The Judah Black Novels Box Set Page 13

  “Hunter.”

  “Right. Hunter.” Ed was quiet for a while. “So, uh, you like Scooby-Doo?”

  “Shhh. This is the best part.”

  “Oh,” said Ed, shrinking down. “Right.” Then he gave Chanter an unhappy glare, realizing Chanter had gotten him up to babysit.

  “They'll do fine,” Chanter promised, and I heard him go into the kitchen and start moving around some dishes. “Ed is practically a child himself.”

  “I'll be twenty in a few months,” Ed grumbled and turned the cartoon up.

  “Agent Black, if we can speak alone?”

  I gave one last, long look at my son before stepping into the kitchen with Chanter. “Just Judah. I'm not working right now, remember?”

  “Very well then, just Judah.” He pushed open another screen door, this one leading to the backyard, and went through it. I thought maybe he meant for me to follow him, so I did.

  There wasn't really a backyard. It was open desert without fences, walls, or roads as far as I could see. Twenty yards or so away, Sal was helping two women finish stacking dry wood. Valentino sat off to the side on the ground with a few plastic grocery bags next to him. No one even glanced in my direction.

  “Tell me about the boy's father.” Chanter's voice drew my attention to the edge of the stoop where he stood, rolling up a cigarette using tobacco Sal had brought.

  “There isn't much to tell. Alex was a man who lived in a world that didn't believe he existed, so he never told me about who he was. He was closed up. Sometimes, I didn't see him for weeks at a time. When I did, he was lost in some other thought, buried in some secret I'll never know. I loved him, but I suppose I never really knew him.”

  Chanter grunted. “That tells me more about you than him.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I said, throwing my hands up. “That he was a good man? A bad one? What kind of pack he ran with? I don't know those answers, Chanter. Alex was a man. Good or bad doesn't matter when you're dead.”

  He turned to look at me. I couldn't tell if he was surprised or amused. Maybe he was a little of both. “Your boy is close to his first change. It's worrisome, but not an impossible feat to deal with. I would tell you more if you knew more. It isn't wise to leave another dominant to roam free. Ironic that you should be saddled with the same fears as we are every time we bring children into the world, that you should lose him to the very agency that claims to protect us.”

  I took a step toward him and uncrossed my arms. “The system isn't perfect, and I don't agree with everything BSI does, but—”

  He stopped me by raising a hand. I would have kept speaking, ignoring his gesture, but I physically could not bring myself to speak. “I don't hold any grudges against you. The finger can't blame the arm for burns. Honestly, I only said that to see what you would say. I'm pleased to see that you're not another blind and deaf soldier here to enforce the law.”

  “This isn't about me. This is about Hunter. Can you help him or not?”

  Chanter took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out his nose before answering. “It's not my decision,” he said. “Not entirely. The others may be resistant to bringing someone else in so soon after Elias' failed incorporation. A young, dominant male is going to be even more difficult to bring in, especially if his mother doesn't understand the true nature of what it is she's asking us to do.”

  I sat down on the top stair behind him. “Then tell me. My other option is to continue as we have, to hide him. Now that he knows, Hunter won't accept that. If BSI finds out, I could lose him. I can't lose my son.”

  “If Hunter is to learn anything, he'll have to scrape a few knees, get bruises and cuts, and maybe a few broken bones. How difficult the learning is depends entirely on him. He will have to find his place here or he will be put in his place and likely not gently. You will have to accept some things that are uncomfortable to most humans as staples of our ways.”

  “For example?”

  He cracked a little smile. “You'll see some things tonight that will probably ruffle your feathers. Do yourself and your son a favor, Judah, and give the boy the space and ability to make some decisions for himself.”

  Chanter finished his cigarette and crushed it with his boot before picking up the butt and dropping it in an old paint can sitting in the corner of his stoop. “You are staying for the funeral? You should. It will give you and Hunter a chance to meet everyone and see some things that might help you reach a decision.”

  “Decision?”

  “About us,” Chanter said with a grin. “And whether we're all killers and monsters waiting to happen.”

