The Bear Who Loved Me by Kathy Lyons Read Free Book Online Page B

please.”
    “I could do that, ma’am,” she answered. “But that would be one less pair of friendly eyes looking for your nephew.”
    The older woman spoke up, her tone tart. “She still doesn’t believe.” Her gaze landed heavily on Becca. “Don’t pick stupidity over the evidence of your own eyes.”
    “She hasn’t seen anything yet,” Mr. Max said, his voice all but booming from above her shoulder. He was standing much too close, but there wasn’t room for Becca to move away. Meanwhile, the other women looked surprised, and he raised his hands in a frustrated gesture. “And when was I supposed to do that? When she was unconscious?”
    The detective sighed. “We’re not getting anywhere until she believes. So go on,” she said with her brows arched at Mr. Max. “Show her.”
    Mr. Max crossed his arms and glowered. “I’ve got my turn at the second checkpoint in just a few hours. I’m not shifting. It’d cost me too much, and I won’t put those boys at risk.”
    Tonya folded her arms. “I’m not stripping for you.”
    “Shut up, children,” the older woman interrupted, her tone the sound of a mother at the end of her patience. Then she turned to Becca. “I’m Marty Dawson, Justin’s mom. He’s a few years older than Theo, but I think they know each other.”
    Becca didn’t know. Theo talked more about his school friends than the ones at camp. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said as she reached out to shake the woman’s hand. But she ended up with her fingers hanging there in midair as the woman untied the sash around her dress.
    “I’ve been through this before. Got two older kids who went through their First Change a few years back. It’s nerve-racking, and my Sarah came back with her legs torn to shreds from some fence. She’s fine now, but it doesn’t stop a mom from worrying.”
    How to respond to that? “Of course you worry.”
    “And you think we’re all cracked.” Marty kicked off her big Crocs. “I wore this just because sometimes I get protective when my kids are running wild. No sense in ripping my clothes.” She looked at Becca. “Pay attention. I’m only doing this once.” Then she looked back at Mr. Max. And she waited. He just stared at her, clearly confused.
    “Marty?”
    “You know I have to be angry. Say something to get my dander up.”
    “Uh… I don’t know anything.”
    The detective snorted. “Tell her about the dog when you were twelve.”
    He rolled his eyes. “I was ten .”
    “And old enough to know better, I expect,” said Marty. “Come on. Out with it. What did you do to that dog?”
    Mr. Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking for all the world like a man about to confess something terrible. “You know those tarts you made that kept going missing? That was me. I let the dog in and staged the scene so he’d take the blame.”
    “You let me cage that poor defenseless animal? Just so you could stuff yourself with my tarts!” She took an angry step forward. “Those were for Sarah’s birthday party! Those are damned hard to make and— Grrrroar!”
    Becca was watching Marty, her amusement kicking in at seeing big, bad Max put on the defensive by a middle-aged woman. But then the change happened.
    She noticed the face first, though Marty’s shoulders had grown disproportionately large as she advanced on Mr. Max. Then suddenly there was dark brown hair with white tips and a long muzzle. Her arms were raised as she pointed a finger at him, but it wasn’t a finger. It was a huge paw with a claw extended toward Mr. Max. The sacklike dress pulled tight across her torso, now doubled in size, and hair—fur—sprouted everywhere.
    She was a freaking bear, standing there in a dress while roaring at Mr. Max.
    It happened so quickly, and yet every split second seemed imprinted on Becca’s memory.
    Becca stumbled over her own feet, her entire body feeling cold as she scrambled backward. The detective was there, holding on to her with an