Read Online Thank You For Not Shifting (Peculiar Mysteries Book 2) by Renee George - Free Book Online
Authors: Renee George
Tags: General Fiction
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stayed quiet.
Without meaning to, I stepped between her and Billy Bob. “Don’t yell at him, Sunny.” Oh my God. What was I doing? Why was I defending Billy Bob? The first rule of BFF code was you always backed your BFF.
She looked at me and raised her right brow, her lips pursed.
I looked at Billy Bob, who stared at me like I’d grown a third nipple in the middle of my forehead, and said, “Just tell her.”
* * * *
After the previous night’s events had been relayed, Sunny said, “So let me get this straight. A man was skinned alive, murdered, and tossed onto our back doorstep.” She peered at me as she picked up my mug and sipped my coffee. “Had you locked the door?”
“Yes, I locked the door.” At least I was pretty sure I had. It had been a long, exhausting day.
Babe and Billy Bob had gone just outside the kitchen to talk officially. As the mayor, Babel would need to strategize how to handle the fallout. Still, it really pissed me off. This was probably Ed. Our friend. A staple in our community. It irritated me that we had to take all these incoming strangers into any consideration when it came to dealing with his death.
“The alarm?” Sunny asked. “Did you set it?”
“I…” Had I really been so stupid? “No. I guess I forget.” A wave of recrimination and remorse washed over me. Would it have made a difference if the alarms had gone off?
“Jesus, Chav. With all these strangers in town, you can’t forget. It’s more than just our friends and neighbors now.”
“I know,” I said. “Don’t beat me up about it. I already feel bad enough.”
“I’m sorry, doll. This was not your fault. Lock. No lock. Alarm. No alarm. When a sicko does something sick, there is no one to blame except the sicko. You didn’t choose to hurt that poor man, whoever it turns out to be, and dwelling on would’ves, could’ves, and what ifs will give you gas. I just worry about you is all. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know?” Sunny hugged me again. It felt good. She really did give the best hugs.
I could feel some of the tension drain from my muscles. “I do know,” I said, hugging her back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either. You always have my back.”
“Always,” she said fiercely. She leaned back and looked me in the face. She squinted her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Why is your face so red?”
I hadn’t realized it was, but her mentioning it brought a fresh rise of heat to my cheeks. Sunny’s eyes widened as she took in my guilty expression. She glanced once at Billy Bob out in the hall talking quietly with Babel now. To her grace, she didn’t say anything. However, I knew an interrogation would be forthcoming.
Babe and Billy Bob walked back into the room, neither of them looking as if they’d figured out anything.
“We need to tell Sunny,” Babe said.
“Tell me what?” Sunny asked.
“Who the victim might be.”
“Ed,” Billy Bob said, his tone low and fierce. “It might be Ed Thompson.”
The blood drained from Sunny’s face. She slumped onto one of the high stools next to the center island. “No,” she said. “It can’t be.” She stared at me, her eyes pleading with me to refute Billy Bob.
I shook my head.
Her reaction was similar to mine. “We just saw him yesterday. He came in for lunch. How can it be Ed?” She gripped my wrist. “How could I have missed it? What good is it for me to have a psychic gift when I can’t even use it to save my friends?”
“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart,” Babe said. He massaged her shoulders, and she slumped back against him, drawing comfort from her husband.
“Babe’s right, Sunny. This isn’t your fault.”
An infant’s cry from the other room brought us all to attention.
“Shoot,” Sunny said, the front of her shirt darkened as her nipple fountains exploded. “I left Jude in the living room when we came in. He’d been sleeping so soundly.” She looked down at her blouse.
Without meaning to, I stepped between her and Billy Bob. “Don’t yell at him, Sunny.” Oh my God. What was I doing? Why was I defending Billy Bob? The first rule of BFF code was you always backed your BFF.
She looked at me and raised her right brow, her lips pursed.
I looked at Billy Bob, who stared at me like I’d grown a third nipple in the middle of my forehead, and said, “Just tell her.”
* * * *
After the previous night’s events had been relayed, Sunny said, “So let me get this straight. A man was skinned alive, murdered, and tossed onto our back doorstep.” She peered at me as she picked up my mug and sipped my coffee. “Had you locked the door?”
“Yes, I locked the door.” At least I was pretty sure I had. It had been a long, exhausting day.
Babe and Billy Bob had gone just outside the kitchen to talk officially. As the mayor, Babel would need to strategize how to handle the fallout. Still, it really pissed me off. This was probably Ed. Our friend. A staple in our community. It irritated me that we had to take all these incoming strangers into any consideration when it came to dealing with his death.
“The alarm?” Sunny asked. “Did you set it?”
“I…” Had I really been so stupid? “No. I guess I forget.” A wave of recrimination and remorse washed over me. Would it have made a difference if the alarms had gone off?
“Jesus, Chav. With all these strangers in town, you can’t forget. It’s more than just our friends and neighbors now.”
“I know,” I said. “Don’t beat me up about it. I already feel bad enough.”
“I’m sorry, doll. This was not your fault. Lock. No lock. Alarm. No alarm. When a sicko does something sick, there is no one to blame except the sicko. You didn’t choose to hurt that poor man, whoever it turns out to be, and dwelling on would’ves, could’ves, and what ifs will give you gas. I just worry about you is all. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know?” Sunny hugged me again. It felt good. She really did give the best hugs.
I could feel some of the tension drain from my muscles. “I do know,” I said, hugging her back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either. You always have my back.”
“Always,” she said fiercely. She leaned back and looked me in the face. She squinted her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Why is your face so red?”
I hadn’t realized it was, but her mentioning it brought a fresh rise of heat to my cheeks. Sunny’s eyes widened as she took in my guilty expression. She glanced once at Billy Bob out in the hall talking quietly with Babel now. To her grace, she didn’t say anything. However, I knew an interrogation would be forthcoming.
Babe and Billy Bob walked back into the room, neither of them looking as if they’d figured out anything.
“We need to tell Sunny,” Babe said.
“Tell me what?” Sunny asked.
“Who the victim might be.”
“Ed,” Billy Bob said, his tone low and fierce. “It might be Ed Thompson.”
The blood drained from Sunny’s face. She slumped onto one of the high stools next to the center island. “No,” she said. “It can’t be.” She stared at me, her eyes pleading with me to refute Billy Bob.
I shook my head.
Her reaction was similar to mine. “We just saw him yesterday. He came in for lunch. How can it be Ed?” She gripped my wrist. “How could I have missed it? What good is it for me to have a psychic gift when I can’t even use it to save my friends?”
“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart,” Babe said. He massaged her shoulders, and she slumped back against him, drawing comfort from her husband.
“Babe’s right, Sunny. This isn’t your fault.”
An infant’s cry from the other room brought us all to attention.
“Shoot,” Sunny said, the front of her shirt darkened as her nipple fountains exploded. “I left Jude in the living room when we came in. He’d been sleeping so soundly.” She looked down at her blouse.
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