Rogue (28 page)

“Indeed,” my father said from his armchair, and for a
moment I thought he was reading my mind. “Well, at least we know now that you were right about his involvement.”

Yet I found that a small consolation, all things considered.

After that, the day hit a bit of a lull. Marc and Parker had seen no sign of the rogue tabby, and we still had no idea where to find Luiz and Andrew. My father sent Owen, Jace, and Vic out for a run in the woods, ostensibly to burn off some nervous energy and clear their heads for the coming confrontation—whenever that turned out to be. But I think he was actually trying to get them out of his fur for an hour of peace and quiet.

I stayed behind, out of sheer exhaustion. Whether it was the lack of sleep, or the emotionally draining phone call to Andrew, by the time the guys filed out of the office, I could barely hold my head up. So I stretched out on the leather couch for a short nap, just like I’d done as a kid, lulled to sleep by the scratching of a pencil on paper as my father sketched to set his mind at ease.

Sometime later—about an hour and a half, according to the wall clock—the guys woke me up when they filed back into the office like a herd of elephants on parade. Jace picked up my feet and sat beneath them, and Vic and Owen settled onto the love seat across from us. I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes when the office phone rang out, startling in the temporary calm. My father answered it, and the moment the caller spoke, I sat straight up, instantly wide-awake. It was Marc.

“No sign of the tabby yet,” he said after a brief greeting. “But we’ve got Dan Painter here, and he wants to talk to you. He doesn’t seem to know anything about the strays we’re looking for—” Andrew and Luiz, obviously “—but he says he knows the tabby personally. And he’ll only speak to the man in charge.”

T
he phone still pressed to his ear, my father arched his brows in surprise and dropped his pencil on his desk. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah!” Painter’s voice was soft from distance to the phone and high pitched from stress, but still easily recognizable. “Fucker nearly broke my jaw, but I told ’em I’m only talking to the main man.”

“That would be the Alpha,” Parker said from somewhere over the line. “And there’s no cussing in front of the Alpha.”

Yeah, I was still working on that one myself.

“Sorry,” Painter mumbled, just as Marc said, “Should I put him on the phone?”

My father closed his eyes, considering the request. Then he opened them and said, “Please.” The phone clattered as it changed hands, and then he was speaking to the informant himself. “Mr. Painter? I understand you have some information for me.”

“Yeah, but I got a request first. I want in.”

My father frowned. “In?”

“Yeah, in. In the pack, or whatever you call it. The group. The in-crowd.”

I smiled, as images from high school popped up unbidden, and my father seemed on the verge of a chuckle himself. “Mr. Painter, we call it the Pride. And Pride cats don’t act in anticipation of a reward. They act out of honor. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Springs creaked over the phone, as Painter shifted in whatever seat he occupied. “You want me to spill my guts for free.”

“I want to be sure that your character is up to the standard I require of my Pride cats, and by
volunteering
your information, you’d go a long way toward showing me that.”

Damn, he’s good.
I exchanged a knowing grin with Jace.

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying,” Painter said. “I tell you what I know, and you’ll let me play your reindeer games.”

“You have my word that if you help us in this matter, I will give you an opportunity to prove you belong with us. How does that sound?”

There was silence over the line for several seconds, as Painter thought the offer over. Then he sighed. “Fine. You want to know about the woman, right? You call them tabbies?”

“Yes. How do you know her?” My father picked up his pencil and began scribbling as Painter spoke.

“I met her about a week ago, at this club in Mississippi. First girl-cat I ever saw, and I knew what she was right away, even with her walkin’ around on two feet.” Painter sounded so proud of himself that I had to smile.

My father nodded, still writing. “You’ve been following her?”

“Shi—er, shoot, no. I’ve been travelin’
with
her. Keepin’ her company. I didn’t know she was killin’ people, though. I
swear I didn’t know that until the other day, the first time I called you.”

“How did you find out?”

“I followed her. We drive during the day, then check into a hotel. She goes out every night. Alone. One night I followed her. I think she knew I was there, but she let me tail her anyway. She went to another strip club, and about half an hour later she came out with this dude. Another cat. She took him out back, and the next thing I know, she’s standing over his body. I nearly pissed my pants, ya know? But she just pulled him over to his car and heaved him into the trunk. Then she drove him to the middle of nowhere and dumped him in a field. I told you guys about that one. Remember? Then I ran into this fu—I mean, this big guy here, and another chick, and she knocked me the fu—Knocked me out cold. First time I ever been hit by a girl.”

Jace elbowed me, and I frowned, still embarrassed that I’d silenced our biggest lead before he could tell us what was going on.

