Inviting a guy back to my place came with one huge drawback that was normally an asset. Dad. He would be pissed at the way I’d handled him earlier, tucking him into bed, then darting off without leaving so much as a note behind. He wasn’t the type to call and ream me out over the phone. No, he stewed in his anger until it bubbled out of his pores.
“We don’t have to go through with this.” Cole sat beside me in the Bronco, both of us staring up at the front of the house. We had been parked in the driveway for a good five minutes while I studied which lights were on in what rooms while attempting to divine my father’s whereabouts and mood from them. “I can call for a pickup.”
“I’m a grown woman.” I clutched the DVD rentals to my chest. A steaming bag of Thai carryout sat between my feet and perfumed the air with curry. “I can pick my own friends and make my own decisions.”
Yes, it had been reckless to get behind the wheel in my condition, but fear drives desperation. Sometimes literally.
“Do you need this?” Cole reached between the seats and produced a small paper bag from the convenience store filled with nickel candies for Dad. A peace offering. Fine. Okay, a bribe. “You can breathe into it.”
“You are no help.” I snatched it from his hand. “Come on. Let’s go face the firing squad.” We got out and strode onto the porch together. I tested the front door, expecting to find it locked, but it swung open under my hand. Proof Dad was waiting for me. “Dad?”
“In here,” he called from the kitchen.
“Hi.” I lingered in the doorway with Cole a massive shadow behind me. “How are you feeling?”
Dad took a sip of his coffee, earning himself a moment before he answered. Once he set the mug on the table, he seemed to have come to a decision. “Better.” His gaze hadn’t stopped boring into Cole since we entered, and there was a weary set to his shoulders, a grimness in the twist of his mouth that set me on edge. “Cole and I need to talk.”
“Dad—” I began.
“No.” The word lashed out at me, left me raw and stinging, his temper an exotic beast I had rarely glimpsed. “Cole, you and I are going for a walk. We’re long overdue for a chat.”
“He’s right.” Cole met his stare. “We should talk.”
“Dad, it wasn’t his fault.” I couldn’t let it go. “I drove myself to the station—”
“Cole.” He stood and rinsed out his mug. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Our guest left on silent feet, a marvel considering his size, and I was left staring at Dad’s bunched shoulders as he braced his palms on the edge of the sink.
“I was standing in the hall outside your bedroom the first time I heard that old phone ring, and I know it’s called for you every year since on your birthday.”
“W-what?” I almost swallowed my tongue.
“I paid a guy to take it apart and check for transmission equipment. I thought maybe it had been wired by some industrious bastard looking to get a story using you. When that dead-ended, I tried tracing the calls and got nowhere,” he continued, huffing out a laugh. “People thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy.”
“You’re not crazy. Or you’re not alone in your crazy.” I rubbed the sting from my nape as I recalled the myriad ways I had tried and failed to accomplish the same goal. Like father, like daughter. “Last month I bummed a Geiger counter off a friend and used it to test my room before, during and after the call.”
“And?” He chortled. “Any luck?”
“None.” I was on the verge of explaining why I had considered radiation as a possibility, but Ezra was a secret I had kept to myself for so long, I wasn’t ready to share him yet. Not even with Dad. “I’d call it magic, but I’d rather learn I was radioactive, honestly.”
It worked out well enough for Spider-Man.
“We’re taught from a young age that magic is for books and movies.” He pulled himself upright and looked at me with such pride it made my chest hurt. “Yet here you are. You’re special, Luce. A gift. I’ve always known you were more.”
Magic.
Special.
More.
I cringed away from the labels before they stuck. I was other. I had long ago accepted that. How else could I explain those calls? Or my arms? I didn’t have special powers. I was just marked. Was that magic? Or biology? And why would Dad bring up those things now when we usually worked so hard to ignore them?
“We never talk about the calls.” I focused on that rather than on me. “I figured it was easier if you pretended they didn’t happen. What’s changed?”
“Cole’s ringtone.” He tapped the side of his head. “Hearing it was like getting struck by lightning.”
