Eleventh Grave in Moonlight

  She shook her head. “No. I was afraid he would tell”—she shot a glance at Uncle Bob from under her glasses—“Mom.”

  Uncle Bob had stilled. He’d continued scrolling through texts while he was on the phone. He stopped and stared at one, then whirled around to Amber.

  She looked down. Pulled the knee of her good leg to her chest. Squeezed Reyes’s hand.

  “Is this why you didn’t say anything?” Ubie asked, furious. When Amber didn’t say anything, he yelled, “Amber!”

  I stood. “Uncle Bob, that is enough.” I took the phone from him.

  “Not at first,” Amber said. “I was being stupid, worried you’d take my phone away if I told you, but then—”

  She had texted the stalker back after a particularly nasty message, writing, My stepdad is a detective. He will find you if you don’t stop.

  The stalker’s next text was possibly the most chilling: Don’t you ever threaten me, you bitch. The day that pig finds out is the day his throat is cut. The next seven texts were pictures of Uncle Bob, either at work, at Calamity’s, or in front of the apartment building, getting out of his SUV. The guy had clearly done his homework.

  Uncle Bob went back to his phone. “I don’t need a warrant. This man is threatening my daughter. My. Daughter. Do it. Now.”

  He hung up and curled his fingers around his phone in anger. “I have tech getting every text to and from this number and running traces. If he’s been texting you from different numbers, chances are he’s using burners, but even then there’s a chance we can trace them to the store where they were—”

  He stopped talking when Amber jumped up and tackle-hugged him. He stood stunned for a minute, then wrapped her in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. “You are the bravest girl I’ve ever met,” he said to her.

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t brave. I was so scared. He said he’d kill you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, smidgeon.”

  Reyes and I exchanged secretive glances, then he stood and started cleaning the urgent care center.

  “I was so worried about Robert,” Cookie said softly, the inevitable guilt setting in. “I completely missed this.”

  I patted her hand. “Yes, yes. You’re the worst parent since Joan Crawford. Thank God you have me, because I have a plan.”

  Ubie looked over at me. “Your plans rarely end well.”

  “What?” I scoffed, waved him off, then turned to my homey. “What say you? Do we go after this guy?”

  Cookie drew in a deep, shaky breath. “I say yes, absolutely, but I think it’s ultimately up to Amber.”

  “Since she’ll be the bait?”

  Her eyes rounded in horror. “Bait?”

  “Didn’t I mention that?”

  13

  Some days I just stay inside because it feels too peopley out there.

  —TRUE FACT

  Amber fell asleep on the couch at about two in the morning, while the rest of us hammered out the details of my plan. Uncle Bob would need some time to get a team together for the big showdown, so we couldn’t implement it for another day, at least.

  Cookie wanted to keep Amber home from school, but I convinced her we needed everything to look completely normal if we were going to lure this guy into a trap. That was when my IQ level, based on the elements of my plan, went from everyday smarty-pants to stone genius.

  Of course, convincing a slave demon to go to a human high school, even for one day, could be difficult, but we only had six hours to find someone who could pass as a high school student and have the ability to protect Amber from pretty much any kind of attack. Too much red tape in getting an actual undercover cop, so a former slave demon it was.

  And, after a careful examination of all the texts, the stalker didn’t seem to have any inherent celestial abilities, so he wouldn’t be able to detect that Amber’s new BFF was a supernatural entity.

  Now to convince said supernatural entity.

  After Uncle Bob scooped Amber into his arms and carried her back to their apartment as though she were as fragile as butterfly wings, Reyes and I threw on some clothes and headed over to Osh’s. Together. Like in the same vehicle.

  I was a little surprised he was joining me. I should have been less surprised and more suspicious, however. He was a little too enthusiastic. A little too eager.

  Thankfully, Osh was home. Always hoping for another meal, his front door wasn’t locked. Reyes didn’t knock. He walked in and went straight back to what I assumed was Osh’s bedroom.

