LIGHTNING FAST, SHOCK VEERS TO ANGER. "I'M GO-ING to kill her."
I didn't mean to speak the words out loud.
David is no longer looking at the car. He's staring at me. "Kill her? Kill who?"
I've stumbled out of the Hummer and am standing in stunned silence beside my car. I love this car. It was the first really nice car I ever bought-my dream car. Sandra trashed it. The musk of wolf hanging in the air confirms it.
David joins me at the front of the Hummer. "Anna? You know who did this? We'll call the police. Anybody this twisted should be locked up."
He's reaching for his cell phone. I grab his hand. "No police. I'll take care of this."
"Are you kidding? What do you mean, no police? I've never seen damage like this. I can't even imagine what was used. A trowel? A knife? A bat? Jesus. You'd think someone would have noticed a car being vandalized like this."
David's outrage is escalating. So is my own; my insides are seething with it. Except that I know there's nothing the cops can do except take a report. It was Sandra and her pack. How they managed in daylight on a busy side street, I can't even imagine. I do know that if she's capable of the things I saw and felt last night, she's capable of creating the kind of glamour that would render her invisible.
David is waiting. What kind of explanation can I give him for not wanting to call the cops? I give voice to the first thing that pops to mind. "It's been a long day. What happened to my car is bad enough. Standing here for an hour doing paperwork is worse."
David doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't argue. I can tell by his expression that my outburst when I saw the car is replaying in his head. I can also tell that he's filing it away for a future conversation. He says, "What do you want to do?"
I'm suddenly conscious of tears running down my cheeks. Stupid. Crying over a car. I swipe at them with the back of my hand. "Call a tow truck, I guess."
David has his cell phone out again. "I can do better than that. I have a friend who owns a body shop. High end. I'll call him. He'll come get the car."
"It's Sunday night."
"Doesn't matter." David is scrolling through his address book. "He and I played for the Broncos. If he's not in the hospital or dead, he'll come."
I rest my butt against the side of the Jag, running a hand along the damaged door, listening to David's side of the conversation. In less than two minutes, he snaps shut his phone.
"He'll be here in twenty minutes."
Guess the football fraternity runs deep. I glance at my watch. I know in my gut that Tamara had a part in what happened to my car. At least the one good thing that could come out of this would be David canceling his date. I give him a forlorn smile. "What about your date? Aren't you going to be late?"
David is on the phone again. "Hey, Tamara. David. Listen, I have to cancel tonight. There's been an accident. No. Nothing serious. Can we postpone until tomorrow night?"
Evidently she agrees because he's smiling and nodding. "Great. Pick you up at seven."
He pockets the phone and joins me.
I've got a twenty-four-hour reprieve.
"Where does Tamara live?" I ask.
He looks surprised. "You don't know? She's staying with a friend at some doctor's house in La Jolla. Quite a place to hear her tell it."
Oh, yes. Quite a place. What David doesn't realize is that he's been there before. At Avery's house. That's where he was taken when Avery kidnapped and almost killed him.
It's where I'll go soon.
After I finish doing what I should have done this morning.
Read that damned chapter seventeen in Frey's book.
