Page 33 of The Lovely and the Lost

In the wild, some animals puff themselves up to seem bigger,I thought. It was a defense mechanism, an attempt to fake strength. The sheriff was posturing.

I didn’t particularly care why.

“You don’t know me,” I said. I had a tendency to fall on the wrong side of the line between looking at someone and staring them down. At the moment, I didn’t fight it. “You don’t get to talk about my judgment—or Cady’s.”

Despite his best efforts not to, the sheriff looked away first.

“Do you know how Gabriel Cortez came to work for your grandfather?” The question was aimed at a spot just over my left shoulder. “Bales Bennett trains animals—for law enforcement, personal security, general obedience. But for the past few years, his pet project has been a pilot program that uses juvenile delinquents to train service animals.”

Service animals, as in Seeing Eye dogs,I thought, remembering the litter of rough-and-tumble golden retriever puppies.And juvenile delinquents,I continued silently,as in Gabriel.

“Why don’t you ask Bales where he met Gabriel?” The sheriff took a generous step back and smiled in a way that made me wish he’d taken two. “Better yet, ask Bales why he trusts a kid who went to juvie for kidnapping and assault.”

Some words got a visceral reaction out of me.Hunt. Threat. Hunger. Blood.Butkidnappingandassaultwere different. They didn’t hit me the way they might have hit Jude or Free. I didn’t recoil.

Ithought.

I remembered Gabriel helping me find Saskia, the wounds I’d left in his arm, and the expression on his face when he’d shrugged them off.

When the sheriff made his exit, Jude and Free descended on me, but Silver was the one who gave me a piece of her mind: a high-pitched whine in the back of her throat, followed by a five-point check:hand, hand, knee, knee, stomach.She wasn’t quite as gentle as she could have been.

“Somebody’s in trouble,” Free said tartly.

I’d allowed the sheriff to take me aside. I’d put myself in a vulnerable position, then chosen to let some fraction of my animal instincts out. Free probably wasn’t any happier about that than Silver was.

“The sheriff said that Gabriel has a juvie record.” I stuck to the bare-bones facts—and kept the wordskidnappingandassaultto myself.

“So he has a record.” Free shrugged. “If I wasn’t a blond-haired, light-eyed looker, so would I.”

The shopkeeper came out from behind the counter. “I’ve known Bradley Rawlins since he was a kid. His bark is worse than his bite. He’s a good sheriff, cares about the community, even coaches soccer at the local high school.”

“I’m sensing abutcoming here,” Jude said hopefully.

The old man frowned at him, then sighed. “But when a Rawlins gets something in his teeth, he doesn’t let go.” He ran the back of his fingers over the underside of his chin. “As near as I can remember, the sheriff went to school with your mother. Cady had a bad habit of leaving broken hearts in her wake.”

Free tossed her long blond ponytail over one shoulder. “It doesn’t count as breaking someone’s heart if they never had a piece of yours.”

I could feel Girl stalking in the shadows of my mind. She hadn’t forgotten about the knives or the guns in the cases. She hadn’t forgotten the trap. I’d officially reached my limit on chitchat.

Ash,I reminded myself. We’d come here to ask about Ash.

“John Ashby,” I said, knowing that I’d reached my capacity for human interaction but pushing forward for Jude’s sake. “Did Cady breakhisheart?”

It wasn’t subtle, but it was the best I could do. I couldn’t make eye contact, couldn’t keep my teeth from gritting so hard that I could hear it in my ears.

Jude nudged me toward the door. “We’ll take it from here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

The rush of cool air that hit my face when I flew out the door calmed me. Maybe the sheriff had gotten under my skin, or maybe the events of the day were catching up with me. Either way, I fell back on habit and began counting down from one hundred.

Byseventy, I’d quelled the desire to run.

Byfifty, I’d managed to turn my mind to Free and Jude and the questions they were probably still asking inside.

One for all, and all for trouble.No matter how many lines Free added to the Miscreants’ Creed, the last one was always the same.

Thirty.I could breathe.Twenty. The sound of the door opening behind me told me that I wasn’t alone.