Chapter 27

Remy knew he was being ridiculous, but Ephie had only texted to say she was leaving the meeting, not when she'd gotten home. A small thing, but it was bothering him. He was sure everything was fine. Turner wasn't even a threat anymore. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened.

Ephie had gotten back to his house, where Birdie had been waiting, and now the two of them were hanging out, probably eating chocolate or some other goodies while Birdie regaled Ephie with story after crazy story about her life in Nocturne Falls.

They were most likely laughing themselves silly and having a great time. He smiled just thinking about it. Texting him that she'd arrived had just been forgotten. He understood.

But he still wanted to be sure she was okay. Maybe it was the cop in him, maybe it was some protective instinct that had kicked in when she'd reentered his life, but a drive-by couldn't hurt.

He drove down Main Street, headed for his house, but stayed on patrol all along the way, watching for suspicious activity or anyone in trouble. It was a quiet night, which was always a good thing, but then, the full moon wasn't for another three weeks.

Full moon evenings tended to be crazy. Probably crazier than in most towns. He didn't mind. The occasional hectic night kept the job interesting and made him appreciate his nights off even more.

Not that he needed any help with that now that Ephie was here. She was more than enough reason to appreciate time off.

He turned onto his street, slowing in the residential area. Everything was as it should be as he checked on his neighbors. Cars in their driveways, lights on inside the homes, and some exterior illumination giving him more than enough light to see by.

He slowed further as he approached his own house. Birdie's car was in the driveway, and everything looked fine. Except there were no lights on inside that he could see. Not even the flicker of the television. There were no lights on outside, either, and he was certain he'd turned on the porch light before going to work. He usually kept that on when he was gone.

The entire house was dark. Oddly so.

His personal internal alarm system began pinging softly. Nothing jumped out at him as being obviously wrong, but where were they? Out on the back patio? Maybe, but they'd have lights on out there, and he saw no telltale glow. It was also possible they'd both gone to bed already, but it wasn't quite nine thirty yet.

That was early for both of them. Even a woman Birdie's age.

It was enough to warrant an investigation, even though the shadow of Turner's threats no longer loomed over them. Remy wouldn't be satisfied until he'd seen both women and knew they were all right.

He parked across the driveway, blocking Birdie's car in, then called in his location to dispatch before exiting his vehicle.

He rested his hand loosely on the grip of his service pistol. A bullet might not affect him, but it would make a pretty good impact on a human. Even one who practiced voodoo. He'd only shoot if absolutely necessary, and then it would be to injure and immobilize, not kill.

Probably overreacting, but so what. This was Ephie and Birdie. They were worth a little overreacting.

He stayed in the shadows as he approached, doing everything according to his training, even though what he wanted to do was rush into the house and see that Ephie was all right as fast as possible. She had to be. There was no other option he would accept.

He went up the front porch steps, keeping to the edges where the wood was firmly supported and wouldn't creak. With his side to the front of the house so that he was a smaller target, he carefully inched toward the windows. The drapes were open.

His exceptional vision allowed him to clearly see a good portion of the living room. No movement. No signs that anything had been disturbed. He crept forward a little more, opening up the field of view.

There was something on the floor in the living room. A lump of some kind. What was that? Suddenly, the shape made sense. It was a woman's purse. Not Ephie's, though. Her purse was a simple leather rectangle. This one had fringe.

Had to be Birdie's. So where was she? And where was Ephie?

He left the porch, went around the back of the house and up onto the rear deck. The drapes covering the sliding doors were open as well, giving him a clear view inside. Beyond the dining area, he could see the purse better. He could also make out that the foyer was empty.

A frantic meow was followed by the weight of Jean-Luc's materialized form on Remy's shoulder. He picked up the cat, looking him over for signs of injury before cradling him. "Hey, buddy. You okay? Where's your mama?"

Jean-Luc pushed his head against Remy's chest, pawing at him. The cat seemed needier than usual. Almost anxiously so.