  He went back inside and left me out there, pondering what he'd said. I didn't believe that all werewolves were killers. Sure, they had a natural tendency toward violence and risk-taking behavior. There were plenty of psychology studies that proved that much. Alex had been in his share of fights and troubles while we were married, but I didn't think he'd killed anyone. Maybe he hadn't lived long enough to become the monster I believed he was capable of becoming. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't only looking to protect Hunter and keep him from drawing BSI's attention. I wanted him to stay the way he was. I didn't want him to be a werewolf. Mostly, I didn't want to feel so damn helpless about it.

  “Alex,” I whispered, “if you're paying attention, damn you for dying before telling me everything.”

  The only thing that answered was a small, dry wind, kicking red dust into my face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time I got back into the kitchen, there was no sign of Chanter. A tall, beautiful Latina woman leaned on the stove, staring into a compact mirror and reapplying her lipstick. Not that she needed any more paint on her face. The Mona Lisa probably wore less paint.

  The woman closed her compact with a loud click, tossed a long, black strand of hair behind her shoulder, and offered me a stiff hand. “Nina Silvermoon-Garcia,” she said with all the tenderness of a prosecuting attorney meeting the accused.

  I grabbed her hand and shook it, wincing when her manicured fingernails dug into my palm.

  Before I could answer, she added, “How much do you know already?”

  “Judah Black.” I pulled my hand away before it started bleeding. “You must be Valentino's wife.”

  “Don't jerk me around. I know you're working Elias' case. Chanter's ordered us to cooperate with you. If I'm going to open my home to you, I need to know exactly how the situation stands.”

  I eyed her carefully and then glanced around to make sure Chanter wasn't in earshot. “I know your son is missing.”

  She made a hissing sound through her teeth but said nothing else.

  “I know that Valentino and Elias weren't on the best of terms at the time of Elias' death. In fact, to hear some tell it, they had a pretty heated argument. Detectives Tindall and Quincy like him for the murder of your child. He probably thinks he killed Elias to cover it up, too.” That last part was a stretch, though the argument could be made. If I had really been interested in pursuing that lead, I could have twisted the evidence in my favor. Lucky for the Garcias, I was more interested in catching a kidnapper and a killer than closing cases fast.

  Nina narrowed her eyes. “And what do you think?”

  A shadow shifted in the hallway. I crossed my arms and leaned to one side. “I promised Chanter I wouldn't be working while I was here. If I were, though, I'd tell you that neither you nor Valentino strikes me as filicidal or fratricidal at first glance. Of course, only guilty people have something to hide.”

  She raised her nose slightly before turning away and putting her manicured fingers on the knobs of the cupboards above the stove. “I was so sure it would go through. We're respectable members of the community here, both of us gainfully employed with no real criminal records to speak of. What right does BSI have to decide whether we're fit parents?”

  “The permits aren't about whether you're fit,” I explained.

  “I know what they're for!” N
ina spat. She jerked open the cupboard and pulled down a shot glass before fishing around in the back of the cupboard for some whiskey. “Population control. Can't have the strong outnumber the weak, can you?” She poured herself a shot and swallowed it in one gulp, barely restraining an angry sob.

  “I don't agree with all of BSI's policies,” I said in a gentle tone. “If I did, would I be here?”

  Nina cast a longing glance into the living room where Ed and Hunter sat, watching their cartoons. “I'll be the first to tell you, Agent Black, that I'm not upset about Elias' death.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds awfully cold.”

  Nina shrugged. “It is what it is. Elias caused a lot of trouble for my family and me. When Leo went missing, that was the last straw. He'd been hanging out with so many shady characters. How was I supposed to know he hadn't sold my baby for drugs or to get out of some new mess he'd created for himself?” She poured herself another shot but stared down into the liquor instead of swallowing it.

  “What kind of people was he hanging out with?”

  Chanter came around the corner as Nina downed the second shot.

