That was it. No additional text, no explanation of the article. No notes. Were these the people who reported seeing the flying horse? How were they connected? I flipped through the rest of the folder. The notes said this was the third report, so where were the other two?

I looked at Ascanio. “Where’s the rest?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his face a picture of perfect innocence. “Julie was the one who filed it. I just work here. I have no idea why the Blond Harpy does anything.”

Argh.

I picked up the phone and called home. Maybe she went back.

No answer.

There was a time when that would’ve freaked me the hell out. Now I took it as a given. Julie, if she was home, wasn’t picking up. Now that I was calm and somewhat rational, I didn’t blame her. In her place, I wouldn’t answer either. We both knew an ugly conversation was coming. Sooner or later, I would track her down. If I wasn’t running out of time, I would’ve done that already.

I dialed Beau Clayton’s office.

No ringing, but lots of dry clicks. The magic must’ve knocked out the phone lines somewhere on the way to Milton County.

“Stay here,” I told Ascanio. “If Julie shows up, tell her that she and I need to talk and to be home at a decent time tonight. My decent, not hers. If Curran shows up, tell him I went to see Beau Clayton. Everybody else can take a number, I’ll deal with it later. If my father shows up, don’t talk to him.”

Ascanio dropped the innocent act. His eyes turned serious. “I want to come with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I never get to and your father tried to slap you.”

“And how do you know that?”

“You need backup.”

He wasn’t wrong. Given that he was seventeen now, six feet tall, and able to control his aggression enough to think during a fight, I could do worse.

I wrote Went to see Beau on a piece of paper and left it on my desk. “Let’s go.”

I swung the door open a moment before Derek walked through it.

“I heard the conversation. I’m coming,” he said.

Ascanio rolled his eyes. “This will be fun.”

Derek parked himself in the doorway. “You need backup.”

“She has backup.”

“Yes, but someone will have to carry the Prince of Hyenas if he accidentally stabs his pinkie toe, and she isn’t a shapeshifter.”

“Fine.” I headed for my vehicle.

Behind me Ascanio snorted. “Idiot wolf.”

“Spoiled bouda brat.”

“Bigot.”

“Crybaby.”

“Shit for brains.”

“Momma’s boy.”

Universe, grant me patience.

•   •   •

I WALKED INTO Beau’s office carrying six bottles of root beer and a bucket of fried chicken. Beau raised his head from the paperwork he was reading behind his desk, sniffed the air, and sat up straighter.