“So you’ve been traveling with this tabby…” my father continued. “Where is she going?”

“Man, I don’t know. Somewhere new every night. I think she’s following someone. She gets these calls on her cell phone from some guy with an accent. He just says the name of a town, then hangs up.”

Son of a bitch!
She was getting calls, too. Only I was betting hers were coming from Luiz, rather than from Andrew. What the hell were they doing?

“So she gets a call, you both drive to a new town, where she goes out and kills someone. Then you call us and report the murder?” my father asked, his pencil motionless over the paper. “Why would you do that?”

“I heard chicks are valuable to you guys. Girl cats. I thought you might be interested in this one. Plus, she’s kind of makin’ a mess in your territory. Thought that information might be worth something to you.”

Painter wanted the best of both worlds. He was enjoying his time with the hot young tabby, but snitching to us the whole time, hoping for an invitation to join the Pride. An idiot’s version of a double agent.

My father hesitated, then shook his head. “What is this tabby’s name?”

“She calls herself Manx. Won’t tell me any more than that.”

“Where is she now?” My father tapped his eraser on the legal pad.

“Like I told these guys, I don’t know. She got one whiff of them and took off!”

A second later, Marc was back on the line. “So, what do we do with him?”

“Does Painter have a car there?”

“Yeah.” Marc gave a short, ironic laugh. “We’re sitting in it right now, in his hotel parking lot.”

“Good. I’m sending reinforcements. Cuff him and send him back with Owen, when the others get there.”

“No problem,” Marc said.

My father hung up the phone and stood, eyeing the four of us gathered on the sofas. “Go. Now. Meet up with Marc and Parker. Owen, bring Painter back in one piece. I have several more questions for him. The rest of you check out Henderson in teams. No one works alone. If you can’t find anything in a quick once-over, I want one team watching the local strip club—Michael said there’s only one—for the tabby. The rest of you keep looking around town. Watch the motels, restau
rants, and grocery stores in particular. They’re going to have to eat and sleep somewhere.”

Jace was already in the doorway, ready to go. Vic stood in front of the couch, looking just as eager.

“Keep in contact with me and with Marc,” my father said, eyeing me in particular. “And we need Luiz and Andrew alive, if at all possible.”

Vic frowned, clearly disappointed. “Both of them? Why?”

“There’s still a slim chance Andrew might be able to help Faythe. He probably doesn’t remember actually being infected, but I don’t want to execute the best witness on her behalf, just in case he can vouch for the partial Shift.”

“And Luiz?” Jace asked from behind me.

“The missing tabbies,” I answered for my father, pleased that he and I were finally thinking along the same lines. “If they’re still alive, he’ll know where they are. And their parents will want a word or two with him.”

My father nodded.

“No problem.” Vic dug his keys from his pocket. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

“Go start the air conditioner in the car,” I said, glancing down at myself. “I just have to change into some work clothes.”

Vic gave my snug T and shorts a quick once-over, then shrugged and headed for the hall. Jace and Owen followed him to the car and I raced toward my room, barely pausing when I heard my mother’s car pull up out front.

I picked up my bedroom door and shimmied through the gap before propping it back in place. I was going to insist that Marc fix my door personally. It would teach him a lesson for making such a mess, and…well, he’d have to actually come near me to repair the damage.

After changing I met my mother in the hall, looking perfectly composed in white slacks and a blouse the exact shade of pink as her cheeks. She carried a large white leather purse in one hand and an afghan over the opposite arm.

“Where’d you go so early?” I asked, frowning as she stopped to brush a strand of hair from my forehead.

“I had brunch with Mrs. Jennings and her daughter. Look what Natalie made for the silent auction.” She slipped her bag over one arm and shook out the red-and-gold afghan. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Lovely,” I said, for lack of a better response.

“Look at the intricate pattern,” my mother insisted, bringing a corner of the blanket close to my face. I looked, but couldn’t tell one…stitch, or whatever, from another. And what was that smell? It was kind of familiar. I leaned closer to the afghan, inhaling deeply.
It must be Natalie.

The scent was soft, and feminine, and…full. Or something like that. And definitely human, so I must have been imagining the familiarity.

“You know, Natalie’s expecting her second.”

I arched my brows at my mother, not following the change of subject. “Second what?” Mortgage? Conviction? Chance at a new life?

“Baby, of course. Her second baby. The doctor says this one’s a girl.”

I laughed, genuinely amused that my mother thought it should have been so obvious. “Yeah, well, I bet Natalie can’t drop a stray with a powerhouse right hook.”

