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She arched a brow. “Do we trust Doris?”
I pursed my lips. I’d been asking myself the same question. “I’d like to.”
“But do you?”
I shrugged. “I think she’s trying her best to help us.”
“It took a blockade for her to get in touch,” Felicity reminded me.
“Yeah, that’s true.” There was no pretending that Doris hadn’t been exactly forthcoming in offering us assistance. She was paying for that now, and all of Carter’s Creek along with her. “She’s carrying a lot of shame, Cheeks. I think, in her position, I would be, too.”
She went silent, her eyes fixed on the wall.
“Cheeks?”
“Sorry. I’m just thinking it over.” She rubbed her palms down her thighs like she was trying to discharge static. “I saw Gena today.”
“How is she?”
“Recovering. She says she remembers something Melony said. Just before she attacked Gena. She saidgive me my babies back.”
Shit.
Then, it was true. She really was that delusional.
She truly believed the boys were hers.
“Doris mentioned something similar,” I admitted. “Melony recently learned she can’t have children.”
“So she’s taken ours instead.” There was an unfamiliar venom in her voice. It might have been one of the first true emotions she’d shown since the boys’ abduction, other than her ever-present sadness and grief.
“Looks like it, yeah.”
“Okay.” She nodded, like she was agreeing with the crown molding. “I want you to make the call. If this Dennis Kerry guy has any chance of succeeding where we’ve failed, then we have to ask, don’t we?”
“You’re right,” I agreed, reaching for my phone. “We need a shifter. A professional.”
And Dennis Kerry sounded like just the man for the job.
Chapter8
Felicity
One call was all it took.
In two days’ time, we would have an audience with Dennis Kerry. Once the bounty hunter wrapped up his current assignment, he’d fly into Boston and drive up to Evergreen first thing. We still needed to discuss specifics before he was willing to commit to the job, but he hadn’t denied us from the get-go. That gave me hope.
Hope, as it turned out, was the most fragile object I’d ever held in my hands. I was afraid to touch it too often, breathe in its direction, even glance down to make sure it was still there.
As we awaited Dennis’s arrival, I kept myself busy. If this bounty hunter was truly able to do the impossible and track down the shifters who seemed to have blinked out of existence with our sons in tow, then I was determined to provide him with hospitality fit for a king.
I vacuumed like a madwoman, cleaned every mirror, polished the leather of the downstairs couches until each gleamed like it was brand new. I ransacked Nana Jordan’s old recipe box and baked until the entire lodge smelled like fresh snickerdoodles, brown butter and oatmeal, salted caramel shortbread, and gooey chocolate chip.
“You know we’re not paying him in baked goods, right?” Xander pointed out, helping himself to a Kolaczki filled with apricot jam. He closed his eyes and moaned as he chewed. “Though, at this rate, it may be worth trying.”
“I have to do something.” I wiped sweat from my brow with a tea towel, then slung it over my shoulder as I bent to check the oven. The lemon cookies inside were still too soft. They’d need a few more minutes, then several hours to cool before I topped them with candied lemon slices and a light powdered sugar glaze. “Besides, it’s not like they’re going to waste.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Xander assured me, powdered sugar dusting his upper lip. “You’re doing more for pack morale than I am these days.”
