“We had to flee in the night,” Yvette said after a dainty sip of her latte. “I took whatever cash I could find and got us out of the country and to New York. Even that was too conspicuous, so we came to Texas, to Dallas first and then to Austin. I never modeled again. Except for Armand.”
“You must have loved him very much to do that.”
“Oh, I did. Still do. So you borrowing my car to help a man you love get away is understandable to me. My surprise is that you didn’t stay away with him.”
Carly’s eyes stung with tears. “He didn’t give me the choice.”
Yvette’s usual expression was cool and distant, she an elegant statue who looked with hauteur upon the world. When she saw Carly’s tears now, the hauteur melted away, Yvette’s eyes softened, and she gathered Carly into an embrace. “You poor darling.” She kissed the top of Carly’s head. “The heart, it is a fragile thing.”
Carly let herself relax against Yvette’s strong shoulder. She hadn’t broken down and cried, truly cried, since she’d come home. No time, Carly had told herself. And now she had a child coming. She had to be strong, like her mother had been strong for her.
But for a few minutes, she didn’t want to be strong. She let herself cry, heartbroken.
Armand came in as Carly’s sobs were quieting, and Carly straightened up, wiping her eyes. Yvette went to Armand and kissed his cheek. “Darling, I was just telling Carly our love story.”
Armand smiled, his goodness beaming from him. Carly saw why beautiful, elegant Yvette had fallen in love with this bearlike, rather homely man, and loved him still. Armand dropped a kiss onto his wife’s lips and squeezed her with one arm around her waist.
“I couldn’t believe my luck, Carly,” he said. “A nobody like me landing an angel like my Yvette. But my father always told me to seize the day, and I did. No regrets.”
“No regrets,” Yvette responded, and they looked into each other’s eyes. No regrets must have been a catchphrase with them, because their faces softened, and years fell away.
Carly sniffled. “You two are so wonderful.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes again. “I’m going for coffee.”
By the time she returned, Yvette and Armand were businesslike once again. Carly cleared her throat and sucked down her decaf latte—ah, sweet, warm cream.
“Armand,” she said. “I want to do something for the Shifter kids. I thought maybe a visit to the gallery, maybe an art class from you. You teach art classes for kids at community centers, right? Would you be willing to do one for Shifters?”
Armand looked surprised. “Are Shifter children interested in learning art?”
“I don’t see why not. They’re not allowed to do so many things, but no one has anything against them becoming artists. I checked. I thought some of the kids might enjoy it. Just a thought.”
“A very good thought. We will arrange it.”
Yvette said nothing, but Carly knew she approved. Yvette never kept strong opinions to herself.
Carly went back to work, more contented. A little bit. If she was carrying a Shifter cub, she wanted to learn all about Shifter kids. Besides, if she could put a little happiness into the eyes of a kid like Olaf, it would be totally worth it.
* * *
Lieutenant Colonel Sheldon looked Sergeant Crosby up and down as Crosby stood at stiff attention in front of Sheldon’s desk.
The young man was a machine, Sheldon thought, nothing more. Not like Walker Danielson, who had an idea or two in his head. Danielson was a good XO, but Sheldon preferred Crosby, who did what he was told and didn’t ask questions. No matter what Sheldon wanted him to do, Crosby figured the fact that Sheldon wanted it done was a good enough reason to do it.
Sheldon did not want to give up on the Shifter. The tiger was different, and the research on him had turned up astounding conclusions. Sheldon had seen great potential for either training the tiger or creating new Shifters from him—a body of soldiers who didn’t need much food, water, or sleep, who ran straight at enemy fire without quailing, and whose bodies adapted to survive that enemy fire. Shifter soldiers who could be controlled by the shock Collars they already had.
If Sheldon could produce one of these Shifter soldiers—or better still, a platoon of them—it would make his career. Promotion, commendations, field commands—all would come his way.
Sheldon didn’t know how more Shifters could be created, either through artificial insemination or the usual way, but he didn’t care. That was for the scientists in their white lab coats to piece together. He just wanted it done.
But now the Tiger had gone. Walker Danielson thought Sheldon didn’t realize that Walker must have something to do with the disappearance. Sheldon was keeping Walker on a long leash, and when he needed to, he’d reel him in.
Meanwhile Sergeant Crosby stood at attention like a vacant statue, awaiting orders. Sheldon had sent the PFC who was his clerk off to stock up on needless supplies so he could be sure of speaking to Crosby alone and uninterrupted.
“DNA,” Sheldon said. “We leave it everywhere we go.”
Crosby said nothing, though he clearly didn’t know what the hell Sheldon was talking about.
But if Sheldon could get some of the tiger’s DNA, his scientists could do something with it, like analyze its chain or make clones of this tiger person. Again, Sheldon didn’t know how those things worked; he only knew that if you wanted something done, you gathered people smart enough to do it and told them what you expected. If a person didn’t fulfill your expectations, you fired them and found another, until you’d pulled together a crack team.
“I need the tiger’s DNA. I want you to search Carly Randal’s house, top to bottom, for anything of the tiger’s—a strand of hair, his clothes, a hat. If you find nothing there, search the house in which he used to live, in Shiftertown.”
Crosby’s eyes widened, the statue flickering the slightest bit. “In Shiftertown, sir?”
“The woman’s house is the least dangerous, which is why I’m sending you there first. But you can handle Shifters, Crosby. You’re trained for it.”
“Yes, sir,” Crosby said.
“Fine. That’s your assignment. Dismissed. Oh, and Crosby—don’t mention a word of this to Captain Danielson. On your honor.”
“I won’t, sir.” Crosby saluted, turned on his heels, and marched out of the room.