  I hurried after him.

  Reyes opened the door to Osh’s room and turned on the light.

  “Damn,” Osh said, covering his sleep-swollen eyes from the overhead light. “Could you take the brightness down a notch, love? You’ll wake the dead.”

  “It doesn’t have a dimmer,” I said, looking for one on the light switch.

  “I meant yours.”

  “Oh.” I pulled my jacket tighter. “Sorry. I can’t really control that.”

  I could tell Osh was on the defensive the minute we walked in. Could he sense Reyes’s mood, too?

  Wearing only a pair of plaid pajama bottoms to bed, much like another supernatural being I knew, he kicked off a dark blue comforter and scooted up until he was using the headboard as a backrest.

  Reyes was busy snooping. Like literally. Opening drawers and peeking inside. Lifting items off a dresser and examining them. Checking the closet and filtering through Osh’s clothes. It was all terribly rude.

  “Mind telling me what Sherlock is up to?” Osh asked.

  “Oh.” I waved the spousal unit off. “He’s just snooping. We’re here because we need you to go to high school tomorrow. As a student. To watch Amber.”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  “No. And really? High school? I’d have no idea how to act.”

  “Please. You know more about humans than they know about themselves. But no snacking on any souls. They’re just kids.”

  Osh let out a long sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands.

  Reyes lifted a pair of pants that were crumpled on the floor, took out a wallet, and started going through it.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, mortified.

  “Are you kidding me?” he said, looking at Reyes, who continued going through the contents of Osh’s wallet.

  “Uncle Bob is getting it cleared with his captain as we speak, so it will kind of be an official APD operation. Just without the warrants and stuff. Hopefully, the school won’t make a fuss.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Go to her classes with her. Watch her back. Keep her safe. She’s being stalked.”

  His gaze snapped from Reyes back to me. “Stalked? By whom?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out. But tomorrow’s Friday, and we need one more day to get a team prepped. Which means one more day everything has to appear normal. If she misses school, the stalker may know something is up.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it, but I’m not doing homework.”

  I laughed until Reyes opened up Osh’s nightstand and brought out a Playboy.

  “The articles,” Osh said.

  I rolled my eyes, then grew serious. “Did you see her again?”

  He didn’t have to ask whom I meant. “I was on duty all day yesterday.”

  I nodded, ignoring the cavernous ache in my heart.

  “She’s amazing,” he added. “She’s smiling now. It’s lopsided, just like yours.”

  I beamed at him.

  Reyes did not.

  “So, you’re better now?” Reyes asked.

  Osh eyed him. “Right as rain.”

  Reyes nodded and walked over to stare down at him. They’d been getting along so famously, until I told Reyes that Osh was destined to be in Beep’s life. That she would love him. That he would love her.

  “Just remember,” Reyes said, “anything you do to my daughter, I do to you.”

  “What?”
Osh stared, aghast. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m out there risking my life for her, and you—”

  Reyes leaned closer, shutting Osh up, and whispered, “Anything.”

  The two of them nose to nose, both being temperamental demons, was all kinds of bad. And, strangely enough, disturbingly sexy.

  But they couldn’t get into a fight. I needed Osh to be healthy and bruise-free. Not to show up at Amber’s high school looking like a scrapper-slash-troublemaker. We needed the school on our side.

  “Reyes, can we discuss your opinion of Osh later?” He started to argue, but I held up a finger and said, “Amber.”

  He bit down, tossed Osh his wallet, and backed off.

  “No,” Osh said. “I want to know what the fuck that was about. If you think I can’t protect her, just say so.”

  “That’s not it at all,” I said. “You’re one of the few who can. Reyes just had a long day. We went to Scotland. He doesn’t travel well.”

  Osh’s expression would suggest he didn’t believe me for a hot minute. I wouldn’t have, either, but we didn’t have time to go into it.

