Chapter 3
Hank
As I drive away from the farm with the sun at my back, Edwina’s proposition is still in my head. On the surface, it seems like a simple request—say an honest goodbye to Sheila and move on. After all, I’m expecting Edwina to kick Cash’s ass to the curb and forget about him. But I lack the capacity to do the same with Sheila. Not moving on makes me either an ass or a fool—or maybe a little of both.
How the hell do I seal away nine years of my life? Nine years spent with a female who was as vital to me as the air that I breathe. I thought the sun rose and set with Sheila. Smiling to myself, I lean against the door. Some days, the sun really did rise and set with her. We’d spend a weekend in bed, only leaving long enough to go on a hunt. It was my little slice of heaven watching her graceful, spotted body stretch and contract over and over again as she moved swiftly across the terrain. That female loved a good, hard hunt. She also enjoyed a nice, long swim afterward followed by all-night fucking. Those were great times.
The memory alone causes my claws to protrude. My beast wants his time to play.
Concentrate.
I focus on the road, and my beast—unhappy and desperate for a reward—retreats.
Later. I’ll go for a run.
It’s too damned quiet. What’s the saying? Music tames the beast. It’s either that or turn this car around and go back to Edwina’s.
Choose the music. It’s less complicated.
Reaching for my phone, it rings in my hand and I see Sheila’s name displayed on the screen. Fuck! This is the wrong time to talk to her. Not when I’m lusting over a memory. But then again, maybe she can tell me what’s going on with Tyson. Save me a trip and an argument with Edwina.
Inhale. Exhale. I steer the car to the side of the road and kill the motor. “Hello, Sheila.”
“Hank. Am I interrupting?” She sounds stressed.
“Just headed to the station. What do you want?” My voice comes across cold as steel. Despite Edwina’s ultimatum, I’m not ready to forgive and forget. Some things can’t be dismissed so easily.
Sheila ignores my tone and asks, “Have you spoken to your brother lately?”
“He called me last night after his fight.” I lean my head against the seat. “Said something about needing my help. What’s going on with him, Sheila?”
Static hits my ear as she breathes into the phone. “I don’t know. Tyson’s keeping late hours. At first, I thought he might be on drugs or something, but he’s smarter than that. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his shot at the AFC.” Sheila pauses for a moment. “Hank, every night Tyson comes home he’s worn out.”
“He’s training, Sheila.” Duh.
“This is different. Tyson’s usually energized after training. Fatigue ordinarily happens with a particularly hard fight. I asked him about it, and he blew up at me. Frankly, he’s scaring the crap out of me.”
She’s blowing shit out of proportion. Fighters are gonna have bad sessions. I haven’t kept up with the AFC scene, but Tyson’s probably just got a heavy match coming up. Training’s gonna get fierce. It’s part of the game. There’s a good chance I don’t need to come down there after all. Maybe we can handle this with a phone call.
“Sheila, where is he right now?” I crank the motor. “I’ll call and talk to him.”
“I wish I knew. He didn’t come home after last night’s fight.” Quiet sobs fill my ear.
I scrub a hand over my face. Why should I clean up Tyson’s messes when he fucked me over?
Because he’s your brother. Remember the oath. Blood before booze, bitches, and battles.
Great time for my conscience to kick in. “Stop crying, Sheila. Let me handle some business here, and then I’ll come to New Orleans. Give me a day or two. Text me your address.”
“Thank you, Hank. I’ll owe you,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reply and end the call.
The debt Sheila owes me can’t be repaid. I toss the phone in the passenger seat, turn up Eminem, and peel off, spraying dust over the road.
After Sheila’s call, I decide to have some breakfast before reporting to duty. I grab my usual booth at the diner, and Agnes Charles, a middle-aged waitress, comes over. She tucks a strand of fading blonde hair behind an ear. “What can I get for you, Detective?”
No need to bother with the menu. I’ve eaten here so many times I probably could recite the whole thing from memory. “Coffee and the morning special.”
Not bothering to write anything down, she asks, “How do you want your eggs?”
“Scrambled. I’ll have bacon and sausage.”
“You want toast or pancakes?”
Patting my abs, I feel a thin layer of fat covering the six-pack. Not acceptable. My ass needs to get to the gym. Either that or start running more and fucking Edwina less. Yes to the first and a definite no to the last.
“Maybe I should pass.”
She glances down at my physique and winks. “You know you’ll run it off. I’ll bring you a short stack. Be back in a bit with your coffee.”
“Thanks.” There are days when I think Agnes knows me better than me.
Unfortunately, Agnes can’t make going to New Orleans any easier. Plans need to be made, but without speaking with Edwina, I don’t want to book a flight. Our talk last night never included enough words to get a real answer. For some reason, I want her with me. I’m not sure if it’s the simple fact that I appreciate her company or if it’s something more—something I’m not ready to ponder. Right now, I need to know if she’s coming with me. Thankfully, vampires don’t sleep. I punch her number and wait.
On the third ring, she answers. “Yes, Hank?”
“I need to buy an airline ticket. You going with me or not?” No beating around the bush. I’ve pampered this female long enough. Something tells me she might like it a little rough.
The line goes quiet.
“Edwina?”
She drawls, “Do we have a deal?”
Not this shit again. I rub my forehead.
Say yes so she’ll go. The trip will be more pleasant if she does.
