Chapter 4

Heather leapt out of the Dodge Ram, yanked the crew cab door open, and dove into the back seat. Soon she carried a baby carrier, covered with a thick fleece Broncos blanket. Brady rushed toward the blanketed lump in the yard.

“Wait.” Jeremy stopped him. Heather rushed up behind her husband.

“Listen to me.” Jeremy blocked them both. Should he blurt it out that Poppy shifted and killed her husband? Did either of them have any idea Poppy was a shapeshifter? He decided to approach the subject delicately. “There was an accident. Hank is dead.”

He paused to calculate their reaction. They both glanced at the form under the blanket.

“That’s him there?” Brady took a step.

“Yes. But before you examine the ... body.” Jeremy remembered that Heather was a medical examiner and must have seen all forms of mutilated bodies. Still, this was a family member. Even though Hank was an asshole, he still was family to them. “It’s not pretty.”

“What happened?” Heather looked anxious to step around Jeremy, and yet reluctant.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Brady. I know.”

Brady tilted his head slightly, squinting his eyes in a threatening way. “You know what?”

Jeremy nodded. “I know you have the gift.”

“Gift?” Brady’s eyes went wide. “What exactly do you think you know?”

Heather’s expression focused on Jeremy as if curiously confused. Her brows slammed down over her eyes.

Jeremy let his eyes dart between Heather and Brady. Quietly, he stated. “I know you are a shapeshifter.” His eyes turned to Heather, “And I know the gift runs in your family as well.”

Brady and Heather reacted as one, mouths slack. Heather finally spoke. “How?”

Jeremy took a deep breath. “Because it runs in my family, too. I smelled you, Armstrong. That day you found little Mable, but I couldn’t do anything about it ... because ... I had to stay with my Chelany. She doesn’t handle stressful situations very well. She’s not mature enough in her gifts to control it, so I remained with my daughter to keep her from changing in front of the entire Daffodil troop.”

He paused. Spilling the truth wasn’t always easy. Even when speaking to people who knew all too well what it was like. Still, revealing that one was ... well, different from what is expected of the populace, it wasn’t easy.

“And...” Jeremy watched Heather, to be sure she understood his next words. “Poppy had some sort of breakthrough tonight. I have no idea what triggered it, but the gift awakened in her ... and...” He turned to the blanket, gesturing an upturned palm toward the form. “She killed Hank.”

Brady and Heather stared at him in silence.

“Poppy?” Heather uttered at last. “Killed Hank? She shot him?”

Jeremy sighed. “No.”

Brady jammed his hand into his short dark hair and turned away from his wife. “Poppy shapeshifted...? and killed Hank!”

“Right.” Jeremy let out a breath and nodded.

Heather’s eyes went wide. “What?— Poppy? But the ... legacy has been dormant for four generations.”

Jeremy shook his head. “It skips a generation in my family as far back as anyone knows. I’m the generation it skipped. But Chelany—” He turned to Brady. “What I have from the gift is a heightened sense of smell.”

Brady nodded. He got it. All of it. Heather was still processing.

The storm door clicked open. Poppy stood at the threshold. Dried blood spotted her face, and hands. Her clothes were stiff with dried blood. Her face, where the blood was not, was so pale. Jeremy rushed toward her, leaping on the porch and holding the door for her. His eyes met Heather’s. “Can you come inside and help Poppy?”

Heather snapped her mouth shut and hurried to her sister’s side, shifting the baby carrier. “Of course.”

“Help her take a shower,” Jeremy suggested. “Brady and I will take care of this.”

Heather glanced at the lump under the blanket. She nodded and guided her sister into the house.

Jeremy closed the glass door and turned to Brady. “We need to call the police.”

“What are you thinking? A bear attack?”

“Exactly.” Jeremy walked down the two steps to stand with Brady. “How’s this— I came over to check on Chelany, saw a bear running down the street, and found Hank here, like this. Poppy was inside asleep and didn’t hear any of it. The girls, likewise, were asleep in the treehouse in the backyard.” Jeremy lifted his phone. “I didn’t call right away because, frankly I was in shock. Poppy and the girls were my primary concern. She freaked out and I called you two, then we made sure the girls were safe in bed before we called the authorities.”

“Sounds about right.” Brady’s eyes lifted to the door and the porch. “I take it you cleaned up evidence leading to Poppy’s involvement?”

“Yes. An old family recipe eliminates any traces of human body fluids, such as blood.”

Brady nodded. “I might want to get that recipe from you.”

Jeremy smiled. “Sure. Let’s get the girls out of the treehouse and call the police.”

“On it.” Brady lifted his cell phone and made the call while he and Jeremy walked through the house to the backyard. The shower whined through the pipes as the men entered the back door with the two sleeping girls in their arms, Marla walked beside her Uncle but didn’t look like she was fully awake. The men tiptoed to the girls’ room and put them all in the two twin-size beds. Jeremy kissed his daughter as she turned over, snuggling down under the warm covers. Would they even remember being moved come morning?

Heather dried Poppy’s hair and helped her dress in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Haddy slept peacefully through it all, in her carrier on the floor of Poppy’s bedroom. Heather pulled a comforter from Poppy’s bed and wrapped her in it before setting her in the recliner. Brady had the forethought to ask the Police and the first responders not to run their sirens or lights due to the hour of the morning and the fact that there was no doubt Hank was dead.

Heather, Brady, and Jeremy agreed not to leave Poppy alone, so when the emergency vehicles began to arrive, Jeremy and Heather walked out to meet them while Brady stayed inside with his sister-in-law.

A firetruck arrived first. Heather introduced herself as a staff member of the Denver Medical Examiner’s office and Poppy Fields’ sister. She gestured toward the lump under the throw as her brother-in-law, Hank. “This is their home,” Heather concluded.

Just then a shrink-wrapped police SUV with the graphic slogan, “Serve, Honor, Respect” covering the entire side and hood, slammed to a halt blocking the driveway, as if anyone might try to escape the scene. Heather rolled her eyes. Such pompous drama. She waited for the two officers to walk to her.

“Ma’am, do you live here?” The silky-haired blond female officer approached first. She looked as though she needed a new uniform. She’d eaten too many Big Macs since her last fitting. Her name tag read Deeter.

Heather shook her head. “No. This is my sister’s house.” She repeated her identification. “We were called when—”