  “Okay,” I said, heading for the closet I’d just glared at Reyes for snooping in. “You need to look young.”

  “I do look young, considering how old I am.”

  “No, like, really young. You look nineteen. Amber’s thirteen, but she’s a freshman in high school, so we could pull this off if you—”

  Osh scrambled off the bed and blocked my advance with an arm across the door to his closet. “I’ve been around awhile now. I know how to look young.”

  I eyed him doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Okay.” I handed Osh the address and ushered Reyes out. “Be there at 7:30. We have to get it all set up in the office before classes start.”

  “Got it.”

  “And no flirting.”

  “What?” he asked, pretending to be offended. “I would never.”

  Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

  * * *

  Three hours later, we were in the principal’s office, never a place I liked to be. Uncle Bob was giving her the details of our operation and asked her to keep it all confidential. He showed his badge and said it had all been approved by the captain, and that seemed good enough for her. Thank goodness. She could have insisted on a warrant of some kind.

  Ubie and I didn’t come with Amber. We wanted everything to appear as normal as possible, so Cookie dropped her off at the same spot she did every morning. Amber had walked by us, backpack in place, but pretended not to notice us. Good girl. She’d pull this off beautifully.

  But the first bell was minutes away and still no sign of Osh. I poked my head into the hallway again. Nothing.

  “What can I do for you?” the admin assistant asked.

  I turned to see a skater kid with spiky dark hair under a grungy hoodie, baggy pants, and high-tops—untied high-tops—sitting in a corner of the main office. Although sitting would be an overstatement. He was making it his personal mission to elevate the slouch to an art form.

  He shrugged as I took another peek into the hall. “I’m just waiting on my uncle to finish with the principal. He’s getting me checked in.”

  I whirled around and gaped. “Osh?” I said, surprise shooting through me.

  He lifted his chin in greeting and gave me a lopsided grin.

  I hurried over and sat beside him. “Holy cow, Osh. You look … this is amazing.”

  “Yeah?” he asked. “So, you approve?”

  “Osh, um, yes.” I could hardly speak, then I realized the lengths he had gone to. “You cut your hair.”

  His gaze studied my face a moment. “Only a little. It grows fast.”

  “I’m … I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s Amber, right? And you care for her a lot.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then so do I.”

  It was like talking to a kid. Like a genuine fifteen-year-old kid. One that would definitely pass as a freshman, albeit a tall one.

  I squeezed his hand, then led him into the principal’s office. When Uncle Bob got a load of him, he was as impressed as I was. We rushed through the introductions, and the principal gave her spiel about what Osh was and was not allowed to do. Sadly, sucking the souls out of her students did not make an appearance.

  “Have you ever thought about a career in law enforcement?” Ubie asked Osh. “We could use some good UCs in high schools.”

  He grinned. “I’ve seen 21 Jump Street. I’m not sure I fit the mold.”

  Uncle Bob shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

  “Okay, remember,” I said, handing him Amber’s schedule, “you’re Amber’s cousin from Denver. Your family just moved here. Your dad’s—”

  “Sugar,” he said, his sudden Southern drawl and sensual grin stopping me. “I got this.”

  “Okay. Right. Sorry.”

  He saluted, mocking our authority over him exactly like a freshman in high school might, and headed toward Amber’s first class.

  Because we didn’t know if the stalker had access to Amber’s text messages—he could easily have cloned her phone—we instructed her to text her mom and friends as she normally would. Even her boyfriend, Quentin, who had an out-of-town basketball tournament that weekend.

  Some of the texts from the stalker gave me a sneaking suspicion he did indeed have access to her text messages. He simply knew too much about her family and friends.

  Something good had already come out of this whole operation. Since telling us the truth, Amber’s mental state had taken a dramatic turn for the better. I could feel her relief while we were explaining the plan that morning. Knowing we were on the case. Knowing she would be kept safe.

