Mortal Sins (16 page)

Brown Two’s nose wrinkled. “And feeding bits of them to some other poor animal will tell you what, exactly?”

“Whether the death magic can be ingested along with the flesh.” She glanced at Deacon, who still hovered near the door, determined to hear whatever she’d learned. Looked like she owed him one. “I assumed that’s what happened to the dogs.”

“I recall that,” he said levelly.

“Unfortunately, we all know what ‘assume’ makes of ‘u’ and ‘me.’ The vet who autopsied them is going to—”

At that moment the fax machine began chattering.

“The vet is quick,” she said wryly. “Very briefly, Dr. Alderson found a pathology in the dogs’ brains that relates to symptoms exhibited by Roy Don Meacham. I want to know where those dogs came from.”

“Oh, sure,” Brown Two said dryly. “Two of them had collars, but no tags. Be a cinch to find out who owned dogs that lack tags.”

Lily mentally gave the woman points for attention to detail—and verbally gave her another assignment. “No tags when we found them doesn’t mean their owners didn’t register them. That’s why you’re going to talk to Animal Control. Get a list of all the registered dogs in the area and start tracking owners of those particular breeds. But first, talk with these people.”

She handed Brown Two the name and address Dr. Alderson had given her. “They owned the Doberman at one time. Had a microchip in him. The rest of you . . .” She gave them a quick scan. “Even untagged pets can be loved and missed, so I want all of you to ask about animals matching the descriptions of these dogs when you ask about missing pets. You’re also going to share Dr. Alderson’s report with the other vets and ask about animal attacks on humans or on other animals, particularly where one animal killed another.”

No one said anything for a moment. Then Deacon did, softly. “Shit.”

The obvious had just taken a chunk out of his ass, too. Lily gave him a level look. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“I’m not following you,” said the youngest agent—a man who, thank God, was
not
named Brown.

“If you’ve read my report about finding the first bodies, you know Rule Turner was attacked, but not killed, near the bodies.”

“Yeah,” Brown One said, the usual grumpy expression on his plump face. “Doesn’t fit. Why was the perp even there?”

“Exactly. My consultant suggested some kind of spell-trap near the bodies, but that’s not a very satisfying explanation. Why didn’t the dogs spring it? Why even have a trap? But if we toss out some assumptions, it starts making sense. Maybe the perp was there because that’s where he hangs when he’s between murders. Maybe he made Turner for lupus after initiating the attack and decided to go after something easier to kill, like me and Deacon.”

Brown’s mustache twitched with what might have been excitement. Or it could have been the urge to sneeze. “The dogs. You think the perp was possessing or controlling the dogs, and he wanted them to kill you and the sheriff.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“All of them at once?” Brown Two was skeptical. “You think we have multiple perps possessing animals?”

“Maybe. Or we may have someone who can control or possess more than one animal at a time. And yes, that’s supposed to be impossible, but this case is just crammed with impossibilities.”

“So how do we decide what to pursue?” Brown Two said, frustrated. “If everything’s equally impossible . . .”

“That’s why it’s such fun working on Unit cases. We get to make it up as we go along.” Lily sent her gaze around the room. “For now, we’re focusing on the animal vics. Those dogs tried to kill me and Deacon for the same reason Meacham bludgeoned his family and Hodge decided to blast away at neighbors and strangers—because they were possessed by something that feeds off death. Which means that people in this community may be in danger from the family pet.”

TWENTY-TWO

A
shower had swept in, washing the air with the best smells in the world. Toby sat in his bed with the window open, which Grammy wouldn’t like because the covers might get wet.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care what she liked or what anyone else liked or didn’t like. They could all just leave him alone.

Especially
her.
She’d never had a problem doing that before.

He’d heard her. He’d been about to come downstairs and get some breakfast and see if Dad wanted to do something, maybe kick the ball around or go to the park so he could practice corner kicks. Then he heard her talking to Dad. His stomach had seized up and his throat had closed, almost as if he were scared.

He wasn’t, dammit. He tried the word out in a whisper. “Dammit.” It didn’t make his stomach feel any better.

