Second Nature Page 14

  "Oh. Thank you." Jorie gave herself a mental slap. "Do you want to come in?"

  "Sure." Griffin was already moving.

  "Let me take him," Jorie said, reaching for Will, who hooked his claws into Griffin's shirt so that she couldn't pluck him off his new favorite buddy. His instant affection for Griffin continued to amaze Jorie. In a way, it was soothing. If even shy Will trusted Griffin, maybe she could trust her too.

  Griffin rubbed her cheek against Will's. "He's fine." She carried the cat inside — then stopped abruptly when she saw Sid.

  What's going on? Jorie looked back and forth between Sid and Griffin. They were staring at each other like two predators checking each other out.

  Will, feeling the sudden tension, struggled to be put down.

  Never taking her eyes off Sid, Griffin crouched down and set him safely on three paws.

  "Do you two know each other?" Jorie asked.

  Neither looked at her. They were still staring at each other. "Your name is Eldridge?" Griffin asked, pointing at the logo on his cap. "Are you Tommy or Sid?"

  She knows him? Knows his family?

  Sid squinted his eyes. "I'm Sid. Do I know you?"

  Hard to imagine that anyone who had ever met Griffin would forget her. Her size alone left a lasting impression.

  "It's been fifteen years, and back then, I was a lot..." Griffin's gaze slid down her own body, and her lips curled into a wicked grin. "There was a little less of me back then."

  Sid's eyes widened. "Kylin?"

  "Oh, please!" Griffin sneered playfully. "Do I look like a politician?"

  The tension in the room dissipated when Sid chuckled. "So you're Griffin?"

  "In person. Hello, cousin."

  Now it was Jorie's turn to stare. He's her cousin? What are the chances? She shook her head. Jesus, these small towns are full of surprises. Anyone is related to everyone else. Hard to believe that these two were cousins, though. Griffin towered over the slender Sid, and his hair was blond, without the reddish highlights that glinted in Griffin's hair. The only family resemblance that Jorie noticed was the easy, lithe way he moved as he stepped up to Griffin and pulled her into a hug.

  Griffin's big body tensed, then relaxed when her cousin gave her a few gentle pats on the back. Finally, she pushed him away. "Enough already. I assume you're here to do your job."

  Sid inspected the living room. His gaze slid over walls and windows.

  The image of a predator checking out possible hiding places for prey and enemies flashed through Jorie's mind. Then she called herself to order. His name might be Sid, but he's not a character from your book.

  "You said on the phone that you work from home, so you probably don't want all the noise and trouble that having a hard-wire system installed would mean," Sid said. "The house is small enough for a wireless system. I could place contacts at every door and window, and if you want, I can install motion sensors and glass break detectors."

  "I have cats," Jorie said.

  "That's not a problem." Sid smiled reassuringly. "I have pet-friendly motion detectors. They won't go off if a cat walks in front of the sensor."

  That sounded reasonable. Jorie nodded.

  "I can even give you a discount if you're a friend of Griffin's," Sid said.

  Friend. Jorie's lips silently formed the word. It was an unfamiliar word and an unfamiliar concept. "No," she said. "I'll pay for everything. You own a business, and it's not fair for you to lose money just because I know your cousin."

  "Aw, ma'am," he said. "You don't want her to beat me up again, do you?" He glanced at Griffin and shuddered in mock fear.

  "Don't listen to him." Griffin gave him a glare. "I never beat him up. Not even when he deserved it."

  Their interaction was interesting to watch for Jorie, who had grown up without siblings or cousins. "Come on," she said. "Let's get to work before one of you gets hurt."

  * * *

  As if on automatic pilot, Griffin followed Jorie into the living room. The surprising reunion with her cousin had blindsided her, and while she liked a good mystery, she hated being ambushed like this. That's what you get for being so out of touch with your family, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kylin's told her.