“Not in her condition.” My mother frowned, folding the blanket into a neat, fluffy square. “Sometimes I worry about you, Faythe.”

“Right back at ’cha, Mom.” I stepped around her, grateful in spite of my mostly sleep-free night that I had places to go, and werecats to apprehend.

My mother clucked her tongue at me in shame, but I didn’t even pause. It would take much more than her disapproval to make me give up adrenaline and exercise for Lamaze and diapers. Much, much more.

Vic gave me another once-over as I jogged down the front steps and veered toward his black-on-black Jeep Wrangler. He frowned, clearly not pleased by my outfit.

Jace was settled into the back with his earphones on. Owen sat next to him, already half-asleep, so I slid into the front passenger seat.

“You might as well have worn plastic wrap,” Vic mumbled as he shifted into first gear and pulled out of the parking circle and onto the long, straight driveway.

“And you might as well paint that frown on to save your mouth the trouble,” I snapped, turning toward the door to stare out the window. My clothes were perfectly appropriate, even if my jeans were a little snug. Vic could kiss my ass. He was just being snotty because he was Marc’s best friend. But I could be just as snotty.

After half an hour spent listening to traffic sounds, Owen’s snoring, and the bass-thumping beat leaking from Jace’s earphones, I was bored and fighting to stay awake. I couldn’t afford to arrive in Henderson groggy and confused, in which case I might as well hand my cuffs over to Luiz and ram my face into his fist.

Finally, barely able to keep my eyes open, I popped open the glove compartment, in search of something with which to amuse myself. Hopefully, something to read.

“Hey!” Vic snapped, sliding his eyes rapidly back and forth between the road and my hands, which were now wrist-deep in his glove box. “Could you please not ransack my stuff?”

“Sorry. I was just looking for a map.” I closed the glove box with a sharp click, and he huffed in irritation.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “I
know
how to get there.”

I twisted in my seat to frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been in a pissy mood all morning.”

Sighing, he glanced at me, then back at the road, his face drawn tight in not only anger, but grief. Had I missed something?

“What’s wrong with me? You’re acting like an idiot, that’s what’s wrong. A selfish, spoiled idiot.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I was more confused than angry, which probably said a lot about how tired I was.

Vic inhaled deeply, as if preparing to say something important. Something he dreaded.
Great.
“With Luiz back, I can’t help thinking about Sara and Anthony, trying to make sense of what happened to them. But I can’t. It just doesn’t
make
any sense.”

Ohh.
I nodded in agreement, and in sympathy. Miguel had first kidnapped, then raped and murdered Sara, and Anthony had been killed when we tried to apprehend his sister’s murderer. Vic was right. There was no sense to be found in his siblings’ deaths, or in any random violence. But that was the world we lived in, and even if we could change it, we couldn’t bring back Sara and Anthony.

“I guess that’s my problem,” he continued, glancing at me before turning back to the road. “Life doesn’t make any sense, and neither does death. No one expected them to die so young,
but it can happen to anyone, anytime, and there’s no way to prepare for it.”

Okay, he was starting to sound a bit fatalistic. Which worried me. It wasn’t like
Vic
was going to die anytime soon. Not if I could help it, anyway.

“Ever since they died, I’ve been trying to do everything I always said I was going to do. Trying to really live, you know?” His eyes shined with resolve, as if he’d just found the key to life and was determined to use it before someone changed the lock and left him pounding on the door. “I’ve been reading a bunch of books I’ve had since high school,” he said, staring at the road as he spoke. “I always planned to read them, but never seemed to have the time before. Now I’m making time. I’ve been calling my brothers more often. And my parents. I’ve even been trying weird new foods, like sushi and chocolate-covered ants.”

“Not together, I hope.”

He smiled at my ill-timed joke. A little.

“I’m glad you’re broadening your horizons, Vic.” Beneath us, smooth blacktop gave way to the rougher surface of a much older road. “But I don’t understand what that has to do with your being mad at me.”

He sighed in frustration, as if it should have been obvious. “I don’t have a sister anymore, Faythe. But I’ve known you since before you turned thirteen, and I kind of think of you as a sister now. Especially since Sara died.”

Understanding soaked into me like water into a sponge, leaving me heavy with heartache. I swallowed thickly and blinked to stop my eyes from watering. I knew where he was going now, and it broke my heart.

“I want you to have all the things she didn’t live long
enough to experience. I want you to have a wedding, with a long white dress and a bunch of handsome groomsmen.” He grinned at his own joke, and I bit my lip to keep from reminding him that I’d already rejected that particular experience.