Tracking Mayhem: Mayhem Series, #7

By Sue Coletta

Three unconventional eco-warriors are on a mission to save polar bears from the nation's largest animal trafficking organization—one dead poacher at a time.

When eco-warriors, Shawnee, Mayhem, and Jacy Lee race across the country, dodging bullets and fighting their way through a gauntlet of danger, they risk everything to protect the bears before it's too late. With courage, conviction, Native spirituality, and an innate connection to Mother Earth, the trio faces off against the notorious Killzme Corporation to stop the killing of Innocent Ones, the voiceless who can't fight for themselves. But the stakes are high—blood will spill.

 

The war to save polar bears begins now. Can the eco-warriors evade Killzme's relentless pursuit in time to make a difference?

 

If you enjoy pulse-pounding adventures, you'll love Tracking Mayhem!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Coletta
• Release date: Jun 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988163831

Book preview

Chapter 1

Saturday, 4:03 a.m.

What a night—and it still wasn’t over. Thankfully, no one died back there. Well, no one from my crew, anyway. Couldn’t say the same for the scumbag poachers, now acting as food for the malnourished wolves they’d captured and planned to murder. Karma at its finest.

In the Caddy, Mr. Mayhem cruised up to the private stairwell at the Omni Mount Washington Resort, a swanky five-star hotel in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, with Shicheii and Poe in the front seat, Spirit Crow and me in the back. White sheets tucked around the pig skin leather protected the interior from our body paint.

With Mister Hawthorne well-aware of our presence—Mr. Mayhem shifted into Park—perhaps I should head up alone. Check things out first.

My grandfather patted the top of his hand. Good idea, Cheveyo.

Um, hello? I popped my head between the bucket seats. As my mentor, where you go, I go. What if you need backup?

Dimples sided Shicheii’s cheeks when he smiled, beautiful white teeth showcased by his warm, chestnut complexion. "Cheveyo never needs help, Mourning Dove. My grandfather preferred my traditional Diné name. Not that he’d admit it—only kindness and love existed in his world—but I doubt Shawnee" ever crossed his lips.

Still. I craned my neck around the driver’s seat. I’m not staying here while you go in alone.

A breathy exhale revealed Mr. Mayhem’s acquiescence. As you wish. His hooked finger fluffed the chest feathers of his freakishly human crow companion, Poe. Please stay with your mother and Jacy Lee. Cat and I shan’t be long.

Unlike Shicheii, he called me Cat for two reasons—the nickname fit my past work as a cat burglar, and his deceased wife, Kimi, could type it easier with BCI technology once ALS paralyzed her vocal cords.

Before Mr. Mayhem changed his mind, I hopped out the back. A tender glint of moonlight trickled over the entrance to our private stairwell—each overpriced tower suite had their own—as Mr. Mayhem braced open the door for me. Silence enveloped the dark and quiet staircase inside, our soundless moccasins padding up the treads, surrounded by the stagnant mustiness of concrete and steel.

Outside our suite, Mr. Mayhem’s hesitation indicated he sensed danger.

What’s wrong?

His fingers wove through mine. Stay alert.

Nothing alluded to peril in the hall. Still, I kept my head on a swivel in case Killzme Corp sent killers here. The red-lit sensor beeped thrice. When he swung open the door, a suspicious black-and-gold envelope lay on the carpet.

The lettering across the front commanded my full attention, and I rotated my head to read Mr. & Mrs. Daniels upside down. Think it’s a warning?

Don’t touch it yet. Let’s gather our belongings. We cannot stay here.

I loaded the suitcases with the PC and MacBook, Shicheii’s face and body paints, the first-aid kit brimmed with natural remedies, and a few other supplies we brought for the mission. Since we’d spent little time here, I didn’t have many clothes unpacked.

By the time I rolled the suitcase into the living room, Mr. Mayhem had picked up the envelope. He held it in front of his bare chest, one half painted red, the other black. Muscles rippled beneath his yellow thumbprints across the length of both collarbones, earned for his bravery in battle as an Apache warrior. His face, camouflaged by charcoal lines, sported one shockingly red handprint over his mouth. Another in black grabbed his red-painted shoulder.

I jabbed a chin at the opened envelope. What is it?

Rather than respond, he slid out an invitation.

Join Us for the Annual Polar Bear Hunt—Sponsored by Killzme Corp.

Beneath the heading, they’d included the date, time, and address.

Why would Killzme give us these details?

