Secret Santa (Secret McQueen #0)

Secret Santa (Secret McQueen #0) Page 13

“We’re practically twins,” I agreed.

“Are your pants leather?”

I looked down, embarrassed to be called on it by a tween in a pleated tartan skirt.

“Yes.”

“That’s cool.”

“Penelope, stop pestering Secret,” her mother ordered, snapping her playfully with the hand towel. The family matriarch came to stand before me, giving me the same assessing look her daughter had. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, dear. Nice to put a face to the girl who got my Desi to move out of the penthouse.”

“Desi?” I tried to hide the laugh bubbling up. I failed. Desmond shot me a look.

“I’m Grace.” We shook hands. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like turkey and Oil of Olay, with a hint of Giorgio Beverly Hills perfume lingering on her clothes. It wasn’t fresh, so she must have worn the fragrance regularly.

“Secret.” She already knew my name, but it would have been rude to leave her introduction unanswered. “It smells great in here.”

It did smell spectacular, and though I didn’t typically eat real food, the aroma of turkey, gravy and baked yams made my stomach growl. Grandmere never went overboard on food at holiday meals because she was only cooking for herself. But I gathered cooking for a family of adult werewolves meant food had to be plentiful.

“Desi, honey, I need some onions for the stuffing. Can you run up to Paradiso—?”

“I can go,” Penny insisted.

“Penny.” Grace’s tone was weary and definitive. I was amazed by how much mothers could say without saying much of anything.

“Mom.” The look on Penny’s face spoke volumes. In a house filled with male werewolves it must have been difficult for her to be given any independence, especially when she was so much younger than her brothers. Alpha males were overprotective by their very nature. I also knew a thing or two about being condescended to and I wanted to stand up for the girl, but it wasn’t my place.

“It’s just down the block, Mom.” Desmond came to his sister’s rescue. “And Dominick is still out there trying to find parking, which might take him until the New Year. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Overwhelmed by sudden apprehension, I bit my lip and resisted the urge to speak up. My mind was full of images of body parts and Christmas stockings like the ones hanging on the window ledge next to the tree. One of which bore my name. Swelling emotions threatened to undo me.

I wanted to protect Penny, but from what? No new youths had gone missing in weeks, none of the bodies belonged to anyone younger than Ashley Parsons, and I didn’t want to make anyone worry unjustly. So I held my tongue.

“Okay.” Grace caved under the pressure of her children’s collective gazes and plucked a five-dollar bill from her purse, which was waiting on the dining room table like it knew it would be needed. “But no lollygagging. Straight there and home, understand?”

Penny’s response was lost to me. I was too shocked that someone other than my grandmere used the word lollygagging.

Chapter Twelve

A half hour later Christmas was the last thing on our minds.

Dominick hung up the phone in the kitchen and came back into the living room with a grim expression on his face.

“The police say there’s nothing they can do. They ‘appreciate our concern’, but she hasn’t been gone long enough for them to classify her as a missing person.”

Grace nodded, keeping her cool remarkably well for a mother whose daughter had vanished off the street. But judging by the hard set of her jawline and the death grip she had on the dishcloth, the calm exterior was a lie. The house was still filled with the homey scents of dinner being prepared, only now something was burning and it made the situation feel more dismal somehow.

The front door banged open, greeting us with a wall of cold air, and Dominick, Grace and I all pivoted towards it. Desmond gave a halfhearted apologetic smile and came into the room, still wearing his coat. He knelt in front of his mother and took her hands, rubbing them between his own in a gesture meant to comfort.

His news wouldn’t be good.

“Eddie at the Paradiso said she came and went. I asked all the neighbors, but she didn’t stop anywhere and no one remembers seeing anything.”

Grace’s breath heaved and finally she broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks, seeming to multiply with each wretched sigh. The towel fell from her hands.

I stared at the front door and found myself unable to tear my eyes from it. I kept picturing Penny the way she looked as she left, with her bright red parka and her white hat with its oversize yarn pom-pom that bounced up and down when she trotted down the steps.

I shouldn’t have let her go.

Guilt clawed at the inside of my stomach, and looking around the room I could see I wasn’t alone. Everyone seemed like they were being eaten alive by their own misgivings. Each of us must be wondering how things would be right now if we had done something differently. What if I’d spoken up, or Desmond had gone instead, or Dominick had seen her on the street? Could we have prevented any of this from happening?

