“Yeah, small favors.” I sighed, tugging my gloves out of my pockets and onto my hands. “I guess I shouldn’t be whining about the car when there’s a chance that woman might not make it.”
Tracy shrugged, then looked back at the sound of approaching footsteps. I followed his gaze to see the barista, David, trotting up with a cup in his hand. He gave me a smile, then held the cup out to me. “I saw that you’d dropped yours and made up a new one.”
“Oh my god,” I said as I nearly snatched the cup from him. I took a big, scalding gulp and sighed in relief. “You are the perfect man!”
David laughed. “And you’re quite easily impressed!” He gave me a wink and then headed back across the street to the coffee shop.
Tracy smiled. “The perfect man is one who brings you coffee? Makes me wonder how the men in your life usually treat you.”
Men? Or demonic lords? I tried to cover my reaction by taking another sip, but he took note of my sudden reticence and grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s none of my business, and it was a dumb thing to say.”
“No, no!” I hurried to reassure him. “It’s all right.” I made myself chuckle. “I’m not really the ‘shower with gifts’ kind of chick, and that’s fine with me.”
“Well, it looks like I get to write the report for this nonsense.” He lifted his chin toward the two vehicles.
I peered into the open door of the woman’s car. It looked like she’d recently had it detailed. There were vacuum marks on the passenger side carpet, and the dashboard had a slight sheen of Armor All. An air freshener wafer tucked into the console sent the scent of chemical pineapple through the vehicle.
I spied a dark red Coach handbag on the floorboard, wedged under the dash. “Her purse is here.” I set my coffee on the roof of the car, and snagged it out. “Least I can do is help you inventory all this.”
“Appreciated,” he said.
After this I’d need to make some phone calls to my rank to see if I could score another car. I scowled as I dug through the woman’s purse. Would I even be able to get a new one issued on a Sunday? I was most likely screwed until Monday.
I found the woman’s wallet and removed the drivers license. “Her name is Evelyn Stark, and her address is.…” I trailed off. Son of a bitch.
“Kara?” I glanced up to see Tracy with his pen poised above his notepad and a frown on his face. I passed the driver’s license over to him, fighting hard to maintain something resembling composure.
“Sorry,” I managed “I know her. Knew her. I mean…I knew who she was.”
His brow furrowed in concern. “Friend of yours?”
I shook my head, chilled to the bone despite my coat. “No.” I took an unsteady breath. “No. Not at all. She’s the drunk driver who killed my dad.”
Chapter 4
I headed back over to the coffee shop after Tracy assured me he could handle the rest of the report just fine. I made a token protest, but he must have seen how dazed I felt and gently told me to get the fuck off his scene. The sun was making another valiant effort to break through the clouds, and the wind had died down a bit. Traffic had picked up some, and I paused at the street, waiting for a break. A silent ambulance went by. I knew it probably wasn’t the same one that had taken Evelyn Stark away, but I watched it continue on down the street.
Would I have given her CPR if I’d known who she was?
No. I let out a shaking breath. I’m not that good a person. I couldn’t get back at the ovarian cancer that had taken my mother from me when I was only eight, but I could sure as hell focus plenty of rage and grief on the woman who’d taken my dad three years later. When I first began learning about demons, I’d asked Aunt Tessa to send a demon after Evelyn Stark. Tessa utterly refused to aid me—not saying that such a desire was wrong but, instead, explaining how that sort of arrangement with a demon would be fraught with all sorts of peril because of their complex code of honor. Besides, she pointed out, the woman was serving a prison sentence, and it would be quite a tricky matter for a demon to get to her.
But the simple fact that my aunt had understood my pain and not dismissed my desire for revenge as petty or wrong had endeared her to me more than anything else ever could have. And by the time I became a summoner in my own right, and could potentially carry through with such a desire, my lust for that sort of revenge had faded.
But, no, I wouldn’t have given Evelyn Stark CPR and gotten my hands all bloody.