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“Nope.” He took a sip of coffee, his gaze distant. “Janie’s time is running out. If we don’t find her today or tomorrow, we’re not going to find her at all.”

“I feel the same way, wolf.” Gwen sighed and rose stiffly from the stool. “I’ve got some packs ready with zombie deterrents and sleep potions in them. I’ll just add some stakes, then you’re ready to go.”

ETHAN WATCHED HER WALK AWAY. HER HOBBLING WAS worse this morning and pain pinched her mouth. “Why is your grandmother doing this?” he asked once Gwen had gone.

Kat’s glance was quizzical. “Doing what?”

“This. Chasing bad things. Why do it when she’s old enough to retire?”

“She’s also strong enough to turn you over her knee and paddle your butt for even suggesting such a thing.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “I reckon she’d enjoy it, too.”

Kat’s own smile was fleeting. “You’d better believe it.”

Ethan sipped his coffee and studied Kat. There was strain around her eyes and shadows beneath them. He’d thought they’d settled all their problems last night, but looking at her now, he had to wonder.

“So, why isn’t your mother here helping?”

Her expression tightened. “My mother is dead.”

He hesitated but didn’t apologize. He could never understand exactly why people did that, though as a cop, he’d certainly done enough of it himself.

“Did she die on the job?”

She snorted. “No. She overdosed.”

“Deliberately?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does any addict overdose deliberately?”

“Yes.” And far too often for anyone’s liking.

Her gaze slid from his. “I have no idea whether it was deliberate or not. Gwen probably knows, but I’ve never asked.”

“Why not?”

“Because I barely knew her.”

“Were you young when she died?”

Her smile was bitter, and her hurt swam around him. “I was ten. But she never had much to do with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I was a hindrance to her social life. Gran raised me from the time I was born.”

And if that hurt was anything to go by, she resented the abandonment, if only on a subconscious level. “And she never tried to help your mother?”

She gave him a long look. “Addicts have to want to be helped before you can help them. You should know that.”

“I reckon your grandmother could convince a cat to shower if she wanted to.”

“I reckon she probably could. But Mom was her daughter and every bit as strong-minded.”

“What about your dad?”

She looked away again. “I never knew my dad.”

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