"What happens then?"
"Let's see. It doesn't happen a lot; and in this case, Gage said the guy was murdered. So, Gage has to keep a track of the enquiries, which is easy since Sheriff Johansson can tell him everything. Gage might also have to help in returning the body. If anybody in the guy's pack needs to come here, Gage would find a host family and help them out. It's more like a general courtesy thing. I'm just glad it didn't appear that this guy died at pack hands."
"What would happen then?" I asked, growing more curious.
"Oh, that would be bad. Really bad. Gage would either have to prove why the dead guy was at fault, or even hand over the killer, for justice to be served." Annalise swiped her finger across her neck and gave me a very pointed look. I remained in doubt, however, as to what that meant. "We might have to make financial reparations too, plus, covering the costs of returning the body."
"Did Gage say what he was going to do?"
"Not to me. He just said no one had claimed the body yet. Didn't he tell you anything last night?"
"No, we didn't talk much after the party." I gulped and glanced away, looking over the photos on the mantel. Nestled among the wedding photos was a small, silver frame with a picture of Selene, and behind that, a larger photo of the three of them, in a matching frame. With the fire in the grate, and a basket of Annalise's quilts set to one side, it all seemed very cosy, like a real family home. No matter what I added to my home, I wasn't capable of achieving that feeling yet; and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I ever would.
"That right? Gage just dropped you off?"
"Mmm-hmm," I murmured, a nagging knot forming in my stomach at the idea of keeping something secret from Annalise. I just couldn't talk about Gage to her, not when I hadn't even gotten things straight in my own head. "Walked me to my door."
"Uh-huh." There was a long pause, which I used to look around, my gaze anywhere, but on Annalise, in case she guessed what transpired. Finally, the moment passed and she asked instead, "So what are you going to do with all your vacation time? Do not tell me you're going to work. You have worked so hard with college and all that stuff Étoile sent to you, you deserve some time off. Plus, I need a friend to hang with. Selene is great, but she is no good at conversation, and I'm starting to talk to myself."
"I know. I have a few things to do, errands and the like. Maybe I'll just hang out and take it easy," I said, throwing a few clichés around so that I wouldn't have to tell Annalise the real plans I did have. With Selene to look after, the less she knew, which was for the better. She'd only worry otherwise; and she had bigger things than me to worry about now. Or rather, smaller, cuter things.
"Feel free to hang out here. Not that I'm great company, and I smell of ‘Eau de Bebe’ most of the time, but it'll be like the old days when we just used to hang on the porch and drink coffee while talking the world away."
"Sounds good to me."
"I might even feed you. You're looking a little skinny."
"I am not!"
"You are."
"Am not! I've had a whole summer of being fed plenty of wholesome, home-cooked food by Anders and Daniel. My jeans are even tight."
"I guess I just think about food a lot now that I'm a food machine." Annalise slumped further onto the couch, curling her legs under her, and yawning before clamping a hand over her mouth. "I wonder if I'll ever sleep through the night again."
"I hear parents do sleep eventually."
Annalise yawned again. "Tell me more about England. Is Daniel still chasing after that cute nymph? Or has he gone to the witch side?"
I started telling Annalise about my visit, and how pleasant it was, but five minutes in, I realised she was fast asleep. Her breathing became soft and shallow as her head lolled against the armrest. I waited a little while to see if she would waken, and when I was sure she wouldn't, I pulled one of the quilts from the blanket pile and covered her. Next, I softly climbed the stairs and checked on Selene. She was sleeping peacefully in her crib, her rosebud mouth making little puckering movements. She had one hand curled around her blanket, and the other thrown back behind her head. Creeping down the stairs, I checked on Annalise one last time before sneaking out of the house.
I didn't want to go straight home so I sat in my car, thinking about where I could go, and whom I could see, but only came up with blanks. All the people I wanted to see, bar Annalise and Gage, weren't in Wilding any longer. When I thought of it like that, I wondered why I remained here. Yes, I had a house; and yes, it gave me the stability I never had before. It was somewhere to come home to; walls and a roof to call my own. Clothes and things that lived in wardrobes and drawers, rather than garbage bags. Safety.
