Cody rolled his eyes. “As I said, you’re a bad liar.”
Jonah grinned.
“Seriously man, thanks for all the visits and stuff. It’s pretty cool, but you don’t have to.”
To keep the exchange casual, Jonah turned back to the game. “Sure, but you know where to find me if you need me?”
“Yeah, I got it. I’m crippled, not forgetful.”
“How’s your PT coming?”
“I don’t know. My hands still hurt all the time. My left knee too, but at least I’m alive, right?” Cody said unconvincingly.
Still pretending to focus on the game, Jonah probed, "What about the rest, Cody? How’s that all coming?”
Cody looked at his shoes. “It’s coming.”
Nodding, Jonah glanced back to him again. “If you want—”
“Nah,” Cody interrupted. “I’ve got people for that stuff. You know, doctors and other people. I kinda like that with you I can pretend to be normal.”
“Okay.” Jonah looked around the room. “Well, at least you’ll have a better TV at the Williams home.”
Cody smirked again. “You do know most people from Texas like football, right?”
"This is futball!" Jonah exclaimed with mock offense.
"American football."
Standing to stretch, Jonah chuckled. “I better head out. Work and stuff.”
Cody stared at his shoes again. “How come you never pestered me? You come here every week but never ask.”
Jonah sighed. “I figure you’ve been through enough.”
“Thanks man.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Jonah said with ease. “You can make it up to me by texting me the final score.”
“Sure thing, but it won’t be big, probably like zero.”
“You wound me, Cody,” Jonah said with a fist to his stomach, then walked out of the room.
He was halfway down the corridor when Cody called out, “By the way, what happened to your nose? Bar fight?”
Jonah shouted back, “Steer clear of pretty ladies with red hair, Cody. They’re more dangerous than a three-hundred pound drunk man.”
Feeling cheerful, Jonah whistled as he made his way to the front door. He passed a woman wearing a long skirt and white blouse. She had playful brown eyes and smiled knowingly at him, “Detective.”
The tune he carried died as he responded with a respectful, “Ma’am.” Puzzled by her familiarity, he stopped, but she kept walking. Figuring he must have met her here before, Jonah let the strange encounter pass and headed to work.
“Hi, Selena,” Cody said when she neared him.
“Hello, Cody. How was your visit with Detective Hall?”
Cody fidgeted. “I would have told them. It’s just—"
“Not to worry, your secret is safe with me. It’s important for you to make friends outside of the circle. It’s crucial to feel normal sometimes in a world of abnormality. You need him and he’ll need you.”
“Do you know him?”
“No, not really. But eventually we all will,” she confessed cryptically.
Tracy never took an assignment lightly. By nature, she was a thorough and competitive creature. Entrenched in her newest idea, Tracy made the long drive to Denver to pick up a rare volume on Scandinavian lore.
According to the charts and graphs James created, the research into the name Niall was inching forward. There were obscure references to a Niall in Irish, Scottish, and Scandinavian legends. The general use of the name started with Niall Noígíallach, a High Irish King. After his death in 378 A.D., a few other notable figures that shared the same name and lineage popped up. Any of them could fit the profile. Given the reality of supernatural races and their long lives, Tracy discounted any with known death dates and narrowed their search to the five most likely leads.
Using her old contacts, Tracy sent requests out to new sources. She had them focus on the four Irish and Scottish lines for her, but Tracy wanted to look into the first suspect herself. The Niall her mother found was more curious than the others. As far as she could tell, this chieftain had no direct connection to the Irish High King. In fact, the man she was researching barely existed on historical records, making her all the more determined to discover who he was.
Hoping to shake something loose, Tracy hounded The Brotherhood’s newest ally, Jarrett. She ignored Jarrett’s gruff tones and interrogated him about Niall’s speech patterns, word choices, dress, and even home decor preferences. She knew such aspects of life could offer clues to a person’s background, and Niall’s connection to any of the three cultures was plausible. After three calls and two emails, Tracy felt she was on the right path.
Arriving in Denver, Tracy pulled up to a used novelties and books store and parked her car. A bell chimed when she opened the door to the small shop, and she smiled in greeting to the middle-aged man behind the counter. “Gerald, it’s been too long.”
“Yes, my dear. How are you?” he said as he came around the counter to hug her. “How’s your family?”
“We’re all fine and well. I’m glad I could reach you. How’s your wife?”
“She’s taken to photography. I got her a new Nikon this last Christmas for the grandkids, and she has taken so many pictures I am surprised my computer can store them all.”
