Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (Kitty Norville 5)

“No. There’s no way. Ben’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that.”

“I know, honey,” Dad said, making a calming gesture. God, now they were both honey-ing me. “But you really haven’t known him all that long. A year?”

“Longer than that,” I muttered.

“There may still be sides to him you don’t know.”

Like the side of him that’s a werewolf? They couldn’t know how deep the connection between us ran, even if we had been together for less than a year. “If you don’t like him, just say so.”

“I like him just fine, Kitty. I’m just worried about you. You know, the cold-feet thing is really common. Some men just need a little time to themselves.”

I shook my head, defensive to the end. “Ben’s not like that. You don’t know him, this situation—” I narrowed my gaze with a sudden suspicion. I regarded my father, called up a memory of his and Mom’s wedding picture, a young, shining couple standing in an anonymous garden somewhere, bathed in sunlight. I tried to recall the look on Dad’s face in that picture. Was it anything other than blank happiness?

“Did you get cold feet?” I asked, looking back and forth between my parents.

He didn’t answer right away, but Mom had her lips pursed, like she was having to restra

in herself. I almost giggled. This was a story I’d never heard. There’d been no hint of this, no sign. The wedding photos were all stereotypically happy and perfect.

Filled with awe, I said, “He didn’t leave you standing at the altar, did you?”

“No,” she said. “Thank goodness. I’d better let him tell the story.” She gave him a sly glare. So, he hadn’t quite stood her up at the altar. But whatever he’d done, he hadn’t lived it down after thirty-five years. Wow.

His shoulders hunched, looking chagrined, he explained. “I left town for the week before the wedding.”

“Oh my God. What happened? Where’d you go?”

“I literally drove around for a week. Picked highways at random. Ended up in Texas, of all places. I came back just in time for the rehearsal. Even then, I sat outside in my car for twenty minutes, deciding whether or not to go through with it. I was very late, but I was there, which I thought was something of a victory.”

Quiet, responsible, solid Dad almost ditched his own wedding? This was enlightening.

“What did you do?” I asked Mom.

“Oh, I forgave him. Eventually.”

“She didn’t even say anything,” he added. “But it was very, very clear how much I owed her for forgiving me. If I hadn’t gone through with it, I’d have been asking ‘what if’ for the rest of my life.”

Mom patted his arm, and they traded one of those old married, would-do-it-all-over-again glances.

“And you think Ben is sitting somewhere, thinking about that himself right now,” I said.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s been kidnapped.” Infuriatingly, he shrugged again, and I suppressed an impulse to scream. This conversation wasn’t making me feel any better, whatever Dad’s intentions were. I couldn’t keep waiting around for something to happen. I had more leads to follow.

“What time is it?” I said.

Dad glanced at his watch. “Almost eight.”

“Okay. I have some more people to talk to, some other leads that might know something about what happened to Ben. I have to get going.”

Mom managed to look even more worried. “Are you sure you shouldn’t just wait for the police to call? Let them do their jobs?”

“Can’t do that. Sorry.” I stood and went to her side to give her a big hug. “Don’t worry, guys. It’ll all work out. I just know it.”

I could feel them watching me with worried gazes as I left the bar. Outside, I retrieved my phone from my bag and called the number Dom gave me in case I needed help.

Chapter 14

I talked to Dom on my way to the Napoli hotel. My feet in their high heels were starting to hurt with all this running around, and the night was still young. I didn’t think about it.