Cattitude (22 page)

But if she wasn’t lying, that meant Bob was
the liar.

That meant he was a fool for believing
Bob.

Phil groaned. What the hell had he done? What
made him agree to kill someone? Hell, he couldn’t even kill bugs.
He scooped them up with a piece of paper and shook them off outside
his apartment.

“Christ.” He pressed his hand against his
abdomen. His stomach felt as though a master pretzel maker was
experimenting with his intestines. He wondered what would happen if
he packed his clothes, hopped in his rental and went home.

Instead of answers, questions flooded his
mind. What if he were wrong? What if Lorna and Danny were in
danger? Two pathetic rich kids, always happy to see him the few
times he visited, knowing he’d play with them— tennis on the Wii
with ten-year-old Lorna, hide and seek with four-year-old
Danny.

They didn’t deserve it. Even Melanie, who
ignored them most of the time and blatantly flirted with him,
getting a kick out of making him blush from his neck to his
earlobes, didn’t deserve it.

And the money. He didn’t want to think about
it, but it was insidious. He’d worried about money every day for
the past twenty months. It was an impossible weight on his
shoulders that finally eased.

And there was Tory. He liked her. They
clicked the instant they saw each other. If he weren’t pretending
to be Sorcha’s fiancé...

The pain in his stomach gave a mean twist. He
bent forward, his elbows on his thighs, and buried his face in his
hands. And he did something he normally didn’t do. He thought. Long
and hard, his brain under pressure with all his thinking, he put
together everything he’d witnessed and heard, examined every line
and every expression, and added up two plus two plus two.

Until finally, his stomach stopped aching but
his head felt heavy, as if he were lifting weights with his
mind.

Somewhere in that unaccustomed introspection,
he’d found it, the brain cells that contained the two facts he’d
tried to ignore, tried to bury, never completely buying Bob’s
explanation.

The ski mask and the muddied license
plate.

An innocent man didn’t do that. Bob wasn’t a
woman’s tool. He wouldn’t put his hands in mud because of a
psychic’s instructions. Nor would he dress like a bank robber.

Phil’s dad had been right. Bob was a liar and
a user.

Now what was he supposed to do about this?
Turn in his brother?

And there was the money. Of course he
wouldn’t see any more money, but what about the 25K? He supposed he
should call his dad and tell him not to use it.

But how could he? His father already
scheduled an appointment for his mom with her surgeon.

“Tell me, God, what do you want me to do?”
His voice ragged, he looked up at the ceiling. The last time he’d
asked, nothing had happened. But perhaps God wanted him to figure a
few things out by himself. Perhaps God had spent millenniums
telling everyone what to do and was sick of them not listening.
After all, he’d given them the Ten Commandments, and look how well
humans were doing with that.

Quieting his thoughts, he listened for an
answer but heard only the blood pulsing through his veins. Finally
he got down on his knees and leaned his head against the bedspread.
The smell of bleach stung his nostrils, the cotton material starchy
on his forehead.

Time passed while he waited for a voice, a
sign, even the buzz of a bug. He listened until his knees hurt, but
nothing came but the muted roar of a passing car and a woman
laughing loudly in the next room. All the world was a comedy...only
instead of laughter, tears tracked down his face.

***

Moonlight streamed into the bedroom. Belle
lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. What was the matter
with her? She’d never had trouble sleeping before.

She’d never been a human before.

She threw off the covers, the air cool on her
bare, unfurred skin. Maybe she was restless because she was alone
and not cuddled against Max’s back. An image of her woman self
curled against Max heated her body, especially the place between
her legs. She jumped out of bed.

What was happening to her?

Her feet on the carpet, she stood in the
moonlight and shivered. Because she knew exactly what happened to
her. The same thing that happened to Annette with Brad on
The
Love Chronicles
. And before Brad, Jack, and before Jack,
Ethan.

For Belle there was just Max. At lunch today,
she’d had a bite of Tory’s sandwich, cheese melted against bread.
That’s how she felt looking at Max, like she was melting inside.
She was the cheese and he was the bread.

She padded out of the bedroom, though she
kept thinking this was wrong. Her bare feet made no noise. Quiet as
a cat, she thought.