“Yeah.” A movie slid from my arms, and I bent to retrieve the case from the floor. “It spooked me the first time I heard it too, but Cole isn’t responsible.” I spoke over Dad’s argument. “The caller is powerful. His magic, for lack of a better word, is in his voice every time we speak. Cole is a commanding presence, but he’s just a man. There is no zing.”
“Are you sure?” Dad searched my face. “I can’t shake this feeling . . .”
Cops trusted their guts, and no argument I made was going to talk him out of believing his.
“Is that why you asked him to walk with you?” I sorted the movies into a neat pile. “You’re going to grill him?”
“I want to hear his intentions from his own mouth.” He made no apologies. “Having Cole in the house is like being in a dark room with a hungry tiger, and I’m wearing a raw steak tied around my neck. The tiger might not kill me getting at the steak, but it wouldn’t feel bad if it did either.”
“Is it okay that I brought him here?” I stopped fidgeting and really looked at him.
“Just be careful.” He pushed away from the counter. “The way he looks at you . . . ” He kicked a chair leg on his way past. “I’m a man, and I’ve given women that look often enough I recognize it.”
“Dad.” I covered my hot cheeks with my hands. “He doesn’t want a relationship with me.”
Cole had made that much plain. This wasn’t a date-date. It was more of a . . . friend date. Platonic even.
Except for that whole excess-saliva thing.
“That’s what worries me.” His voice carried from the living room. “Guys like him never do.”
The door shut, and I got to work fluffing the pillows on the couch. That done, I arranged the containers of food, then set out glasses, filled them with ice, and then fetched the tea pitcher. Cole had chosen an action movie I’d been meaning to watch, and I loaded it first in case Dad opted to stay and chaperone until time for him to shower and dress for work.
I dropped onto the couch, took a sip and crunched on an ice cube.
Cole was not my mystery caller. I would know. Sure, they might both have deep voices. And yeah, Cole did growl. A lot. More than any man I had ever met. The caller tended to rumble and let his silences speak for him too. That was the thing. His silence. He spoke so little and so rarely that comparing the two men was like trying to identify an unfamiliar song used in the background of a movie. A couple of chords, a few words, that was all. A snippet. A taste.
As much alike as they might be on the surface, Cole lacked Ezra’s magnetism. He was solid and fierce and powerful, but his was an earthy kind of appeal. Not the crackle of otherness that raised my arm hairs and wrung my gut into knots.
Speaking of knotted guts . . . Worry for Maggie beat under my skin in time with my heart. The quiet house provided no white noise to block out the frantic mantra playing on a loop through my head.
I will find Maggie. I will get her back. I will punish those who took her.
I had polished off half my drink attempting to clear the lump in my throat when the front door opened. “Did you boys enjoy your walk?”
“Your dad showed me the woodshed.” Cole twirled a bit of green between his fingers. “I noticed he has a sharp ax, a sturdy shovel and plenty of acreage.”
“Oh, wow.” I slow-clapped for Dad. “You really pulled out all the stops.” To Cole, I explained, “Usually he doesn’t imply his willingness to chop up prospective boyfriends and bury them on the property until the second or third date. You must be special to get the white glove treatment.”
“Very funny.” Dad folded his arms across his chest. “Cole and I have come to an understanding.”
I raised an eyebrow. “One that involves death, dismemberment and backyard burial?”
“That’s for us to know and you to find out if he hurts you.”
The urge to roll my eyes twitched in my lids, but my headache prevented me from indulging.
“Are you going to join us? We stopped at Thai-Thai.” I sank back into position and left it up to Cole if he wanted to sit beside me or in Dad’s recliner. “There’s plenty to go around.”
“I can’t. I have to shower and shave.” He checked his watch. “Harry’s picking me up early so we can grab a bite at the deli before our shift starts.”
“Hmm. That’s industrious of you.” I tucked my legs under me. “I thought you had to be on the clock to get the discount.”
“The uniform is all that counts.” He dusted his hands together. “Harry called ahead to be sure the new manager hadn’t changed things.”
“I figured.” I clicked my tongue at his retreating back, then returned my attention to Cole. “You’ve heard of extreme couponing? Well, those two could do a show for cops on how to ferret out the best food in town at the lowest prices with the highest discount.”
