Draw One In The Dark(107)

"Say no more," Tom said, and for the first time realized his father was nowhere around. Was he hiding in the bathroom to be out of their hair? Tom didn't think it likely, but then neither had he thought it likely that his father would still remember how Tom took his coffee.



"Well, here's the thing," Keith said. "If these are gifts perhaps they have to be shifters. Do you guys know when someone else is a shifter?"



"Sometimes," Kyrie said. "If you get close enough. There is a definite tang, but I'm not very good at smelling it."



"I can't smell it at all," Tom said.



"I smell it very well, but I have to be near the person and sort of away from everything else."



"And all shifters smell alike?" Keith asked. "Regardless of species?"



Rafiel nodded.



"So, perhaps the gift of the dead corpse has to smell like a shifter?"



"It's possible," Rafiel said. "We don't have enough to go on, but there are definite possibilities. Just the fact that it's a shifter couple is interesting. I'd imagine the odds against it are enormous, and I wonder how long they've been a couple.



"Probably about a month," Tom said. "Since that's when you started noticing the pattern."



"Good job, Mr. Ormson. You might have a future in law enforcement," Rafiel said.



The Mr. Ormson was clearly intended to be a teasing remark, and Tom was about to answer in kind, but he thought of his father. If he was in the bathroom, trying to stay out of their way, Tom didn't want to call the others' attention to his absence. Because if he did, and it was nothing, he was just going to sound totally paranoid. On the other hand . . . On the other hand . . . If he didn't call their attention, and his father had gone to the triad . . .



Tom got up, carrying his cup of coffee, as if he were going to get a refill.



"So I think on the matter of the beetles, the best thing really would be to look them up in the Natural History Museum," Keith said. "See if they have stuff about those beetles habits, then see what helps. And then we have the matter of the Pearl of Heaven."



But Tom had reached the little alcove before the bathroom, the area with the sink and the coffeemaker and cups. Tom frowned at it, because it had no articles of personal hygiene, only one of those kits of horrible toothbrush with toothpaste already on that hotels gave guests who forgot their toiletries. And Tom couldn't believe that his father—of all people—would have forgotten his toiletries.



The door to the bathroom was closed, but not enough for the latch to catch. Tom reached over, and slid it open with his foot, slowly. No one.



There could be a perfectly natural explanation. There should be a perfectly natural explanation. Tom was sure of it. But his heart was beating up near his throat, his mouth felt dry, and his hands shook. He put the coffee cup on the counter, very carefully, and then walked out, feeling light-headed.



Had he really believed his father cared? Had the thing with remembering how Tom liked his coffee been enough to make Tom believe his father gave a damn? He must really be starved for affection, if he'd believe his father could be more than a cold and calculating bastard.



He walked outside to the bedroom, feeling as if his legs would give out under him. His father had gone to the triad. Was probably, even now, making some plan to deliver Tom to the triad. And Tom didn't want to be tortured again. Plus, they would probably be even more upset now, considering he'd just been the cause of death of a number of their affiliates.



"We should just leave it on some public place," Keith said. "Like we left the car. And get the hell out of dodge. Let the triad feel it and go get it."



Tom tried to shape his mouth to explain that his father had left, that he'd gone to denounce them—to denounce Tom—to the triad. But the betrayal was so monstrous that he couldn't find the words.



And then he heard the key slide into the lock, and he turned, barely staying human, poised at the verge of shifting . . .



And his father came in, alone, carrying two very large bags with the name and the logo of one of the stores in the lobby. And another smaller bag, with the name of another of the lobby stores. One that specialized in candy and snacks.



They faced each other, silently, and his father looked so startled, so shocked, that Tom wondered if he'd started to shift already.



"I'm sorry," his father said. "Was I needed? You guys seemed to be talking about things I didn't understand and I thought I'd get some clothes and a comb, since I left without any of that." He put the larger bags on the bed, then opened the small bag and fished out a red box tied with a gold ribbon. "I thought you might like these, Tom."