by Mary Abshire
"Did I hear you correctly?" he asked, voice deep. "The man who was my guard, betrayed me, kidnapped you, and nearly killed you? That Gabe?"
I sensed displeasure in his tone. "That would be the one."
"Does Drake know?"
"He knows, but he had to leave and take care of something for me. He doesn't know I've contacted you."
"I see."
"Drake wants to get rid of Gabe—"
"And so do I," he quickly added.
"But we don't know much about him here. He might have a pack. I'm not sure."
"Where is here exactly?" he asked.
For a brief second, I hesitated to answer. Then I reminded myself Alan had genuine qualities such as trust and loyalty. "I'm staying in Eagle River, Alaska. It's a town outside of Anchorage."
"Ah…and a perfect place to hide if you are a wanted werewolf."
Or a demon, I considered adding.
"You said you ran into him. Tell me about it," Alan said.
"I was with a few friends at a bar. He must have seen me because he showed up at our table and acted like he wanted to start trouble. He said I was in his territory."
"He said those words to you?"
"Yes."
"Then he has a pack, or he's with one and carries weight within it. You need to be very careful."
My mood took a dive south. His words were not what I wanted to hear. On the other hand, better to know than not know.
"What else did he say to you?" Alan asked.
"Nothing. Another demon forced him and his friend to leave."
"Did Gabe follow you?"
"No, I'm pretty sure he didn't."
"Drake cannot handle Gabe alone. You did the right thing by calling me," Alan said, his voice confident, strong, and composed.
"Can you help us?"
"I will make some calls and get in touch with our employees in Alaska and nearby. My gut instinct tells me Gabe will want to act fast, but he will also want to calculate his move. I will make sure a team arrives within a day to offer you protection. What is your address?"
I gave Alan the street address and my cell number.
"When will Drake return?" Alan asked.
"In a day, hopefully."
"And you are alone?"
"Yes. I promised him I wouldn't leave the house. He has a friend here, a priest. I suppose I can call him if I need anything."
"A priest is not going to be able to protect you against a werewolf, let alone one that wants you dead," he grumbled. "I will send someone to you as quickly as possible."
"I would be forever grateful for any help you can give us," I said.
"Stay inside and I will call you back in a few hours."
"Thank you, Alan."
"Anything for you," he said in his soft, sexy voice.
The line silenced, then I set the phone on top of my notebook. Relief washed through me like a tidal wave. Calling Alan gave Drake and me hope. With Alan's help, we had more options available. If Alan could get several men here to help us catch Gabe, then maybe we could settle our differences without much bloodshed. And since Drake seemed to get along with Alan, I doubted he would mind me asking for Alan's help. Yep, I made the right choice.
Excited and with new energy pumping through me, I decided to burn it off by doing a few household chores. I washed three loads of laundry, made sure a bedroom and bathroom upstairs were ready for use when Dani arrived, cleaned the entryway and kitchen where our shoes had left a mess, then tidied up the rest of the house. By the time I finished, I still had a couple hours before Drake's plane would land. So, I sat back on the sofa with the television on and kept my phone near me. During a rerun of Andy Griffith, my eyelids drooped and I dozed off.
A buzzing sound woke me and I opened my eyes. The glow from the television helped me locate the source of the noise. My cell was on the coffee table. I picked up the phone, then pressed the talk button.
"Hello?" I asked, voice soft.
"Jessie, it's Paul. We met yesterday. Anthony gave me your number. Did I wake you?"
Curious to know the time and why he was calling, I sat upright. "No, no. I dozed off, but I'm awake. What can I help you with, Paul?" I twisted the phone away from my mouth as I yawned.
"Well, there's been a development and I was wondering if you might be able to come by and take a look."
Rubbing my eyes, I asked, "What do you mean there's been a development?"
"There's been another murder. The policeman I'm friends with is going to let me look at the victim, but it has to be done quickly before word leaks to the media. I'm on my way out the door and I was hoping you would join me."