My phone rang and we all jumped.

“Sorry,” I whispered, scrambling to silence the inappropriately cheerful ringer. It was the office. Giving Desmond a nod, I said, “I have to take this.”

In the kitchen I kept my volume as low as possible. “Nolan?”

“Secret, I think I found somethin’.” I could tell from the tone of his voice he was excited, and I hoped whatever was causing his excitement might provide the Alvarezes a little comfort.

“Do you know what’s doing this?”

“Not exactly.”

My heart fell like a deflated balloon. “Then I really need—”

“The deaths’re connected,” Nolan announced before I could finish.

“Connected how?” I sat in the chair nearest to me and picked up a dinner roll from the basket on the table. Eating was the last thing on my mind, and I didn’t go for carbs in the first place, but I needed something to keep my hands busy. Ripping apart a bun seemed like a decent place to start.

“I talked to the parents of the missing kids, and some of the families of the other victims. I told ’em we were doing a private investigation, and I mentioned Keats’s name. Turns out that’s all you need for some people to know you’re workin’ the paranormal side of things. I got the idea from that missing-persons case I’ve been workin’. I know you thought it might be connected, so I followed it as a lead.”

“Nolan, what are you talking about?”

“All the victims’re shifters.”

“What? No, that’s impossible. If any weres had gone missing, Lucas or Desmond would have known.”

“I didn’t say they’re wolves. It’s a mixed bag of big cats, foxes and a few others, but none of ’em were wolves.”

My breath caught in my throat, but I managed to choke out, “Until now.”

“What?”

“Someone took Desmond’s sister.”

“Fuck me sideways.”

Yeah, that about summed it up. “I gotta go.”

“Secret, wait.” My thumb hovered over the end button, but I pulled the phone back to my ear. Nolan’s breathing was raspy on the other end of the line, like he was working hard at something. The muted sound of a keyboard filled the silence. “Give me a sec.”

A pile of bread debris now littered the otherwise clean oak table in front of me. I set one elbow on the polished surface and cupped my chin in my open palm. Somewhere a clock was ticking. Dull pain had started to etch a path up the back of my neck, its long fingers threatening to take hold of my brain and give it a migraine-inducing squeeze.

The swinging kitchen door nudged open and Desmond slipped in. Given the uncanny hearing werewolves had, I suspected he must have heard me mention his name and had come to see what was happening. I gave him a tight smile, but I knew it didn’t fool him. Since he couldn’t offer immediate assistance to me, he moved to the stove and removed the potatoes from the element. Judging by the smell, they’d been reduced to a starchy mush. He shut off the oven before the turkey had a chance to burn, then came to sit across from me.

“Tell me you have something other than the shifter connection. Something that might actually help me.” I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, because under normal circumstances I’d be impressed with what Nolan had dug up. But this wasn’t a time to applaud him for a job well done. I could do that later, once we had Penny back.

Nolan coughed and I heard rustling noises and more typing.

“Nolan?”

Desmond had piled the bread bits together and made a little circle of them on the table, pushing them around while he listened to me talk. With his clean-shaven face and his hair slicked back he looked much younger than his twenty-seven years. But the wan, fretful expression made him look older by a decade. I reached out and grasped his idle hand, giving it a squeeze. It wouldn’t make him feel better, but it was all I had to offer.

A Christmas plaque rested above the kitchen sink, propped against the window. It said ’Tis the season for family.

I squeezed Desmond’s hand harder, like I never planned to let it go.

“Here it is,” Nolan said at last, and based on Desmond’s sharp inhale, he’d picked up on that part of the conversation as well.

“What is it?” I found myself edging off the chair, prepared to stand, or run, or do anything at a moment’s notice. I needed to feel useful instead of scared and impotent.

“Well, one of the kids was being raised by his old grandma. And she said something about how this wasn’t the first time. She remembered it happenin’ before.”

“Are you sure?”

“She was sure.”

“I don’t remember hearing anything about a bunch of dismembered bodies. I think if this had happened before we’d have known. Or at least the police would have.”

“Only if they found the bodies,” Desmond suggested.