They must know we already have this information. Someone within the organization puzzled out that we possess the contents of Mister Worthington’s safe.

I rubbed the back of my neck, the only clean spot without body paint. Okay, but why send us an invitation?

To ensure our attendance.

Then it’s gotta be a trap, no?

Most likely, yes.

Whaddawe do about it?

He winked. RSVP.

Not sure what that meant, but it probably wouldn’t be long till I found out.

After leaving the keycard in the room, Mr. Mayhem held open the door for me. Please take one more good look around before we’re locked out.

I rolled the suitcase into the hall. Don’t need to. I got it all.

You checked every drawer, every closet?

Yeah. When both his eyebrows rose, I swayed a defiant shoulder. I did. I swear. Go check if you don’t believe me.

"It’s not a matter of distrust, Cat. I’m quite certain you believe you did a thorough job. However, past experience tells a different story. Doesn’t it? Without allowing me a chance to respond, he continued. This door locks automatically, and we cannot head to the front desk for a new keycard in our current state of dress."

True. We’d give the clerks a friggin’ heart attack if we approached in full body paint and blood-splattered buckskins.

Fine. The handle of my suitcase clanged against the hardwood. I’ll double check.

Thank you, Cat.

Exhausted from chasing poachers through the woods all night, I slogged in and out of every room in the suite, opening every single drawer and each closet. When I ripped the comforter off my unmade bed, one of my favorite T-shirts fell from the folds.

Crap. Why was he always right? It’s annoying as hell.

In the hall, the wheels of my suitcase clattered to the private stairwell. Cut me some slack, I tossed over my head. I’m beat.

The crisp early morning air melted away my attitude. Grandmother Moon’s luminesce faded as She lowered in the dark sky, stars barely visible now. Shicheii called this in between time, when the veil to the spirit world was at its thinnest.

As Mr. Mayhem reached for the back-passenger door, I hushed, Break it to him gently.

Last night’s battle between my grandfather and a supernatural beast called Wendigo robbed him of energy. Even so, he remained calm and gentle enough to soothe the imprisoned wolfdogs.

As a highly regarded Diné Medicine Man with unlimited spiritual powers, he freely gave every ounce of himself to heal and nurture all beings in the Natural World. Mr. Mayhem and I tried to shield him from the ugly act of murder, but last night, while fighting the scum who exploited and profited off illegal trafficked animals—Killzme Corporation members—we had to involve Shicheii. I feared he couldn’t take much more, not that he’d ever show it. My grandfather stayed grounded and centered at all times, buoyed by an inner strength called hozho.

Okay, so, maybe he freaked out a little after Mr. Mayhem shattered every bone of poacher’s face with his bare hands, but Shicheii regained control pretty quick, even after my mentor chopped off the dude’s pinky finger. The only time he lost it was when said poacher, Chauncey Southerland, admitted what Killzme planned for me. As if selling endangered animals on the black market wasn’t bad enough, those scumbags planned to auction me off to the highest bidder. ’Course, Southerland wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind when he confessed. For all I knew, he lied about the whole thing.

Gotta admit, not knowing the truth chewed out a new stomach ulcer. Didn’t matter. Our objective remained the same—stop trophy hunters, poachers, and animal traffickers before they wiped out all of Mother Earth’s Innocent Ones. The what, where, and how remained unclear.

Forty-five minutes later, the Caddy rolled to a stop in front of Mr. Mayhem’s log cabin in Jackson, our home base for the last two weeks. Nature embraced the landscape, my constitution rejuvenated by the sweetness of cedar, birch, and pine.

Dog tired, I trod up the stairs behind Shicheii, my injured body demanding rest. Since we missed sunrise, are we skipping morning prayer?

Mr. Mayhem cradled a sleeping Poe in one arm, Spirit Crow perched on his shoulder. As much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, we need to leave soon. The Killzme Corporation is well-aware of this location.

My grandfather’s soulful gaze settled on me, two long gray braids reaching for his waist. How does a nice hot cup of wild tea sound?

Like heaven. When I rotated to my mentor, my inner cheerleaders quieted. Do we have time?

One quick cup. The longer we stay, the greater the risk. Mr. Mayhem held the screen door for my grandfather. Let me help you with the tea, old friend.

Thank you, Cheveyo, but I can manage on my own. Sit. Rest. The back of Shicheii’s fingers fluffed Spirit Crow’s chest feathers. Would you like some fruit, child?

Rattle, rattle, coo... Her and Poe’s love language.