"You want me to go with you to the scene of the crime and look at the body?" I asked, thinking I'd heard the priest wrong.
"Yes. We can't touch it, of course, but the police will let us near to look at it. I thought you might find a clue, something the police wouldn't pick up."
"Uh…well…" I paused to consider if I should go or not. I could check out the body, but I promised Drake I would stay in the house.
"You have been near dead bodies before, haven't you? Maybe I should not have assumed—"
"It's okay. I've been near a few."
"Okay. Great, I think. Would you want to come with me or meet me?"
"What time is it?" I asked while I still debated if I should go or stay.
"It is…not quite two in the morning."
Drake's plane wouldn't land in Indy for another hour. Then he'd have to get to his hotel. That gave me time to check out the scene and be back for his call. I'd tell him later I went out—no need to worry him while he was away. Maybe he wouldn't be upset with me if he knew I was with the priest.
"I can meet you," I said, rising to my feet. "Tell me where to go."
Chapter Thirteen
The car slid to a stop at the red light. Tense, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. More snow had made a thin layer on the roads and flurries continued to fall. Needless to say, the roads were a wee bit slick. Sighing, I stared at the intersection. Two cars passed while I waited for the light to turn green. My pulse was racing, fueled by anxiety. The grocery store Paul had said to meet him at was the same one Gail and Donnie worked at. I wondered if they were working, and if so, whether they were all right.
The windshield wipers brushed off the snow and the light gave the go-ahead to turn. I pressed my foot on the accelerator too hard and the front tires spun. "Damn it," I cursed to myself.
I drove at a snail's pace to the store. The parking lot was crowded with cars and onlookers. Several police vehicles, their lights flashing, blocked the entrance of the building. Finding an open space near a light pole at the farthest end of the lot, I parked Drake's car.
Keys in hand, I headed toward the store. The air passed right through my thin, long-sleeved shirt, but didn't chill me. The chilling breeze felt good, refreshing even. I filled my lungs with the crisp air as I carefully walked over the dusting of snow covering the ground, hoping my sneakers wouldn't slip. I really didn't want to fall and show up as a wet mess.
Beyond a row of parked cars, a small crowd of people gathered around the entrance. Policemen stood in front of a line of yellow tape, keeping the onlookers at bay. A few feet away, a group clustered together, smoking cigarettes. Employees wearing aprons stood closer to the windows. The hairs on my body twitched while I sniffed a light burning scent. As I drew nearer, I spotted the source of the burnt aroma. Gail and Donnie stood side by side, peering at the building. Gail's coppery hair and Donnie's black locks were easily recognizable.
"Hey," I said, stopping behind them. "Did you see anything?"
Gail turned to face me. "Hi, Jessie. Did you hear what happened?" She had her apron over her clothes, but no jacket.
"Yeah, I heard there might be another murder," I replied. "Were you guys working?"
"I was. Donnie got here a few minutes ago."
I glanced at the young man standing next to her. He had his hands in his pockets as
he stared at the store, fixated. His pale arms stood out next to his black shirt.
"Did you see anything?" I asked again.
"No," Gail said, shaking her head. "I was working at one of the registers when I heard a loud scream. The manager ran to check it out. When he came back a few minutes later, he said he was calling the police. He told us to check everyone out and wait by the door. I called Donnie immediately."
"Where's your manager?" I asked.
"He went inside with a couple cops," Gail replied. "How did you hear what happened?"
I shrugged. "News travels fast."
I searched for Paul and didn't see him. He'd said to meet him at the front to escort me inside. Parked police cars blocked the entrance while two large men stood by the vehicles. They didn't have badges, nor were they wearing uniforms. Their muscular bodies and towering height made the cops inside look puny.
"Any idea who they are?" I asked with my gaze pointing at the store.
"Werewolves. They were shopping and some decided to stick around," Gail said, and I realized they were the reason my hairs were tickling me. "When I checked them out, they told me they smelled blood."