His door opened. Toby looked around, scowling. It was Dad, and he hadn’t even knocked. “You’re supposed to knock.”

“Knocking implies I’d go away if you didn’t give me permission to enter. I’m not waiting on permission. I’m not Grammy.”

A worm of guilt squirmed around in Toby’s gut. He’d yelled at Grammy to go away when she knocked.
Tough on her. She always takes Mom’s side.
“I don’t want to talk to her or you or—or anyone.”

“Anyone meaning your mother, I take it.” Dad came over and sat on Toby’s bed—again without waiting to be asked. “You will apologize to Grammy.”

Toby just scowled. He probably would. Just not yet. “You’re gonna make me go down and be nice to Mom.”

Dad shook his head. “No, I’m going to make you apologize to Grammy.”

Surprise wiggled in so fast he couldn’t stop it. “So it’s okay if I don’t want to talk to Mom?”

“I don’t tell you what to want or not want. I sometimes tell you what you must do or not do. I’ve decided this one is your choice.”

Curiosity made it hard to keep his anger hot, so he scowled extra. “How come?”

“More or less the same reason I allowed you to choose to speak with the press. If it’s a mistake, it’s one you can learn from.”

“I hate her.” His stomach roiled unhappily. “I’m pretty sure I do. What does she want, anyway?”

“She wants to talk with you. That’s all I know.”

“It’s about the hearing, I bet. She didn’t tell you why she’s here?”

“She won’t speak of her intentions until you come down.”

And they needed to know. They needed to know why she was here, if she’d changed her mind about custody, what she was going to do. Toby’s chin set stubbornly. “You could make her tell.”

Dad’s face turned hard, as if Toby had insulted him. “I do not
make
women do things against their will.”

Shame added itself to the unhappy mix in his stomach. “You think she’ll go away if I stay up here? Or come up and knock on my door and . . .” And that’s who he’d wanted to yell at, he realized. Not Grammy. He’d wanted Mom to come to the door so he could yell at her to
go away.

“I don’t know. My guess is that she isn’t leaving without speaking to you, but you can wait here and see.” Rule paused. “I assume you’ve thought about the consequences of this choice.”

He hadn’t. He didn’t want to think about her at all, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “I don’t want her here. I don’t want to talk to her or look at her or—or anything.” He wanted to keep hating her, but he might not. If he saw her, he might not hate her enough to . . . to keep from feeling other things.

“You’re very angry with her. She hasn’t put your needs first. But she’s given you the chance to have those needs met by others, especially Grammy. She’s spent time with you, but she’s never stayed with you. She’s let you down.”

She hadn’t come for Christmas. Toby swallowed and looked away.

He didn’t need her to live here with him and Grammy, not all the time, but she hadn’t come home for Christmas. That had been the one thing he could count on her for—that she’d be here, and she’d bring presents, and they’d eat turkey and dressing together, and she’d stay a few days. For a few days they’d all be a family like they were supposed to be.

Last Christmas, she hadn’t come. She’d gotten a fancy new position with the AP on the other side of the world, and she hadn’t come. And for all the months since Christmas, she hadn’t come. When Grammy broke her leg, Dad and Lily had come and helped. Uncle Mark and Aunt Deirdre had, too. Mom had called, sure, but she hadn’t come.

Now she had.

Toby looked down at his feet, which were up on the bed with the rest of him, on covers that were, maybe, a little damp. His stomach hurt. He couldn’t think of what to say.

“You’re in a place where none of your choices feel good, aren’t you?” Dad had sympathy in his voice. Not pity, not poor-little-boy stuff. Just sympathy.

That sympathy unwound him and
stuff
burst out. “I just feel so much! It’s too much. I don’t know what to do with it all, and it’s all mixed up! I wish I could shut it off, or barf it all up and get it out of me!”

Dad nodded as if that made sense, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Toby close against him and sat still. Not talking, not holding on tight. Just being there with his whole body.