Care to join me, or would you rather stay with your beloved?

Spirit Crow swapped shoulder perches.

Cheveyo, I’d be happy to take Poe, as well.

No, thank you. Mr. Mayhem stroked the spoiled brat’s bill. Once he realizes where we are, he’ll want to search for Lenore. I’m afraid he faces a difficult dilemma.

Whoa. Never considered that. Poor bastard finally captured a female’s attention, and now, he had to flee the area. Maybe I’d get lucky, and Poe would refuse to leave. I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick.

Mr. Mayhem settled at the table. Good idea.

Are we heading back home?

All three of us lived in Massachusetts. Ever since Shicheii and I reconnected, he moved into my house in Saugus. Mr. Mayhem owned a brownstone in Boston.

You read the invitation. Did you not? Mr. Mayhem’s hard stare raised all my tiny neck hairs. The hunt is in eight days. We need to head straight to Alaska, and it’s much too long of a drive for us to dilly dally beforehand.

Drive? No way I heard that right. When’s our flight?

A plane is no longer an option. With no way to determine who might follow us, the safest and most vigilant way to travel is via car.

Seriously? But I told Levaughn and Nadine I’d explain everything when I got home.

Cat, if we stop at your humble abode, we’ll endanger Miss Couture. If you must speak with her, have her meet you at Detective Samuels’s home. At least he can protect himself should trouble arise.

Shit. How am I supposed to explain that?

Tactfully.

Tactfully? Some help he was. Alright, I’ll handle it.

By the time I returned to the porch after my shower, Mr. Mayhem and Shicheii had both showered and changed, too. A mug of hot wild tea awaited me on the table, the tinfoil cap trapping its heat inside. How long was I in there?

About forty-five minutes. Mr. Mayhem pulled his wet hair into a low braid at the base of his neck. Did you contact your friend?

At this hour? She’d kill me. I’ll do it later. In my chair, I dragged the stirrer through the honey, drizzling sweet nectar into my mug. Not sure how she’s gonna take it after last time.

When we battled skinwalkers last year, the head honcho abducted Nadine. What transpired during her captivity remained vague because she’d never talk about it.

Would you like me to speak with her? Shicheii sipped his tea. I’d be happy to help lessen the burden.

Will you talk to Levaughn, too?

For you, my love? Of course.

A crow fight broke out near the wood line, Poe screeching at decibels unfit for human ears. Focused on the roosting conifer, Mr. Mayhem leaned to one side. Soon, Poe chased two big males across the yard, down the dirt driveway, and through the tunnels of trees. Ca-caw, caw, caw thundered across the thermals. A few minutes later, he flapped toward the porch, landing on the railing, chest heaving, beady eyes narrowing on his father, the tricolored-gold braid draped around his neck.

I am aware the timing is not ideal, bud. However, you cannot expect Lenore to put her life on hold for you.

The hard stare morphed into the stink eye.

Look. If you’d rather stay here, I shall drive up to get you when we return. I’m sure Edgar would be happy to take your place.

Poe’s bill parted as though he couldn’t believe his father suggested his brother take over as lead crow.

Staying here sounds like the perfect plan to me. Elbows on the table, my mug hovered in front of my lips, steam billowing up my face. Poe can pop his cherry, and I’ll actually get some peace for once. Win-win.

Aghast, my grandfather rocked back. Mourning Dove—

What? My shoulders sprang to my ears. I’m just sayin’ it seems like an ideal situation.

Don’t you need to pack? Mr. Mayhem grimaced before focusing back on Pissy Pants. Now, could you please tell your mother we’ll be leaving soon?

Poe’s head whipped to one side.

You heard me, little mister.

With a yelp, he dove into his father’s chest.

All right, all right. We shan’t leave you behind.

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

Fuck. There goes my solace. Gray, almost translucent, eyes thinned at me, and I shot out of my chair. Okay, alright, I’m goin’.

Thank you, Cat.

Yeah, yeah. This should be fun. Not. How long would I be stuck in a car with that psychotic crow?

In my bedroom, I thumbed out a quick text before Levaughn left for work.

Hey, it’s me. We’re heading back in a few. Can you meet me at your place around 8 AM?

Text bubbles emerged.

Babe, I’ve been up half the night with my sister. Becca’s father is missing. They suspect foul play.

Fuck! Becca’s father was none other than Chip Worthington, a bigwig in the Killzme Corporation, who Mr. Mayhem cut into manageable pieces and I’d helped bury—twice.