"Has everyone been accounted for that was working?"
"Uh…I think so." Gail searched the crowd. "There were six of us on the schedule. The two pharmacists are smoking with one of the gals from the bakery." Her eyes continued to scan the area. "I see Carrie and Pat talking to one of the cops."
Donnie snickered. "Figures. Pat can't resist a man in uniform."
Gail laughed. "Yeah."
"Who was working at the meat counter tonight?" Donnie raked his fingers through his dark bangs, pushing them aside.
Gail tilted her head from side to side, searching. "I think Hank was, but I don't see him around."
Three men walked toward the front door. One of them was Paul. A policeman walked next to him. The third man I didn't recognize.
"There's Mr. Garringer," Donnie said.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"He's our manager," Gail said.
The sliding doors opened, then three men exited the store. Paul and the policeman stopped past the entrance.
"Excuse me." I squeezed between Gail and another woman, ducked under the yellow caution line, then headed for Paul.
The two werewolves immediately shifted their attention to me as I approached in a quick stride. An officer standing near the crowd ran toward me. He reached for me as if to stop me before I got too close, so I came to a halt.
"Paul," I yelled, and waved my hand.
He looked my way and flashed a smile.
"Ma'am, please return to the other side of the line," the cop said, now standing in front of me. He stretched out his arms, encouraging me to back up.
"I'm with him," I said.
"It's okay. She can come in," the policeman with Paul said.
The officer lowered his arms, then I passed him and continued on a path toward the priest.
"Glad you could make it," Paul said as I came to a halt in front of him.
"So…how bad is it?" Standing so close to the priest made my temperature rise and my stomach churn. Placing a hand over my gut, I took a few steps back.
Paul noticed my movements. "This won't take long." He increased the distance between us, as if he were trying to courteous.
I hoped he was right, or the ice cream I ate earlier would come up. It wouldn't be a pretty sight if it did.
"Conner, would you like to escort us inside?" Paul asked the policeman.
"Sure."
The cop led the way inside. Paul and I followed. The closer I was to him, the more my stomach protested. As we walked past the registers, the lack of beeps and voices lent an eerie feeling. I shook it off and focused on the task at hand, searching for clues to find a demon soul stealer.
"Do you know who the victim is?" I asked as we drew near the back, toward the meat counter.
"Hank Bennington," Conner said as he glanced at me from over his shoulder. "He was the butcher. Worked here six years and never had a complaint about him, domestic or otherwise."
Before I followed him behind the counter, Paul touched my shoulder, bringing me to a stop. I glared at him as an intense cramp pained me.
"He was also a werewolf," Paul whispered.
I stepped back from him, holding a hand over the spot where he'd touched me. The urge to vomit rose. I swallowed, trying to keep any up-flow down, then focused on what he'd just told me. A demon murdered a werewolf. This didn't bode well for me since I had a werewolf somewhere in the city who wanted me dead. If word got back to Gabe that I had been near the recently deceased wolf, my days were going to be shorter than I'd originally thought.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Paul nodded. "I've seen him before with one of the local packs."
My mood dove south into murky territory. I needed to leave the scene of the crime ASAP and pray word didn't circulate about my appearance. Later, I'd have to chat with Paul and inform him of my situation.
Conner's footsteps halted past an open doorway in the back. "Coming?"
Meeting Paul's gaze, I extended my arm toward the open door. "After you."
I trailed behind Paul into a brightly lit room with shiny stainless steel appliances, a table and large sink near the wall, and a dead body on the floor in a pool of blood. Hank, I presumed, given he still wore his white jacket and apron. Seeing the man lying in blood brought back memories of Sean. A sudden wave of grief hit me and I quickly pushed it aside.
Paul stopped above the man's head and gazed down.
The strong scent of blood infiltrated my nose as I drew near. My gag reflex decided to kick in. Hand covering my mouth, I stopped at the side, inches from the dark fluid.