Though the deli was one of the few takeout spots Dad was allowed to eat at with any regularity these days thanks to their heart-healthy menu options.
Most restaurants in town offered discounts for on-duty officers as a thanks for their service and as an enticement to keep a police presence in their establishments. Cops don’t make much money, and patrol makes it hard to pack lunches and take breaks. Getting a hot meal with a smile and a side of conversation at the cost of a PB and J was sometimes the highlight of an otherwise disheartening shift.
Cole humored me with a fleeting smile that as good as said he had one foot out the door.
“You aren’t staying, are you?” Needing a barrier between us, no matter how flimsy, I bent my legs in front of me, wrapped my arms around them and then braced my chin on my knees. “You can leave with your manhood intact, if that’s what worries you. Braver men than you have been cowed by the woodshed.”
“This was a mistake.” Meltwater eyes fastened onto me. “There are things you don’t know about me that make this . . . a bad idea.”
“You could always tell me,” I hinted with zero subtlety.
“No. I can’t. I’m not sure I would even if I could.” He rubbed a hand over his bristly scalp. “I called Santiago before I came in. We’re driving the samples from today straight to the lab to trim down the wait time for the results.”
“Oh.” I flexed my toes, suddenly deep in thought about when the last time was I’d had a pedicure. “That makes sense.”
“Luce.”
“We don’t stand on ceremony around here.” I located the remote and hit play on the movie. “You can show yourself out.”
Cole left without saying another word. Boots thumped down the porch. Boots thumped up the porch. Down. Up. Down. Each footfall an accusation. I imagined his pacing shook the house. The floorboards, which were twice my age and temperamental, groaned in protest. I tiptoed toward the bay window, then cursed. Someone had cracked the blinds. We never slitted those. Dad must have been watching for me and made an exception. Meaning Cole would have spotted me had he not been stomping off in the opposite direction.
Quick as a whip, I bolted for the couch where I dug into my plate and gave the movie my full attention. Mostly. Focusing was hard with him making so much racket.
Good grief. Was he that impatient to leave? Worried I might follow him out and invite him in again if he didn’t rush away? Fat chance of that happening. I would gnaw off my own hand before using it to twist open that doorknob.
Tonight had been a whopper of a mistake. Clearly the guy had deeper issues mixing business with pleasure than I’d realized. Good thing I was off the Claremont case. Until a concrete link to Maggie was established, if such a connection surfaced, that meant he and I had no reason to socialize outside of hospital visits to see Jane. Though I had yet to see him on sentry duty. Maybe I’d get lucky and avoid him all together.
A low purring sound underscored a fight scene in the movie. Must be one in the fleet of SUVs White Horse owned. Unwilling to mute the TV, I strained my ears but didn’t hear a door open or shut. I gave him ten minutes to get gone, then killed the movie and melted into the couch on a groan.
“It’s for the best.” I gathered the food containers and shuffled off in search of my laptop. I planned to set it up at the kitchen table and get some work done while shoveling in a double portion of gang massaman. Maggie’s phone rested on the placemat next to my charging cord, and I trailed my fingers over its hard case. “Cole was a distraction. A big distraction. A distracting distraction.”
As far as resources go, he sure came in handy, though.
By the time Dad popped his head in to say goodnight, I was too full to move but determined to plow through Cole’s portion. Waste not, want not. I didn’t want it, but I wasn’t letting it go to waste like the rest of my night. Dad had the good sense not to ask where Cole was or why he had left. He also didn’t appear too surprised to find me alone, so there you go. Mission accomplished.
“Do me a favor? Drop this off with Dougherty or Buck.” I tossed him Maggie’s phone. “That way the techs can comb over it, and her family can sign it out after if they want it back.”
Wary of my pleasantness, he left in a hurry before I decided to get mad at him for spooking Cole.
Still, I wasn’t all that irritated with Dad. And I couldn’t work up a good head of steam over Cole either. He had already made up his mind about us—or the lack thereof—before I put my moves on him. Basically he had passed on us, and I had served him up a heaping helping of Luce regardless. No wonder the poor guy hadn’t asked to take his food home with him. He’d lost his appetite.
