did,” Tucker muttered. “I got pulled into a pizza joint, and I sat down, and it was like she was right there, and then she wasn’t. She must have walked out the back door or gotten pulled out by a phone call or—”
Angel squeezed his hand. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.
“I know,” Tucker snapped. But still he didn’t move his hand. “I know it wasn’t my fault. But see? There’s three more—Chester Phillips, Todd Harold, Chastity Cardeno—all the names in my scrapbook are names you wrote down from the graveyard. All of them missed me and met their untimely end. And now they’re somehow in the invisible supernatural graveyard in the backyard. But that’s not the worst part!”
Tucker’s anger must have given him some immunity to the pain, because his hand slid from Angel’s grasp. For a moment, they both looked mournfully at their hands resting separately on the tabletop, and then Tucker stood up and began to pace in restless circles.
“What’s the worst part?” Angel was almost afraid to ask.
“I don’t know all of those names in the notebook!” Tucker yelled, running both hands through his hair.
Angel tried to assimilate this. Failed.
“I don’t understand.”
“I thought… I thought I knew who they all were. I could deal if I’d brought them here. But I didn’t. I brought six. But there were, how many?”
“Twenty-three,” Angel said thoughtfully. “Squishbeans! Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!” Tucker had set up the cat food and water in a corner of the kitchen, and Squishbeans pulled her gray muzzle out of a can of soft food and licked her whiskers. “C’mon, pussy, I need to touch you.”
Out of nowhere, Tucker laughed.
“What?” Angel asked, scooping the kitten up and cuddling her. He glanced up at Tucker and saw that some of the sadness, some of the desperation, had dropped from his shoulders, from his eyes, and he was laughing, the sound wholesome and sweet.
For a moment their eyes met, Tucker’s twinkling with joy and Angel’s….
Angel had no idea what was in his own eyes, but Tucker suddenly sobered and bit his lip. “Stay right there,” he murmured. He took two steps forward and bent his head, the touch of his lips on Angel’s as solid and as real as Squishbeans in Angel’s arms.
Angel tasted him, allowing his eyes to flutter shut, and savored. Just savored. When Tucker pulled back, Angel was pretty sure his own expression was slack and dreamy.
Tucker cupped his cheek. “I wanted… I want….” He grimaced and turned away. “We’re not having sex with the cat in the bed,” he said unequivocally. “And we need to find a way to touch in happiness as well as in pain.”
Angel gazed at the set of his shoulders and thought, If I have to break all the rules of heaven. “Okay, Tucker. It will be like our mysteries.”
Tucker turned around slowly, some of his earlier happiness leavening the shadows under his eyes. “Our mysteries?”
“Bridget and Sophie and the others. The graveyard. Every time we turn around in Daisy Place, we stumble over a clue. I’m sure we’ll solve the mystery of….” His face heated. “We’ll solve the mystery of us along the way.”
Tucker’s grooved cheek twitched as he pulled back his mouth in a half smile. “The mystery of us?”
“Yes,” Angel said with dignity. “Of us.”
“I like that mystery. I think you’re right. Solving the mystery of us. It will be something to shoot for.” He swallowed and strode back to the table. “Now why did you need the cat?”
Angel smiled at him. “You are so strong,” he said, his throat thick and chest aching. “No matter what the mysteries show us, Tucker, you need to remember how strong you are.”
Angel watched the flush creep up his pale cheeks and along this throat. “Thanks, Angel. What are you looking at?”
“These other names,” Angel said, using the power of Squishbeans to leaf through Tucker’s notebook. “I mean, your computer, the internet. Surely you could research these people and see if they’re alive, right?”
“Yeah!” Tucker’s tired smile gave Angel hope. “That’s a great idea—”
“And this name!” Angel felt a thrill through his stomach and up in his chest. “I know this name. You know this name!”
Tucker leaned over Angel’s shoulder, and for a moment his breath against Angel’s face made Angel yearn for all that was human. “Wait. That’s Senior. That’s Thomas Conklin Senior. Angel, that’s the guy who… who….”
“That’s who you saw die,” Angel said, his mind racing. “So… so six of these are people you brought here.