Touch the Sky

by Kari Cole

  “No rest for the wicked, right?”

  Frost didn’t respond as she pulled her laptop out of her backpack and set it up on the bed. It booted quickly, and she pressed her index finger to the reader built into it. At the prompt, she entered the ridiculously long password. Then, a second, and still a third. It was a wonder she remembered them all.

  As soon as she was in, she clicked on the messaging app. She hadn’t even typed a letter before a message popped up.

  Where the HELL have you been?

  Hannah sighed. It was going to be one of those conversations with Raze. Could you call it a conversation when you were being talked at? Or rather, typed at?

  Well?

  A pain formed behind her eyes. Long story, she wrote.

  Short story. U were shot.

  She reared back from the screen. How did he always know these things? If you already knew, why are you asking? I was in the hospital.

  HOSPITAL?!!!

  Three exclamation points and all caps? So rude. Medical clinic, more like. Pack-run.

  As if she’d had a choice. She’d been unconscious at the time. Human hospitals generated paperwork—lots of pesky paperwork filed in octuplicate and stored in databases. Funnily enough, she’d thought the digital stuff would have been the problem. Nope. Apparently, a good hacker—and Raze was extraordinary—could erase your electronic footprints as easily as Hannah straightened her hair. A few minutes with an electrical device, and voila! No more kinks to muck everything up.

  Paper, on the other hand, had to be destroyed in the physical world. That meant bribing someone on the inside to do it, thereby adding another person to your conspiracy, or doing the deed yourself. When you were trying to stay on the down low, sneaking into a hospital records office probably wasn’t the best idea. Good thing pack healers didn’t file with insurance companies.

  Are u somewhere private?

  Duh. I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking.

  P. R. I. V. A. T. E.?

  Someone really needed to teach him proper punctuation.

  Yes, she typed. That’s why it took so long to contact you.

  Have u made contact w/ your source?

  She rubbed her temples. Now her cousin was a source. They sounded like a couple of Cold War spies. Yes. But not safe. Should go.

  Stay. They don’t know where u are.

  No. Something else happened this morning.

  What? They haven’t entered much into their systems yet. Wait. Three blinking dots appeared while he did something on his end. A bear? What kind of bear?

  Hannah shuddered. My kind. She would have said “our kind” but she didn’t know if that was true. She’d never met Raze. He could be human.

  SHIT. This is out of hand.

  Yes! Should go. But where? Goddess, if they could find her here—

  No. Repeat, they don’t know u r there.

  How did he know that? How could he be sure? Asking was pointless. He wouldn’t answer. He never did. As long as he kept her one step ahead of Apex and their trackers, everything was peachy between them. They didn’t send the guy who shot me? What about the bear? It had looked an awful lot like some of the things she’d seen when she touched—

  No. I’m sure. U r not their only prob. U r safe. Have u made any progress?

  She threw up her hands and growled. Of course, he couldn’t hear or see her, no matter how clairvoyant he seemed. Haven’t been conscious long enough.

  His next message popped up and her blood ran cold.

  Clarification: U r safe 4 NOW. Learn fast.

  Chapter Ten

  The station door hadn’t even closed behind Vaughn before Brit, his assistant and part-time dispatcher, ran up to him and shoved a stack of messages and file folders into his hands. “You’re here. Finally. The phone has been ringing off the hook this morning. Everybody and their brother wants to know if there’s a rabies epidemic, or they’re calling with wild animal sightings,” she said with a dramatic eye roll. “Duh. We’re in rural Montana. Wild animals are kinda part of the deal.”

  A spot behind his left eyebrow began to twitch and he pressed a finger to it. “You told them the bear in question was put down and all appropriate tests will be done, but we don’t feel there’s an imminent threat to public health, correct?” He and the pack’s Luna, Rissa Townes-Dodd, had devised the statement less than an hour ago. Rissa wasn’t only the pack’s highest-ranking female, but an excellent attorney with a gift for utter bullshit.

