Midnight Hour (Shadow Falls: After Dark #4)(68)

didn’t.

“Thanks.” He walked off, pretending he’d missed her real meaning.

*

The odd mew-like cry faded in and out several times. The closer she got to the creek the louder the sound of water, rushing, splashing. The

only thing that had her putting one foot in front of the other was … Perry.

The peculiar chill hung on and created a fog rising from the dew-covered ground. She kept walking, pinky ready. Her gaze shifted left then

right, searching for the gold eyes of the armadillo.

No eyes—just dark shadows playing peek-a-boo through the mist.

Above, through the leaf-filled branches, slivers of sky grew lighter, but beneath the umbrella of the forest, the blackness clung to the misty

gray fog. And suddenly it felt colder.

She’d felt this before. This kind of chill. Death?

No! She was wrong. This happened to Kylie and Della. Not her.

She considered running the way she’d come, diving back in bed and covering up her head. The consideration died a quick death. Perry was in

trouble. She felt it.

Only when she moved to the edge of the property where the trees thinned, did the moon add a silvery light. Light was good but it only made the

fog more pronounced.

Relief washed over her when she spotted Perry standing on the other side of the fence, partially hidden in a wall of fog. She edged closer, the

fog lifted, and before he saw her, she saw him. His expression. His black eye was now more pronounced. His shirt was ripped open with stains

that looked like … blood.

“You okay?” She ran those last steps, wrapping her arms around herself to fight the cold.

“Thank God.” He turned. “Thank you for coming.”

“What’s happening?” Then she saw what he cradled in his arms. “Is that a…?”

The soft cry came again.

“A baby? I need you to take him to Holiday. He keeps crying and I don’t know what’s wrong. He could be sick or—”

“Sometimes babies just … cry.” Miranda inched closer to the fence and stared at the red-faced infant, who looked more like a little old man.

“Sometimes they miss their parents.” She tightened her eyes and saw it was half vampire and … mother cracker … half shape-shifter.

Lifting her eyes she froze, her heart swelled. “Is it … yours?”

“Like my kid?” He looked insulted. “No. I went to see the sitter to explain … She gave him to me and wouldn’t take it back.”

“Why would she do that?”

“The mom … she…” He closed his eyes as if searching for words.

“You know the mom?” Miranda asked and the air grew colder.

“Yeah. Not really. Barely.”

He wasn’t making sense. Nothing did. Yet for reasons she couldn’t explain, part of the puzzle started coming together. “You kissed her? The

mom?”

He blinked. “I did.” His eyes widened. “Not because I wanted to. And that’s not important.”

“Really?” The one word slipped out. Her heart felt scratched.

The baby’s cry leaked out into the dark. Perry rearranged the loose blanket around the tiny being and he juggled it in his arms. “I only

kissed her because I needed an alibi.” His words came out jolted with his movements to comfort the child. “I was out eavesdropping, hoping to

hear news about your sister. They suspected I’d been there. I needed it to look like I hadn’t.”

His words, the raw panic in his tone, ran laps around Miranda’s brain, almost making her dizzy. Finally she latched on to one thing he’d

said.

“You know something about my sister?” she asked. “I thought you were trying to figure out what your parents were up to.”

“I am, but … I don’t have time to explain everything, but it’s connected … The guy who my dad is taking orders from is mixed up with

everything else.” The baby stopped crying. He looked down with relief and concern.

The sight of Perry, bruised and hurting, holding the baby so protectively against his bare abdomen sent emotion right to her heart.

“I need to go before I miss a meeting.”

“Why isn’t the mom taking care of the baby?”

He closed his eyes tight. “She’s dead.”

The image of the dead girl flashed in Miranda’s mind. Once. Twice. Three times.

He grimaced. “It’s my fault. I should have—”

“No.” Miranda heard his pain. Her need to console him suddenly came stronger than her confusion. “I don’t know what happened, but I know

you’d never…”

“I didn’t do it, but I didn’t stop it.”

He tried.

The two words echoed, but she didn’t know if they’d come from within or from the patchy fog.

Oh, crap! The armadillo?

Startled, she glanced around. Saw nothing. No one.

No one except Perry. Pain and guilt bright in his eyes. The voice felt less important.

“I’m sure you tried—”

“It’s not important now.”

Yet Miranda instinctively knew it was. He blamed himself for someone’s death. She knew Perry, knew his moral compass, knew this was killing