by Lori Drake
Joey scanned Lewis’s body for some hint of how he’d died. There was some blood on the ground, its coppery tang lingering in the air, but she didn’t see any on his clothes, nor any visible wounds. What had happened?
Others joined them, and soon there was a circle of grieving wolves clustered around their Alpha’s body. Joey backed off when Caroline arrived, letting the older wolf take her place at her pack sister’s side. Heidi turned to Caroline and buried her face against her neck while Joey stepped back to stand with Ben.
“What the… What the hell?” Owen’s voice boomed in comparison to the quiet that’d settled over the site like a pall. He dropped to his knees opposite Heidi and touched Lewis’s neck the same way Ben had, then looked up with a frown. His eyes roamed the assembled parties, narrowing when they fell on Joey and Ben. “What are you doing here?”
“We were, uh, on our way out when we heard the commotion,” Joey said.
Owen gave her a look that clearly said he wasn’t finished with her yet but turned his attention elsewhere for now. “Caroline, Amanda, why don’t you get Heidi inside.”
Heidi was understandably reluctant to leave her mate’s side, but the other two women managed to get her on her feet and stumbling in the direction of the house.
Once they were out of sight, Owen looked down at the body. “Max, give me a hand here.”
Max stepped forward, and together they managed to roll Lewis onto his stomach. The back of his shirt was red and plastered to his skin. Owen pushed the shirt up, revealing the wound in Lewis’s back. It seemed impossible to Joey that a single blade between the ribs could’ve felled the big alpha. Maybe if it’d gone in just right, nicked just the right arteries…
Owen leaned down and sniffed the wound, but recoiled immediately.
“What is it?” Max asked.
Gerald, the only other wolf still present, stood as silent as always, watching with folded arms.
“Silver.” Owen looked up, his eyes meeting Joey’s.
She didn’t like the anger, the accusation in his eyes. Stepping forward, she bent to inspect the wound more closely. She didn’t have to sniff it to see the way the skin was peeled back, blistered and swollen.
“This is all your fault,” Owen said, pushing to his feet.
Joey hauled herself up to her full five feet and eyed him. “Excuse me?”
“You brought her here. Your pet hunter. You practically served us up on a silver platter!”
“What are you talking about?” Max asked.
“Maria didn’t do this,” Joey said. “She prefers garrotes. Also, we confiscated all her weapons months ago.”
Max shot to his feet, astonishment plain on his face. “Maria’s a hunter?”
“Ex-hunter,” Ben said.
Joey saved her surprise that he’d spoken on Maria’s behalf for another time. Instead, she nodded her agreement. “Ex-hunter.”
“When Lewis found out that they’d brought a hunter here, he ordered them to leave. Yet here they are.” Owen glanced down. “And here he is.”
Joey narrowed her eyes to slits. “You’d better not be saying what it sounds like you’re saying.”
“What have you been doing for the last thirty-five minutes?” Owen’s dark glare shifted between Joey and Ben. “Instead of leaving, as the Alpha commanded.”
“Talking to Heidi. She’ll vouch for us, when she’s in her right mind again. Besides, what possible reason could we have for killing Lewis? Be serious.”
Owen shook his head. “You may not have done the deed yourself, but you’re responsible nonetheless for bringing that serpent into our midst. Gerald, Max, take them into custody.”
“Whoa there,” Joey said, holding up her hands.
“Hold on a minute,” Max said at the same time.
“Are you refusing a command from your Alpha?” Owen met Max’s eyes in challenge.
Max shifted his gaze elsewhere. “No, sir. It’s just—”
“Let me save you some intra-pack turmoil,” Joey said. “No one is taking us anywhere. You want us to leave, we’ll leave.” Behind her, Ben rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, ready to mount a resistance.
Owen drew his gun in a movement so fast that his arm practically blurred. One moment his hand was empty at his side, and the next it was full of pistol grip and pointed straight at Joey. “You had your chance.”
Joey’s hands were already up, so she kept them there. Unarmed and at a distance, there wasn’t much else she could do but glare at the freshly minted Alpha. And glare she did.
Gerald cleared his throat softly, the first noise Joey had yet to hear him make. “What exactly do you intend? Alpha.”
“That’s a very good question, old friend. It won’t hurt them to cool their heels in the basement until their Alpha comes to get them.”
“Which one?” Ben asked, cheekily.
Owen frowned. “What do you mean? You’re representing the Granite Falls pack, aren’t you?”
“He means I’m a dual citizen of sorts,” Joey explained. “I’m the Granite Falls pack’s second, but I’m also a member of the Grant pack. Ben’s a Grant.”
“Whoever will claim you, I guess,” Owen said with a careless wave of the gun, which made Joey’s stomach tighten. She’d been shot before and wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.
“You should probably call Chris, then,” Ben said. “Because my Alpha will chew your ear off for pointing a gun at us. Only humans and cowards hide behind guns.”
Joey shot Ben a warning look over her shoulder. “Not helping, bro.”
He shrugged, unrepentant.
Owen ignored Ben’s commentary, shifting his focus instead to his subordinates. “Do I have to repeat myself?”