  Brit gave him another roll of her brown eyes. “Of course. Do you really think that’s going to placate people? Channel 4 and the Frontiersman want to interview you. ‘Rabid bear runs amok in downtown Black Robe. Film at eleven.’”

  Like that was going to happen. “I already told both of them no pictures.” Photos of a human-looking corpse on the five o’clock news wouldn’t calm public fears.

  He brushed past her to walk toward his office. Despite the air conditioner humming in the background, it was warm in the station. He’d have to get their HVAC guy in to make sure it was working right. Ringing phones and the whirring printer pierced the usual quiet. It reminded him of the Seattle precincts he’d worked in before coming home to Black Robe. The odor of paper, linoleum, stale coffee, and sweat hung in the air. The smell of cop shops the world over. His stomach growled when he caught the scent of turkey, corned beef, and his mother. It was faint, though, like she’d walked through the station a while ago carrying a tray of sandwiches. Which, thank the goddess, she did on a semiregular basis.

  BJ Finley, one of his human deputies, had his phone tucked between his chin and shoulder while he typed furiously on the computer. He saw Vaughn and beckoned him over.

  Vaughn bit back a sigh. “Yeah?”

  BJ pressed the phone against his chest so whoever was on the other end couldn’t hear. “Jimmy at the River’s Edge Motel on Route 5 says two rooms were broken into last night. Bunch of stuff was stolen from his guests. And Frannie at Lake View Campsites called. Some idiots trashed the public showers. Spray painted rude graffiti and broke a coupla windows.”

  The twitching behind Vaughn’s eyebrow beat double-time. “Why didn’t Jimmy call last night?”

  “The guests were drunk. He thought they’d just forgotten where they left their stuff, but this morning he saw damage around the locks like someone had picked ’em. I’ve had five other petty crimes complaints today. So far.”

  “You’re going to have to take the reports on your own. Dean and Ted are still dealing with the chaos the bear caused. Tim and Mary Jo don’t come on shift for a few hours yet. Brit, take down as much information as you can, but only send one of us out to something new if it’s serious. Let the regional dispatcher know that, too, please. Call Donna in to help with phones.”

  “Already did,” she said. “She’s in the storage room getting more paper and ink for the printer.”

  “Thanks—”

  “Sheriff,” BJ said, before Vaughn could walk away. “When Tim comes in, we need him to look at the network. The computers are running even slower than normal.”

  In his head, Vaughn counted to ten as the twitching morphed into pain. “Okay.” He turned back to Brit. “Anything back on the fingerprints I sent you from Dean and Sarah’s?”

  She gave him a smile that was all clenched teeth and narrowed eyes. “No. I scanned them into IAFIS. Nothing has come back yet, Sheriff.”

  The way she emphasized his title sounded a lot like jackass. Brit was pack and a good employee. Maybe it was the stress of the last few days, but she usually kept her disdain for him hidden in the station. Hell, maybe it was the fact he’d just treated her like a rookie instead of the on-top-of-things female she was. Great job, Sheriff.

  His wolf didn’t care about the human politics of the situation at all. He wanted to stare Brit down until she dropped her gaze, but Vaughn refused
to give in to that instinct. He wasn’t about to scare off valuable staff because they rubbed each other’s fur the wrong way. “Thank you,” he said.

  Brit followed him to his office, her long legs easily keeping pace with him. “Are Sarah and the kids okay?”

  Vaughn stopped with his hand on the knob to his office. Turning back to face the young female, he tucked the paperwork she’d given him under an arm. “They’re fine. Not a scratch.”

  Tension flowed out of her with a long breath. “Good. Um, that stack of messages I gave you, there are three from the mayor’s office. You should return those.”

  “Great.”

  “Yeah. There’re a couple of RFIAs from Interclan Authority in there, too. I know how much you love those. One even was a call.”

  “Super.” Just what he needed: to field Requests for Information and Assistance from the same group who’d done absolutely nothing to help after their previous Alpha and Beta were murdered.

