jo Jo for help.

“I've got my truck out front. I can drive.”

“Excellent.” Though, I wasn't sure if having a seventeen-year-old chauffeur was any better. “You go on to your meeting, Neville. I appreciate the help!” I tried for perky, and his rewarding smile said I'd managed.

“All right then. See you later.” He waved and tilted his head to Jo Jo.

“Bye,” Jo Jo said.

As I got into Jo Jo's truck (after telling the officer on duty where I'd be and fending off his protest), the teenager started his engine.

“You should put on your seat belt,” I told him while buckling my own.

“The pickup was old and used when I bought it. Seat belt doesn't work, never has.”

“Huh. You might want to think about getting that fixed.”

He grinned and put the truck in gear. The tires squealed as he peeled out. Oh, boy. Seemed like I'd arranged for afternoon entertainment after all.

I don't know what I'd expected, a shack or a stick house at the very least. I was more than a little surprised when Jo Jo drove the long mile down his driveway, which opened up to a large unkempt field and a gorgeous, sage-green two-story Cape Cod style house with a three-car garage.

As we pulled up and parked, I noticed the paint peeling a little, and one of the gutters around the side was down. In my heart, I knew at one time this place had been immaculate.

“You sure your dad isn't home?” I unbuckled the safety belt I'd been white-knuckled since we'd left town. I wished I had called Babel to let him know what I was doing and where I was going. It would've made me feel safer having him know. Well, if Jo Jo and I disappeared, at least the mayor would be able to give the police a jumping-off point. What I really wished was that I hadn't sent Babel away in the first place. Why did I have to be so stubborn at the worst possible times?

“Yeah,” Jo Jo answered. “He always takes off after a big fight. Sometimes he doesn't come back for days.”

“I'm sorry, Jo Jo.” My parents never yelled at me or hit me, so it was hard for me to understand what he was going through.

“Why? You didn't make him act like he does.”

I found it hard to reconcile the Brady Corman of my vision with the one who'd presented himself at my shop the day before. He hadn't always been a drunk. Jo Jo had at one time had a mother
and
a father. I promised myself to keep that in mind while trying to stumble into a “helpful” vision.

Inside the house, the decor had seen better days. There were coffee stains, or at least I hoped they were coffee stains, on the light-blue chenille cushions of the Old Country style sofa. All the furniture matched. Before Rose Ann had been taken from them, she'd kept a beautiful home.

I didn't have to a have a psychic event to know how much love she'd put into her house.

As I walked around, I'd get a flash here and there. Rose Ann cooking, brief intimacies between her and Brady, how proud she was when they'd brought Jo Jo into the world. All her happiest moments, but nothing sinister lurking at the edges.

I just didn't get it.

“Anything?” Jo Jo asked hopefully.

“Sorry. Nothing yet.”

The living room and the kitchen didn't get me anywhere. I doubted the bedroom would be better. When I got inside, I saw a flash of Jo Jo helping his father from the floor to the bed, pulling the peach ruffled bedspread up to the drunk's chin. I closed my eyes as though that could keep the bad stuff away.

It didn't.

Judah's ghost prowled around the floor, sniffing in all the corners. I'd wondered if the coyote would show up or not. He drew my attention to the side of the oak dresser and my chest tightened.

What terrible thing would I find?

My heart beat heavy, hard enough to feel the surge of each pump in my ears as I crept toward Judah. He didn't move from the spot, so I had to reach through him. The space where his body was felt slightly cooler than the rest of the room. A shiver ran from the nape of my neck down my spine. Like backing up into a spider web.

Way high on my creep-o-meter.

The edge of a wooden frame peeked out from behind the dresser. I pulled on it and broken glass fell out and punctured the palm of my hand.

“Son of a bitch,” I swore as the blood welled to a ball. Where was lycan spit when you needed it?

I heard Jo Jo's quickening footfalls. “Sunny?”

“I'm okay,” I told him, holding out my hand. “Got a bandage?”

“Sure.” He disappeared out in the hallway and I pulled the picture frame completely out.