Gerald and Max took up positions behind Joey and Ben, respectively.
“I’m sorry.” Max’s whispered words were just barely on the edge of Joey’s hearing as he gripped her arm gently.
Owen gave the gun to Gerald, then patted Joey down and confiscated her phone.
“Hey, at least buy me a drink first,” Ben said while Owen did the same to him.
Owen gave no reaction, just stepped back with the two phones in one hand. Gerald got Ben moving toward the house with the gun pressed between his shoulder blades. Joey and Max followed behind.
“Oh, and boys?” Owen called after them. “Put them in the cage.”
21
As Chris sat in the lobby of the Granite Falls Police Department waiting for Jon to arrive, he supposed he ought to consider himself fortunate that the cops had only found one body—Brandon’s—on his property. After all, Kate’s ex-husband was still in the woods somewhere. He honestly didn’t know where Jessica and the others had replanted him after his body had been exhumed by mistake. That body was older, though, and they’d burned it before the reburial, too. Maybe that’d thrown the cadaver dog for a loop. Chris wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth.
They hadn’t arrested him, either. Something else to be thankful for. Apparently just having a body buried on your property wasn’t enough evidence to arrest a fellow on the spot. He’d done his best to act surprised when they eventually knocked on the door. He hadn’t had to feign horror when they showed him a photo taken of the body. Poor Brandon, who’d died at the hands of the same ghost that’d killed Kate, wasn’t holding up well to the ravages of time and insects. But if there was any silver lining in this whole scenario, at least the affable Canadian wolf would receive a proper burial. They hadn’t known how to contact his family. Maybe the police would have better luck.
Chris watched people come and go through the station while he waited. Leta had arrived about fifteen minutes after he did, hanging her Aviator sunglasses from the front of her shirt as she approached the reception desk to check in. Chris didn’t approach her and did his best to ignore her in general. A uniform came out to get her after a few minutes, and she disappeared into the squad room without saying a word to Chris.
Jon arrived ten min
utes later, suited up and carrying a briefcase. He scanned the room, and Chris rose to greet him. They met halfway across the lobby, but Jon held up a finger when Chris opened his mouth to speak. He put a hand on Chris’s shoulder and steered him toward the reception desk.
The uniformed woman behind it glanced up from her computer. Her name tag read “Simmons.” “Can I help you?”
“Yes. We’re here to see…” Jon paused, turning to Chris. “Who are we here to see?”
Chris wiped the smirk from his face as quickly as it appeared and met the receptionist’s eyes. “Detective Mullins, ma’am. He’s expecting us.”
“Your name?”
“Chris Martin.”
Simmons went quiet, tapping at the keyboard, then produced a tablet and a pair of visitor badges on lanyards from a desk drawer. She placed the tablet on the counter in front of Chris. “Sign in, please. Both of you.”
A few minutes later, another uniform came out, this time to escort Chris and Jon into the back. They followed him through the squad room and down a hallway to the interrogation rooms. Detective Mullins was already in the room when they got there, sitting at the table with a manila folder and a voice recorder in front of him. He stood to greet them, offering them both a firm handshake. Mullins was a few inches shorter than Chris but carried an air of authority about him that was unmistakable. His jaw was clean-shaven, hair meticulous, and he’d traded his field windbreaker for a suit coat that matched his pants.
“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Martin. I appreciate it.”
“No trouble at all. I’m as eager to clear this up as you are, I suspect. This is my attorney, Jonathan Grant.”
Jon cleared his throat. “Jonathan P. Grant. Pleased to meet you, detective. Before we begin, may I have a few minutes to confer with my client?”
“Of course.” Mullins collected his folder and pushed a button on the recorder, leaving it behind as he turned for the door.
Jon lifted a brow, questioning the action without a word.
Mullins turned back and swiped the recorder from the table with a grin. “Can’t fault a guy for trying. I’ll be outside.”
“It’s a really good thing we caught that before something unfortunate happened,” Jon said, a little too casually.
Mullins’s grin faded. He nodded brusquely and exited.
Even after the door closed, Chris’s shoulder blades itched. But he pushed the sensation aside, knowing from past experience that the cops couldn’t monitor him while he consulted with his attorney.
“Did you bring the paperwork?” Jon asked.
Chris nodded and produced the envelope from his jacket pocket. He passed it to Jon, who opened it and riffled through the documents inside while Chris paced the room a bit. “Everything seems to be in order. Hopefully we won’t need it, but when it comes to power of attorney… better to have it and not need it, I always say.”
“I hope to hell I don’t need it. That’s what I’m paying you for.”
Jon chuckled and unbuttoned his jacket, then lowered himself into a chair. “My dear brother, you can’t afford me. It’s a good thing we’re family.”
Chris smirked and shook his head, stopping on the other side of the table on his next pass. “Okay, so… they found Brandon’s body.”
“Anything else?” Jon produced a legal pad and pen from his briefcase.
“No. Not yet, anyway. They packed it in when the rain started. But I honestly don’t know how many bodies Eric buried out there. I’ve got half a mind to hire a cadaver dog of my own when this is all over. Do you suppose they rent those?”