  While he tried to remember why he’d even wanted to be a cop in the first place, Brit walked away, long auburn hair swinging behind her. His wolf usually liked to remind him she was a beautiful, unattached female who’d make a sexy playmate. The wolf didn’t care about things such as awkwardness at work or that like most of the other pack females, she avoided getting physical with him because of his dual nature. They wouldn’t risk tainting their bloodlines with his complicated genes. But today his beast was strangely silent. Not even a sniff of appreciation. Maybe it was worn out, too.

  Not that it had acted too tired to care around Cassandra Shipton. This morning, the damned beast had practically drooled at the sight of her. The wolf’s constant demands to get closer, to touch—and lick, for goddess’s sake—the female had made it nearly impossible for him to think. A potential disaster under the circumstances. He didn’t have time to lust after...what? A victim? Witness? Conspirator?

  “Stupid freaking Thunder Moon,” he mumbled to himself as he strode into his office and shut the door with more force than necessary.

  “Slamming doors...that’s more my way of coping than yours, Vaughn.”

  He stiffened. “Mom, I caught your scent outside, but I didn’t realize you were still in here.”

  “Obviously,” she said. A paperback novel in her hands, she sat on the beaten leather couch that still smelled of his uncle, the former sheriff. He’d walked right by her when he came in. Great observational skills, Sheriff. She waved a hand toward his desk. “I brought you lunch. Figured you wouldn’t have time to swing by.”

  The scent of corned beef and rye hit him, and his stomach growled long and loud. “Bless you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mom said with a laugh. “Before you worry about your staff, Veronica and I made enough for everyone. There’s more in the break room. Including a couple dozen cookies. You have your own stash of snickerdoodles, by the way. I hid them in your bottom drawer.”

  “That’s it.” He swooped down next to her and hauled her into a hug, complete with a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Angels, the pair of you.”

  “Don’t I know it? You can thank your aunt when you see her tonight at the run. And don’t try to tell me you’re too busy to go. You’re third in line in pack hierarchy. You have to show the pack you stand with Luke and Dean.”

  Vaughn slid his grandfather’s copper cuff higher on his forearm and twisted it to settle it in the right place. Mom was right. His standing in the pack was new. He could have challenged the former third-ranking male, Stefan, when he moved back to the territory. But he hadn’t, and look where that had gotten them. Stefan and several others had been traitors, working with Apex behind the scenes to stage a coup. By the time Vaughn had figured out what was happening, it was almost too late. Thanks to his stupidity, they’d lost pack members, including Sam. The deputy’s death would haunt him forever.

  No, Vaughn hadn’t overtly pushed anyone when he came home. Instead, he did what he wanted and let the other males come to him. When challenged, he didn’t screw around, just put them down fast and hard. A lot of people expected him to try to throw down with Dean and maybe even Luke. He could have. Thought about it often enough. But something always held him back.

  Dean once told him he didn’t want it as bad as Luke did. That Luke couldn’t do anything but lead the pack, and that Vaughn didn’t care enough to. That wasn’t true. Vaughn could lead. The question that kept him up at night was, would anyone follow? He knew what they whispered behind his back. Two-natured. Freak. Malvado, evil. The pack had loved and respected his grandfather, father, and uncle, so they grudgingly accepted him into the fold. They liked his physical strength and dominance well enough since they were assets to the pack’s safety and security. But they never let him forget he wasn’t really one of them.

  He’d never forget they’d thought he was one of the traitors.

  “I’m going,” he said. Had to. He’d promised Luke he’d bring Cassandra Shipton as thanks for her defense of their packmates. Goddess knew she could use a babysitter.

  His wolf sat up and took notice at that thought. He was more than happy to volunteer for the job. Vaughn sighed.