It was a young Brady and Rose Ann in traditional bridal attire—he in a tux, her in a gown. For furred-folks, this town seemed pretty normal. Hell, more normal than the way I grew up.

The coyote seemed intent on the wedding photo. “Come on,” I said to Judah. “Can you be a little more helpful? For shit's sake.”

He whined and sniffed the photo.

Great, dead and sentimental. I shook my head, but examined the picture once more. Maybe there was something written on the back. Nope. The back just had the photography studio mark on it. I flipped it back over. They really had made a beautiful couple.

And that's when I saw it. The necklace.

I couldn't be one-hundred percent certain it was the same as the one in the metal box, but if it wasn't it was a very close twin—gold chain with a small heart.

I folded the picture up, put it in my purse, and sent quiet apologies to Rose Ann Corman wherever she was.

“Anything?” Jo Jo asked again as he brought me a first-aid kit.

“Sorry, no.” I didn't want to tell him about the necklace and get his hopes up. It was just one more piece to the whole wacky puzzle, and for all I knew, meant nothing at all. “It's time to get back to town, I think.”

Poor kid. I wished I had the answers to give him.

Back on the road, I prayed we'd get to town in one piece. I'm not saying Jo Jo was a bad driver, just a little erratic. We had a few “Hail Mary” moments, making me think I'd have to get a stronger dye to cover the gray hairs he was giving me.

“Slow down, Jo Jo. It's not a race.”

He didn't respond with words, but his foot let off the gas a bit. A dark SUV, midnight blue or black, I couldn't tell, was heading up the road toward us in the opposite direction. I hadn't seen it before, but no surprise there. “Neighbors?” I asked.

“No,” Jo Jo said. “At least, not unless the Berringtons got a new Suburban. Man, those are total swag.”

I was trying to decide if swag was good or bad when I noticed the Suburban had picked up speed and was moving to the center of the road.

“Where did you get your license?” Jo Jo yelled. “K-mart?”

“Are they going to get over?” The large SUV kept getting closer and closer, kicking up dust from the gravel road like a professional fog machine.

“They'll get over,” Jo Jo assured me.

I didn't feel assured.

“Watch out!” I screamed as the truck seemed intent on a head-on collision.

“Oh, shit!” Jo Jo yelled and cranked the steering wheel to the left, just missing the dark machine of death. We landed nose down in a three-foot embankment on the side of the road.

The crash sent me forward, but the seat belt kept me from doing more than hitting my forehead on the dashboard. Jo Jo hadn't been so lucky. There were no airbags in the truck, and the teenager hadn't been wearing his seat belt. His head was cut to shit from where it had hit the windshield, tiny shards of glass speckling his face as blood gushed from a large cut in his forehead. He was unconscious, and as tough as I was getting, I felt that lightheaded feeling coming on.

The SUV sped off down the road, not even stopping to see if we needed help. Bastard. I don't know how the driver hadn't seen us.

How in the hell had I managed two freakin' attacks and two motor vehicle accidents all in the same week?
Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!

“No,” I chastised myself out loud. This boy had spent his life with one disappointment after another. I would not be just one more adult who failed him. I hadn't brought a jacket, and modesty seemed like the least of my problem, so I took my blouse off, cream-colored and one of my favorites, and pressed it to his forehead.

Shaking his shoulder gently with my free hand, I tried to rouse the wounded teenager. “Jo Jo, wake up.” I tried again, and then again. Maybe he'd done damage to his brain. What did I know? The extent of my medical training included a crash course in the Heimlich maneuver when a restaurant customer had started choking. I needed a doctor.

Since the doc wasn't here, I took steps to help Jo Jo as best I could. I kept pressure on his gash with my right hand—because in the movies, that was the first thing they always did—while I reached into my purse with the left and dug out my cell phone.

Flipping it open, I refrained from voicing the stream of expletives running rampant in my head. (Besides, it would be pretty hard to compete with the quadruple f-bomb, so why try?) No bars! What the hell was wrong with Peculiar? Hadn't they ever heard of cell towers? Maybe they had a shifter-to-shifter phone service I wasn't aware of. If I started howling, would anyone come running?