  She shoved back the thought and forced her attention back to the investigation at hand. Jorie's laptop was sitting on the coffee table. Griffin caught a glimpse of the screen before Jorie closed the lid and put the laptop away. She also noticed that the bandage from the day before had been replaced with a smaller adhesive dressing. Good. The cut is healing well. Purple bruises were still peeking out from under Jorie's sweatshirt, though, and reminded her how fragile humans were compared to Wrasa strength. Many of her colleagues would snarl at her in disgust for caring about the minor injuries, but to Griffin, human pain didn't smell all that different from Wrasa pain. She had hurt humans before but never felt good about it.

  They watched Sid work for a few minutes until Jorie apparently decided that he knew what he was doing and was trustworthy enough to be left alone in the living room; then she led Griffin over to the kitchen.

  The smell of cat food hung in the air.

  Griffin's nose wrinkled in distaste.

  A cat that, to the human eye, was probably a calico with white, black, and red patches was gobbling down her food in front of the kitchen counter.

  The humans managed to completely destroy your sense of taste, little sister. It was beyond her how the cat could enjoy the processed goo that smelled of the metal can it came in. Watching the cat, she realized it was the same feline that had hissed at her when she had tried to break into the house. "Ah, the elusive Emily, I presume?"

  "Yes, that's Emmy." Jorie leaned against the counter and watched the cat with a smile. "She finally came in late last night." The scent of Jorie's relief filled Griffin's nose, a much more pleasant scent than the cat food. "I was really starting to worry, but here she is, starved and making a mess of my kitchen because apparently, the food tastes better right off the floor instead of from her food bowl."

  "It has nothing to do with the taste of the food," Griffin said, secretly amused at the human tendency to ascribe human motivations to animal behavior. "Imagine having to eat out of a bowl that constantly touches your whiskers and sends impulses to your brain, telling you you're about to get stuck in a tunnel that is too small for you."

  Jorie's gaze wandered to Emmy's whiskers and then to the sides of the bowl. "Oh. I guess that would be pretty irritating."

  It was. Griffin had experienced it firsthand. Of course, the head and whiskers of her cat form were a little broader than Emmy's. "She'll stop 'making a mess of your kitchen' if you give her a bowl that is wide and shallow."

  "I'll try that." Jorie looked up at her. "You're really good with cats, and not just the big ones."

  At just that moment, Emmy stopped eating, turned her head in Griffin's direction, and hissed at her.

  Griffin laughed. "Well, tell that to Emmy. I don't think she got the memo." She watched as the cat escaped into the living room, where she hissed at Sid too. Well, at least now Jorie won't think it's just me that's making her cats go crazy.

  "You're really good with cats too," Griffin said. "You seem to know a lot about them. That scene you wrote about the tiger-shifter... You got everything right, even feline body language." It was true. Jorie had gotten almost everything right. Part of it might be explained by living with cats, but it wasn't just the cat aspects of the novel that came too close to the truth. What she had written about shape-shifters was much too accurate. By now, Griffin believed that a face-to-face meeting with a Wrasa, away from Jorie's home, was the only possible way for her to get the information. "Can I ask what sources you used?" She watched Jorie closely, ready to take in every minute movement of her body, every twitch of her face — but there was none.

  "I've lived with cats all of my life," Jorie answered without missing a beat.

  Another truth. Jorie's clean forest-in-springtime scent wasn't marred
by the sweaty aroma of a lie. Still, the statement was vague enough to leave room for the existence of a source. Griffin wondered if Jorie had worded her answer so carefully on purpose.

  Silence settled over them, and neither felt the need to fill it with idle chatter. Griffin appreciated that about Jorie.

  "You didn't need to come over just to bring me the book," Jorie said after a while, nodding down at the book with a snarling tiger on the cover. "You're here on vacation, not just to help me with my writing."

  If you only knew why I'm really here. Griffin suppressed the hot flash of guilt that singed through her. "I don't mind. It's the least I could do after you let me stay the night and invited me to breakfast."

  "You got hurt protecting me, so it was the least I could do," Jorie answered.

  Griffin studied the clear, proud lines of Jorie's face. If anyone could understand the urge to pay off all debts and never owe anything to anyone, it was Griffin. She had always preferred simple, businesslike relationships to the complicated, emotional entanglements of pride life. "I think after everything we've been through together, we should move beyond that quid pro quo," she said for the first time in her life, telling herself that it was the only way to get Jorie to trust and share her inside information with her. "I'm here to see how you're doing, not because I think I owe you anything or you owe me."