Toby leaned his head on Dad’s chest and listened to his heartbeat, and after a while he felt a little better. Not a lot, but some. He sighed. “We need to know what she wants. Why she’s here.”

“It would help.”

“I don’t know what to do. I guess I should go down there, but I don’t know what to do when I see her.” He might start yelling at her, which would upset Grammy. But if he didn’t yell . . . What if he cried? He blinked fast. He was
not
going to cry. “Dammit,” he whispered, his head still on Dad’s chest.

“Would you like a suggestion?”

“I guess.” Dad must have heard the “dammit,” but he hadn’t said anything. For some reason that made it okay to straighten himself up and look at Dad, full on, for the first time since Dad came in.

Dad’s eyes were real serious, not angry or worried or disappointed in him. “Don’t plan out how you need to act when you see her. Plans like that come undone when the other person doesn’t behave the way we’d pictured them behaving. And they usually don’t.”

That made sense. “Okay.” Toby nodded and said it again. “Okay, let’s go see what she wants.” But he reached for Dad’s hand so it would be
them
going downstairs, not just him.

She looked the same. That was all the think Toby could manage when he went into the den, where she’d been sitting on the couch beside Grammy. She’d stood up when he came in with Dad and now she stood there, smiling at him, but like it was hard to smile.

Maybe her hair was shorter than the last time he’d seen her. She had real dark hair, almost black. A lot darker than his. Dad’s hair was dark, too. Grammy said Toby’s hair probably came from her because she’d had light brown hair before it turned gray, so her genes had mixed in and lightened up Toby’s hair. Mom had dark eyes, too, and was taller than Grammy or Lily. She was a pretty woman.

Her eyes were shiny and damp. “Hello, Toby.”

Her voice made something inside him shaky. “Don’t you cry.” His own voice came out gruff. “You’d better not start crying.”

“No promises.” She laughed, but not like she thought she was funny. “Not that you’d believe me if I did promise, I suppose. I understand that you’re angry with me about Christmas.”

That made him mad. She didn’t
deserve
to understand him. He tried to make his face stony, the way Dad did sometimes, though hardly ever at him.

“Well.” She smoothed down her shirt, which was made of something stretchy the color of tomatoes. “Maybe we should sit down, then. I have some news,” she added, doing what she’d said and sitting on the couch.

Toby went to sit on the hearth, which was low and had some pillows in Grammy’s favorite colors—blue and green—and faced the couch. Dad sat beside him and spoke in that polite way he used when he was determined not to be mad. “I’m certainly interested in your news, Alicia. Is it about the custody hearing?”

“In a way.” She rubbed her hands on her skirt this time, as if her palms were damp. But it was Grammy she looked at, not him and Dad.

“Then maybe you’ll stop dragging this out.” Grammy’s voice was crisp as a potato chip. Salty like one, too. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Hurt flashed over Mom’s face. Maybe she didn’t like it that Grammy hadn’t asked her to eat with them. She smiled brightly. “I think I’m allowed to make this particular announcement my own way.”

Dad said, “Does it have something to do with that gold ring on your left hand?”

“Why, yes.” Mom’s smile was too big, too bright, like she wanted to smile the rest of them into happiness. Or maybe she wanted to make herself happy, as if her feelings might catch up with her face if she smiled hard enough. “I got married last month, and my husband and I want Toby to live with us.”

LILY
wasn’t sure why she was on Sherwood Lane. She’d had a surprisingly useful interview with the conspiracy nut, who’d gotten excited about being part of an investigation once she convinced him she wasn’t hauling him off to some secret location. He’d given her a tentative ID on one of the dogs and was calling around, compiling a list of other missing pets

Now she had to build on that. Sherwood Lane wasn’t exactly out of her way, but there was no reason for her to be here . . . no reason except Rule.

If this was the damned mate bond tugging at her . . . Almost, she turned around and headed back to the main drive.

But it didn’t feel like the mate bond. She knew how that felt pretty well now, and it was a physical tug, not this . . . this emotional static. Like she wasn’t thinking straight and wouldn’t until she saw Rule.