  She gave her father a guilty glance and then closed the bottle back up. “Agent Black,” she said in a strained tone, “if you think it would be helpful, why don't you come by tomorrow and go through Elias' things? Perhaps you'll find something that will help you.”

  “I'll see you first thing tomorrow, then.”

  “Good. Just bring my Leo back to me,” Nina said bluntly. “Then you can go back to wherever you came from. I think that would be best, don't you?” She forced a cruel smile.

  I pushed through the back door again and stormed down the stairs. I tried to calm myself on my march across the desert to where Valentino was sitting but succeeded only in slowing my pace. That was enough, I guess.

  Valentino could probably smell my irritation all the way from the kitchen. When I came close, he glanced my way, and his mouth twitched up into a silent snarl. “Not now,” he said and turned away. “Go the hell away.”

  I stopped and crossed my arms. “When were you going to tell me your son had been kidnapped?”

  “Fuck you, puta. That shit's none of your goddamn business. Leave me alone.”

  “Nina seems to think differently.” He didn't answer me. “Dammit, Valentino, I can help you find him, but you've got to be honest with me. You've got to trust me. For your son's sake.”

  Valentino was on his feet before I finished my next breath, his face inches from mine. “My brother's dead,” he hissed. “And my son probably, too. At least I have my brother's fucking body to burn. That's more than Leo will ever get. Fucking BSI! Why the hell are you even here? If it wasn't for pencil-pushing lowlifes like you, my brother and my son would still be here. All we ever wanted was to live our lives. Just because we're different, it doesn't mean you can herd us like sheep and slaughter us like cattle!”

  “Valentino,” Sal scolded from the porch.

  “Fuck you,” Valentino said and waved his hands dismissively at me before wandering off into the desert.

  Sal moved to follow him, but Chanter came out the back door and stopped him. “We'll catch up with him later,” the old Indian said. He glared at me, the look saying something like, “Are you pleased with the chaos you have wrought?” Or whatever phrase old werewolf Indians use to say I told you so.

  “Finish the preparations,” Chanter barked and then stormed back inside.

  “Questioning him on the day of his brother's funeral about his family might not have been the best move on your part, Judah,” Sal said, coming up beside me.

  “I get the feeling that it doesn't matter when and where I question him. Valentino is generally going to be uncooperative.”

  “He's not a bad guy. Headstrong, but decent. You caught him at a bad time.”

  I glanced at Sal. He was watching Valentino trek off over the horizon, though his thoughts were clearly somewhere else.

  “Do you think he's right? Is there any hope of finding Leo alive?”

  I thought about Detective Tindall trudging through the remains of the Summers family across town. “That chance gets lower every day.” There was a short silence. “I wanted to ask you something about your ex-wife.”

  Sal rolled his eyes. “There's never a good time to talk about Zoe. What do you want to know?”

  “I saw her get into a white Jaguar yesterday afternoon. Is that car registered in her name?”

  Sal frowned and raised his eyebrows. “No, it's her boyfriend's car. Why?”

  “You happen to know the boyfriend's name?”

  He glared at me.

  “Please, Sal. That info is either going to expand or shrink my suspect pool. I wish I knew which.”

  “LeDuc.” He gave the name a little extra French flare. “Andre LeDuc. He's some French-Canadian doctor living in Toronto of all places.”

  “That’s odd. How did they even meet?”

  Sal gave me a sour look and fished out his cigarettes, lighting one. “Work. Zoe used to sing. She had the most beautiful voice. When we met, she was on the verge of stardom, agents coming to her shows every other week and small venues booked for the next six months.”

  “Used to?” I said. “She quit?”

  He took a long drag, staring off into the distance for a while before answering. “Zoe hasn’t been Zoe, not for almost two years now. About a year before we split up, she took a gig in Toronto in early October last year. I usually go with her, but that time I didn’t. I kick myself every day for that decision.”

  “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  Sal cleared his throat and immediately changed the subject. “How about I introduce you to the rest of the pack?”

  Sal put an arm behind my back and pulled me toward the two women that had been stacking wood with him earlier. I decided not to push the topic further. I’d already angered Valentino. I didn’t need Sal mad at me, too.

