Page 3 of Cuddling Sucks in Coffins
I shrugged. “He’s a very unruly cat.”
“Miss, were you aware there was a murder in this cemetery just a few nights ago?”
My blood leached from my body, leaving me cold and empty except for that nightmare churning deeper into my mind. I was all too aware. “No, I...I hadn’t heard.”
“I would suggest you leave your cat until morning and then call the area vets and shelters to see if someone brought him in. It’s not safe out here for a young woman like you.”
A young woman like me? In some ways, I was the reason itwasn’tsafe. Paul was after me and had made his murderous point clear by killing Tim, who’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe just like this cop. He really shouldn’t be here when I was.
“Do you come here often?” I asked, realizing too late that it sounded like a bad pick-up line.
“I’m just securing the area. There was some damage inside this mausoleum, and the grounds man who would usually take care of it is...well...” He clamped his thin lips shut and sighed.
I nodded, a wave of nausea threatening the back of my throat.
“Tragic, really.” His brown eyes scoured the graveyard, and he posted his hands on his hips. The fabric of his oversized gray jacket folded away from his waist, enough for me to catch part of what was printed there—Detective. “Something about this place feels...not quite right.”
He could say that again. Tonight especially, that feeling had me in a chokehold.
“I don’t think you should be here at night,” I blurted. “It’s not safe.”
His sharp gaze zeroed in on me. “Do you know something about what happened?”
“No, I just... You’re not safe here. No one is. Not at night, anyway, when...”I’m here, I almost said. “Not after what happened.”
He puffed up his chest, which only made his suit swallow him even more, his fingers tapping on his badge as if for a reminder. “Is that a threat, miss?”
“No, it’s the truth.”
Dark amusement twisted his thin mouth. “Is it you that I should be afraid of?”
I shook my head. “I’m one of the good guys.”
He was silent for a long moment, assessing me, and I found it curious that he didn’t remind me that he was one of the good guys too.
“I think you should go now,” he finally said, nodding toward the gate. “On the way out, I would familiarize yourself with the cemetery’s operating hours on the sign if I were you.”
Negative. I hadn’t even started my patrol yet. But if it got him to leave...
“Fine.” I turned on the path. “I’ll go, Detective...?”
“Appelt.”
I gasped, my steps hitching slightly. Appelt, the same name as the mausoleum he’d just walked out of. It wasn’t terribly surprising, I supposed, but I did find it odd that he was there at this hour while growling into his cell phone and acting all suspicious toward the shifty slayer.
“Good luck finding your cat, miss,” he called.
I tipped my shovel, and my duffel still wrapped around its handle, over my shoulder in salute, my slayer sense burning for sounds of him following. He wasn’t. Well, shit. I couldn’t do a very thorough job of patrolling if I wasn’t inside the graveyard. Better to hide out somewhere until he left, or cause a distraction somewhere so he’d go faster. Maybe a distraction with my imaginary missing cat. Whatever I was about to do, I needed to do it quickly since Detective Appelt was a sitting duck for both vampires and Paul.
As soon as I swung the gate open on squawky hinges, I spotted a possible solution, though not a very good one. A car parked across the street with shiny new hubcaps that practically begged to be stolen. Good thing I wasn’t in a stealing mood. But it did give me an idea.
I strode toward another nearby car, this one with much older, duller hubcaps, the icy bite in the air nipping at my cheeks and nose. One of the hubcaps easily came loose, and I chucked it far down the street along the length of the cemetery, its bangs and rattles slicing through the silent night.
“Sylvester!” I cried, drawing the syllables out in mock desperation.
Surely everyone along the block had heard that ruckus, including my three vampires who would no doubt have questions about who this Sylvester was. Before anyone could come investigate, I sprinted toward the hubcap, snatched it from the road, and ducked behind a bush at the far side of the graveyard. Sure enough, Detective Appelt charged out into the street about half a block away. Even from this distance, I could hear his police radio buzzing through the open window of his nearby car. When he saw no sign of an unruly cat or an even unrulier slayer, he got into his car and started the engine.
I loosened a breath. As soon as he was gone, I could start my patrol. So the cop wouldn’t see me as he drove past, I circled to the back of the cemetery, keeping close to the tall iron fence that enclosed it. My slayer sense prickled for any sign of vamps, cops, Paul, stray cats, and everything in between.