My mind drifted to one of the many conversations Evan and I had about where we could possibly live. I was so adamant I wanted to remain in Wilding, and build a life, that I really didn't give any serious contemplation to living elsewhere. He wasn't so sure about living in our backwater, little town, far away from anything. Though now I thought about it, I was far away from a lot of things. Kitty and Étoile were in the city. Seren and David were on the coast. Annalise had her own family. Evan... Evan was gone. Daniel and Anders were in England and I was happy to go there for a long stay. Perhaps one day, I would leave Wilding and it wouldn't be so bad. I carried a lot of people in my heart: my cousin, and friends who now became my family. They would be wherever I went because they were part of me. With this realisation, turning the key in the ignition, I felt free.
I headed home, turning the radio on loud and singing along to a power ballad, feeling a bit more lighthearted, despite my worries. It was a rare moment of sheer delight and I was determined to enjoy it as I followed the high notes with a few flat ones of my own. Shadow Wood Lane was as empty as usual when I traversed it, accelerating past the Loup. It didn't appear so busy now, with only a few vehicles in the lot. As I passed the entrance, a motorcycle turned onto the road, following me. Gage.
A few minutes later, I pulled onto my driveway as Gage pulled onto his. I climbed out, waiting as he walked across the road.
"Sheriff Johansson visited you too, huh?" I asked, seeking more information. It struck me that Gage would know more than I did; and since I knew nothing...
"Yep."
"He didn't have much to say."
"Nor to me."
I waited, wondering why Gage and the sheriff had spoken at least twice today; but instead, he said, "Get ready. We're leaving for Rockford in the morning."
"What are we going to do when we get there?"
Gage gave me a bemused look. "We're going to chase down some wolves and get some answers."
Chapter Ten
I woke as we rumbled to a stop, and for a few moments, kept my eyes closed, feigning that I was still asleep. The drive was long and uneventful. Gage and I played a few half-hearted car games when we weren’t quietly listening to music, and we both pretended that absolutely everything was fine and normal between us. Neither of us mentioned what occurred, which was a blessing, although it was also confusing. I didn't know what to say; I couldn't even decide what I might want to say. As we made it over the border, gradually, the soporific effect of the rumbling engine, combined with the heat from the vents, lulled me to sleep. Now I awoke stiff and rapidly cooling, despite the blanket that Gage threw over me; and every bit of me wanted to stretch. If we could have shimmered to Rockford, I would have, but I knew my resources were still tapped out. With what felt like a natural awareness of my own power, I knew it was unlikely I could shimmer the few hundred miles by myself, never mind, with a passenger in tow, and definitely not back again.
"We're here," Gage said, one large hand landing on my arm.
"Mmm-hmm," I mumbled, my eyelids flickering as I stifled a yawn. No point in pretending to be asleep, but the yawn was real. Gage probably knew the moment I'd awoken, as my heartbeat changed; but if he did know, he politely didn't say anything. Instead, we both peered out the windows toward the building beyond. �
�Here” was a two-storey building, painted a creamy white with green doors and shutters. "Where's here?"
"The Oak Ridge Motel," Gage said, pointing to the sign over the office doors. "It's on the outskirts of town and they have a vacancy. Doesn't look too shabby."
"It looks fine," I said, deciding that the neat, little motel was appealing, at least for a day or two.
"Wait here, and I'll get us a room." Gage was gone; and the door opened and shut before I could think to ask if that was plural or not. He returned a few minutes later with a single key. "Before you ask, I requested two rooms, but they only have one left. It has two beds. I figured that was a pretty good compromise."
"Okay," I said, since it seemed the safest, and least offensive thing to say. As it was, I couldn’t make my mind up about what I preferred: staying in a room alone; sharing the room, but not the bed; or sharing a bed with the safety of Gage’s strong body curled around me? I took a deep breath and tried not to think about anything.