Huffing snores came from Ted’s room. She kept
going. She needed to see Max. To breathe the same air as him. Then
she could go back to bed and to sleep.

Max lay on his back, his mouth open. Every
time he exhaled, he went, “Hahhhhhh.” Moonlight spilled through the
window, illuminating the strong lines of his face, his firm chin,
his parted lips. She moved closer, noticing how soft his lips
looked, when everything else about him looked hard.

One arm was flung out. She could see his
dark-colored T-shirt. Down below, she knew, he wore boxers that
gave his penis room to flop around in.

It hadn’t flopped when he saw her naked in
his room.

The thought made her melting parts
hotter.

She bent over him. What would it feel like to
touch him in this new body? What would it feel like to be touched?
What would it feel like to put her lips against his, her mouth
open, the way Annette on
The Love Chronicles
kissed all her
men.

Would he like it?

Would she like it?

She reached forward. What would it hurt?

Don’t do it. This is a line you shouldn’t
cross.

Her mind was giving her one message. Her body
another.

You know where this might lead
, her
mind said.
If something happens—and you know what I’m talking
about—you might be stuck in this body for the rest of your
life.

Her body sneered.
What are you, a chicken
dog? You’re just curious. Exploring. It’s okay if you want to
touch. Go ahead. When did you start denying yourself? He’s asleep
anyway. He’ll never know.

Her hand lowered. One finger touched his
bicep just below his T-shirt sleeve. Warm. Vital. Reverberations of
his beating heart moved against the soft pad of her fingertip.
Blood pulsed inside a vein.

“Mmmm.” The wordless sound escaped her closed
mouth.

She snatched her hand away, jerked it behind
her back and stepped into the shadows.

His eyes opened. “Belle?” he muttered. “Is
that you, Belle?”

His arm came out, his hand groping the cover,
patting the empty spot by his side. “I thought I heard you,” he
said, his voice thick with sleep. His eyes closed again. His
breathing deepened.

Belle tiptoed into the hall. This body was
getting her into trouble. But that figured. After all, it was only
human.

Max stood in front of Belle with his legs
apart and an expression on his face that she last saw when he
caught her eating his plants. “We’re going to see your parents. You
need to come along.”

Belle shook her head, her lips clamped
together. She sat next to Tory on the carpet in the great room.
Tory had been teaching her yoga, impressed by how quickly Belle
took to the stretching exercises, when Max came and stomped on her
good feelings.

Why was he trying to make her leave? Didn’t
he see this was her home? She glared at him and frowned at Ted. He
stood behind Max, a half smile on his face, going along with Max
like a puppy after a treat.

“I’m staying here.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“If she remembered that,” Tory said, “she’d
remember everything.”

Max’s gaze didn’t flicker from Belle’s face.
“Shut up, Tory.”

Ted laughed. “You may as well tell the sun to
stop shining.”

“You shut up,” Tory said, and Belle wasn’t
sure which brother she meant it for.

Belle wished they would all shut up. She
pushed up to her feet.

“Are you coming?” Max asked.

She glided past him, out of the room. “I have
important things to do.” She glanced back to make sure he wouldn’t
pounce and grab her the way he did when he wanted to take her to
the vet.

Even Max wasn’t perfect.

Max crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re
going to look for Belle, aren’t you?”
She turned her head away from him. “Maybe I’m going to look for
Sorcha.”

Then she headed toward the kitchen.

***

Max turned to Tory. “What the hell did she
mean by that?”

“You got me.”

“One of those woman things,” Ted said.

Tory slugged his bicep. He grunted and
grabbed his arm. “What’s that for?”

She batted her eyes. “Wasn’t it a manly thing
to do?”

“That’s enough.” Max gave them a stern look.
Times like this he felt like their father instead of their older
brother. He reminded himself he had a week and a day left, then
he’d fly out of Wisconsin, half a world away from his
responsibilities.

“You coming?” he called to Ted over his
shoulder as he strode along the hall. From the back of the house, a
door thudded shut.

“Couldn’t keep me away.” Ted followed him,
his footsteps clomping on the hall carpet.

