Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

Ian’s long fingers wrapped around my wrist as he took my pulse. From the expression on his face, he didn’t like what he’d found.

“You need to calm down.”

Cal hovered; so did Sam. They weren’t used to me sitting around on the job. The way I’d hit the ground, they probably thought I’d fainted. How would that appear to the general public?

Lake Bluff sheriff faints at the sight of her house on fire.

Not that I wouldn’t have every reason to, but people liked their sheriffs tough. Which was understandable. I forced myself to my feet.

“I’m good.” I yanked my wrist out of Ian’s grasp, even though his fingers felt pleasantly warm and dry against my cold, clammy skin. “I just thought of all I kept in that room. Things that can’t be replaced.”

“You can’t be replaced.”

What I saw in Ian’s face made me glance away. “What do you think started the fire, Sam?”

Sam stared at me for several beats, decided I wasn’t going to swoon, and got on with it. “Hard to say. I’ll have the investigator over here first thing tomorrow. You better not stay tonight. Even though the lower floors weren’t burned, there’s going to be water damage and the smell—” He spread his huge, hard hands. “You’ll have to hire a professional cleaning company.”

“Ka-ching.”

Sam grinned at the evidence I was back to my old self. “Yeah. But you’ve got insurance, right?”

“Of course.”

My dad had been big on insurance. We’d had a couple of crosses burned on our lawn back in the old days—which weren’t all that old.

When Dad had taken over as the first Cherokee sheriff in Lake Bluff history, there’d been some who hadn’t been as happy about it as we were. We’d never been quite sure if it had been the Cherokee sheriff part they objected to or the African-American part. Maybe both.

If it hadn’t been for the sparks I’d seen tumbling from the sky, accompanied by the supernatural shrieking, I’d have figured someone who wasn’t happy about a female Cherokee, African-American, Scotch-Irish sheriff had lit up my roof to express their point of view. From Sam’s expression, he’d had the same thought.

“I’ll take care of it from here,” I said.

Sam returned to his men.

I considered going inside, maybe grabbing some clothes, but I knew from past experience with other fires that everything I owned would smell like wet charcoal. I was going to have to live with what I had until I could buy new underwear and enough casual clothes to last me a few days. Luckily I kept some spare uniforms at the office.

I hated to knock on Claire’s door this late and scare the crap out of her, so I decided to rent a hotel room. We had plenty in town, and since the Full Moon Festival was still several weeks away, there should be a lot of vacancies.

“Stay with me,” Ian said.

I didn’t even dignify that with a glance, let alone an answer. Instead I strode to where Cal was talking into his car radio. I meant to tell him where I’d be and get gone, but as I approached, his words made me pause.

“She’s dead?” he asked. “They’re sure?”

“Dad,” Jordan said with a scorn that made me want to reach through the radio and strangle her, “I think people know what dead looks like.”

“Not as often as you’d t

hink. I’m on my way.”

He glanced at me. “You heard?”

I nodded. The sound of a car starting made me glance over my shoulder. Ian had at last taken the hint and left.

“Who’s dead this time?”

“Merry Gray.”

“But—” I stopped before I blurted something I’d have to explain later. I guess Merry did fit the profile. She was dying.