Caught Between Shifters

by Juniper Hart

  Rose wasn’t eating or sleeping well, and it was beginning to take its toll on her work.

  She spoke to Chase on the telephone, and he seemed to open up slightly about what had happened the night of the murder.

  “I had nothing to do with her murder,” Chase said, reiterating everything he had said in the police statements. He, and the other three men accused, had alibied one another, leaving Rose frustrated with how little she had in terms of a defense.

  The prosecutor had yet to return her calls, despite Rose’s repeated attempts to contact her.

  I’m going down to Lander tomorrow to talk with Patricia Belham face to face. I have no idea why she’s avoiding me.

  More and more, Rose was leaning toward a plea bargain. No jury would look at the pompous faces of the men involved and not want to lock them up.

  Chase Van Gould is my client and I hate him, she thought. What are twelve ordinary people going to think of him?

  Sighing, Rose reached for her cell phone, gently pushing Sadie off the dining room table where she had set up office. As she picked it up, the phone exploded in her hand, causing her to jump nearly to the ceiling.

  It didn’t explode. It’s ringing.

  But that was what her life had become; paranoia, looking over her shoulder, and second guessing every sound and movement.

  I’m overreacting, she thought, annoyed with herself, but it didn’t strike the fear from her heart.

  “Rose Bridgemont.”

  “Oh, I see. You will answer a private call but not mine, hm? If I didn’t know better, I would think you were avoiding me, Rose.”

  She cringed, cursing herself for making such a stupid, rookie mistake. “Hello, Mr. Van Gould,” she mumbled.

  “I think you refuse to call me Derek because you’re worried it will make what we have real.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Mr. Van Gould, I really have no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “I believe I have explained that to you.”

  “You have explained that it is an ethical conflict,” he argued, “and I told you that I don’t see how that can be when you are not representing me.”

  “You are a witness—”

  “I’m not a witness!” he snapped hotly. “I was nowhere near the house on the night in question.”

  “You know what I mean, Mr. Van Gould,” Rose insisted. “Please, I am asking you nicely to stop calling me unless it has something to do with the case.”

  “No, wait!” he cried, as if sensing she was about to hang up. “I have information for you.”

  Rose’s eyes narrowed.

  He’s really grasping at straws here. Is this only because I rejected him? This is ridiculous.

  “What information?” she demanded, disbelief and annoyance hanging onto her every word.

  “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone,” Derek said. “For all I know, the DA is tapping into my line.”

  Rose gritted her teeth in annoyance.

  He’s full of shit, her gut told her, but she knew if she didn’t listen to him, and he really did have something she could use…

  “Where would you like to meet?”

  “The Hampton Inn.”

  Rose felt her jaw clench. “Mr. Van Gould, I’m not meeting you at a hotel.”

  “Relax,” he chuckled, but she could hear the ire in his voice. “I’ll meet you in the restaurant for drinks. Eight o’clock, okay?”

  He disconnected the call before she had a chance to say no.

  I don’t have time for this crap today.

  She stared at the phone in her hand, trying to remember what Derek had distracted her from doing.

  Ah yes. The DA.

  Sighing, she quickly dialed the number to the Fremont County Prosecutor’s office.

  “Freemont DA.”

  “Patricia Belham, please.”

  There was a slight pause.

  “I’m sorry, that’s not possible,” the woman on the other end of the phone said quietly.

  “When is she due back in the office?” Rose asked, feeling close to her rope’s end. “I have left her numerous messages over the past few days and have not received a response. It’s highly unprofessional and—”

  “Ma’am,” the woman interrupted her, “Ms. Belham has passed away.”

  The information jolted Rose, and she clamped her lips together.

  “Ma’am? Are you still there?”

  “Wha— when? What happened?” she choked. She tried to envision the woman in her mid-fifties, dying of a heart attack or stroke. It seemed surreal.

  “Who is this?”

  “Rose Bridgemont of Peterson and Pawson in Riverton. I— she was handling a case I’m defending— Never mind that. Where can I send a donation?”

  After a long pause, Rose wondered if the woman on the other end of the phone was deciding whether to tell her.

  In a time of loss, it doesn’t matter which side we’re on, Rose thought. Her family must be devastated.

  “You’re a defense attorney?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. What does that matter?” Rose was growing irritated.

  “Please hold, Ms. Bridgemont.”

  Rose was dumbfounded. Who the hell do they hire in the DA over there?

  “Gray Pierson.”

  The receptionist had transferred her call.

  “I have no idea why my call has been transferred to you,” Rose snapped. “Your receptionist at the front doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  “Sadly, you wouldn’t be the first person with that complaint,” the mellifluous voice answered back. “But maybe I can help you. Who is this?”

  “My name is Rose Bridgemont. I work for Peterson and Pawson in Riverton. I was looking for Patricia Belham, but I was just informed that she has passed away.”

  There was a slight pause.

  “Yes, Ms. Bridgemont. I know who you are.”

  There was a tautness in his voice that hadn’t initially been there.

  “I just wanted to know where I can send my condolences and a donation, or flowers, for Ms. Belham.”

