by T. F. Walsh
“Please don’t fire me.”
Vasile huffed. “We all make mistakes, but this is a big one, Daciana. If we don’t find those cubs or who’s responsible ... I’m sorry, but I’ll have to let you go. When my boss finds out, he’ll demand your resignation.”
The notion made me queasy. Sandulf would order me to return to the pack and claim a mate. I didn’t want to return and simply pump out babies. This job offered me the opportunity for a new life.
“I told the police I’d speak with my staff about the ring, so I’ll tell them it was you. You’ll be questioned.”
I nodded and struggled to breathe. “Yes. No problem. I’ll do anything to help track down the cubs. I’m so sorry, Vasile.”
“We’ll go down to the station now. I don’t want them thinking we are hiding anything.”
“Aren’t the police still here?”
He shook his head. “They just left.”
“Okay. And I can ask them about the strange smell in the room, too. I think it’s connected to whoever took the bears.”
Vasile sniffed the air, his head tilted back, nostrils flaring with each inhale. “The animal smell?”
“No.” I pushed strands of hair off my face. “The tanned leather. It’s faint.”
“Nope. Don’t smell leather, but remnants of that blasted cold are still blocking one of my nostrils. Not sure I could smell flowers if they were right under my nose.”
“It’s a strange smell, that’s all. I’ll mention it to them anyway.”
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a set of keys. “Let’s go then.”
“Of course.” This was my fault, and with the bear cubs potentially in danger, I felt
responsible.
I’d find them myself and set my mistakes right.
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