Maybe she’d turned psychic. Cullen was due in sometime today, and she did need to talk to him. Maybe she’d psychically picked up on his arrival.

Lily snorted. More likely, she admitted, she was being stubborn. Uwharrie National Forest butted up against the woods where Rule had found the bodies. She wanted to talk to the ranger there about any unusual increase in the number of dead animals—but the ranger’s station was over ten miles away. The mate bond wouldn’t let her go that far, so she’d either have to send one of the other agents or get Rule to come with her.

It pissed her off. She . . . Hey, look at that! There was a white Taurus pulled up behind Rule’s Mercedes. Automatically she took note of the plates. A rental? Cullen would be renting a car in Charlotte and driving in.

Huh. Maybe she
was
psychic.

Lily parked along the curb in front of the Asteglio house and got out.

The front door opened. A tall, dark-haired woman with blunt, sensual features stepped out, saying something over her shoulder to Louise, who followed. Louise didn’t look happy. The two of them were so involved in their conversation—which involved dinner plans and someone named James—that they didn’t notice Lily until they were about six feet away.

The dark-haired woman finally saw her and jerked to a stop. Louise did, too. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh—Lily. I wasn’t expecting you at this hour.”

“Lily?” The other woman’s full lips curved up. “I see. You’re short, aren’t you? Much shorter than I’d imagined.”

“And you’re more rude than I’d imagined, given my acquaintance with your mother. You are Alicia Asteglio, right?”

Dark eyebrows lifted. “I was.”

“Alicia,” Louise chided, “you’re beginning this poorly.”

Alicia shrugged. “I do everything badly, according to you.” She left it at that, stalking off to her car, where she paused. Her eyes were intent, but her voice was soft, the tone somewhere between coaxing and pleading. “I’m trying to make things right, Mama. Believe it or not, I am. You’ll call about the time?”

Louise nodded once, tight-lipped.

Her daughter got in her car, slammed the door, and backed out quickly.

“You’re upset,” Lily said carefully.

“Upset?” Louise made a noise that was not a laugh, though maybe she’d meant it to be. “She got married. She got married last month and didn’t tell me, didn’t want me there . . . Yes, I’m upset. She thinks I should be happy for her. I suppose I am, but . . .” She shook her head.

Sounded like everything was all about Alicia. Her feelings counted. Her mother’s didn’t. Lily experienced a distinct twinge. She didn’t do that to her own mother, did she? “Was this a sudden thing?”

“Sudden for me. I don’t know about her. She’s been living with James for the past six months, in Beirut.” Abruptly Louise started for the house. “I’ve never met him. Spoken to him on the phone a few times, and he was pleasant enough, but what does that mean? Oh, never mind me. It’s Toby I’m worried about.”

Worry put a hitch in Lily’s breath. “Is she going to oppose Rule’s custody?”

“It’s complicated. Everything to do with Alicia is complicated. Do come in, dear. Have you eaten?”

Lily assured her she didn’t need to be fed, though she did check out the coffeepot as they passed the kitchen. Empty. Oh, well.

Rule and Toby were in the den—Rule on the phone, Toby sitting beside him, arms crossed, staring at the floor. Rule had his expression shut down. Toby had storms all over his.

Toby looked up as Lily entered behind Louise. “I’m not going to stay with her.”

“She has legal custody of you still,” his grandmother said wearily.

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t go. I said I wouldn’t
stay
.”

Rule broke off his conversation. “You’ll stay,” he said tersely. “If you do go with your mother, you will not run away.”

Toby’s expression left that somewhat in doubt—especially considering he’d run away to his father once already. Lily looked at Louise, her eyebrows asking the question for her.

“Alicia has decided she wants Toby. She says she’ll let him decide, however—if he comes to stay with her and her new husband first, for six months.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot back up. “Is she still living in Beirut?”

Louise shook her head. “She’s in D.C. again. It’s technically a demotion, because she’ll be at a lower salary grade, but James—James French is her new husband—was transferred there by the agency he works for, and she wanted to come back to the U.S. with him.”