Brown’s mustache twitched with what might have been excitement. Or it could have been the urge to sneeze. “The dogs. You think the perp was possessing or controlling the dogs, and he wanted them to kill you and the sheriff.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“All of them at once?” Brown Two was skeptical. “You think we have multiple perps possessing animals?”
“Maybe. Or we may have someone who can control or possess more than one animal at a time. And yes, that’s supposed to be impossible, but this case is just crammed with impossibilities.”
“So how do we decide what to pursue?” Brown Two said, frustrated. “If everything’s equally impossible . . .”
“That’s why it’s such fun working on Unit cases. We get to make it up as we go along.” Lily sent her gaze around the room. “For now, we’re focusing on the animal vics. Those dogs tried to kill me and Deacon for the same reason Meacham bludgeoned his family and Hodge decided to blast away at neighbors and strangers—because they were possessed by something that feeds off death. Which means that people in this community may be in danger from the family pet.”
TWENTY-TWO
A shower had swept in, washing the air with the best smells in the world. Toby sat in his bed with the window open, which Grammy wouldn’t like because the covers might get wet.
He didn’t care. He didn’t care what she liked or what anyone else liked or didn’t like. They could all just leave him alone.
Especially her. She’d never had a problem doing that before.
He’d heard her. He’d been about to come downstairs and get some breakfast and see if Dad wanted to do something, maybe kick the ball around or go to the park so he could practice corner kicks. Then he heard her talking to Dad. His stomach had seized up and his throat had closed, almost as if he were scared.
He wasn’t, dammit. He tried the word out in a whisper. “Dammit.” It didn’t make his stomach feel any better.
His door opened. Toby looked around, scowling. It was Dad, and he hadn’t even knocked. “You’re supposed to knock.”
“Knocking implies I’d go away if you didn’t give me permission to enter. I’m not waiting on permission. I’m not Grammy.”
A worm of guilt squirmed around in Toby’s gut. He’d yelled at Grammy to go away when she knocked. Tough on her. She always takes Mom’s side. “I don’t want to talk to her or you or—or anyone.”
“Anyone meaning your mother, I take it.” Dad came over and sat on Toby’s bed—again without waiting to be asked. “You will apologize to Grammy.”
Toby just scowled. He probably would. Just not yet. “You’re gonna make me go down and be nice to Mom.”
Dad shook his head. “No, I’m going to make you apologize to Grammy.”
Surprise wiggled in so fast he couldn’t stop it. “So it’s okay if I don’t want to talk to Mom?”
“I don’t tell you what to want or not want. I sometimes tell you what you must do or not do. I’ve decided this one is your choice.”
Curiosity made it hard to keep his anger hot, so he scowled extra. “How come?”
“More or less the same reason I allowed you to choose to speak with the press. If it’s a mistake, it’s one you can learn from.”
“I hate her.” His stomach roiled unhappily. “I’m pretty sure I do. What does she want, anyway?”
“She wants to talk with you. That’s all I know.”
“It’s about the hearing, I bet. She didn’t tell you why she’s here?”
“She won’t speak of her intentions until you come down.”
And they needed to know. They needed to know why she was here, if she’d changed her mind about custody, what she was going to do. Toby’s chin set stubbornly. “You could make her tell.”
Dad’s face turned hard, as if Toby had insulted him. “I do not make women do things against their will.”
Shame added itself to the unhappy mix in his stomach. “You think she’ll go away if I stay up here? Or come up and knock on my door and . . .” And that’s who he’d wanted to yell at, he realized. Not Grammy. He’d wanted Mom to come to the door so he could yell at her to go away.
“I don’t know. My guess is that she isn’t leaving without speaking to you, but you can wait here and see.” Rule paused. “I assume you’ve thought about the consequences of this choice.”
He hadn’t. He didn’t want to think about her at all, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “I don’t want her here. I don’t want to talk to her or look at her or—or anything.” He wanted to keep hating her, but he might not. If he saw her, he might not hate her enough to . . . to keep from feeling other things.
“You’re very angry with her. She hasn’t put your needs first. But she’s given you the chance to have those needs met by others, especially Grammy. She’s spent time with you, but she’s never stayed with you. She’s let you down.”
She hadn’t come for Christmas. Toby swallowed and looked away.
He didn’t need her to live here with him and Grammy, not all the time, but she hadn’t come home for Christmas. That had been the one thing he could count on her for—that she’d be here, and she’d bring presents, and they’d eat turkey and dressing together, and she’d stay a few days. For a few days they’d all be a family like they were supposed to be.
Last Christmas, she hadn’t come. She’d gotten a fancy new position with the AP on the other side of the world, and she hadn’t come. And for all the months since Christmas, she hadn’t come. When Grammy broke her leg, Dad and Lily had come and helped. Uncle Mark and Aunt Deirdre had, too. Mom had called, sure, but she hadn’t come.
Now she had.
Toby looked down at his feet, which were up on the bed with the rest of him, on covers that were, maybe, a little damp. His stomach hurt. He couldn’t think of what to say.
“You’re in a place where none of your choices feel good, aren’t you?” Dad had sympathy in his voice. Not pity, not poor-little-boy stuff. Just sympathy.
That sympathy unwound him and stuff burst out. “I just feel so much! It’s too much. I don’t know what to do with it all, and it’s all mixed up! I wish I could shut it off, or barf it all up and get it out of me!”
Dad nodded as if that made sense, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Toby close against him and sat still. Not talking, not holding on tight. Just being there with his whole body.
Toby leaned his head on Dad’s chest and listened to his heartbeat, and after a while he felt a little better. Not a lot, but some. He sighed. “We need to know what she wants. Why she’s here.”
“It would help.”
“I don’t know what to do. I guess I should go down there, but I don’t know what to do when I see her.” He might start yelling at her, which would upset Grammy. But if he didn’t yell . . . What if he cried? He blinked fast. He was not going to cry. “Dammit,” he whispered, his head still on Dad’s chest.
“Would you like a suggestion?”
“I guess.” Dad must have heard the “dammit,” but he hadn’t said anything. For some reason that made it okay to straighten himself up and look at Dad, full on, for the first time since Dad came in.
Dad’s eyes were real serious, not angry or worried or disappointed in him. “Don’t plan out how you need to act when you see her. Plans like that come undone when the other person doesn’t behave the way we’d pictured them behaving. And they usually don’t.”