Jon snorted. “Doubtful. Maybe your buddy Detective Harding can pull some strings.”
“Man, I really wish he were in Granite Falls instead of Seattle right now. He’s probably the only cop in a hundred miles that would understand.”
“Alas,” Jon said, scribbling on the notepad in some arcane form of shorthand that Chris couldn’t begin to decipher. “They’re probably going to want to bring everyone in for questioning. They’re just starting with you because right now they don’t know anything about the deceased or how he came to be on your property.”
“I can prepare the others for that.”
“Make sure everyone has the same story.”
“Great. What story?”
Jon glanced up from his notepad. “What have you been doing since you called me, if not figuring out what to tell them about your dead former housemate? Excuse me. Your other dead former housemate.”
Chris spun Mullins’s chair around and straddled it, folding his arms on the table. “First, neither of them were my housemates. They died before I moved in. So, they were more like tenants I didn’t know about. Second, I was chasing my tail downloading forms to make Joey my durable power of attorney like you asked me to. Third… Okay, I’ve got nothing. But I also don’t know how to explain this. Kate was easier, I guess.”
“Is Brandon’s stuff still in your attic?”
“No.” Chris thanked his lucky stars that he’d had the forethought to get rid of it when they got rid of Kate’s.
“And you only met him the night he died, right?”
“Yeah.”
“We can use that to our advantage, at least temporarily.” Jon finished off a few final scribbles, then set down his golden-hued pen. “Okay, here’s the story…”
By the time Detective Mullins poked his blonde head in a few minutes later, Jon had finished coaching Chris on what his story ought to be. When they finished up at the police station, they’d go back to the house and get everyone else on the same page.
Chris moved around to Jon’s side of the table without prompting, letting Mullins settle opposite them with his folder and recorder.
Once the recorder was running, Mullins dove right in, producing still photos of Brandon’s gruesome visage. Chris looked away, grimacing.
“Is that really necessary, detective?” Jon asked. “My client already identified the body on site.”
Mullins arched a brow. “Just for the official record. Mr. Martin, do you recognize this man?”
“Yes,” Chris said. “His name is—was—Brandon.”
“Do you know Brandon’s last name?”
“No, sir.”
Mullins looked down at the photos, studying them for a long moment before turning them facedown and sliding them back into the folder. “How did you know him?”
“He was a tenant in my house.”
“The one in Granite Falls?”
Chris glanced at Jon, who nodded. “Yes.”
“How long was he your tenant?”
“I’m not sure.”
Mullins lifted both brows. “Oh? Why not?”
“The house was managed by a property management firm while I lived out of state.”
“What was the name of that firm?”
“I’m not sure. I can find out for you.”
“I’d appreciate that. When did you meet Brandon?”
Chris adopted a thoughtful mien. “I think I only interacted with him once, at a house party the tenants threw for me when I moved to Seattle. He moved out shortly afterward, as far as I know.”
“When did you move to Seattle?”
Chris relayed the exact date, which brought that detective’s brows up again. Chris shrugged. “It was an eventful day.”
“So you only met him that once? He seems to have left an impression.”
Chris shrugged. “He seemed nice. Canadian.”
“And you have no idea how he ended up with a hole in his chest, buried in your backyard?”
Jon cleared his throat. “I believe my client was clear that he only met the deceased that one time.”
“That wasn’t what I asked,” Mullins said, leaning back in his chair. “I asked if he knew how the deceased ended up buried on his property.”
“No,” Chris said, hoping his acting training was good enough to fool a professional bullshit detector.
Mullins gave him a long look, then nodded and closed h
is folder again. “That’s all for now. Thanks for coming in. If I have more questions as the investigation continues, I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, I’d ask that you refrain from leaving town.”
“Sure,” Chris started, but Jon cut him off.
“My client acknowledges your request but is under no legal obligation to do so.”
Mullins stood, a snort of a chuckle escaping him. “Of course, Mr. Grant.”
They all shook hands again, and Mullins escorted them back through the squad room to reception, where they parted ways after another round of handshakes.
Chris remained silent until they were in the parking lot, where he turned to face his brother. “That went well, I think.”
“I think so too. But we need to tread very carefully, and do everything we can to keep Ben’s name out of this.”
Chris grimaced, but nodded. After everything Ben had gone through when Brandon died, even though they’d only been dating a few weeks, the last thing he needed was to have to relive it again with a police audience. If Chris could spare Ben that, he would.
A flash of sunlight reflecting off glass called Chris’s attention to the front door of the station as it opened. Leta stepped out, looking around before her eyes met Chris’s. Her features darkened, and she trotted down the steps to stalk over to him.
“You lied to me,” she said, eyes glittering with anger in the afternoon sun.
Chris snorted. “And a good thing, too.”
“You must be Miss Jackson,” Jon said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Leta ignored him and got in Chris’s face. She was tall, like her mother had been, and easily able to do so. “Where is she?”
Chuckling bitterly, Chris shook his head. “I didn’t think telling you was a good idea before. I sure as shit am not going to tell you now.”
Her eyes took on a golden hue, her wolf shining out as wild energy rolled off her. Those half-wolf eyes narrowed. “This isn’t over.”