  Shauna, the first one he introduced me to, was five feet eight inches of solid muscle. She was dark-skinned, but it would have probably been more accurate to call her mixed race. She wore her dark, feathery hair close-cropped and streaked with green, pink, and orange. There were silver bars in each of her ears. Shauna didn't say anything to me or offer to shake my hand. She acknowledged me with a slight nod of the head.

  “Shauna here helps manage a gym if you ever want to work out,” Sal bragged.

  “You say that like it's something exciting,” Shauna mumbled. “Ninety percent of what I do is mop up blood, sweat, and piss when you idiots miss the toilet.”

  “She tells the greatest stories about it, though,” offered the other woman, a short and slightly heavy girl with dimpled cheeks and pleasant, sea-green eyes.

  Sal motioned to the woman that had spoken. “And this is Daphne. You met Ed, right? Daphne has the displeasure of being his older sister. She's a volunteer counselor out at Concho County General.”

  “Ed is a little eccentric,” Daphne explained, gently taking my hand in hers. Her hands were warm and soft, the kind of hands suited more for turning pages than tools. “But I wouldn't trade my brother for the world.”

  “Eccentric isn't the right word,” Shauna mumbled and frowned at me. “You're shorter than I thought you'd be.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I said with a stiff grin.

  Shauna shifted her weight to the other leg. “Well, I only meant that everyone was so worked up about this new agent in town, and here you are. I've seen cacti taller than you. Nobody got their pants in a bunch over them.”

  “Depends on how close you get to the cacti.”

  Shauna wrinkled her nose at my response. “That kid in there is your boy, huh?”

  “Hunter,” I said with a nod.

  “Do yourself a favor, lady, and get him help elsewhere.”

  “Shauna,” Sal started sternly.

  “What? I'm only being honest with her. We've seen problem kids with chips on their shoulders before. T
here's enough tension in the pack already. We don't need her dragging some stray in because she's got double standards.”

  “Wait a second,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Double standards?”

  “Your laws are good enough for us but not for you?” Shauna snorted. “I had to register and go through your re-education courses. Do you know how many of my classmates are still alive? Two. That's how many. Most of the rest put a silver bullet in their skulls or got black bagged by BSI.”

  “I didn't—”

  “Maybe you didn't,” she barked. “But that doesn't mean your hands are clean and dirty hands don't get my vote. You think you can just walk in here the same day we commit one of our own and beg Chanter to take care of you?”

  “Shauna...” Daphne put a hand on Shauna's shoulder and squeezed. Shauna visibly relaxed, and Daphne shifted the gesture of support into a gentle hug. “Let's get this done, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” Shauna said, and the two of them went back to adjusting the pyre they were building.

  “Tough crowd,” I mumbled.

  Sal shrugged as if nothing had happened. “I did warn you.”

  “Maybe she's right, though.” I ran my fingers through my hair and wished I'd had the foresight to bring something warmer to throw on over my summer clothes. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, it was going to get downright chilly.

  “Maybe,” Sal said. “She can be bitter about it if she wants, but she sure as hell can't blame you for wanting to do what's right for him. Shauna's had a rough life, but she’ll come around and warm up to you eventually. Or she won't.”

  “Somehow, that's not very reassuring, Sal.”

  He stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck. “That's life. Full of uncertainty. Here's a tip, though, that'll make everything easier. Let Hunter fight his own battles. I know your first instinct as his mother is to stand in and negotiate with everyone for him, but it isn't fair for everyone to form an opinion of your kid based on their opinion of you and the organization you work for.”

  I frowned and watched Shauna and Daphne pull out a stack of newspapers and start lying them across the top, weighing them down with rocks so they wouldn't fly away. Watching them, I found my mind drifting off to the Summers again. I wondered who was handling their bodies, how many uniforms were on the streets, looking for their daughter. Had they died quickly or had the sick, twisted bastard drawn it out for kicks? Who died first, and did he make the other one watch while he did it?