We drove around for hours. After we stopped for cat food and a bottle of water, that is. By the time we pulled up to my apartment, the cat was snoring, we’d lost Charles somewhere around North Washington, and Angel was telling me about the time he almost got to third base with Lucinda Baca. And while his stories were riveting, I was tired and disappointed and worried. I hadn’t felt anything. I’d taken every single street in both Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown to no avail.
I parked the car in Mable’s backyard, curled the cat into my arms, and walked around to the front of my house.
“I wanted to marry her,” Angel said, and I snapped back to his story. His statement brought into focus everything he’d lost.
“I’m sorry, Angel. How did you die?”
A sad smile slid across his face. “It’s a long story. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
He stepped back, and I’d learned that when he did that, he was about to vanish. I stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you. For all your help tonight. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“You would have been just fine. You’re always fine.”
“You clearly don’t know me well,” I said, with a soft laugh.
I let go of him, but before he disappeared, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. Then he stepped back again, and right before he vanished, he said, “I know you better than anyone.”
A soft gasp pulled cold air over my teeth and into my lungs. I lunged to grab him, but I missed. He’d said it with such confidence. Did he know me? Did he know who I was? If only I could somehow summon him back just by thinking about him. Lord knew when I’d see him again. He was as sporadic as psoriasis.
I turned to unlock my door, but something seemed out of place. I glanced inside and spotted a light on in the bedroom. A light that I knew was not on when I left my apartment, because it had burned out two days ago.
10
Signs you drink too much coffee:
You don’t sweat. You percolate.
—INTERNET MEME
After sleeping in Mable’s car – and longing for Denzel something fierce – I reported to work the next morning looking like something the cat dragged in, half eaten yet somehow still alive. Sadly, I didn’t care. I’d finally braved my apartment that morning wielding Satana, the Vandenbergs’ cat – I’d named her based on her personality – and a two-by-four named Leroy.
Whoever had been in my apartment was long gone, but by the time I screwed up the courage to go in, it was too late for me to take a shower. Not that I’d actually slept in the car. I was shivering and worried and my mind wouldn’t stop, not even for a few seconds. If I couldn’t find Mr. Vandenberg and his family, I would have no choice but to go to the police. They had protocols that would put the family in danger, but there was nothing I could do about that. I had high hopes that Bobert would be able to help me.
I strolled up to Cookie, pulling Reyes’s jacket tighter around me. The same jacket that kept me from freezing to death. Also, Satana put out a lot of body heat.
“Did Bobert find out anything?” I asked Cookie.
She took one glance at me, then headed for the coffeepot. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already had quite a bit of the dark elixir. When I couldn’t sleep, I’d driven to a local convenience store and bought coffee to keep warm. Twelve times. So I was pretty psyched about the day. Other than the fact that I’d developed a tick in my left eye and slurred my S’s ever so little, all was good. I would find the Vandenbergs and then go to the police.
But the scent of freshly brewed java acted like one of those magnets that pick up cars at junkyards. It attached itself to my face and pulled me closer. Unable to resist, I followed Cookie to the pot before peeling off the jacket, the warm one that smelled like Reyes, that felt like him, that embraced me when he couldn’t. After breathing in as much of him as I could, I draped it over my arm and took the cup Cookie offered me.
“Did you try to use the espresso machine again?” I asked her, noting the lovely brown splotches on her blouse.
“Yes. It hates me.”
“I told you, it’s like an Uzi. Short, controlled bursts. Otherwise it gets fussy.”
“I know. I know. Did you get any sleep at all last night?” she asked.
“What makes you ask?” When she only lifted a pretty brow, I caved. “No. But I did get a lot of thinking done. And I burned a lot of calories.” Shivering did that.
“That’s a plus. What did you come up with?” She picked up her own cup as Dixie – after giving me a quick once-over – went to unlock the front doors. I must’ve looked worse than I thought. I’d tried to tame my hair, then decided to go with my inner rock star.
“I’ve figured out how to cure world hunger and to travel through time.”
“Good to know.”
“The only hitch is we’ll need to find a space freighter, a tiny bit of plutonium, and a wormhole.”
“For the time travel?”
“Oh, no, that’s for the world hunger. The time-travel thing is way easier. I just need a billionaire investor with loose morals.”
“Don’t we all.”
“You know the family I told you about?”
“The one that might be held hostage?”
“Yes. Well, they aren’t at their house. And I have no idea where else to look.”
She gaped at me. “You went to their house?”
“Duh.”
“Alone?”
“Duh.” I took another sip. “So, Bobert?”
“Nothing yet. The guy he was supposed to meet with got another call last night.”
Damn it. Maybe I should just call the FBI and leave an anonymous tip. I was hoping to explain the situation, but if anyone would know what I was going through, Cookie would.
I scooted in closer and lowered my voice. “What do you do when the police won’t, you know, take you seriously?”
She blinked, confused.
“You know, when you see something and report it.” I added an air quote for emphasis. Only one, ’cause of the cup and all, but I think she got my point.
Dixie clapped her hands to spur us to life. The sharp sound rushed over my nerve endings – the same nerve endings that had been marinated in caffeine – and I had to close my eyes.
“Look alive, ladies. This is going to be a very good day.”
“Is she smiling?” Cookie asked.
I looked over at her. “I think she is.”
“She never smiles this early.”
“Nobody smiles this early. It’s illegal in seventeen states.”
Dixie hurried up to us then, her grin way too wide and way too bright for her to be completely human. Damn it. She was an alien. It was the only logical explanation.
“I have some good news.” She blinked. Waited for us to bite. When we took another sip instead, our movements completely in sync, she waved her hands, dismissing our impudence. “We have a new cook. He’s going to be joining Sumi this morning.”
“Didn’t you tell us this yesterday and Sumi was a little less than thrilled?” I asked, but before she could answer, the man I least expected to see that early strolled into the café, his gait as predator-like as ever.