Before I had a chance to respond, another text appeared.

Maggie said her grandfathers picked her up from Becca’s that night. If you have any info for the local police, you need to call them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! My thumbs worked the keypad.

This is the first I’ve heard about it. Why do you think he’s missing?

Cleaning lady found blood in the home office.

Fuck! I poked my head out the doorway. Problem.

At the end of the hall, Mr. Mayhem stopped. What sort of problem?

I kept my voice low. Cops know about Worthington.

He hustled down the hall. Define ‘know’.

Another text chimed.

Babe?

I fired off a quick reply.

Sorry. In the middle of packing. One sec. Shicheii’s calling me.

Panic thrashed at my ears, heartbeat soaring to new heights. Cleaning lady found blood.

The blood I tasked you with cleaning?

I planted a fist on my hip. If you wanna point fingers, yeah. That blood.

And you know this how?

Levaughn. Maggie told him you guys picked her up that night.

Thus far, I don’t see the problem. Detective Samuels was fully aware Little Rain stayed in Jackson for the weekend.

Long story short, Shicheii also gave Maggie a traditional name while teaching us about our shared Diné heritage—aka Navajo—something she knew from birth. Though I was happy for her to have that history, I was a smidge jealous, as I only discovered my heritage last year.

If memory serves, Mr. Mayhem’s tone stayed calm and cool, your grandfather said he spoke with Detective Samuels when he drove up to collect Little Rain.

After I rescued Maggie from the same scumbag foster father who abused me decades earlier, Levaughn’s sister, Austyn, adopted her. Maggie thrived in her care.

Right, right. The knot in my stomach loosened somewhat. I forgot he came here.

What exactly has he asked of you?

I flashed my iPhone screen.

May I?

Once I passed him the cell, his finger scrolled through the messages from Levaughn, a smirk lingering on his lips. He’s fishing for information. Don’t provide any. As far as you know, Little Rain chose not to stay at Becca’s house for a sleepover, and your grandfather and I merely transported her from there to here. Nothing more, nothing less.

Why wasn’t he freaking out? The cops know Worthington’s dead. Murdered.

They know no such thing. All they have are a few droplets of blood. The police may suspect foul play, but without a body, their investigation will never gain traction. Unless, of course, they discover Mister Worthington’s illegal trafficking activities. In which case, the suspect list will swell with possibilities. At that point, your grandfather and I would become witnesses, at best. In the future, however, I wish you’d pay more attention to details.

Great, so he blamed me. Maybe it was my fault. In my defense, I scrubbed a shitload of blood off the desk, chair, and floor in a limited amount of time, so he and I could hightail it back to the cabin before Shicheii and Maggie woke that morning. Not easy, considering my grandfather expected us in the yard by 4:15 a.m. to observe and learn from wildlife in the pre-dawn then pray and marvel at Father Sun’s ascent over the eastern horizon.

I will say—he returned my iPhone—this long pause of silence will only enhance his suspicions of guilt. Simply play dumb. You are just as surprised to hear the news as anyone else.

Seriously? That was his best advice—play dumb? Alright, I guess.

Splendid. Glad I could help. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I also need to pack.

The moment my thumbs hit the keypad, Mr. Mayhem filled my doorway again. While you’re in here, please gather all these dirty dishes. The pungency of dried food will draw unwanted visitors to an empty cabin.

Ugh. Fine.

Unless you’d rather help me dispose of the poachers scattered across the acreage?

All good, thanks. This room will shine like a beetle’s ass by the time you get back.

Splendid. Slight grin. Looking forward to it.

Crap. Now I had to clean this mess, but it was better than getting arm-deep in human remains. Again.

After he left, I thumbed out a response to Levaughn.

Can you meet me or not?

Alright. Meet U here @ 8.

Cool. Thnx. See ya soon. Love you!

Love U 2, babe.

Next, I fired off a quick text to my pain-in-the-ass bestie, Nadine. And, as usual, rather than make things easy, she called.

Without so much as a hello, she started in on me the second I answered. Why can’t you come here? I have to get ready for work.

Nay, gimme a break, will ya? Now seated on the foot of my bed, I clawed a hand through my bangs. I’ve been up all night.

Well, excuse me, but you’re the one asking for a favor.

Too damn tired to argue with her, I relented. "You’re right. Sorry I snapped at you. Can you please meet me at Levaughn’s?"

