lessened and disappeared as I envisioned the pickup truck pulling away and heading down the street.
I picked up my cell phone and tapped in Jess Hammersmythe’s number.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Jake Middleston, but I’d developed a simple mantra over the years of being a private investigator and hearing very different stories from both sides of a divorce case or insurance claim.
Trust but verify.
If there was a missing girl from my old Pride she’d know about it. And as one of the Board members she’d know if there was more to this than just a teenager running off with her true love of the week who, presumably, was another Felis. There was nothing illegal about it but it’d be a note of concern for the Board, who kept a close eye on all of the family—you didn’t simply disappear into the crowd. A runaway wasn’t enough to call out the troops but there was no way Lisa Middleston was going to stay underground for long.
I’d discovered that when they’d showed up on my doorstep after leaving me alone for decades. The Board always kept track of you no matter where or who you were.
Middleston’s sidestepping the Pride’s resources sent up red flags and I wasn’t about to step in a minefield if I couldn’t map it out first.
Jess picked the phone up on the fifth ring.
“Rebecca.” She sounded shocked, something I’d rarely seen or heard. “I was about to call you.”
I could hear a woman weeping in the background and raised my voice over the wailing. “Is this about the missing girl? Don’t get on my case. Her father just left and I haven’t had a chance to hit the streets yet so tell her aunt or whoever to give me a few hours—”
“What?” I visualized the tall woman shaking her head. Part of me relished the idea of stumping Jess. The other part was terrified that I had, in fact, stumped Jess, one of the toughest Felis I knew. “No, wait...what? What missing girl?”
“Lisa Middleston,” I offered. “She’s the missing girl I’ve been hired to find.”
“I’m talking about a missing boy. Evan Chandler.” The crying in the background rose and fell like a hockey fan’s playoff hopes. “His mother’s with me right now.”
The pulsing behind my left eye signaled a headache about to start. “Let me guess. This isn’t a coincidence.”
Jess chuckled. “You think? Let me take care of Mary and I’ll call you back within the hour. Don’t do anything until we have a chance to talk.” The line went dead before I could disconnect.
I put the phone down and pressed my palms against my eyes. This situation had the potential of going bad really fast.
Two country kids running away to find their fortune in the big city might go over well in the movies but the reality was that they’d find themselves out of their depth within minutes of stepping off the bus. Those stories about slavery, prostitution and drug abuse weren’t just fluff for the news programs.
I headed for the stairs, determined to get some painkillers into me before Jess called back. This was turning out to be one hell of a morning and I hadn’t even done anything yet.
Jazz pattered by me, hopping up the steps and turning toward the bedroom with her tail held high, a spring in her step. I followed her in, scowling at the half-naked man sprawled across the bed.
Tortilla chip crumbs everywhere. A minefield of pointed fried caltrops.
A fat dollop of salsa sat on the quilted bedspread neatly folded at the bottom of the king-sized bed.
Brandon Hanover grinned at me, offering a salsa-loaded chip in one hand. The other nudged the waistband of the boxer shorts down a fraction of an inch, showing more bare flesh.
“Want a snack?”
I sighed. As a lover, the redhead was fantastic. As a roommate, he left a lot to be desired.
“We’re going to have to wash that.” I pointed at the salsa stain even as I snagged the chip out of his hand and popped it in my mouth.
“No problem.” He chomped another chip as Jazz