Raven’s Instinct (A Day Care for Shifters #6)

11. Alan

11

ALAN

I t wasn’t until Kendra left with Amy that Alan caught a glimpse of himself in one of the dark windows of Cherry’s office and realized he was sparkling with glitter. One of the kids had upended a craft project on him, and washing his hands and dabbing his clothing with a paper towel hadn’t even started to get it all off.

Alan wondered if Kendra cared. She’d shown up with blood and grime all over her padded flannel and Alan was surprised to find that he was worried she might think he was less manly than she was.

His long hair had gotten him a lot of grief as a kid, and teasing for being a girl. He’d stubbornly refused to cut it as a nod to his grandmother’s Yupik culture, even if it sometimes seemed like the only thing he had left of that heritage.

He’d gotten through his military service without cutting his hair using the same excuse.

Maybe he should cut it. But he liked standing out. He liked the second glances. Secret vanity?

His raven preened. It’s beautiful, like me.

He definitely liked that Kendra liked it.

Cherry’s computer had exactly the security he expected it to, and a safe-mode reboot got him past her password. He hooked up the external drive and started downloading her files. He hadn’t expected to be left alone with the day care so soon, but he was glad to get this part of his assignment out of the way.

It wasn’t that the agency didn’t trust Cherry, it was just that they needed to be thorough, and Cherry had continued to balk at sharing her clients’ private records. Alan considered it a sign of good character, but he also knew that they could do more with thorough and complete information than they could with partial data.

Alan only felt a tiny twinge of guilt as he flipped through the files while the transfer made the computer fan click on. Quietly taking her data instead of persuading her to change her mind cut Cherry’s responsibility out and saved her a moral dilemma, he assured himself. He was doing her a favor.

His raven was no help to his conscience. Stealing is more fun anyway.

He didn’t really mean to pull up Kendra’s file, but her name caught his eye like something shiny, and he couldn’t resist clicking.

Kendra Emerson. And there was her address, her occupation, all of Amy’s details. There was a field for “favorite animal” that listed snowy owl (mother also) . There was no information about a father, and Alan told himself that wasn’t what he was snooping for anyway.

He memorized the address without intending to; it was just down the street, and if he drove past it on his way to the house he was renting, there was no harm in that. It was right on the way.

His raven clacked his beak in glee. It’s a game!

It’s not a game. We’re not playing a game. We’re just…

What was he doing? What could he possibly hope for with this woman? A pleasant short-term affair until his next assignment? She was clearly wary, probably for all the reasons that didn’t list a father in Amy’s paperwork. Messy divorce? Abusive ex?

The download finished and Alan put the computer back exactly the way he’d found it. He’d carefully taken note of where Cherry’s chair was and the placement of the keyboard. He gave the room one last sweep, turned off the light, and left.

The address in Kendra’s file really was right on the way home, so Alan saw no reason not to go by.

He pulled over across from it in consternation. There was a big mobile vet van parked right at the curb that must be hers, but the address was not a house at all. It was, in fact, right in a commercial zone, and it appeared to be a laundromat .

There was no second story that might be an apartment, and no room on either side or in the back for a rental cottage; it had no yard whatsoever, snugged up between a closed cafe and a niche quilting store. It was a brightly-lit, glass-fronted laundromat full of well-used units, uncomfortable-looking chairs, and folding tables. An old man was reading a magazine near a spinning washer, and no one else was in sight.

While Alan was still trying to make sense of this puzzle, a door in the back opened, clearly a bathroom, and Kendra came out carrying Amy, wrapped in a towel. Both of them had damp hair, like they’d just showered, and Kendra appeared to be singing.

He could imagine her chanting, Fingers and feet! Fingers and feet! It was a constant chorus at Tiny Paws and Alan thought it might replace some of the more annoying earworms that he’d lived with all of his life so far.

Amy looked much happier than she had at Tiny Paws, bouncing in Kendra’s arms. She laughed and grabbed at the towel as Kendra set her in one of the rolling laundry carts and started drying her vigorously.

Alan watched Kendra get Amy dressed and pull a load of clothes out of a dryer. The clothes were swiftly folded, despite Amy’s enthusiastic “assistance.” The old man with the magazine ignored them, but Alan saw him smile.

He didn’t realize that it might be odd of him to still be watching until Kendra plopped Amy into a tightly-packed laundry basket and headed for the door. He’d turned his SUV off, and a dark car on the far curb shouldn’t be remarkable, but Alan still had to resist the urge to sink into his seat and hide.

Kendra went to the back of the van, out of his view, then returned with only Amy. She buckled the girl into a rear-facing car seat in the passenger seat, and then walked around to the driver’s side.

Alan let them pull away and get halfway down the block before he knew he had to follow them, instinct like a weight on his shoulder and his raven pecking annoyingly in his ear. Follow! Sneak!