Patrons of the library are expecting me to open the doors at eight o’clock sharp. I can’t just drop everything because you decide today is finally convenient for you to make an appearance.

Ooh, that chick knew right where to push. Though she did have a point. We were only supposed to be in New Hampshire for a long weekend, but with all the shit that went down—the crow hunt, the wolves, the wolfdogs, and a lot of dead poachers—we stayed for two weeks. Not that I could tell her any of that.

The library’s open on a Sunday?

It’s the Children’s Reading Circle, and the kiddos have been looking forward to it all week.

Damn. No way would Ms. Librarian disappoint little kids. This event was probably the highlight of her week. Can you maybe sneak out for a few minutes after you open? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Please, Nay?

A heavy sigh echoed over the line. I could maybe get there for eight-thirty.

Cool, thanks. Err... How should I put this? Any chance you could bring Berkley and Katie McGuire?

What? Why?

I’ll explain everything when I see you.

Another dramatic breath echoed over the line. Okay, but if I have to come back here first, I may not make it to Levaughn’s until nine-ish, depending on how much they struggle getting into the carriers.

Shit. I’ll be gone by then.

Shawn, you better tell me what’s going on. I mean it. No more lies.

What could I do? I had to tell her something or she might not show, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not kissing my fur-babies goodbye. I’d never been away from my cats for this long. Well, except for the time I lost consciousness for nine days from corpse powder. Whatever. Not the point.

After wavering back on forth on how much to reveal, I end-resulted it for her. There’s a powerful corporation after me, and I need to lie low for a while. But I wanna see you—and them—before I leave town in case the plan backfires.

Ship. My BFF intentionally mangled swear words to ease her Catholic guilt. How we remained friends all our lives, I had no clue. Sounds serious. Are you in danger?

Instead of sugar-coating the facts, I said yes. Now do you understand why I need to meet you at Levaughn’s? I’m tryin’ to keep you safe.

Fine. I’ll call Maureen and she if she can fill in for me.

Thanks, Nay. You’re the best.

Uh-huh. A glibness edged her tone. You just better come clean when I see you.

I will, I lied. See ya lata, alligata.

In a while, crocodile.

Chapter 2

"If you want a place in the Sun,

you must leave the shade of the family tree."

—Native American Proverb

8:10 a.m.

Before Mayhem left Jackson, he used the tractor to dig a mass grave at the far end of his acreage, into which he dragged all the dead poachers—members of the Killzme Corporation—who dared to breach the cabin grounds forty-eight hours earlier. Admittedly, he should have buried them sooner, but protecting loved ones and ending the torture of captive Eastern Gray Wolves took precedent.

Now, parked in front of Detective Samuels’ bungalow-style home in Saugus, Massachusetts, Poe sulked in his lap. Although his heart ached for his loyal companion, Spirit Crow superseded his authority as she towered over Poe. Long ago, he’d learned never to argue with the most amazing mother on the planet.

While Mayhem waited for Shawnee and Jacy Lee, a green Camry putted into the driveway. Shawnee’s friend, Nadine Couture, lifted out two plastic carriers from the backseat.

Oh, my. Please don’t approach the Caddy. Cats would only worsen the discord playing out in the front seat.

Darling—he scooped Spirit Crow off the middle console—could you please offer your wise counsel? He cannot sulk all the way to Alaska, and I’m afraid my well of wisdom has run dry.

Thankfully, Miss Couture continued straight to the front stoop. After Shawnee greeted her friend, she squealed. My babies!

The door closed behind them.

Tension mounted between Spirit Crow and Poe, the angry vocalizations refusing to allow a moment of repose. Could you two please discuss the business with Lenore over there?

Poe tossed him the stink eye before soldiering into the passenger seat with Mayhem’s beloved wife, Kimi, her soul now embodying the angelic Spirit Crow.

High pitched caws sliced right behind his eyes. Please lower the volume. Thank you. He reclined the seat, the fedora dragged over his face for a brief respite.

A knock at the driver’s side window shattered that idea. When he lifted the hat, Shawnee motioned for him to roll down the window. Sleeping on the job?

Merely resting my eyes. What can I do for you, Cat?

Levaughn wants to meet you.

Meet me, or question me about Mister Worthington?

Meet you. He hasn’t even mentioned Worthington again.

All right, then. Though he doubted the detective’s sincerity, he swung his legs out of the car. How much have you told him?

Nothing. Might be easier if you, maybe, started the ball rolling.

This is the man you claim to love, yet you cannot speak freely around him?

