“Oh, I have the perfect plan for that. Check this out.”
He scrolled through Samuel’s profile and photo after photo showed him accompanied by tall, lithe, stunning men, dressed sharply and rather femininely.
“Perfect!” Teddy said.
“Yup.” Saint nodded. “Eerie is, like…his dream man.”
“Eerie? You meanyou.”
“What about me?”
“Okay, honey, let me hold your hand when I tell you this…” Teddy held Saint’s hand between his own. “You and Eerie kinda look very much the same.”
Saint blinked at him owlishly before shaking his head. “But…his clothes,” he whimpered.
“Will fit you for a night.”
“But, but…he loves this shit.”
“He also terrifies most of humanity,” Teddy said. “We want Samuel mellow and agreeable, not screaming for his life.”
“I’ll break my neck in heels.” Saint slumped against the bed.
“We’ll ask Eerie for a crash course and you’ll be sitting most of the night,” Teddy said, clapping his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
“I hate this plan.”
“You came up with it.”
“I hate me too.” Saint kicked at Teddy’s shin with his mismatched socks.
“There, there.” Teddy tickled his toes, cringing at the sound of his phone ringing from his pocket again. He should give him his own ringtone. He shouldn’t have to keep jumping every time his phone rang, for crying out loud.
He glanced at the screen, eyes widening when he realized it was a Slatehollow number. His chest deflated with relief, but there was a heaviness in his stomach at the thought that popped into his mind.
How many of these had he gotten over the years? How many times had he crossed the border between towns, never knowing it was bringing him closer to his heart?
He swiped the button to take the call and pressed the phone to his ear.
“Damir,” he said, cringing at the name.
“Damir, this is Cyrus, the PUMA detective from Slatehollow,” a familiar voice said, and he sat up straighter.
He briefly remembered Cyrus in the debrief from Hart’s case. Gruff. Permanent five-o’clock shadow. Messy brown hair and steely blue eyes. And most memorable; a mouth like a sailor.
“Cyrus, hi. Is everything okay with—” He caught himself. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes and no. We’re dealing with a series of cases over here and hitting dead ends wherever we turn. We reached out to a few other towns and got information on a couple of potentially similar cases down your way. Do you have a moment?”
Teddy frowned at Saint and motioned him closer.
“Mind if I put you on speaker?” he asked. “I’m with a team member going over some of our cases, and I’ve got a hunch these are the ones you’re looking for.”
“Go for it,” Cyrus said.
Teddy put his phone down, switching to the speaker. “Cyrus, this is Saint, Arcstead’s cursed animal specialist. Saint, Cyrus is Slatehollow’s PUMA lead.”
“Nice to meet you,” Saint said.
