“True,” I said, though I was still feeling uneasy. The name Gaby gave me a little jolt of recognition. “Are you sure, though? Did she check? That name… I don’t know. I’m not trying to scare you. I woke up in a panic when I saw your picture.” I thought a moment. “There were big flowerpots on the patio.”
Hernández made a noise. “I’m going over myself right now to check.” And then she hung up again.
Could I have tried to go back to sleep to see more? Maybe. I’d tried before but it hadn’t worked. After nightmares, I was too keyed up to sleep. One time, I tried taking a sleeping pill, but that was a failed experiment. I’d been trapped in horrors, cycling through my brain. I’d learned nothing more and instead had been given more fodder for future nightmares.
TWELVE
We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Program for Murder
At a little after three, when I was putting a fourth batch of cookies in the oven, I heard a knock on the back door. With a flick of my fingers, the outside light over the door went on. I’d spelled the back windows a few days ago to be opaque from the deck looking in. I knew the gallery was getting ready to open and more random people would be visiting my property. I could see out, but potential creeps, like the one earlier, couldn’t see through the windows into my home or gallery.
Bracken stood under the light, squinting into the dark glass nervously. When I opened the door, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid my knock would wake you up.” He walked in, gesturing to the glass. “I understand why you did that, and I agree, but now I can’t see light from your windows, so I don’t know when you’re up.”
“Oh,” I said as I headed to the kitchen to brew more tea. “I hadn’t thought of that. We need to come up with a better system then.”
He sat on the couch. “I was taking a break and came out to sit on a bench and be at one with the waves in the moonlight.” He watched me plate a few cookies. “It helps me wind down so I can sleep. Tonight, though, I smelled cookies and thought I’d take a chance and knock.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said, bringing the plate and a mug to the table for him. I went back for my own mug, checked the timer for the cookies in the oven, and went to sit with him.
“Mmm, delicious. I thought I’d smelled chocolate.” He took a sip of his tea and leaned back. “You’ve spoiled me.” He shook his head and took another bite. “You bring me peace and comfort.”
“And cookies,” I added.
“Thank goodness,” he said. “And thank the Goddess.” He glanced up the stairs to my loft. “No Declan, I take it.”
I shook my head. “Hopefully, he’s home sleeping by now.” A thought struck me. “Or maybe he’s sleeping in the woods in his fur.” I pictured it, nodding. “I hope he sleeps well.”
“I must admit,” Bracken began, “as much as I benefit from your baking, I feel guilty that you have to experience horrible things in order for me to have middle-of-the-night treats.”
Shrugging, I sipped my tea. “The nightmares happen. Why shouldn’t cookies too?”
He grinned into his mug. “I believe you have a future as a fortune cookie writer, should art fall through for you.”
“It’s always good to have options.” The timer dinged and I went back to the kitchen area. “I wasn’t ready to start blowing glass, so I made a batch of lemon drop cookies, if you’d like one.”
“They smell delicious. I’d love one.”
It had only been a few weeks that Bracken had been living here, but I could already hear a lessening of tension in his voice. He’d never be what some of the family would consider normal, but the fact that he seemed more relaxed, more comfortable around me, made me very happy.
“Some bakers like to drizzle an icing on their lemon drops, but I prefer a lemon zest-powdered sugar combination.” I put my concoction in a special sieve with wider gaps for the tiny pieces of zest. I shook it lightly over the warm cookies. I liked to do two dustings. One when they were warm, so the tart sugary taste melted in, and then another light dusting when they were cool for more of a pretty, powdery finish.
I took back Bracken’s empty plate and slid two lemon cookies on it, returning it to him. I grabbed myself a cookie, took a bite, and loved the quick tart snap to the back of my tongue.
“Mmm. You are a master, dear,” he said.
I felt a little bubble of joy in my chest as I took another bite and then I remembered something. Spooning out more lemon drops onto a baking sheet, I said, “Earlier, you told me Otis, Daisy, and Jasper came to you for food, but you didn’t have anything. Did you mean that literally?” I gestured to the refrigerator. “There’s always food in there—more than usual since there’s a werewolf around. I have groceries delivered. I can add whatever you want to my shopping list. And I can give you a key.”
He waved away that last suggestion. “No. This is your home, and you deserve privacy. You have a boyfriend that often stays with you. You don’t need me wandering in looking for a snack.”
His hand dropped back to the couch, and he said, “But I would like to order groceries along with you. That’s one of the reasons I want to get a car. Taking an RV to a local supermarket isn’t terribly convenient.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Make out a list and we can use the app together, so you get exactly what you want. When you get a car, I might even go shopping with you.” Once those words were out of my mouth, I wanted to snatch them back. Supermarkets were filled with people who occasionally brushed you as they passed in narrow aisles. The psychic noise could be loud.
Bracken must have seen my expression because he said, “I like to shop in the middle of the night in one of those twenty-four-hour markets. The store is empty except for a skeleton crew of zombies restocking shelves.”
“Oh,” I said, sliding the sheets back into the oven and setting the timer again. I stripped off the rubber gloves I used for baking, leaving my normal ones. “I’d love to be able to walk the cooking aisle and see everything they offer. Okay, that’s a plan. Once we have a car, I’ll go late-night shopping with you. In the meantime, we can place an order today.”