Page 97 of Autumn L.A.W

Reginald held up one claw. “First, a summary of crimes.”

“Reginald—”

“She cannot speak French,” he said. “She ordered coffee by pointing, and she called croissants ‘crescent bread.’ The barista nearly organized a strike.”

Duke murmured, “Understandable.”

“She also declared the cold weather coming in ‘hostile,’” Reginald continued. “She was heading South. However⁠—”

Victoria sat up. “However?”

“She does not like beaches. Too humid and too much sand. ‘Gets everywhere.’ Her words.”

Duke tilted his head. “That narrows things a little.”

Victoria’s eyes sharpened. “So not Florida.”

“Correct.”

Reginald paused for effect. “She does, however, enjoy country music.”

Victoria slowly sat forward. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Duke’s brow furrowed. “Tennessee?”

Victoria nodded. “Tennessee.”

Reginald nodded, pleased. “She mentioned boots. And live music. And ‘a place where people understand a good breakup song.’”

Victoria dropped her head back against the couch. “I crossed continents. I nearly died in a jungle. I inhaled something that should count as a war crime⁠—”

“Corpse flower?” Reginald supplied.

“Bingo. And she runs off to reinvent herself as a country music enthusiast?”

“People cope in different ways,” Reginald said.

“This is not coping. This is altering my entire brand.”

Duke smiled faintly. “At least we have a destination.”

“Yes,” Victoria said. “A destination filled with music, boots, and the woman currently living in my body.”

She sat up, energy snapping back into place. “Fine. Tennessee it is.”

Reginald grinned. “Road trip?”

“I’m afraid not, my dear Reginald.” Victoria stood and paced. “We had to take a bus to get here. And with a raccoon on my shoulder, we wouldn’t blend in.”

“Agreed.”

She turned toward Duke, eyes gleaming with renewed purpose.

“We are going to Tennessee,” she said. “We are going to find her⁠—”

“And?” Reginald prompted.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “And then we’re having a very serious conversation about dry-cleaning.”