“Where is she going?”

“Man, I don’t know. Somewhere new every night. I think she’s fol owing someone. She gets these cal s on her cell phone from some guy with an accent. He just says the name of a town, then hangs up.”

Son of a bitch! She was getting cal s, too. Only I was betting hers were coming from Luiz, rather than from Andrew. What the hell were they doing?

“So she gets a call, you both drive to a new town, where she goes out and kills someone. Then you call us and report the murder?” my father asked, his pencil motionless over the paper. “Why would you do that?”

“I heard chicks are valuable to you guys. Girl cats. I thought you might be interested in this one. Plus, she’s kind of makin’ a mess in your territory. Thought that information might be worth something to you.”

Painter wanted the best of both worlds. He was enjoying his time with the hot young tabby, but snitching to us the whole time, hoping for an invitation to join the Pride. An idiot’s version of a double agent.

My father hesitated, then shook his head. “What is this tabby’s name?”

“She cal s herself Manx. Won’t tell me any more than that.”

“Where is she now?” My father tapped his eraser on the legal pad.

“Like I told these guys, I don’t know. She got one whiff of them and took off!”

A second later, Marc was back on the line. “So, what do we do with him?”

“Does Painter have a car there?”

“Yeah.” Marc gave a short, ironic laugh. “We’re sitting in it right now, in his hotel parking lot.”

“Good. I’m sending reinforcements. Cuff him and send him back with Owen, when the others get there.”

“No problem,” Marc said.

My father hung up the phone and stood, eyeing the four of us gathered on the sofas. “Go. Now. Meet up with Marc and Parker.

Owen, bring Painter back in one piece. I have several more questions for him. The rest of you check out Henderson in teams. No one works alone. If you can’t find anything in a quick once-over, I want one team watching the local strip club—Michael said there’s only one—for the tabby. The rest of you keep looking around town. Watch the motels, restaurants, and grocery stores in particular. They’re going to have to eat and sleep somewhere.”

Jace was already in the doorway, ready to go. Vic stood in front of the couch, looking just as eager.

“Keep in contact with me and with Marc,” my father said, eyeing me in particular. “And we need Luiz and Andrew alive, if at all possible.”

Vic frowned, clearly disappointed. “Both of them? Why?”

“There’s still a slim chance Andrew might be able to help Faythe. He probably doesn’t remember actually being infected, but I don’t want to execute the best witness on her behalf, just in case he can vouch for the partial Shift.”

“And Luiz?” Jace asked from behind me.

“The missing tabbies,” I answered for my father, pleased that he and I were finally thinking along the same lines.

“If they’re still alive, he’ll know where they are. And their parents will want a word or two with him.”

My father nodded.

“No problem.” Vic dug his keys from his pocket. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

“Go start the air conditioner in the car,” I said, glancing down at myself. “I just have to change into some work clothes.”

Vic gave my snug T and shorts a quick once-over, then shrugged and headed for the hall. Jace and Owen fol owed him to the car and I raced toward my room, barely pausing when I heard my mother’s car pull up out front.

I picked up my bedroom door and shimmied through the gap before propping it back in place. I was going to insist that Marc fix my door personally. It would teach him a lesson for making such a mess, and…well, he’d have to actual y come near me to repair the damage.

After changing I met my mother in the hal , looking perfectly composed in white slacks and a blouse the exact shade of pink as her cheeks. She carried a large white leather purse in one hand and an afghan over the opposite arm.

“Where’d you go so early?” I asked, frowning as she stopped to brush a strand of hair from my forehead.

“I had brunch with Mrs. Jennings and her daughter. Look what Natalie made for the silent auction.” She slipped her bag over one arm and shook out the red-and-gold afghan. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Lovely,” I said, for lack of a better response.

“Look at the intricate pattern,” my mother insisted, bringing a corner of the blanket close to my face. I looked, but couldn’t tell one…stitch, or whatever, from another. And what was that smell? It was kind of familiar. I leaned closer to the afghan, inhaling deeply. It must be Natalie.

The scent was soft, and feminine, and…full. Or something like that.

And definitely human, so I must have been imagining the familiarity.

“You know, Natalie’s expecting her second.”

I arched my brows at my mother, not fol owing the change of subject.

“Second what?” Mortgage? Conviction? Chance at a new life?

“Baby, of course. Her second baby. The doctor says this one’s a girl.”

I laughed, genuinely amused that my mother thought it should have been so obvious. “Yeah, well, I bet Natalie can’t drop a stray with a powerhouse right hook.”