by Lyla Oweds
Michael nodded, touching my waist as he guided me ahead of him. “Understandable.” His voice was even. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time. But you’ll find it interesting to know that it was Mr. DuClaw who requested the case’s reopening.”
It was quick, so much that I almost missed it, but something akin to fear tainted the air. An instant later, she turned her gaze from Michael, meeting mine. Searching. As if she was testing to see if I’d noticed. I was careful to keep my face blank, my emotions controlled, as I tilted my head at her curiously then averted my eyes.
Not everyone would have noticed.
“I’m sorry.” My voice was soft. Like any time I’d been confronted in the past and needed to escape notice. It always worked against the more aggressive wolves. “Don’t mind me. I’m just a lowly intern, studying under these two strapping men. I won’t be a threat to your privacy.”
Michael’s hand twitched, and his expression broke only for an instant as he glanced down at me. But he was a quick learner, and indifference masked his surprise.
“That’s right,” he said, pulling me closer to his side. “In fact, I’ll let you in on a secret, if it’ll set you more at ease. This is my future wife. As you can see, she is a skittish little thing. I bring her along because she’s afraid to be left alone for long periods of time. Her presence is of no consequence. She answers only to me.”
“Yes…” I was going to murder him; this was how he died. I’d gone to school for this, I could make it look like an accident and no one would be the wiser. “Darling, I’m so embarrassed. This was supposed to be our secret.”
She narrowed her eyes at the two of us, but the barely masked hostility fell from her scent. Now, there was only annoyance and a tinge of curiosity. “An onmyoji and a werewolf…” Her tone was pensive. “Now that’s a rare pairing. Congratulations to you, if you can make it work.”
If we could make it work? Who in the world expressed their well-wishes in such a way? Granted, it wasn’t like we were actually getting married.
But still, it was the point.
“Thank you.” My face was hot, and I swallowed to keep my emotions under control. It was only through years of controlling my ability to have my feelings leak into my scent that prevented our exposure. It had been a difficult skill to master, but one that was necessary for survival. “You’re too kind.”
Gregory didn’t respond to the conversation at all. Instead, he moved behind us, corralling Michael and me into the house in front of him. And Mrs. Estrada, with a curt nod at me, led us through the short hallway, showing us to a modest sitting room.
I settled on a settee, between Gregory and Michael, as Mrs. Estrada moved to an armchair across us. She sat primly, crossing her feet at the ankles as her arms remained wrapped around herself. Gregory had hardly even taken out a notebook and his pen before she made an inpatient sound.
She was nervous, but I supposed that was to be expected. I doubted that when she woke up this morning she’d thought she’d be having this sort of conversation.
“Mrs. Estrada.” Gregory leaned forward, pen ready. “Mr. DuClaw has requested that we take a second look at his wife’s case. We’ve examined the old evidence, and some new details have come to light. Considering your long history with the Silver Moon pack, I hoped you might be able to answer some questions.”
“I’m not speaking against my pack.” Mrs. Estrada reached into a basket at her side, pulling out knitting needles and a ball of yarn. And while her attention was diverted for only an instant, Gregory glanced at me, eyebrows raised.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing my breath to calm. This was absurd.
“We’re not asking you to speak against your pack or your Alpha,” Gregory ventured, his tone soothing. “We only want some answers about how things used to be, from your childhood.”
She began to work, barely looking up as she spoke. “If you’re so concerned, go ask one of the other older wolves. Why have you interrupted my solitude? Do I look like I want to reminisce?”
“We tried.” Gregory frowned, inclining his head toward Michael. “Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Kohler were on pack lands last weekend. But no one would talk to them.”
“Then what makes you think I’ll be any different?”
The disinterested tone of her voice pulled at me, and even though Michael had said that this wasn’t my interview, I couldn’t hold myself back. “Because she’s your sister. Don’t you want to know what happened to her? Don’t you care?”
The clicking of the needles paused, and her eyes lifted to hold mine. Anger simmered in her expression, along with something else I couldn’t quite place. “What are you insinuating?”
My breath caught, and Michael’s hand closed over my own while Gregory responded, “We’re saying that you’re the only person who can help. Won’t you answer a few questions?”
Her eyes tore from mine, and she hissed out a low, long exhale before she responded, “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“We’ve learned that Christian MacClure and Oscar DuClaw were friends once. You were young then. Do you know how the feud between the Silver Moon pack and the Dark Creek pack began?” Gregory asked.
She had masked it quickly, but not fast enough to hide the surprise that touched the air. “I’m not sure what you mean. We’ve never been friends with those of the Dark Creek pack.”
Gregory frowned, glancing at his notes. “That’s not what—”
“Anyone who believes otherwise is a blasphemer.” She scowled, the expression deepening the fine line of her wrinkles. “Our packs hadn’t gotten along since long before we’d settled in this land. My grandfather migrated here from Scotland, and even there our families were at war. This rivalry is in our blood.”
“That long?” Gregory asked.
“Longer.” Mrs. Estrada nodded. “According to my grandfather, the founder of our packs were brothers, generations back. Too far to trace. That connection led to them being drawn together, despite loathing the other.”