  Gray Pierson cleared his throat.

  “That is very kind of you. Your client is Chase Van Gould, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have been assigned that case in light of the unfortunate situation,” Mr. Pierson explained. “So, I know your name. I apologize for not having informed you of the change, but I must say I’m shocked you didn’t learn of Tricia’s death earlier.”

  “I have left several messages,” Rose said defensively. “No one has returned my calls!”

  “No, I don’t mean from this office…”

  He trailed off, and Rose surprisingly realized why.

  “Did something happen to Ms. Belham?” she questioned. “Was she in an accident?”

  “It has been all over every news station in Freemont for the last two days,” Gray replied, and Rose could hear the suspicion in his voice.

  She realized just how out of touch she had been with the rest of the world between avoiding Julian and Derek. She had thrown herself strictly into the case files and emails, without turning on the television or checking social media.

  “Tricia was murdered, Ms. Bridgemont. Her body was found dismembered and scattered in the canal.”

  Rose’s blood turned to ice.

  “What?” she whispered. “How?”

  Gray made a noise she could only identify as a grunt.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. Rose was startled by the sarcasm in his voice. “Maybe you can ask your client. He’s out on bail, isn’t he?”

  A wave of confusion swept through her as she pictured Chase leering at her in the house on Gas Hills Road.

  “You’ll find a way,” he had said. “Or you might find yourself in the same position as poor Suki.”

  A gasp escaped Rose’s lips and she sank back into the dining room chair.

  “Are you still there, Ms. Bridgemont?”

 
“Yes,” she whispered, terror prickling her arms.

  Who else would want to kill Patricia Belham in the precise manner as Suki Makanora? She wondered in horror. It had to be Chase. He was hoping to prolong the prosecution or scare them off entirely. What am I dealing with here?

  “And you really didn’t know anything about this?” Gray Pierson demanded, skepticism coloring his tone.

  “No,” she breathed. “Nothing. I have to call my client.”

  She disconnected the call before another word was exchanged, a wave of dizziness flowing through her.

  No, she told herself firmly. There is no way that he would be so stupid.

  Shakily, she picked up her phone again and called Chase.

  “What?” he snapped, obviously recognizing the number on his call display.

  “Another woman has died. Just like Suki Makanora.”

  “Yeah, I know. The cops were here asking me about it.” Chase sounded annoyed, but Rose didn’t care.

  “And you didn’t think to mention it to me?” Rose yelled, her patience with Chase all but gone.

  “What’s the big deal? I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “The same way you didn’t have anything to do with Suki?” she snarled. “Don’t lie to me, Chase. I can’t help you if you’re not honest!”

  “I can’t help you if you won’t listen!” he shot back. “Anyway, you’re more concerned with banging my old man than you are with exonerating me.”

  “That is not true!” Rose gasped, shocked and humiliated. “Nothing is going on with your father and me!”

  Chase laughed mirthlessly.

  “Whatever you say, counsellor,” he muttered. “I gotta go. Catriona is waiting for me.”

  “Wait!” she cried. “Chase, do you have an alibi for the night Patricia Belham died?”

  “Yep. And I have an alibi for the night Suki died, too, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you assholes, does it?”

  The line went dead.

  A bitter taste filled Rose’s mouth and she set the phone down on the table, shaking her head.

  None of this makes sense, she thought, but then she realized something that made her almost dizzy with excitement.

  If Chase genuinely did have an alibi for the day of Tricia Belham’s murder, and both women were killed the same way, it could cast reasonable doubt on the fact that Chase had anything to do with it.

  Rose stood and began to pace the room with Sadie on her heels, as if her cat were mocking her.

  Did Chase kill those women? Unless there is a serial killer who just happened to target two women connected to the same case, he’s the only one who benefits from the DA dying.

  She reminded herself that it was not her job to find out who had killed Suki Makanora. It was only her job to prove that Chase Van Gould hadn’t—even if he was guilty.

  The days had grown shorter and darkness was already falling, despite it only being just after five-thirty. Rose realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

  You’re getting lightheaded and your thoughts aren’t making any sense. You must eat something and start from scratch.

  For the first time since the case had begun to spiral into strange places, Rose wished she had someone to talk to about her client.

  Julian has gone off the deep end, she reminded herself, and Jersey is just too simple. Ron Pawson has basically told me he has no interest in getting involved. Dad and Paula are still mad at me. I’m truly on my own.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Sadie meowed.

  “Yes, cat, I have you,” she assured the feline, who purred and rubbed herself against Rose affectionately.

  Maybe I should talk to Derek… She stopped that train of thought before it could go on any longer. Oh my god! I’m losing my mind!

  Rose shook her head violently, as if trying to rock some sense into her core.

  She was completely on her own. It was a terrifying place to be.

  ***

  As Rose drove toward the Hampton Inn on North Federal Boulevard, she wondered why Derek hadn’t insisted on picking her up in his fancy car this time.

  Don’t question it. Be grateful for small favors, she thought. Maybe he is finally giving up and this really isn’t a guise to seduce me.

  The thought gave her a slight spark of hope.

  She wondered what he had to tell her.

