“Thanks. But I think what I really need is an opportunity just to…punch someone in the face.” I pulled my arm back, fist formed, miming the blow. “To just really let someone have it.”
Titus laughed, a deep, pleasant sound that set me at ease, on basically a cellular level. “When we catch this guy, you’re going to get exactly what you want.”
ELEVEN
“You know, it would be good for morale if you made a personal appearance—and had a beer—at the bar,” I said as Titus turned his SUV back into the parking lot of the Fat Cat. “I mean, everyone’s gonna know you’re here, so…”
“What do they know about all this?” He shifted into park, staring through the windshield at the front of the building, where the neon cowboy hat sat atilt over the F in Fat Cat. “Your regulars.”
“Very little, so far. They know that Austin Graham and Bishop Mattheson accused Nolan Blake of murdering Yvette, but that’s about it. Speaking of which…” I shrugged.
“Yes, I think it’s time to let Nolan go. If you’re sure they won’t go after him.”
“I know exactly how to prevent that,” I assured him. “But when I release, Nolan, everyone will know the killer is still out there. And the killer will know we’re still looking for him. And once we start talking to the relatives…”
“Okay.” Titus cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I’ll make an appearance.” He pressed a button to turn off the engine, then he got out of the car with clear purpose and speed. Before I could give him any advice about how best to mingle with the locals.
I had to jog to catch up with Titus as he pushed the door open, to the off-key tinkling of the bell.
The lunch rush had begun, and the place was about two-thirds full. Probably due in part to word that Titus was in town, from the three regulars who’d seen him arrive. Knowing that, anyone whocouldcome in for lunch would.
“Titus!” Davey called. “Come on over here!” She set a beer on the counter. “On the house!”
A chorus of greetings rang out from every corner of the bar. Titus accepted the beer with gregarious thanks, but I noticed that as he carried it from table to table, shaking hands and greeting people, he hardly sipped from it. He was a whiskey drinker. A very, very expensive whiskey drinker. Which explained the quietly amused look on Lochlan’s face, where he stood talking with Tucker in one corner.
Vance was stationed behind the bar, watching the jovial ruckus with a small smile—until his gaze met mine. I exhaled, and when I started toward him, he dropped his bar rag on the counter and pushed his way through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
Davey noticed the silent interaction. She gave me a look that was somehow both puzzled and scolding, as if she wasn’t sure what had happened, but shewassure it was my fault. Then she went after him, leaving me to take her spot behind the bar.
Titus stayed for around twenty minutes, during which he managed to swallow about half of his beer. Despite his money, and his suit, and his utter unfamiliarity with both boots and cowboy hats, he effortlessly charmed everyone he’d never met and re-connected with those he had. It didn’t hurt that he never forgot a name, or that he genuinely wanted to connect with people. To aid and support his fellow shifters.
That’s why he’d lobbied so hard, and for so long, to get the Mississippi Valley Pride acknowledged by the Territorial Council.
I walked Titus and Lochlan out roughly an hour and a half after they’d first pulled into the parking lot.
“Do you want me to take Nolan back with me? We can put him up somewhere down south until this all blows over, if you think he’s in any danger,” Titus said as he unlocked his car.
“Thanks, but I don’t think he’d want to leave the area,” I said.
“Yeah,” Lochlan agreed, pulling his shoulder-length blond hair back into its customary bun. “They’ll see that as running away, and they’ll see running away as guilt.”
By “they,” he meant all the Pride members who were about to hear through a very efficient grapevine that we had not yet caught Yvette’s killer.
“Yes, of course,” Titus said. “But the offer stands, should anything change.”
“Thank you. I’ll pass that along.”
As Titus and Loch pulled out of the parking lot, footsteps crunched into the gravel behind me. I spun around to find Vance standing in the shadows at the corner of the building. He had both hands in his pockets, but the tension in his posture belied the casual pose.
“Hey,” I said as I headed toward him, stuffing my hands in my pockets to warm them.
“So? Have you crossed me off your suspect list, or do you need to search me for weapons and evidence?” He spread his arms, practically daring me to pat him down.
“Stuart called?” I guessed.
“You had to know he would.”
“I did. And I’d have told you, if he hadn’t. I wasn’t trying to keep secrets. I was just doing my job.” As unpleasant as that could be, when it involved my personal friends.