  “Good,” Mom said. “All right. I can see you’re trying to find a polite way to tell me you’re too busy to visit right now. No worries, sweetie. I know how crazy things get during a Thunder Moon, and this year seems especially nuts. But next week, mister, you are going to come over for some uninterrupted quality time.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ll even let you get a word or two in edgewise. Cross my heart.” With that, she made an X over her heart and rose. “Oh, before I go, how is that poor female, Jessie Mills’s friend, Cassandra? I stopped over to the clinic to see her last night, but she was already asleep.”

  “She’s okay. Healing well,” he said. Very well, the horny Thunder Moon–driven part of his brain said. He didn’t like keeping things from his mother, but if he told her what happened this morning, she’d be over at Jessie’s place in an instant, coddling that insane female and her pet timber wolf. Not going to happen if he had a say. Trouble followed Cassandra like a shadow.

  His mother’s eyes lightened from their normal rich brown to the pale gold of her eagle. She cocked her head and stared at him. When she spoke, her voice rose in pitch, layered with her eagle’s cry. “You’re hiding something, eaglet mine.”

  As if his own golden eagle wanted to answer her, it stretched inside his mind. For a second, it felt like giant wings flexed on his back. No. The eagle squawked, but settled its feathers.

  Mom’s head tilted the other way. “Fine. Have your secrets.” With a single blink, her eyes darkened, and she was just Mom again. She pulled him down to kiss his cheek. “Go on, eat your lunch. I bet you haven’t had anything but protein bars since yesterday.”

  “You’d win that bet,” he said, opening the door for her. “I hate the damn Thunder Moon.”

  She snorted. “You could stand some fun in your life, Vaughn. Try it. You might like it. You might even like it with Cassandra Shipton.”

  With that parting shot, she sailed out of his office, the sound of her laughter following her out of the station.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his office door. That’s all he needed.

  Beside his lunch, a stack of paperwork waited for him. It’d have to keep waiting. Getting an ID on the bear was his first priority. Dean and Ted were in town trying to find anyone who knew the male, or might know where he’d been staying. Their efforts were somewhat hampered by the fact they couldn’t show around the male’s picture, because Dean had shot him in the head. Couldn’t really blame him. If someone had gone after Vaughn’s mate and young... His beasts screamed and snarled in his head at just the thought.

  Sitting down behind his desk, he turned on his computer. While it booted, he pulled out the container his mother brought. He nearly moaned at the sight of the huge sandwich, potato salad, and bag of chips. He did moan at t
he first bite. It tasted as good as it looked, though at this point he was so hungry, he’d have eaten Spam from a can and called it gourmet.

  He logged into the network and checked to see if the FBI’s fingerprint identification system, IAFIS, had made a match. Negative. Either the male hadn’t committed any crimes or the locality involved didn’t submit to the system. There were other databases he could check, but since the individual in question was a lycanthrope, the most efficient process was to check with Interclan Authority.

  He twisted the cuff on his arm again. He was being irrational, he admitted it. Holding a freaking grudge like a child. Still, his uncle Darren had not only been a werewolf, but the pack Beta and the sheriff. It chafed that his murder hadn’t received more attention from IA.

  Vaughn could be upset all he wanted; it wouldn’t change a thing. Darren was still dead, and he still had a job to do. So stop being an asshole and submit the request.

  He opened the secure link to the RFIA page. BJ was right. The system was slow today. Maybe it was the internet connection. Hell. He hoped they didn’t have a virus. Since Tim Slechter had officially joined the department a few months ago, their network had been running faster than ever. Maybe they’d become spoiled?

  The page opened and he saw the lengthy list of open RFIAs. If IA couldn’t answer, they put the request out to all the clans. Pack law enforcement was supposed to check the list regularly. Vaughn usually did, like clockwork, but as with a lot of things lately, he’d fallen behind.

  He filled out his request and submitted it. He should return the mayor’s call now, but he didn’t feel right not at least looking at RFIAs that had been sent to him directly. He flipped through the folders Brit had given him until he found the right one. Inside, there were eight requests, all asking for help locating different individuals. He’d already seen some of these, because he’d heard about them while sniffing around for Apex.