Page 61 of Parental
Silence. The cold feeling in my gut turned into solid ice.
I pushed the door open slowly, every sense on high alert.
The smell hit me first. Copper and something else, something organic and sweet and rotten.
The living room was in disarray. Furniture overturned, a chair on its side with one leg snapped clean off. A lamp shattered on the floor, glass glittering in the dim light filtering through dirty windows. Books scattered everywhere, their pages bentand torn. And there, sprawled near the kitchen doorway, lay Clemon Peters.
I knew he was dead before I reached him. I'd seen enough bodies to recognize the stillness, the absolute absence of life. The unnatural angle of the limbs, the way the body settled into the floor as if it were already becoming part of it. But I checked anyway, pressing two fingers to his neck, finding nothing but cold, stiff skin.
He'd been beaten. Badly. Brutally. His face was swollen and discolored, purple and black and yellow. Blood dried in dark streaks across his features, crusted in his white hair. His hands showed defensive wounds—split knuckles, broken fingers bent at wrong angles. He tried to fight back. This old man had tried to defend himself.
"Fuck," I breathed, sitting back on my heels. My tail lashed once, sharp and violent, betraying the rage building in my chest.
I forced myself to look away from Clemon's body and survey the scene. This was a crime scene now, and I needed to process it like one.
The struggle had been violent. Blood spatter marked the wall near where Clemon had fallen. Arterial spray in a fan pattern spoke of terrible wounds. Whoever did this had been angry, brutal, and relentless. This wasn't a quick kill. This was personal or meant to send a message. This was someone who wanted Clemon to suffer.
I stepped carefully around the body and moved through the rest of the small house, clearing each room, checking closets and behind doors. Empty. The attacker was long gone.
Outside, I circled the property, looking for evidence. The overgrown grass actually helped. I could see where someone had walked through it, the stalks bent and broken, creating a path from the road toward the back of the property, thendisappearing into the harder-packed dirt near the road where tracks wouldn't show.
I found footprints in a patch of bare earth near the back door, preserved in what must have been mud a few days ago. Large, definitely male. Work boots, common as dirt out here. The tread was worn but distinctive. A diagonal pattern with a chunk missing from the left heel. I took photos with my comm, multiple angles, making sure to get measurements. Not much to go on, but it was more than nothing.
I stood there in Clemon's unkempt yard, looking back at the rickety house where an old man had lived alone, probably lonely, probably struggling, and felt rage building beneath the ice in my veins.
What the hell was going on? I'd gone through Craig's records a dozen times, memorized every incident report from the past five years. Aside from the corruption involving the old mayor, Tau Ceti was peaceful. Quiet. The kind of place where the biggest problems were property disputes, livestock getting loose, teenagers drinking too much of Clemon's moonshine and making noise.
Now we had two murders. Would have been four if the bastards had succeeded with Ruby and Teddy.
Four people. In a settlement of barely six hundred souls.
This wasn't random. It couldn't be. But I couldn't see the pattern yet, couldn't figure out what connected Craig to Clemon Peters, or how Ruby and Teddy fit into it. What did a peacekeeper, an old moonshiner, and a baker with her son have in common?
I pulled out my comm and called Mei, asking her to send Bartholomeus and Doc Pritchett. Then I stood guard over Clemon's body. This elderly man who'd been so proud of his moonshine, who'd probably lived in this house for decades, who'd deserved so much better than to die alone and afraid onhis kitchen floor, beaten to death by someone he might have known, might have trusted.
The beautiful afternoon suddenly felt like a mockery. The golden light, the swaying crops, the promise of a peaceful life with Ruby and Teddy. All of it felt impossibly far away.
I had a killer to catch. Maybe more than one maybe, given the violence of the attacks.
And I was going to make damn sure they paid for what they'd done. For Clemon. For Craig. And most of all, for the woman I loved and the son I'd only just discovered.
Chapter 16
Ruby
My hands trembled as I pushed through the front door of the guest house, my basket of unsold goods still hanging from my arm. The news about Clemon Peters had spread through the market like wildfire, and each retelling made my chest tighter, my breathing shallower.
Dead. Clemon was dead.
I set the basket down with a heavy thunk and pressed my palms against the kitchen counter, trying to steady myself. The cool stone beneath my fingers did nothing to stop the shaking. The image of Clemon's weathered face kept swimming before my eyes—his gap-toothed grin, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at his own jokes. He'd been ornery and spirited, but so kind to Teddy and me. And now he was gone, snuffed out like a candle in an unforgiving wind.
"Ruby?" Mei's voice drifted from the doorway, soft as silk and laced with concern.
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. My heart felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces, each shard cutting deeper than the last. I'd fled the market early, unable to smile and make small talk while darkness closed in around me.
I'd gone straight to the library, desperate to see Teddy, to reassure myself he was safe. He'd been curled up in thechildren's corner with a picture book, his adorable giggle floating through the air as he shared a joke with another child. Afternoon sunlight had streamed through the windows, catching in his mane and making it shine like spun gold. I'd stood frozen in the doorway, unable to interrupt that innocent happiness, unable to drag him home just to satisfy my overwhelming need to hold him close.
So I'd left him there—safe, happy, blissfully unaware—and come back here to fall apart in private.