“What caused their rivalry?” Gregory was taking notes. “Did your grandfather ever say?”
“No…” She studied him. “What does any of this have to do with my sister?”
“Did you ever suspect that the Dark Creek pack had a place in Mrs. DuClaw’s murder?” he asked, not looking up.
She blinked, and a flicker of panic raced through the air. But, again, just as quickly, it was masked. “No.”
Gregory glanced up. “Why not?”
“Because Stacy was found near the reservation.” Mrs. Estrada frowned at him. “Surely it’s in your notes?”
Gregory’s brows furrowed, and he glanced down. “Where she was found? Yes, but…”
“It was Alpha DuClaw who found his wife’s body,” Mrs. Estrada replied. “And Timothy Bigelow’s scent was heavy at the scene.”
If she expected surprise at this, she didn’t show a reaction to the lack of it. Instead, Gregory sighed, looking up. “We know that, Mrs. Estrada. But as you pointed out, they were near the reservation. Miss Gloria could probably still go there and scent Mr. Bigelow if she tried hard enough. In fact, we are examining the scene with new eyes. But that alone isn’t proof—”
“What other proof do you need?” A menacing tint entered her scent. “If you’re saying that’s not enough, then you’re just as useless as the police back then.”
“It isn’t enough,” Michael spoke up. “That’s circumstantial. There is no other evidence of his wrongdoing.” He glanced at Gregory once again.
Gregory sighed. “We’re trying to be objective, Mrs. Estrada. If I could ask a few more questions—”
“No.” She got to her feet. “I’m quite finished. You may see yourselves out.”
Gregory slowly rose to his feet, and the two of us followed, his expression blank despite the tension in the air. I expected him to argue, or to at least try to get in one last word, but he surprised me.
He brushed his hand against my own. It took a half
-second, but was enough to cause my heart to skip. Then it was over, and his touch moved to my lower back as he guided me to the door, Michael in pursuit.
She didn’t follow us to see us out, and no one said a word as we piled into Michael’s car and he pulled out of the driveway.
There was nothing to be said, really. And nothing that we really learned. Timothy might have lied about Mr. DuClaw and the previous Alpha MacClure being friends, but I didn’t think so. There had been no trace of deception on him.
But at the same time, Mrs. Estrada hadn’t been lying either. At least, not when she spoke about the source of the rivalry between our packs.
As for her other reactions, they were odd, but—
“Sometimes grief makes people react in strange ways,” I offered, glancing at Gregory’s pondering expression. Surely, I’d imagined the flash of hatred in her eyes when she spoke of her sister.
She was grieving still. I personally knew how that felt.
Michael grunted, pulling off the main road into an empty lot. It looked like the diner was still closed, so there was no one other than us around. As he put the vehicle in park, it was Gregory who responded.
“That wasn’t grief,” he said, stroking his chin.
I glanced at him. “But…” My words trailed off. I’d been about to mention Grace, but I hadn’t told these two men about my sister or my past.
Gregory didn’t seem to notice my hesitation, or if he did, he was too stuck on the current topic to mention it. “She’s angry that the case has been reopened,” he decided. “Did you see her face when we mentioned going to the crime scene?”
“She didn’t like that.” Michael nodded.
“Oh, come on.” These two would never understand. Besides, they were inconsistent. “She’s a normal old woman and you two are latching on to her because of one of Michael’s cryptic ‘feelings.’ Maybe the universe just wants you to be nice to her.” I poked the onmyoji’s arm. “Did you ever think about that?”
The words had no sooner left my mouth when Michael went rigid beside me.
“Michael?” Annoyance morphed into concern, and my hand touched his knee. But he was looking out of the window, not showing any indication that he heard me.
“It’s okay.” Gregory’s hand closed over my shoulder. “He’s having a vision; it doesn’t happen often. Give it a moment.”
“A vision?” I glanced at Gregory, but he didn’t look concerned at all. At least, not about his friend. All his attention was on me instead. “How long does it last?”
Gregory opened his mouth to respond, but Michael sucked in a breath. And in a flurry of movement too quick for my eyes to follow, he’d pushed away Gregory’s hands and grasped my shoulders, turning toward me.
“Stay in the house tonight.” Michael’s words were low. “Promise me.”
“Um…” It wasn’t like I’d planned on going anywhere, Gregory was the one who indulged in barhopping. My previous outing had been a one-time experience only. My gaze flickered to the fae. Perhaps he’d know what Michael was on about.
Gregory shrugged. “Just listen to him.”
“Well…” My attention returned to Michael, my heart thundering at the wild look in his eyes. “Why? What did you see?”
His lips pursed. “I don’t know.”
“Well, that…” My words trailed off, and my brow furrowed. “You don’t know?”
“It’ll be bad though.”
Never had I thought Michael would remind me of a street doomsayer, but here we were. “Well, what am I supposed to have done in this vision?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned.
“Are you sure that I even leave the house?” I asked. “What happens exactly?”
“I think you leave, but I’m not sure. You get hurt.” Michael’s frown deepened further. “But I don’t know what happens.”
Fortunetellers.