When she opened the front door, he firmed a hand on the wood, urging her to enter ahead of him. Shawnee led him through a chef’s kitchen, into the living room, where thick wooden beams braced a knotty pine ceiling throughout cathedral-high first and second levels. The top floor overlooked the main, a hand-carved cherrywood railing siding the stairs. An antler chandelier added a rustic charm, with tiny white lights weaved through bone, glinting a soft glow. On the leather sofa sat Jacy Lee and Miss Couture, each with a cat in their lap.

The tall, dark detective had a mysterious air about him that he tried to mask with a pleasant smile. I’m Levaughn. Nice to meet you...?

Cheveyo. Firm handshake. Too firm for a casual encounter. Detective Samuels wanted something from this exchange. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Does my niece call you Dede—Sorry, I can’t remember the other word for grandfather.

"Dedenaan. And yes, she does."

See, that’s where I’m confused. The detective’s tone alluded to jealousy. Why would she call you grandfather?

Shawnee backhanded his arm. Levaughn—

What, babe? Jacy Lee, I can understand. He’s actually your blood relative. He jutted a disrespectful thumb at Mayhem. But he isn’t related to either of you.

Well, technically, Maggie doesn’t share any of our blood, either. Is that what constitutes a family these days?

Babe—the detective’s boastful chest deflated—I’m just trying to put the pieces together. That’s all.

Sounds a lot like male ego bullshit to me.

Before this argument escalated, Mayhem humored him. Perhaps I can clear up some confusion, Detective. Little Rain—pardon, Maggie—plays with my grandson, Jude.

Okay. I’ve heard about Jude.

Then you may also be familiar with my daughter, Cheyenne?

Uh-huh. Detective Samuels’s head rocked up and down. Austyn speaks highly of her.

"Your sister’s a peach. Because the little ones play together, they both call me Dedenaan, grandfather in Chippewa." Though Mayhem had more Apache blood, Kimi favored her Chippewa roots. Thus, they combined the traditions of both cultures to raise their children.

That explains it. Thank you, Cheveyo.

My pleasure, Detective. He held his gaze, tension mounting between them. Are there any other misunderstandings I can help you with?

Clearing his throat, Jacy Lee rose. Mourning Dove, why don’t you tell Levaughn—

As a matter of fact, there is. His chest inflated again, and a little thrill zipped up Mayhem’s spine, ready for the detective to show his cards. I understand you picked up my niece at Chip Worthington’s house.

Now they’d reached the real reason for the invitation to enter his home. Why Shawnee hadn’t seen through the false pretenses remained a mystery. Jacy Lee and I did, yes.  Is Mister Worthington a friend of yours, Detective?

It’s Levaughn. I wouldn’t call Chip a close friend, but we’ve had a few drinks over the years. When you picked up my niece, he countered, accenting my niece to stake some sort of proprietor claim over her, did you enter the residence at all?

Let’s see. He tapped a stiff finger to his lips. If memory serves, I believe Little Rain met me at the door. Why do you ask, Detective?

Chip was reported missing two days ago.

Really? How unfortunate. My condolences to the family. Out of respect for Shawnee, he would have ended the conversation there and excused himself, but her boyfriend refused to let it go, forcing Mayhem to invade his personal space. Do you and I have a problem, Detective?

Enough! Shawnee shoved her boyfriend back. I told you we didn’t know shit about Becca’s dad. She lowered her voice. You’re acting like a jilted lover.

Let me put your mind at ease, Detective. Although Shawnee will stay at my cabin, my wife will be there as well.

And her name is?

Once a loved one passed, it was bad luck to speak their birth name aloud. Thus, he had no choice but to sidestep the question.

Hoping to move things along, he focused on Jacy Lee. Now might be a good time to say your goodbyes, old friend. We have a long drive ahead of us. He tipped the fedora at Nadine. Nice to see you again, Miss Couture.

As usual, she tittered like a schoolgirl. The few times they’d met, she’d spoken very few words—more blushing and giggling than any meaningful conversation. Easily influenced, but adorable, with her big blue eyes and dark hair.

With the black cat now bundled in her arms, Shawnee set a hand on the railing. Nay, can you help me upstairs for a sec?

Once the women cleared out, Jacy Lee cupped the detective’s cheek. Levaughn, you’re better than this. Do you really want my granddaughter to leave with discord between you?

Respectfully, she shouldn’t be leaving at all.

"Do you recall when you first aspired to join the police force, that