“She left a note for her parents that she was terrified of what would happen with you gone and that she was going to kill herself. They found her car wrecked, in a river.”
“Fuuuuuck.” I lean against the fence for support while Costco nuzzles the back of my head.
“It’s okay, sweetie.”
“How can you say that?”
She smiles. “Because she’s not dead.”
I blink. “Whut?”
“I gave her money and helped her stage the accident.”
“Where is she?”
She shrugs. “I rented a car while mine was in for service, drove her to Birmingham, and put her on a bus to Colorado with three names and a town written on a piece of paper. Paid cash and gave the clerk extra to give her a fake name on the ticket.”
Relief fills me. “What about her parents?”
“They think she’s dead. Which is horrible, obviously. But her father is in Randolph’s pocket and would’ve sold her out to someone else as soon as he could.”
“I wonder if Mike Crowe can locate her and help her once the old man’s in the ground.”
“Funny you should mention him.” She smirks. “That’s one of the names I gave her.”
It doesn’t take me long to run payroll and set the direct deposits for our guys. Todd handles paying the familiars cash every day because we don’t want them on the books for obvious reasons. The pack has a shell company Todd can list as a “contractor” in the records so the IRS doesn’t get suspicious.
Mom walks around wearing a beatific smile, which strikes me as hilariously poignant considering the background aroma is cow shit.
I’m almost done when my favorite witch appears in the office doorway with an ear-to-ear grin. “Annnd?”
I wave her in and give her a long hug. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do a damned thing except what it is that my weird brain does.” She steps back from me when Mom appears in the office doorway.
“Mom, this is Alizée Moultaire. She’s the one I told you about.”
Alizée swoops over for a hug, and Mom practically falls into her arms, happily crying while Alizée whispers to her.
I don’t join them because I suspect whatever Alizée’s saying to her is something like what Todd and I experienced.
When they finally step apart, Mom’s laugh-crying and wipes her cheeks with her hands. Then Alizée turns to me. “How’s my favorite pup doing?”
I pat my stomach. “Not sure I can still be called a pup, can I?”
“Of course you can.” She hugs me, then arches an eyebrow. “Anything you want to say to me?”
I laugh. “You were right.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” She kisses my cheek. “Just stopped by to feed the beasties.”
“How long?” I whisper.
I don’t know why I whisper because Mom’s a shifter and standing right there.
Alizée’s smile fades. “Soon,” she says and pats my cheek. “The worst is almost over. There is still something for you to do, but look at it as an exercise in spleen-venting.”
“Huh?”