Tracy laughed. She met Gerald and his wife a few years ago when she was college roommates with their daughter, Christine. Her friend was now married with two beautiful children. “I spoke with Christine the other day and she told me the new baby was sick. How is he now?”
“Much better, a touch of croup is all.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “I’ll admit, I’m excited to see the book you found.”
“Of course. Give me a minute.” Gerald hurried to his office at the back of the store. He returned shortly, holding a small, cloth-wrapped package. Gerald went behind the counter and placed the book on the glass top then gingerly unwrapped the cloth protecting it.
Tracy put on the gloves she kept in her purse and ran her fingers over the leather cover. “Has it been dated?”
“No, there wasn’t time. I can’t figure out how it ended up here. I found it buried in my inventory just two days before you called. These writings may contain the information you’re looking for.”
Tracy carefully examined the pages and nodded.
“The book shouldn’t exist, let alone in this condition, Tracy. It’s too old to have survived my dusty storeroom. The journal dates contradict the apparent lack of aging. It must be a fake, but it’s yours if you still want it.”
Tracy’s features turned serious as she contemplated the curious manifestation of this particular record and its questionable authenticity.
Gerald shifted. “You do still want the book, right? If you think I'm asking too much…”
“What? Oh no, of course I’ll take it. I’m sorry, Gerald. I got distracted,” Tracy admitted and pulled out her credit card.
He ran her card and carefully boxed the leather bound journal while giving Tracy instructions regarding proper care of older works like this one. She smiled. Tracy appreciated Gerald's respect for the item, so she didn’t interrupt or remind him of her years of training.
“It may be a fake,” he finished, “but just in case it’s not, take the utmost caution when handling it. Neither one of us will come across a book like this again in our lifetimes. I honestly hate to let it go, but I don’t have the time or resources you do. You’ll let me know what you find out, won’t you?”
“I promise,” Tracy assured and left the store.
She was eager to get started, but longed for coffee more. Heading down the sidewalk, Tracy went looking for the nearest Starbucks. After ordering a latte, she sat at one of the corner tables while her drink was prepared.
Too curious to wait until she got home, Tracy pulled out her gloves and carefully opened the box. Only a small peek, she thought. She wondered how this book could have survived so long with such casual treatment. Tracy
hardly believed she owned collected writings from Christian priests that had taken pilgrimage in and around pagan Scandinavia.
Tracy fervently hoped the book was authentic. The artifact lover inside her was ecstatic at the possibility of such a rare find. As far as Tracy knew, there was no other recording like the one resting before her.
A shadow fell over the yellowed, vellum-rag paper, and she lifted her gaze to discover the culprit. Detective Hall smiled. “Miss Williams, seems you’re out and about on an interesting shopping trip.”
“Hall, you’re in my light,” she said, replacing the wrapping, and putting the black lid on the box.
“What’s that?” he questioned, ignoring her comment.
“You know, Detective, harassment is a real thing and can ruin an officer's spotless career.”
Jonah laughed. “You think my record is spotless? We should take more time to get to know each other better.”
"Your nose is looking better," she observed.
"Yeah, it's healed fairly fast. By the way it bled when you hit me, I thought it would take longer. That’s good medicine your mom has."
"Wimp," Tracy mumbled. The guy at the counter called her name. Without another word, Tracy skirted around Jonah, grabbed her latte, and left. Her get-away was not fast enough.
“You following me, Hall?” Tracy said over her shoulder when she heard his footsteps.
“Nah, running into you is a happy coincidence.”
She spun. “Really? You just happened to run into me, here in Denver?”
“Yep.”
“You realize you're out of your jurisdiction.”
Jonah hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Officers get days off too, Miss Williams.”
“Oh, go crawl back in the hole you slithered from and rot.” Tracy turned on her heel and made her way back to the car. He continued to follow her, and she snapped, “And stop with the, ‘Miss Williams’ crap.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tracy rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’re an idiot.”
“You’re gonna hurt my feelings talkin’ like that.”
“What do you want, Hall?”
“World peace, an extra 10k in my bank account—just to do something fun with, and let’s see, what else? Oh that’s right,” he became serious, “I want to catch Cody’s tormentors and Jeffery’s killer. Have you talked to Jeffery’s mother lately? She’s still pretty broken up.”
Tracy stopped. Her heart constricted and her eyes closed when she heard Jeffery's name and the reference to his mother. Detective Hall’s conviction also moved her. Drawing in a deep calming breath, she softened her tone. “Hall, what you do, what you’re trying to do, is admirable.”