  If he’s going to give his own son up, we’re going to have a problem, she thought, but Rose couldn’t imagine Derek throwing Chase under the bus in such a way. She pulled into the parking lot and exited her silver Corolla, locking the car with her fob as she walked away.

  Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. Casually glancing over her shoulder, she saw nothing in the dimly lit parking lot. A shiver of apprehension slid through her as she hurried toward the front entrance.

  Again, she was certain someone was at her back.

  She whirled, ready to confront whomever was there, but she found herself alone in the blackness of the night, with her heart pounding inside her chest.

  Swallowing quickly, Rose spun again, but as she did, she was grabbed, a gloved mouth over her face.

  “Shh,” Derek Van Gould rasped in her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

  As he dragged her away from the hotel, kicking and struggling, Rose wondered why she hadn’t foreseen that the senior Van Gould himself could have been a danger to her.

  But it was too late for that. She was his prisoner now.

  Chapter Seven

  “Stop fighting me!” Derek snapped, pulling Rose toward the back of the hotel. “I’m trying to do you a favor!”

  Rose had started to panic, but she willed herself to calm down. She stopped fighting, hoping Derek, too, would relax his grip on her. It seemed to work for a moment, and he lowered his hand from around her mouth, still pulling her back toward a set of dumpsters.

  Rose glanced up at the building, seeking out security cameras in hopes that someone might see what was going on in the seclusion of the back of the parking lot.

  What she saw didn’t inspire any confidence.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but Derek slapped his hand over her mouth again.

  “Are you really that stupid?” he growled. “Shut up! You’re going to ruin everything!”

  Terror seized Rose’s heart and she allowed herself to be pressed up against the green bin, Derek staring furtively over her shoulder.

  “If you scream again, you’re going to regret it, got it?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. Slowly, Derek removed his hand, his other fist squeezing into her jacket.

  If I unbutton this discretely, maybe I can wriggle out of his grip and make a run for it, she thought, her emerald eyes raking over him to identify a weapon. She saw nothing and slowly exhaled in slight relief.

  “Why are you doing this?” Rose whispered, watching Derek as he continued to peer around the dumpster as if he was waiting for someone.

  “I just told you I’m doing you a favor,” he snarled. “Why are you such a pain in the ass, Rose? Is it because you’re a lawyer?”

  She blinked and bit on her lower lip so hard, she tasted blood.

  “It occurred to me that the reason you won’t date me is because of that stupid stunt Julian pulled at Golden Papaya the other day.”

  Rose’s mouth fell open. Is he that much of a narcissist? She thought in disbelief. Does he really believe that?

  “You don’t have to be afraid of him, you know,” Derek continued. “He’s a nobody. I already told you that.”

  Rose was beginning to wonder if all the men in Riverton had lost their minds.

  “I’m not afraid of Julian,” she replied from between clenched teeth. “He has not kidnapped me and held me behind a dumpster.”

  Derek stared at her dubiously, his lips pursing into a line of fury.

  “Kidnapped you?” he echoed. “I’m proving to you that I can protect you!”

  “I don’t need your protection!” Rose shrieked, wren
ching her arm away, but he secured his grip on her, squeezing so tightly that she winced in pain.

  “That’s what you think, but guess what? You’re being followed by that creep right now.”

  Derek pointed and shoved Rose forward. Her eyes followed his finger toward the parking lot, where Julian’s green Jeep 4x4 had just arrived.

  Dread crawled all over Rose’s body and she looked at Derek, her face pale.

  “How did you know he was following me?” she whispered, her head feeling hot and cold simultaneously. Derek grinned disarmingly, but it only served to scare her further.

  “Nothing goes on in this town without me knowing about it,” he replied. “I keep trying to tell you that. Stay here.”

  He released her, and Rose watched—half fascinated, half in shock—as Derek bounded toward Julian, who was exiting his car.

  Run! Run away from both psychopaths! A voice in her head screamed, but she couldn’t move. She stood, almost as if she were entranced, while she watched Derek approach the investigator.

  She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but without warning, Julian lunged at Derek and both men landed on the pavement in a wrestling hold.

  “Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop—”

  The words died on her lips; without any warning, the men were not men anymore.

  Oh my god…

  They were beasts.

  They grew larger before her eyes, transforming into masses of white and gray fur. The animal that had been Julian flipped Derek around, mounting him with a roar of fury, his claws falling onto the white face and staining it red with blood.

  Derek howled in pain, jerking upward to sink long, gleaming fangs into his aggressor’s neck.

  They are real, Rose thought, unable to actually believe it despite the fact that she was seeing it with her own eyes. The Lycans are real. They are not old wives’ tales. They are not ghost stories.

  Rose felt the world spinning at her feet, her breath freezing in her chest as the primal cries escalated, more red sprays splattering into the night as tufts of fur were mauled through razor sharp claws.

  Run! Run! Run! The hysterical voice screamed again, but before she could tear her eyes from the scene, the creatures seemed to halt at once, their heads turning in unison to stare at her.

  Yellow glowing eyes pierced into Rose, even from the distance between herself and the beasts. She felt her knees buckle.