  The entire situation broke my heart. And made my skin crawl. Stalkers were a different sort and terribly unpredictable. At least the male ones were. Female stalkers rarely resorted to violence, but one just never knew about the male ones.

  I watched as all eyes turned toward Osh when he passed. The new kid. The mysterious new kid who … crap. Every girl in school was going to be swooning over him. I hadn’t thought of that. And Osh, the most irredeemable flirt I’d ever met.

  Oh, well. We’d programmed a new number in Amber’s phone from a burner I would carry. I would be Jess and would invite her to the mall the next day. Considering the circumstances, Amber would argue back and forth, saying she couldn’t go, that she had a lot of stuff going on, but I would eventually convince her to go. And then we would be ready for the sting Saturday morning.

  We’d also set up some codes, so I could secretly make sure everything was okay without tipping off Joe Stalker. I’d have to ask her about her cousin Osh. See how his first day of school was going. Make sure he wasn’t setting up any dates for later. From what I’d seen, many of the seniors at Roadrunner High could moonlight as supermodels. Maybe there was something in the water. I didn’t remember the girls at my high school looking like pop artists and movie stars.

  “Okay, we’re all set,” Uncle Bob said, walking out of the principal’s office. Underneath his very Uncle Bob exterior beat the heart of a pissed-off Uncle Bob interior. Whoever this stalker was, his life was about to take a turn for the worse.

  I knew what happened to people who messed with those Ubie loved.

  We were headed to his SUV. I slowed my pace in thought. I really did know what happened to such people. Damn. Now I was going to have to make it my mission to get to Joe Stalker before Ubie did. Getting away with murder was not something that happened often. For him to pull that rabbit out of his hat twice would be nigh impossible.

  I watched him walk out the front doors, apprehension working a hole into my stomach.

  * * *

  When we emerged from the halls of medium-to-higher education, I noticed a thrill rush through the crowd like an electrical current. A telltale sign that somewhere nearby stood a very hot person of the male variety. Girls twittered as th
ey talked quietly. They giggled and gasped. Either Osh had already made an impact, or my husband was checking out the younger crowd.

  Yep. We’d turned the corner of the building, heading toward the parking lot, when I spotted Mr. Reyes Farrow standing next to his stunning ’70 Plymouth ’Cuda. Classic. Dark. And all muscle. The car was hot, too.

  He raised his chin in greeting to Ubie and waited for me. And he was going to cause about twenty girls to be late for class. They stood around, whispering and gazing starry-eyed. The guy took chick magnet to a whole new level of attraction. He was less like a refrigerator magnet and more like one of those cranes that picked up junk cars to be crushed. Substitute girls’ hearts for the cars, and that was Reyes in a nutshell.

  “Okay,” Ubie said, “I’m getting the details worked out with the op team. You’ll keep in contact with Amber all day, yeah?”

  “Of course, Uncle Bob. We are going to get this guy.”

  He nodded, unconvinced. At least he’d stopped harassing me to take a few days off.

  “Okay. Get your ass home.”

  “Uncle Bob, what’s going on? Why the sudden need for me to take a few days off?”

  He shook his head. “I just think you need a break,” he said, lying through his slightly crooked teeth.

  “Well, I just got back from a vigorous trip to Scotland. No more taking off for a while.”

  “I mean it, Charley.”

  “I can see that.”

  Not really sure if I’d agreed or not, he walked to his SUV.

  What would have Ubie so upset that he couldn’t tell me? He would hide it from me? Maybe he knew we were stalking him, for his own good, of course.

  I looked across the street and spotted Garrett’s black truck, still on Ubie duty. We had yet to catch Guerin, and I couldn’t take the chance that, even though we thwarted the initial design that the man was destined to kill Uncle Bob, it would happen anyway. Fate was a fickle thing. Who knew what changing one miniscule part of it would do to the rest? I was a firm believer in the Butterfly Effect.