  Long, dark eyelashes fluttered in surprise; then Jorie lowered her gaze. "Thank you. I... um... I'm fine, really. So Sid Eldridge is really your cousin?" she finally asked. She turned away to lift a pot of water onto the stove.

  Look at that. The famous writer at a loss for words. With a smile, Griffin let her change the topic. She knew she would be uncomfortable too if anyone told her he or she cared about her well-being. "One of many. As you could probably tell, I lost track of them. I haven't seen any of them in fifteen years." Max, the Puwar who owned the bed-and-breakfast, had told her that the owner of the only security firm in the area was a Kasari, but she'd had no idea that he was one of her cousins.

  It made sense, though. Like all good nataks, her fathers tried to get their people into key positions that helped to keep their existence secret.

  "You don't look alike," Jorie said.

  They didn't. Griffin resembled her Puwar mother, and she was proud of it. She had never felt as if she belonged to the pride. "Well, he's related to my father's side of the family while I resemble my mother, so maybe that explains why I am so much more good-looking and charming than he is."

  Jorie laughed. "And so much more modest," she said.

  Griffin tilted her head in agreement. "Yes, that too."

  "Do you think your cousin would like to have some tea, or is he more of a coffee drinker?" Jorie asked.

  "No, he prefers tea too," Griffin said. "We have at least that in common." Like all Wrasa.

  They stood side by side, waiting for the water to heat.

  "My wallet was returned to me this morning," Jorie said as she placed three mugs on the kitchen counter.

  "Really?" For a saru of her caliber, feigning relieved surprise was easy. Large parts of her job consisted of pretending to be who she wasn't and to feel things that she didn't feel. It was tiring, but it was the only job she was good at.

  "Someone found it in a dumpster behind the diner. The money was gone, but everything else, including my credit card and ATM card, was still there," Jorie said. "Officer Mason said the mugger just wanted the money and probably didn't even look at my personal information."

  Griffin could smell her relief. "That's good. Maybe my wallet will be found too. Not that there was much in it that's worth returning." In fact, it had been empty, but Griffin had thought the mugging would look more realistic and Jorie might bond more quickly with her if she was a victim and had her wallet stolen too.

  She watched Jorie put tea bags into the three mugs and pour hot water over them. Herbal tea, her nose told her. Jorie had remembered her preference. There wasn't much that Jorie didn't notice. "I hope it was okay for me to come over. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" If she wanted to find the informant, she needed to know how Jorie spent her time and with whom she was meeting.

  "No, that's okay," Jorie said. "I was stuck here waiting for the security firm anyway. I'll go out later."

  "Big date?" It took some effort to make it sound like casual teasing when she was eagerly waiting for the answer. Every person in Jorie's life could turn out to be the informant.

  A self-deprecating smile darted across Jorie's face. "I'm not meeting anyone. I was just contemplating taking my laptop to my secret writing spot for some inspiration."

  Secret writing spot? Now they were getting somewhere. Maybe this was where Jorie had met with her informant. Griffin tilted her head, signaling her interest in learning more, but was careful not to ask directly. In some aspects, Jorie was like a cat — she hated being pushed. Griffin had learned that she got better information from Jorie when she didn't pressure her for answers.

  A few seconds ticked by while Jorie hesitated. "Dr. Saxton once showed me a hunter's lookout in the middle of the forest," she finally said. "It's peaceful there, and no one interrupts me, so I sometimes go there to write if I'm stuck."

  "So you're stuck right now? Things not going so well between Quinn and her pastry-addicted lover?" Griffin asked, careful to keep her smile teasing, not mocking. Writers could be sensitive creatures.

  Jorie sighed. "No. It seems I'm stumbling from one writer's block to another."

