You've Got Tail (16 page)

I wanted to take the bastards down as much as Babel. But in talking to the police, I'd have to tell them
how
I knew what I knew. They wouldn't believe me. Hell, Babel didn't believe me when I first told him. It took some convincing, even when it was obvious he
wanted
to believe. They might be supernaturals, but it was like asking them to believe in aliens. It would be a big-ass waste of time. “But, I don't want to talk to the sheriff,” I repeated for the umpteenth time. For the life of me, I couldn't understand what he didn't understand about that. “He's going to think I'm making shit up.”

“We'll make him believe.”

Great, we were a “we” now—a real, live Fred and Ginger, Bonny and Clyde, the Captain and Tennille. “Lovely.” I sighed.

We—now he had me thinking “we” also—slid to a parallel halt in front of the sheriff's office. I stayed in the truck, hoping that in Babel's concentrated efforts for justice, he'd forget about me.

No such luck. He pulled the passenger door open and practically yanked me out of the vehicle. “Let's go,” he said.

As if I had a choice. If he or anyone laughed at the way I was dressed, the fur would fly. Pun intended.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Haddock,” Sheriff Taylor said amiably, as we walked into the station. “Glad to see you looking well.”

“Is that a dig?”

“Not at all.” His eyes, dark, nearly black, held concern even as his mouth quirked in a friendly smile. I noticed once again the darker circles under his eyes.

“What animal are you?” I blurted without thinking.

The office went dead silent, the sheriff, the three deputies, and Babel all staring at me as if I was an alien. It wasn't like I'd asked them to take me to their leader. Maybe it was insulting to ask or something. “I'm not trying to be impolite. I'm just curious.”

I heard one of the deputies mumble the cliché, “Curiosity killed the cat.” I glanced at him and saw the open hostility animating his face. His badge showed the name Thompson. Ruth's last name was Thompson, and…wait…could this be one of her two oldest boys? Either Tyler or Taylor.

Whichever he was, the pictures I'd seen of Tyler's wedding didn't seem to fit the Deputy Thompson in the room. He was a big guy, tall, soft-looking but not fat, short blond hair and brown eyes. He scowled his contempt. Thompson reminded me of Enos from
Dukes of Hazzard,
minus the jovial personality.

Great. I had a fan.

“You're a cat?” I asked the sheriff, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh, no,” the sheriff said with more indignation than I thought necessary. “And I'm not an animal.”

Mood lightening was a bust. “Oh, for shit sake. You guys are really sensitive. What kind of therianthrope are you?” They all kept ogling me like I'd just asked them to strip to their undies. “What?”

“Sunny,” Babel said. His voice held a warning note.

The sheriff held up his hand. “Raccoon.”

It was a good thing I hadn't taken a drink of anything in that moment, because this was a total spew moment. As it were, I managed to stop at a snort.

Sheriff Taylor narrowed his eyes. I'd heard raccoons were vicious—better watch my step. “Sorry.” I couldn't hide my smile, but then I remembered why I was there in the first place and my smile faded.

“Sid,” Babel interjected and redirected, “Sunny has information about Judah's disappearance. It might lead us to Chavvie.”

More call for gaping stares.

The sheriff, whose first name was Sid, cleared his throat. “Both of you. My office.”

He didn't wait for us to respond as he turned on his shiny black heel and headed to a small room at the back of the station.

After a few minutes of explanation about me being psychic, seeing Judah's ghost, and the revealing vision, Sheriff Taylor raised his brow. “You know how crazy this sounds?”

I slapped my palms flat on my thighs, which made my shoulder throb. “About as crazy as a town full of people who can shapeshift into animals, I'd suspect.”

“Sunny,” Babel warned again.

“No.” Damn it, I was tired and getting fed up with the whole business. “I told you he wouldn't believe me. I could have been back at my apartment, soaking in the tub right now.”

“Now, girl,” the sheriff said. “I'm not saying I don't believe you, but the whole thing just seems a little farfetched.”