I couldn’t keep the bite out of my response. “I have no intention of going anywhere tonight. But according to you, I might pull a hangnail. That could very well happen in my room.”
“Possibly.” Michael nodded. “But stay inside just in case.”
“You said not to worry about oracles!” I shrugged his hands off me. “Do you not see the irony in this conversation?”
“Yes.” Michael nodded again, the storm in his gaze calming. “But still, don’t go anywhere.”
“The only place I’m going is to my bed,” I snapped. “Alone.”
“That’s fine.” Michael didn’t sound upset. “But stay.”
Stay. Like a dog. My face heated.
“You know what, fine.” I pulled from him entirely and returned to my seat, crossing my arms. “I love how it’s perfectly all right for you to worry and to order me about, but I get lectured for the same. Hypocrites.” I caught Gregory’s intake of breath and cut him off before he could speak. “Both of you,” I added. “I don’t want to see either of you again until morning.”
It was two in the morning when I was awoken. A soft panging sound rang through my room. There was no pattern to the sound, and it was not mechanical. Then, it stopped, and as I wiped the sleep from my eyes, I wondered if had carried over from my dreams.
Then it started again. Growing in strength and persistence.
Or perhaps I was simply more awake.
It was easy to see in the dark, the moon was full tonight, and high in the sky. So what had woken me?
Another rock tapped against the glass.
What in the world?
I’d crossed the room in three strides, sliding open the panel and dodging in time to miss the next barrage of stones.
“Sorry.” Caleb Weaver’s voice broke through the dark. “You’re quick.”
“I’m a light sleeper.” I crossed my arms on the windowsill, looking down at him.
Caleb gazed back at me, the moonlight shadowing his porcelain skin in an eerie fashion. He wore his usual threadbare jeans, but under his open leather jacket, he wore a dark shirt instead of light.
It didn’t take a fool to guess he didn’t want to be spotted.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I didn’t like where we left things in the library,” Caleb answered. “I didn’t mean to upset you, baby. Let me make it up to you.”
Was he an idiot?
“By waking me up in the middle of the night and throwing rocks at my head? How is that supposed to endear you to me? How did you know I was here anyway?”
“It’s not that part that makes you fall for me.” Caleb winked, not answering my last question. “It’s what’s going to happen next.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, you’re not climbing in through my window.” My eyes narrowed.
He rolled his eyes, a grin lighting the corner of his mouth. “No, you’re going to come with me.”
“Why would I do that?” Besides the fact that I was supposed to stay in my room.
“I was doing some research today and came across something for your case,” Caleb said, cocking his head. “I’ve contacted him, he’ll meet us there.”
Now this was interesting. But was it worth risking Michael’s anger? “Where are we going? If this is related to the case, then I really should get Michael and Gregory.”
“No!” Caleb sharply protested, causing me to freeze mid-motion while turning from the window. When he saw he had my attention, he continued. “He won’t come out during the day. And he hates Michael. This is our only chance.”
This was the second time Caleb mentioned a ‘he.’ “Who?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” Caleb nodded to the left. “Now let’s go.”
Indecision tore at me. Normally, I wasn’t an overly curious person, but this was simply too much. And it had been insinuated that the Riverside Boys helped with a police case a time or two. Technically, I wasn’t an officer. So there was no rule against seeing their methods. Perhaps it might even be helpful.
And if I solved this case, Michael and Gregory could stop t
reating me like an intern and more like a peer.
“Fine.” I nodded. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll be on our way.”
Chapter Nineteen
“We’re trespassing on Silver Moon pack lands,” I noted, glancing around the clearing. The woods were quiet here, minus the distant sound of running water.
“Don’t worry about it,” Caleb muttered, glancing back at the path we’d just traveled. “You’re one of the fuzz. You can do whatever you want.”
This confidence of his wasn’t reassuring. Nor was it factually correct.
I pursed my lips, trying to figure out why he’d chosen to drag me here in the middle of the night. There was a full moon, and it was a cloudless night. So, even with my enhanced vision, seeing wasn’t all that difficult. And the combination of the tranquil nighttime sounds and fireflies twinkling in the distance made the area seem peaceful.
But the atmosphere was ruined by the pure strangeness of the situation. Because the fact remained that I had no idea why I was alone in a forest with Caleb Weaver.
He had begun to twist his hands nervously in front of him, and my suspicion grew. “I’m not certain of your intentions,” I told him, frowning. “But I’ll have you know right now, I’m in a relationship.”
“What?” His attention pulled from the dirt path and redirected toward me. “Who cares? I only have the purest of intentions,” he said silkily, a sly grin breaking out over his expression. “If I wanted to get frisky with you, I sure as heck wouldn’t lure you deep into the woods to do it. And you wouldn’t fight me. You’re a she-demon. You love the thrill of danger.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Frisky…” I smacked his shoulder. “You’re disgusting.”
“What?” he repeated, holding his shoulder. “I know you feel it between us too. I can read you; I know how you feel better than you do at this point. You don’t need to be afraid of your emotions.”
“What stupidity are you going on about?” My focus turned to our surroundings. Surely, we weren’t meeting anyone in the middle of the woods? What super ‘important’ business had him dragging me here in the middle of the night?