"It's all right, mon petit." Remy petted the animal, attempting to soothe him. "Let's go inside."

He used his key to open the lock and slowly slide the door back. If there was anyone in the house, they'd undoubtedly heard him already, but caution was still good.

As he'd learned from one of his colleagues who was a former Navy SEAL, slow was smooth and smooth was fast.

He stepped inside, hand once again on the grip of his pistol. He set Jean-Luc down. The cat hung close but returned to his usual transparent state. Remy scanned the space. No one in the kitchen, dining room or living room, but Remy smelled something that sent chills down his spine.

Blood. It was faint, but it grew stronger as he moved toward the front of the house. Not good. Not good at all. He cleared the rest of the house without finding a sign of either woman or any intruder, then went back to the front.

He flipped the lights on. Three small spots of blood dotted the hardwood approximately seven feet in from the door.

Jean-Luc went right to it, standing next to it and staring up at Remy. The cat was solid again. He trilled out a little meow, lifting one foot, then the other in a nervous little dance.

Remy crouched down. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Jean-Luc lifted his foot again, pawing at Remy's knee. That's when Remy saw the tiniest bit of crusted blood stuck to the fur on Jean-Luc's toes.

"Someone was here, weren't they? And you scratched them? You attacked whoever took Ephie and Birdie?" Just saying the words made Remy's throat constrict, but he was sure that's what had happened. They'd been taken. What other explanation was there? "Good boy," he managed to get out.

He stood and squeezed the radio on his shoulder. "Dispatch, I need backup at my house. Suspected abduction."

Next, he texted the sheriff. It wasn't a text he wanted to send, but Merrow needed to know his aunt had been taken. My house asap. Birdie and Ephie gone.

To preserve the scene, Remy went back out through the sliders and around to the front of the house. Jean-Luc was nowhere to be seen.

Dispatch responded as he was rounding Birdie's car, his radio crackling with the incoming message. "Backup is three minutes out."

"Roger," he responded as he stood in the middle of the driveway looking for any other clues he might have missed. Tire marks, an oil spot, a footprint. Anything.

A soft, muffled moaning came from the trunk of Birdie's car. Without hesitation, Remy gripped the edge of the trunk and pulled. Metal screeched as it gave way, the lock popping free with a tinny clunk.

Birdie was inside, duct tape binding her wrists and ankles and covering her mouth. There was a bruise on her cheek. Her eyes were closed. She moaned again.

"Hang on, Birdie, help is on the way." He carefully removed the duct tape from her mouth, then tore the pieces off her wrists and ankles. She remained lethargic. He picked her up and lifted her out as gently as he could.

He carried her to his SUV and tried to stand her up beside him, but her legs gave out when he tried to put her on her feet. He put his arm around her waist and held her upright while he got the back door open.

"Drugged," she mumbled as he helped her onto the seat.

He held on to her wrist and squeezed his radio again. "Dispatch, send an ambulance to my house. Female in need of medical attention." Her pulse was slow.

"Birdie, can you hear me? What happened? Who did this to you?"

She groaned and moved her head a fraction of an inch. In the light of his vehicle's interior, he could see a red mark on her neck. He peered closer. There was also grayish powder on her face. He brushed at it.

A moment later, his fingers began to tingle. Numbness spread through them. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to indicate whatever was in the powder was the agent that had immobilized Birdie.

He grabbed the handkerchief he kept in his pocket and used it to wipe the rest of the powder off her face, gathering it carefully so the powder could be analyzed.

Her lids flickered, and she opened her mouth to speak, her voice hoarse. "I'm not … really sure. We were … attacked as we … came in. Stun gun … I think." A shudder ran through her. "I tried to fight but … something overwhelmed me … drugs…"

"It knocked you out. What happened to Ephie?"

Birdie shook her head, eyes now fully opened. A tear slipped down her cheek as she gazed at Remy. "I don't know."