"There's some kind of convention going on in town," Gage told me, oblivious to my internal worrying. "We're lucky to get this room. Lucky number seven. Ready?"
I nodded that I was and followed his lead by grabbing my bag and trailing him to the room just a few steps from where we parked. He unlocked the door, pushed it open and sniffed the air. "Nice," he said, "smells clean." He stepped inside and I followed him, locking the door with a wave of my hand.
There were two beds, just as Gage said, with a broad nightstand between them that held a phone, a notepad, and twin lamps. Opposite that was a dresser. A TV was mounted on the wall, and the remote lay on the dresser. A lemon scent lingered softly in the air. One door led to the bathroom, and on the other side of that, were a desk and chair. It was compact, neatly decorated, but most of all, clean like Gage mentioned.
"There are towels," Gage said, returning from the bathroom to shrug off his jacket and lay it on the furthest bed. "And some little shampoos and soaps that smell girly. Good thing I bought my own."
"You can always roll in the grass if you need to," I pointed out as I set my bag on one of the beds. Gage laughed. "So where do we go from here?" I asked. "All we've got is a name and location."
"We ask around and get Kevin Wyatt's address," explained Gage. "This isn't a large town. It shouldn't take too long. Someone must know him."
"Sheriff Johansson didn't get an address?"
"Nope."
"I guess it's big enough that we can't go from door-to-door, knocking?" I frowned, trying to remember what little I read about Rockford on the internet. There certainly wasn’t much to read. It was a small town, with barely over twenty thousand residents. There was nothing notable about the town, no famous residents, either past or present, and it wasn't on any tourist route, or near any local hotspots. It was set off by itself, way off the highway, and bordered by a hilly range on one side. I assumed they didn't get many out-of-towners, so I figured my accent would stand out right away, but there wasn't much I could do about that. Plus, I reasoned, it would give people an excuse to talk to me. People found strangers interesting; and there had to be at least one stranger who knew that Kevin Wyatt planned to visit me.
"You guessed right. Anyway, even if we don't find Wyatt's address or his kin, I can find the local pack. Or they'll find me. You hungry?"
My stomach was given off little rumbles that I didn't notice until that moment. Gage probably picked up on them as soon as they started with his heightened wolf hearing, but he seemed to be in an agreeable mood. I nodded that yes, I was hungry.
"Let's go kill two birds with one stone. We'll find somewhere to eat and we'll ask whomever we run into about Kevin Wyatt. Maybe we'll even get some answers." Gage held the door open and waited for me. Holding his hand out, when I didn't step forward to take it, he dropped it to his side, turning away... Just at the same moment I started to raise mine.
~
Like I expected, the size of Rockford made our search a little more difficult. That became more apparent as Gage drove us into what seemed to be the central hub: a long street of restaurants, bars, and shops with several streets covering the overflow of those establishments. After parking, we waited a while, surveying the scenery and the people. We couldn't just walk in anywhere and expect our mystery man to be a famous resident, so picking a diner to eat in was a little like throwing a rock and hoping we hit the right one. Since the Number One Diner seemed to have a fair number of people inside, and was little more than twenty yards from our parking spot, that became our diner of choice.
"Seems nice," said Gage as we slid into a booth near the back. The place looked like it had been in business for years, but was kept nice. The Formica tables were chipped and scarred around the edges, but buffed to a high sheen; and the worn Naugahyde upholstery in the booths was soft and threadbare in places. The menus looked a lot newer, but I would have wagered several hot dogs that they still served the same food they had since they opened.
"What can I get you today?" asked the waitress. I looked up, half expecting her to be in a checkered dress, but instead, she looked around my age and wore beige slacks and a black t-shirt. Her nametag said her name was Rebecca and her brown hair was cut to chin-length.
"Coffee?" Gage said, glancing at me. I nodded and scanned the menu. "Two coffees," he said, "and I'll get the double cheeseburger and fries. Make that two double cheeseburgers. Extra fries. Stella?"
"Burger and fries for me, too, and a side of what now?" I joked to Gage. "You can eat two double cheeseburgers? How? Where does it all go?"