"Don't touch anything," Conner said.
"I won't," I said, my voice muffled from my hand.
Blood covered the upper half of Hank's large body. Small tears were evident in various places on his apron. The cause of his death appeared to be from his stab wounds. His arms were at his sides and his legs were parted slightly, as if he had been standing straight and fell backwards. Wide glassy eyes stared straight up and his mouth was in the shape of an O.
"Do you see anything unusual?" Paul asked.
I stepped around the puddle, closer to Hank's head. "No…but…" I squatted, then placed my hand inches from his face.
"Don't touch him," Conner said, as if I hadn't heard him the first time.
I held my breath as much as I could and uncovered my mouth. "I'm not going to touch anything." I sure didn't want my scent on the werewolf.
"What do you feel, Jessie?" Paul asked.
"Nothing." I moved my hand farther down, above his chest. Sure, he was dead, but usually, energy from the soul lingered, unless someone stripped his soul from his body. "I feel nothing."
"He's been dead maybe an hour," Conner said.
I looked from Conner to Paul as I rose to my feet. "He looks pretty stiff to have been dead only an hour."
"The coroner will be here at any minute. He'll be able to give us a more accurate time," Conner said.
I moved away from the body so I could breathe easier, then scanned the room. There was an exit on the far wall. "Has anyone checked the door?" I pointed at it.
"We have a team coming to dust for fingerprints," Conner said. "I have two guards posted on the other side." He stepped closer, keeping his eyes locked on mine. "Does anything look or feel out of the ordinary to you? Paul told me you were a spiritual type of investigator. I won't repeat anything you tell me. I want to catch the person responsible for these murders."
"Well…" I crossed my arms and glanced at Paul. He gave a nod of approval. "I think it's odd how his body is arranged so…orderly. Have the other victims been found in a similar way?"
Conner scratched his right cheek. "To be honest, I'll have to take a look at the photos again. I haven't paid much attention."
"It might be nothing, but I am curious. Also, his energy is gone. There's no
t a trace of it left."
"What does that mean exactly?" Conner asked.
"It means his soul is gone," I replied point blank.
"Gone? Like gone to Heaven or wherever?"
"No." I shook my head once. "If he had died of regular causes, energy from his soul would've remained attached to his body, even though he passed on. Because I couldn't feel anything, I think someone removed his soul from his body."
Conner scrunched his nose. Disbelief gleamed in his eyes. "You think someone stole his soul?" A puff of air came out of him and he nearly chuckled. "How can a person even do that? Is it magic or voodoo or something?"
I shifted my attention to Paul.
"Jessie is merely speculating," Paul said. "Of course a normal person couldn't take a soul from a body."
Laughter bubbled up inside me. I bit my tongue to keep quiet. Paul just told a big fat fib. Wasn't lying a sin? On second thought, he did say normal person.
"I didn't feel any energy from his body. Where his soul went, I don't know. It's not here." I stretched out my arms.
"If it was here, could you…talk to it?" Conner asked.
"Sometimes I can. It just depends." I withdrew my cell from my back pocket, then checked the time. I had a little over an hour left before Drake would call. As I returned the phone to the back of my jeans, I glanced up at the corner near the door. In a large round mirror, I saw my reflection. "Hey, are there cameras set up in the store?"
"We checked already. The manager said the surveillance recording stopped working a few months ago. He's been too busy to get a technician out to fix it," Conner said.
"You could have had your killer if he'd had the equipment repaired."
Conner nodded. "The manager is aware. He regrets he didn't have it fixed. Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about it now."
I shook my head in disappointment. The police could be looking for the murderer if the manager had taken responsibility months ago to fix the cameras. His lack of action warranted termination or discipline at least, if the decision was up to me.
"Would you like to come to the station and look at photos of the other victims?" Conner asked. "I can't show you everything, of course."
Before I could respond, the black device on his shoulder stole his attention. He stepped away, talking softly into it.