“You're absolutely right. I'm not psychic, I'm not seeing Judah's ghost, and I didn't get a vision depicting the most vicious crime I've ever heard of or seen.” I stood up. “I'm just another weirdo whack job in a town full of weird whack jobs. If you'll excuse me.”

Babel stood up.

“No,” I said again. “You stay. Have coffee with
Sid
. I'll walk home from here. I think I can find the way.” Before I stepped out the door to the office, I turned back for one last comment. “Believe me or don't believe me, Sheriff, but be warned, these men know what you all are and they still killed Judah like he wasn't anything but big game to be slaughtered. I got the distinct feeling it wasn't the first time they've done it and it won't be their last. You guys have been all nervous about a human living in your town, exposing your secrets? Well, you've got much bigger problems than little ol' me.”

I felt vindicated, but no less easy as I walked out of the police station. Deputy Thompson stepped out behind me and grabbed my upper arm. “Let sleeping dogs lie, Ms. Haddock. No one ever benefited from having their pasts dug up.”

I flashed on an image of him punching Judah square in the nose. “Tyler or Taylor?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed. “Tyler,” he said hesitantly.

“Well, Tyler. I really like your mom. Because of that, I'm not going to mention to her or anyone else how positively discourteously you're treating me. Now let go of my arm. I'd like to leave now.”

He released me and went back inside. I really did want to go back to the apartment, lock all the doors, and curl into the fetal position until my world went back to normal.

I'd never return to that kind of normal.

It was like when a close friend or family member dies, and your idea of normal has to change. I didn't know if mine could ever change enough to be comfortable with knowing what I knew now.

“Sunny!” I looked toward the beckoning call. Ruth was sitting on a bench across the street, waving her petite hand at me.

“Hi,” I hollered back genially, then turned to walk up the street. I liked Ruth. A lot. Probably more than anyone else I'd met in town, and because of that, I felt kind of betrayed. I know why she didn't tell me about what she was. I knew it was the same reason Chav hadn't told me. Also, she'd tried to warn me several times, but still…

“Sunny!” I heard her shout again. When she caught up to me, I stopped.

“Hey, Ruth. Did you need something? I was just going home to clean up and take a nap. It's been a rough several days.”

I remembered the kiss between her and Judah. I winced. Ruth had been close to him. I didn't know how to tell her he was dead.

It wasn't my problem. No one had hired me to be the town crier. Of course, Judah picked that moment to return. I walked toward the door and nearly tripped as he popped up in front of me.

“Shit,” I mumbled.

“You say something, Sunny?” Ruth asked, gnawing her lower lip. Her tawny brown hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail and showcased her beautiful, delicate bone structure. I was still in awe that her figure was supermodel-hot even after eight kids, but the fact that she wasn't human probably made all the difference. At least, I hoped so. No one should be that flawless
and
human.

“No, just wishing whatever acid trip I'm on would wear off already.”

She smiled and it lit her deep brown eyes. I couldn't smile back.

Her smile faded a little. “I just want to apologize for everything. I couldn't tell you, darlin', but I really wanted to. I really want to be friends, Sunny. But I understand if you don't.”

My heart defrosted. I felt the gush coming on. As if someone opened the floodgates to let out the overflow, I started crying. The act of which surprised Ruth
and
me. Her lithe arms wrapped around my shoulders.

“It's okay, honey. Just let it out.” She patted my back in a motherly way, making it even harder to put the brakes on my tears.

“I want to go home,” I finally managed to say.

I meant the apartment this time, not California. The Golden State would have to wait on Sunny Haddock. Looking at Judah, who'd distanced himself a little when my hysteria started, I knew I couldn't leave until I found Chavvah and his murder was solved.

“Come over later for tea or something,” I told her. She agreed to meet with me, and I was glad. I wanted more information on Judah, as I was certain his death was the reason behind Chav's disappearance, and Ruth might be able to give me some insight.

Even though the tub was small, the bath had been deliciously fine. Water warm enough to redden my skin, and I'd added a touch of lavender for the mother of all headaches forming behind my left eye. I'd resisted the urge to put on my most comfortable pajamas since Ruth was coming over, and instead settled for a pair of tan low-rise knit trousers, an emerald-green tank top, and a pair of strappy sandals the same color as the shirt.