  Griffin studied her, taking in the dark shadows under her eyes. What was it about this story that was giving Jorie so much trouble and didn't let her sleep? If Jorie was stuck, why didn't she just go and ask her Wrasa informant for help? Why did she have to ask Griffin for answers about big cats? Either her informant had become unavailable or more careful about providing her with information, or Jorie didn't know the true identity of her informant. Maybe she just thought he was someone with good creative instincts. "So why don't you take a break?" Griffin asked.

  "That's what I'm doing," Jorie answered with a nod at her teacup.

  "No, I mean a longer break. A little time off from writing. Go out with a few friends, see a movie, maybe take a vacation." The farther away Jorie got from her story, the safer she would be. If Griffin could get her to give up the story, her mission was accomplished... without killing Jorie.

  A firm shake of Jorie's head almost made the tea spill over the edges of the cup. "No. If I want to make a living writing, I need to stick with it and finish the manuscript before I run out of money."

  Money. Griffin sensed that there was more to it. After spending some time with Jorie, she could read the unfathomable Jorie Price better. There was more that Jorie wasn't saying. "And?" she prompted.

  "There's not a lot of entertainment in Osgrove anyway, and I don't really know anyone here." Jorie brought one of the cups of tea to the living room and set it on the coffee table without interrupting Sid's work.

  Sid turned and smiled at her, politely thanking her.

  Griffin saw her answer with a nod — not a smile. This was how Jorie interacted with people. She kept them at a distance.

  None of the people in the diner or the small café where they had eaten pancakes had treated Jorie with the familiarity of a friend. "So is it small-town mentality, where you're not seen as a local unless you've lived here for at least fifty years, or don't you get out and mingle much?" she asked when Jorie returned to the kitchen.

  "A little bit of both. I'm not here to socialize. I moved here because I knew there would be nothing to distract me from my writing," Jorie said. "I haven't made any friends here."

  Relationships of any kind were just an unwelcome distraction for Jorie. If my nose didn't tell me she's human, I'd think I'm talking to a Puwar. "Dr. Saxton seemed to be on friendly terms with you, though. He acted as if he knows you pretty well."

  Jorie shrugged. "He's the only doctor in town. He knows everyone."

  Griffin knew that wasn't all. She's good at hiding
the truth without outright lying, she realized. I wonder what else she's hiding. "How did you meet?" she asked.

  "The same way I met you, basically. When I started doing research for my shape-shifter story, I met him for coffee and asked him a few questions about the healing process and about how the hormone system works."

  A wave of cold dread hit Griffin. So she knows that shape-shifting is based on hormones. I wonder if she calls the shifting hormone mutaline in her story too. It was becoming more and more unlikely that the shape-shifter facts in Jorie's story were just a series of coincidences. That information had to come from somewhere. Griffin made a mental note to have Leigh check out Dr. Saxton and his receptionist. "And that's all?" she asked.

  "That's all," Jorie said as if she didn't understand at what Griffin was hinting.

  Like a tiger peeking at its prey from behind a bush, Griffin studied her over the rim of her teacup. If even I, not exactly an expert on human courting rituals, have noticed the doctor's interest in Jorie, how could she, who's usually so good at reading people, completely miss his adoring glances? "But you are aware that he only had eyes for you even though I practically had my head bashed in?" She lifted a teasing eyebrow. Most of the time, Jorie was so reserved and distanced that she couldn't resist trying to lure her out of her mousehole.

  "Bashed in?" Jorie repeated with an incredulous laugh. "You were the one who insisted that it was just a little bump, remember?"

  Griffin noticed that she didn't object to the other part of her statement. "Oh, so you did notice that he's interested in you?"

  "Hard to miss," Jorie mumbled. "But I prefer to ignore it to save us both the embarrassment of repeatedly shooting him down."

  She's opening up to me, Griffin thought. Not that it came as a surprise. With her patience, her feline charms, and her skills at manipulation, sooner or later, every target of her investigations had opened up to her. Jorie's trust seemed like a valuable prize, though, and knowing she'd have to violate it made her stomach lurch.

  Angry with herself for allowing her feelings to intrude, she shoved them back. She had done that a lot during the last few assignments. "Repeatedly?" Griffin asked. "So you shot him down before?"