Free A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery) by Laura Morrigan Page A

names yet.”
    “How about Voodoo?”
    I smiled. “After her queenly benefactor?”
    “Why not? It’s better than Fluffball or Blackie.”
    “I like it—Voodoo it is.”
    Emma finished her tea and headed downstairs to the dojo to warm up before class. I showered and started the manhunt for Brooke’s boyfriend, Stefan.
    I was so hopped up on caffeine that I’d made it halfway to Cesery Road before I made an astute observation.
    My chances of finding a low-life druggie like Stefan out and about before eight on Sunday morning were pretty much zip.
    The coffee would not be defeated so easily. I needed a way to channel my energy. I thought about what Kai had said about the police being unable to start the search for Brooke until she was reported missing. What if I could convince Brooke’s parents she hadn’t just run away?
    I called Ozeal, who’d probably been up since dawn, and asked her for Brooke’s home address. “I’ll have to call you back, Grace. I’m still making the breakfast rounds.” Before she hung up, I heard the lion, Larry, belch out a hungry roar.
    My stomach grumbled, echoing the sentiment. I spotted a Krispy Kreme up ahead. The HOT DOUGHNUTS NOW sign flashed like a neon beacon guiding the wayward and lost to the goodness of fried dough and sugar glaze.
    Five minutes later, I was hopped up on coffee
and
sugar.
    My fingers danced on Bluebell’s steering wheel and my leg bounced up and down as I sat next to the empty box of doughnuts and stared at the clock.
    What seemed like an hour later, Ozeal called me back and read off an address not far from the Krispy Kreme.
    “You’re going to talk to the Ligners?”
    “I’m hoping to persuade them to file a missing person report on Brooke.”
    “You going to tell them about the other missing girls?”
    I winced at the reference to my lie.
    “I’ll do whatever I can to convince them,” I assured her before hanging up, feeling terrible that I had been dishonest.
    My conscience chanted
Liar, liar, pants on fire!
as I pulled out of the Krispy Kreme.
    The Ligners’ neighborhood surprised me. I was expecting an area of Arlington with a harder edge, but the houses were spacious and neat. Solidly upper-middle class. Lawns were manicured and trash cans and skeletons kept well hidden from view.
    I parked in the drive behind a newer Lexus SUV and climbed out of Bluebell. A few doughnut crumbs and flakes of glaze clung to the front of my shirt and I brushed them off as I walked down the path toward the front door.
    I rang the bell and stood admiring the cheerful Halloween wreath while I waited.
    The woman who opened the door looked to be in her forties. A blonde with blue eyes. I wondered if I had the wrong house. Aside from her coloring, she didn’t look like the mother of a missing teenager. No trace of worry lining her face or dark circles under her eyes.
    “Mrs. Ligner?”
    “Yes.”
    “My name is Grace Wilde. I work with Ozeal Mallory at the rescue facility.”
    She blinked at me for a moment before seeming to connect the dots. I wondered if this woman, with her perfect hair and spotless shirt, had distanced herself from the unpleasant reality that her daughter was in a program for troubled teenagers.
    “I’d like to talk to you about Brooke, if you have a minute.”
    “Brooke?” A little frown creased her brow.
    “May I come in?”
    She glanced over her shoulder and back at me. “I don’t know . . . we were just on our way to church.”
    “It won’t take long. Do you know that Brooke is missing?”
    Again she blinked at me as if she didn’t quite understand. I was beginning to think I would get more response from a goldfish. I tried again. “Brooke hasn’t been to work in three days.”
    “Oh, yes, well, Brooke does that. You know how teenagers can be.”
    “I think you should file a missing person report.”
    “A what?” Her eyes went wide.
    “Anne? Who was at—” A man appeared behind her, stopping when he saw me.
    “Hi, Mr.