“I want to come too.” Tory’s footsteps were
lighter. “I like Sorcha. I want to help her.”

“You’ll help by keeping an eye on her,” Max
said. “I don’t trust her so-called fiancé.”

Tory’s face flushed. “He seemed nice to
me.”

“Then you’ll be happy to stay,” Ted said.
“He’ll probably be here soon.”

While she bit her lip, mulling this over, Max
and Ted escaped into the garage, not bothering to grab a jacket.
The sun shone and there was no wind. Max wondered if spring had
decided to stop off at Wisconsin after all.

As they drove down the drive, he saw Sorcha
tramping to the thicket of trees, her jacket tied around her hips.
His foot on the gas pedal eased.

“I’m getting used to her,” Ted said. “I’ll
miss her when she’s gone.”

Max grunted and pressed down on the gas pedal
again. “She’s stubborn and arrogant and expects to be waited
on.”

Ted laughed. “Maybe that’s why I like her.
She reminds me of Belle.”

“What’s cute in a cat isn’t tolerable in a
woman.”

“You’re just pissed ‘cause you can’t boss her
around like you do us.”

Max shook his head. “In eight days the only
one to boss you around will be yourself.”

“Yeah,” Ted said. “And it scares the hell out
of me.”

But he didn’t sound like he was scared. His
voice was cheerful, he sat taller and seemed to be more present. No
longer an observer watching with the intent to be amused, but a
participant.

It dawned on Max that maybe if he hadn’t been
there for Ted, steering him away from trouble every chance he had,
Ted would have found his way on his own.

“You’ll do just fine,” he said, and to his
own ears, his voice sounded wooden. “Just fine,” he repeated. And
so would he be fine, enjoying his travels without a care about
another person. Just himself.

But first he had to solve the mystery of
Sorcha.

***

Judy and Jim Anders looked like sister and
brother, their bodies so thin they could’ve been starvation
victims, lines bracketing their down-turned mouths and between
their eyes. The big difference was Judy’s thick curling hair, gray
threading through brown, while a thinning gray fuzz topped Jim’s
scalp.

Jim nodded at the brown couch with the
picture of Jesus bleeding on the cross above it, and invited Max
and Ted to sit. Jim and Judy perched on two matching brown wing
chairs, neither of their stiff spines touching the chair backs.

Max and Ted sat straight too, the rigid couch
not allowing any slouching. Max studied the couple and saw a
resemblance between Sorcha in Judy Ander’s small, close-set ears
and Jim Ander’s straight nose. As eager as Max had been to see
them, he was already more eager to leave.

“About your daughter—”

“I told you two days ago,” Jim interrupted.
“We don’t know where she is. She chose Satan over us, and now she
has to take the consequences.”

Ted shifted on the other end of the couch.
Max felt his unease but didn’t turn, keeping his gaze focused on
Jim.

“Why don’t you tell us everything you know,”
he said, wondering who Jim had talked to two days ago and what he’d
said.

Jim’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “All I
know is what your people already told us, Detective.”

Detective?
Ted made a strangled sound.
Once again Max didn’t turn his head.

“And what is that?” Max kept his voice
neutral. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ted whip out a
notebook and a pen. Max glanced at him and nodded approval.

“I know she was living in sin.” Jim’s brows
met above his nose. “I know her seducer was murdered. I know she
drove away and a masked man chased her. I know you can’t find
her.”

“Her seducer?” Max asked.

“The other officers said he was her fiancé.”
He gave Max a frigid glare.

Fiancé? Max shared a glance with Ted before
turning toward the mother’s wing chair. He’d think about the
murdered fiancé angle when they left. For now, he’d concentrate on
the parents. He turned to the mother. Surely she would stand up for
Sorcha.

“Have you heard from her?”

Shaking her head, she glanced at her lap. She
wore a baggy black skirt and a white blouse. She muttered, her
voice low.

Max leaned forward. “I can’t hear you.”

Her eyes lifted—green like Sorcha’s. But
Judy’s eyes were muddied, while Sorcha’s sparkled with vibrancy.
“She always had Satan in her. We tried our best to chase him out,
but she resisted. This is God’s way of cleansing her.”