Dad made me promise to lock up after him and reset the alarms, and I agreed without complaint since it forced me to stop wallowing. In theory. In fact, I wallowed for about an hour after he left. Had smoke not been curling off my scorched taste buds at that point, it might have taken me longer to summon the motivation to stand. I downed the first glass standing in the open doorway of the fridge. The second I carried with me into the living room to sip while I activated the security system. I pulled up short in front of the bay window, the open blinds drawing my attention. A menacing darkness tainted the shadows on the porch. They all stretched taller, darker than usual. All the super gator talk must be getting to me.
I twisted the blinds closed on a shudder then returned for the final standoff between me and the fifty thousand peppers they must have used in the curry sauce. I made it to the kitchen when the planks on the front room groaned. Old houses settled at night. That noise I was used to. But this was similar to how the wood had protested beneath Cole’s weight.
I turned back to the living room, slowed my breath and strained my ears for hints about my visitor. A low hiss poured under the front door, and I forgot to breathe. Slowly, the protesting planks, the clack of nails, crept toward the bay window. I had my phone in hand a heartbeat later and made good time reaching the closeted gun safe.
“Something is on the porch,” I said in lieu of a greeting while I loaded my weapon with shaky hands.
“Stay inside and keep away from the doors and windows,” Dad barked. “Wait. What do you mean something?”
“You know how there’s been a rash of super gator sightings?” I waited for him to confirm he’d been keeping up with the news. “I have a bad feeling—”
An explosion of glass tinkling onto hardwood startled a scream out of me. Where the bay window used to be, a reptilian thing as tall as a freaking pony shook the ruined blinds off its head. I backed slowly into the kitchen, tagging and dismissing possible escape routes. The front door was out. The path upstairs was blocked. That meant my only avenue of escape was through one of the windows. From the backyard, all I had to do was . . . Damn it. I double checked my pants. No keys. Cole must have hung them by the door on his way out. The Bronco was useless without them.
“Dad,” I whispered, “it’s in the house.” Its roar shook the picture frames on the walls, and I swallowed to moisten my throat. “I have to go now. I need both hands.” Uncle Harold shouted over my dad in the background. “I love you, Daddy.”
I muted the phone and shoved it in my back pocket. Bracing the butt of the shotgun against my shoulder with one arm, I fumbled behind me at the nearest window with the other, locating and twisting the lock. I raised the sash, cursing at the noise, then kicked out the screen. A hiss rose behind me, and cold sweat glued my shirt to my spine. Panic drummed a tattoo against my rib cage, but fear kept hold of the reins. The icy calm I had come to depend on failed me. And then it was too late to find my chill.
The super gator was in the room with me.
I didn’t give myself time to think. I raised the gun, shot out one of its vulnerable eyes, and leapt through the open window. The drop wasn’t far, but the bushes weren’t kind. Limbs scratched my arms and tore at my legs through my pants. I shoved the branches aside, got my feet under me and ran. Where to go? Our nearest neighbors were miles away, and that thing moved like lightning. Even half blinded, I was no match for it on my own. The shed was a wash. If it could knock out the bay window, it could warp the steel siding. The only choice I had was to run for the woods.
A furious shriek dumped adrenaline in my veins. Behind me glass shattered and a meaty body thumped to the ground. Its pitiful cries told me two things. I had hit where I was aiming. Thank you, indoor range. And it was pissed. Super pissed. Someone-just-exploded-its-eyeball-in-its-head pissed.
A stitch lit my side on fire, and I sucked in a sharp breath. I really ought to buy a treadmill. If I survived this, I was totally buying a treadmill. I pushed harder, faster, until I hit a dense patch of clover, chicory and cow peas. A food plot Dad maintained for the deer. That meant I was in the right area. I hadn’t been down here in months. I had no idea where he’d set up his tree stand this time.
After several frantic minutes of searching his favorite spots, I located his new perch. I gauged the distance from the ground to the seat to be around twenty-five feet and decided it was as safe a place as any for what might be my last stand. My last stand. In a tree stand. Ha.
Oh, God. I’d heard about this. Gallows humor.
I was so going to die.