"Shh," I hissed at him.
I fought through the busy signal and got to the gatekeeper. I explained my reason for calling—that I could speak to Trish's situation. Then I found myself telling him my name. "Kitty."
The guy didn't say anything. Why should he? I wasn't the only person in the world named Kitty. He didn't have any reason to think that Ariel's radio rival would call in to her show.
I wasn't angry this time. I wasn't frustrated and lashing out. I really had something to say.
Ben watched me, kind of like he might watch a train wreck on TV. I had turned down the radio, but he'd moved it over by him and was listening with it up to his ear. I paced the room along the foot of the bed and ignored him.
The call with Trish had drawn to a close. Then Ariel spoke to me. "Hello. Why have you joined me this evening?"
"Hi. I just wanted to tell Trish that she should tell her mother."
"Why do you say that?"
I wished I were in charge here. I wished Trish had called into my show so I could have told her directly. So I knew she was listening. For the first time in weeks, I really wished I were doing my show.
I said, "Because I told my mother that I'm a werewolf, and it was the right thing to do. I didn't mean to. It just kind of slipped out. But once I did, she wanted to know why I hadn't told her sooner. And she was right, I should have. I didn't give her enough credit for being able to handle it. She was upset, sure. But she's still my mom. She still wants to be there for me, and the only way she can do that is if she knows what's going on in my life. In the long run it meant I could stop making stupid excuses about where I was on full moon nights."
"How long ago did you tell her?"
I had to think a minute. "It's been a year or so."
"And you have a good relationship with your mother?"
"Yeah, I think I do. We talk at least once a week, usually." In fact, I should probably give her a call. I should probably tell her what was really going on in my life. "This is going to sound trite, but if Trish doesn't tell her mom, she'll always regret it. If she tells her now they still have a chance to talk it out. If she waits, she'll be telling it to her mother's grave for the rest of her life, hoping for an answer that isn't going to come."
An uncharacteristically long pause followed. Radio people were trained to shun silence, to fill the silence at all costs. Yet Ariel let maybe five seconds of silence tick by.
Then she said, without her usual sultry, sugary tone, "Wait a minute. You said your name is Kitty. Is that right?"
Damn. Caught. Now would be the time to hang up. "Uh, yeah," I said instead.
"And you're a werewolf."
"Yes. Yes I am."
"That's not a coincidence, is it? There couldn't possibly be two werewolves named Kitty. That would be… ridiculous."
"Yes. Yes it would."
"You're Kitty Norville. What are you doing calling in to my show?"
"Oh, you know. Stuck at home on a Saturday night, feeling kind of bored—"
"But you listen to my show. That's so cool."
Huh? "It is?"
"Are you kidding? You're such an inspiration."
"I am?"
"Yeah! You're so down to earth, you make it so easy to talk about things. You've changed the way everyone talks about the supernatural. You inspired me to try to build on that. Why do you think I started this show?"
"Uh… to cut in on my market share?"
She said, horrified, "Oh, no! I want to expand what you've done. Add another voice, make it harder for the critics to gang up on us. And now you're calling me. I hardly know what to say."
Neither did I. To think, I'd wanted to sue her, and here she was sounding like one of my biggest fans. I could have cried. "Thanks, I guess."
"So why are you sitting at home bored and not doing The Midnight Hour?"
"Let's just say I've had a rough couple of months."
Again, she hesitated, just a moment this time. She came back, almost shy. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Did I? On the air? But I had to admit, she was good. She knew the trick of making the caller feel like it was just the two of you having a chat over a cup of tea. Maybe I could talk a little.
I glanced at Ben, still listening to the radio turned way low. He kind of looked like he was suppressing a grin.
"A friend of mine was attacked and infected with lycanthropy a couple weeks ago. I've been taking care of him, and it's been tough. Another friend just got arrested for something he did to save my life. He's being charged with a felony. It's complicated. It also feels like the last straw. No matter how much you try to do the right thing, you get screwed over. Makes it easy to just drop out. To give up."
"But not really. Life gets hard, but you don't just run away."
"Except there's this thing inside me, the wolf side of me, and all she wants to do is run away. I'm really having to fight that."
"But you've always won that fight. I listen to your show. That's one of the great things about it, how you always tell people to be strong, and they listen to you. You understand."
"I'm flying by the seat of my pants most of the time."
"And that's gotten you this far, hasn't it?"
Was sultry Ariel giving me a pep talk? Was it working? I was a bit taken aback, that here was this person I didn't know, out on the airwaves, rooting for me.
Maybe I'd forgotten that anyone was rooting for me.
I smiled in spite of myself. "So what you're saying is I just have to keep going."
"Isn't that what you always tell people?"
"Yeah," I murmured. Nothing like having that mirror held up to you, or your words thrown back at you. "I think you're right. I just have to keep going. I never thought I'd say this, Ariel. But thanks. Thanks for talking to me."
"I'm not sure I really said anything."
"Maybe I just needed someone to listen." Someone who wasn't depending on me to keep it together. "I'll let you go back to your show now."
Ariel said, "Kitty, I'm really worried about you."
"How about I give you a call in a couple of weeks and let you know how it's going? Or you could give me a call."
"It's a date. Take care, Kitty."
I shut off the phone and sat on the edge of the bed.
I felt Ben staring at me, but I didn't want to look back. Didn't want to face him and whatever snide thing he was about to say. But the room was too small for us to avoid each other for long. I looked at him.
He said, "You really need to get back to doing your show. The sooner the better. You're too good at it not to."
I wanted to cry. What I couldn't say—not to Ariel, not to him, not to anyone—was that I was too scared to go back. Scared that I couldn't keep it going anymore. I felt like I'd rather quit than fail.
Slowly, I walked over to him, putting a slink in my step and a heat in my gaze. I needed distracting. I sat on his lap, straddling him, pinning him to the chair, and kissed him. Kissed him long and slow, until he put his arms around me and held me tight. Until his grip anchored me.
"Come to bed, Ben," I breathed, and he nodded, kissing me again.
We went to visit the Wilsons in the morning.
The family lived west of Shiprock, on a flat expanse of desert scrub and sagebrush. The police report left directions. We turned off the highway onto a dusty track masquerading as a road. A couple of miles along, we found the house. Some run-down rail and post fencing marked corrals, but nothing lived in them. The house was one story, plank board, small and crouching. It didn't seem big enough to serve as a garage, much less house a family. A couple of ancient, rusting pickup trucks sat nearby.
We parked on the dirt road and walked the path—a track lined roughly with stones—to the front door.
"If it were anyone but Cormac I wouldn't be doing this. I'd write the whole case off," Ben said. "I have to go in there and ask these people to help me defend the man who killed their daughter. This kind of thing didn't used to bother me but now all I want to do is growl and rip something apart."