“Yeah, yeah. We have a deal. Just keep up your end of the bargain.” I disconnect and close my eyes. Edwina is gonna be the death of me. Sooner or later.
“Hank?”
My eyes pop open. Agnes sits in front of me with a deep scowl on her face.“You okay?”
“I will be.” I reach for the coffee cup and add cream and three sugars. “Just have to make a trip to New Orleans I don’t want to take.”
Agnes squints. “Want some unsolicited advice?”
This woman reminds me of one of the relentless nuns who taught me in elementary school. Agnes is giving me the advice whether I agree or not.
“I’ve had my eye on you, Hank. I remember that whole unfortunate mess with Sheila Montgomery. You fell hard for her and lost. She was your first love, but she won’t be your only love. Do yourself a favor and just forget about her. ”
Part of me realizes Agnes only speaks the truth. Another part of me wants to hold out in case Sheila comes crawling back to me. And then there’s the part that wants to go forward. It wants to discover what life with a certain vampire might offer.
“I know. This isn’t about me trying to get back with Sheila though.”
“But does this trip involve her?” Agnes points out. “Ever ask yourself why she ended up with Tyson?”
I stir the concoction, set the spoon on the table, and grip the coffee cup. My voice drops. “Every single day, Agnes. Without fail.”
She shakes her head and says in a soothing voice, “Ah, honey, you and Sheila were just kids discovering love. That jaguar was never truly yours. I knew her before you two hooked up. She always had a wandering eye, sniffing at every cat that stepped in the diner. While you were at home recovering from a hunt, she was meeting Tyson right here.”
Fuck! I always wondered why I’d wake up alone after one of our adventures.
Agnes taps the table. “I watched her shady behavior for as long as I could. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her to the side and told her what I thought of her antics.”
Although I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear Agnes’s words, curiosity forces me to ask, “What did Sheila say?”
Agnes reaches for the sugar dispenser and begins straightening packets. “She said being with you didn’t provide a safety net for her.”
I flinch. Working for the Falls Creek PD is a solid career. I joined the force shortly after Sheila and I got together. The work allowed me to provide for her and any kits we might have had.
“Sheila was afraid you’d be killed working for the force,” Agnes continues. “Naturally, I didn’t believe her lame excuse. I told her when your number’s up it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. She said Tyson had a better chance at a long life.” The vinyl bench squeaks as Agnes pushes herself up. “You don’t need someone that fickle around you. Let her go.”
It never crossed my mind that Sheila might be flighty. Selfish? Yes. I guess it’s true that you learn something new every day.
“Now that Edwina Devereaux…”
My head rocks up. “What about Edwina?”
Agnes leans over the table. “She can be a bit of a bitch, but I think she still has a good heart for an undead soul.”
I laugh out loud at her assessment. “Good one, Agnes. You do know that’s forbidden territory?”
“So what? I’ve never agreed with Council. Just a bunch of supernatural bigots if you ask me. Everybody has the right to love whoever or whatever they want.”
Agnes has a point. “Glad to know I’m not the only one feeling that way.”
“Trust me, Hank. There are plenty of folk in Falls Creek who feel that way, not just the supernaturals.” She pats my shoulder. “Think about what I said. Let me go grab your breakfast.”
Yeah, Edwina Marie Devereaux has her issues, but she’s easily tolerated. And thankfully, she’s not Sheila.
I scarf down my food, leave Agnes a generous tip with my tab, and head to the station. Hopefully, Captain won’t have a problem giving me some time off. I’ve banked plenty of overtime and haven’t used any of it. A vacation is long overdue.
Walking up the stairs to my desk, I find Captain Roger Miller, another human from one of Falls Creek’s founding families, standing near my chair. Wonder what he wants.
“Morning, Richards.” He jerks his chin in my direction.
“Morning, Captain. What’s up?”
“Got a call this morning from the NOLA PD. Come with me.” Captain wiggles his finger and lumbers toward his office in the corner.
A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I slink behind him. Closing the office door, I stop in front of Miller’s desk. “What’s going on?”
“Sheila Montgomery Richards filed a missing person report on your brother,” Captain says as he rifles through a stack of papers on his desktop.
Why the fuck did she do that when I told her I was coming? “Captain, I spoke to Sheila this morning. She said nothing about a report.”
“We wouldn’t know if Superintendent Harris didn’t do me a favor. Maybe you should go down to New Orleans? Check things out. If your brother’s missing, Harris could use your help.”
“I’m sure NOLA PD can handle a simple missing person’s case.” Getting involved in another jurisdiction’s investigation wasn’t the smartest move. The few times we’ve had precincts outside Falls Creek come to town, our officers found it intrusive. It’s best to let NOLA PD handle their own cases. If they need my input, I’ll give it, but for all we know, this is some domestic shit and Tyson’s taking the coward’s way out.
Captain bobs his head up and down. “They can, but Harris gave his permission for you to work the case. He’d rather not have the NOLA Council on his ass. Take the rest of the day off. If you need any resources, Richards, everything’s at your disposal.”
Well, I guess things just got easier.
As I turn to leave, Captain adds, “Oh, and Richards?”
“Yeah, Captain?”
“Don’t fuck this one up. Internal Affair’s got its eye on you.”
Understood. The whole mess surrounding the deaths of humans earned me some desk time. I’ve been warned by the department and Council—any further screw-ups and I’ll be suspended indefinitely. It’s just more shit I don’t need in my life. If I’m not a detective, what do I have left?