"Just call me a garbage disposal," Gage grinned, "Wait until you see what I order for dessert. Thanks... uh... Rebecca." He winked at her as she wrote down our order and gave him a shy smile back. For a moment, I got an uncomfortable, twisty knot in the pit of my stomach at their exchange and glanced away, looking around at the other diners. There was a mixed crowd: a lot of what I guessed were local workers in similar casual attire, a couple of families with kids, and a crowd of teens all wedged into one booth, giggling and slurping milkshakes and sharing baskets of fries. There was a line of people sitting on stools at the bar and the other waitress was talking and laughing with them when she wasn’t serving. It seemed like a friendly place. I hoped the Number One Diner set the tone for the rest of the town.
"Did you see that?" asked Gage.
I looked back at him, remembering that I still held the menu. Lying it flat, I asked in the least grumpy voice I could manage, "See what?"
"The waitress," he said in a low voice so only I could hear. Again, that knot tugged at me and I shrugged. Sure, I saw Gage give her a smile and I saw her smile back. So what? Smiling wasn't against the law. It wasn't even against the rules. And we didn't have any rules because he wasn't my boyfriend. So what did that make him? "Stella?"
"Hmmm?"
"I asked did you see the way she reacted when I said your name?"
I frowned. "No."
"She flinched."
It didn't take much for me to look confused. "Why would she flinch?"
"Maybe she heard it recently. I guess your name isn't too common and it surprised her. If it surprised her, that means she..."
"That would mean she might have known Kevin Wyatt," I cut in, wondering if we'd hit on a break already.
"Or of him."
I brightened. "Is she a werewolf? Could she be a member of his pack?"
"I didn't scent anything about her, so I guess not. That doesn't mean she doesn't know something."
"Do you want me to try and get into her brain?" I asked.
Gage shook his head. "Not that the idea doesn't freak me out a little, but no, not yet. Let's just see what else happens while we're having lunch. Maybe we'll ask a few questions and see what kind of answers we get."
"What if the waitress gets rattled?"
"The worst she can do is over-salt my burger."
"Or shoot us."
"Too many witnesses," Gage laughed with a shake of his head as he relaxed into the booth.
"Plus, that's kind of pessimistic. You should definitely get dessert too. I might let you have one of mine."
"One of?" I asked, pulling a face. We moved from my pessimism, which I didn't think was exactly uncalled for since we were investigating a murdered man, to other topics. I let Gage do the talking when the waitress delivered our food. He called her over a couple more times through our meal, asking for a refill, then dropping his fork, and asking for another in what seemed a casual manner to anyone, but me. No one paid much attention to us, from what I noticed, and I didn't get the impression we stood out in any way, nor did the waitress seem to be avoiding us.
As we finished our meal, and Gage reached for the menu again, a party of four men and one women entered. The older man strolled through the diner, nodding to the other patrons, stopping to greet a couple, and calling to the three waitresses and the cook by their first names. It took him several minutes to pass the length of the diner, giving us plenty of time to pay attention to him. He even nodded to us as he passed by our table and took the empty booth around the corner. Two of his party glanced at us, while the other two ignored us. Gage raised an eyebrow at me. "What?" I asked.
"Absolutely nothing," he said. "Though maybe there was something familiar about one of them... I don't know. No, it's nothing. I'm just alert, I guess, for something." He waved his hand and the waitress told us she'd be right over as she passed by to take the new table's order. When she finished, she returned to us.
"Good appetites," she said by way of a compliment. "Stan, the cook, will be happy. He hates having food sent back; and I was kind of worried when you ordered two doubles. I'll get your check."
"I'd rather you got me a slice of apple pie, and pecan pie, and a scoop of ice cream on each. And—" Gage reached into his pocket and extracted a photo of Kevin Wyatt. It was just a close-up of his head, but all the same, he definitely looked dead to me. I wondered if he looked that way to the waitress too. "—And do you recognise this guy, Rebecca? He lives around here."
Arcane Magic (Stella Mayweather Series) Page 11