The bell rang at the door downstairs. “I'll be right down,” I called to Ruth. I checked my hair in a small mirror I'd mounted next to the door (I liked to give myself one last glance over before leaving anywhere). I noticed it was a little frizzy in the Missouri humidity and the color was a bit duller than I like, but it still looked nicely coiffed.

I skipped down the steps to the restaurant area. I nearly missed the last one when I saw who was waiting for me. It wasn't Ruth.

Babel stood in the center of the room looked haggard and worse for wear. There was bruising around his left eye, and his lower lip was split and swollen.

Queasiness fell over me, but my panic overrode my usual squeamish nature. Like the head cheerleader fretting over the quarterback, I ran to him. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I'm fine.” He turned his head when I tried to touch his cheek. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“Looks more like gang warfare.” I dropped my hand. I couldn't blame him for pulling away. My heart was at war with my head. I didn't want to be with a player, someone who could jump from one woman's bed to the next, but I wanted Babel. I settled on a truce for the moment. “Are you part of the Sharks or the Jets?”

Babel crooked a smile. I melted a little. And yay, he wasn't too young for the reference. “Which do you belong to?”

“The Jets, definitely.”

His eyes lowered onto me in a penetrating gaze. “Then me too.”

He was adorable, and hot, and sweet, and funny, and I didn't want to like him so much. Every time I was around him, I became the magnet to his steel.
I will not flirt with him.
“You say the nicest things.”
Ack! I flirted.

Without warning to him or myself, I let adrenaline and raw need launch me into his arms. Our mouths met with crushing sweetness. I felt the heat from his bruised lips. I knew it was wrong, even as slid my tongue along his front teeth and he opened his mouth for me. His hands kneaded my back, up and down from my shoulders to the base of my spine. Whenever a guilty reminder that he was with Sheila, or at least she thought so, tried to make its way to the surface, I beat that sucker down with a mallet.

His fingers laced into my hair. He pulled my head back a little and gazed down at me.

“You make me want so much, Sunny,” Babel murmured.

I knew the feeling all too well. Drawing my palm over his bruises, I sighed. Sheila was a lunatic and a bitch, but if I allowed myself to act without thought to who it might hurt, was I any better than her?

He nodded toward the apartment and wiggled his eyebrows. “So, upstairs.”

“Babel…” My words were cut off by the tinkling of the doorbell. Shit, I'd forgotten about Ruth.

Again, it wasn't Ruth.

T
he man standing in my restaurant looked wild and savage, if you didn't count the civilized blue jeans and gray one-pocket T-shirt. It was obvious someone else besides him did his laundry. His hair was long, black, and unkempt.

He had a scraggly beard with too many days' growth that crept up the sides of his cheeks, and his amber pupils were just a tad more yellow than his corneas. Even from across the room, I could smell whiskey oozing from his pores. His lips pulled back in an ugly snarl.

This was it. This was the hour of my demise. Death had come for a visit and it seemed he was really pissed. At me. Ack.

“Not open yet,” I said in a pleasant voice, trying to hide the strain in my vocal cords. Babel moved in front of me. The pose he took reminded me of Wolverine getting ready for battle.

“Stay out of this, Trimmel.” The man's voice was gruff from too many cigarettes or drinks, I wasn't sure which, but it had the effect of making me quiver to the bone.

“Go home, Brady.”

Brady? Why did the name sound familiar?

The man stalked farther into the restaurant. He pointed a shaky finger at me. “I want you to leave my boy alone.”

Boy, boy? I checked my mental inventory, trying to figure out exactly what boy he could be talking about. The only person I'd spent any amount of time with had been Babel. Surely this wasn't his father. “I think you have the wrong girl.”

He walked closer, making me take a step back. I tasted my heart in my mouth. Thank heaven's Babel was there. I'd have been freaking out big time if I'd been alone.

He pointed again. “If Jolon comes back around, you just send him on his way.”

Babel spoke up again. “You don't mean what you're saying, Brady. Go home.”