“But you’re going to tell me to back off,” he interjected.
“No, but I will tell you there is nothing you can do this time. There is nothing I will tell you to help your case. This isn’t a movie. In my world, events don’t always have a happy ending.”
He nodded. “You know what, Tracy? You’re the first person who didn’t lie. You used will instead of can. I respect that, but I will not let this go until I have brought the offender to justice. I don’t believe in giving any criminal a pass, especially not rich ones.”
“Are you implying we’re criminals?”
“I never said any such thing.” Jonah turned to walk away, but then he called over his shoulder, “I never said I didn’t think it either.”
“You ought to be careful about sitting on that fence, Hall. Sooner or later, you're bound to fall off. For your sake, I hope the fall doesn’t break your neck,” she shouted after him. Jonah grinned, enjoying the way Tracy’s keen mind and sharp tongue complimented his wit.
Jonah had originally underestimated the younger woman. Even though Tracy went back to New York soon after the funeral, she was not as weak as he’d once assumed. Jonah had called her contacts in the city presuming it would prompt her to talk. Then, when he found out Tracy booked a flight home, he had hoped to charm her.
After their few interactions, Jonah accepted that manipulation and southern drawls would not accomplish his goal. Tracy’s loyalty, strength, and resourcefulness would require the same of him. However, her fiery response to him gave him an idea.
Jonah needed to annoy Tracy and remind her of the victims. When her temper spiked, and the guilt became too heavy, Jonah expected he could finally goad her into telling him everything.
Even though the Williams family had proven solid in their story and united in their purpose, Jonah knew someone was bound to slip up sooner or later. He laid odds that Tracy’s temper would cause her to slip first. She was still his best chance at solving this case.
As Jonah opened his car door, a shadow passed his peripheral vision. The hairs on his neck prickled, and he glanced around to discern what disturbed him. Suddenly feeling guarded and uncomfortable, his smile fell. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. After watching his surroundings for several minutes, the detective finally gave up.
Chapter 10
Cade, Jarrett, and Delphene sat in an awkward silence around a crackling campfire. Nature did not even lend a gentle breeze to disrupt the stillness. None of them wanted to talk about weighty matters such as Cade’s behavior of late. Things had been strained between the three of them since meeting up with Delphene, but the feeling was more apparent tonight.
Delphene had a flair for making convincing arguments and persuaded the brothers to camp outdoors instead of another hotel. She insisted that camping was a change of pace, and the woods offered her a chance to feel like the wolf that she was. Figuring it made little difference, Cade and Jarrett relented. However, in retrospect, the uncomfortable situation made Jarrett rethink his original acquiescence.
In the few months he'd known the she-wolf, Jarrett found himself in a state of bewilderment more than once. Cade, on the other hand, was used to her maneuvering. He simply accepted the outcomes she brought about.
Sitting with his back against a large boulder, Cade stared at the dancing flames, and Delphene indulged his broody mood by keeping silent. Jarrett, the man who had always preferred solitude, now found he didn’t like the lack of conversation. It wasn’t natural and made him uncomfortable. Jarrett altered his position and shook his head, hardly believing the irony. His movement drew Delphene’s attention, but she made no comment.
After several more wordless minutes, Jarrett amazed himself by being the first to speak. Not practiced in small talk, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
Caught off guard, Delphene turned her focus to Cade across the fire. “Vous ne lui avez pas dit?”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t think… It was long ago. We just haven’t… ” Cade stammered and pulled a hand through his hair.
“Tell him now,” she ordered.
Sure he was missing something important and confused by their exchange, Jarrett resolved to learn French as soon as possible. He back peddled. “Look, don’t worry about it. It’s none of my business.”
Staring Cade down, Delphene insisted, “Non, mon'ami, it is your business.”
Cade stood. Agitated. “I met Del… I was looking for my father, our father.”
“I see,” Jarrett said.
“After you and I split up the first time,” Cade added.
“Okay.”
“After you found me and we fought… Well, I wanted to know more. I did some digging. It was two years before I found a lead. Back when we were born, our kind stayed loyal to packs for the most part. They did it for protection from mobs and to protect humans from those of us that went rogue. Many of the groups had councils and strict rules. It took me another seven years to track down any traces of remaining packs.”
“Did you,” Jarrett cleared his throat, “did you find him?”
“I finally found a pack still existing in Virginia. Locating the group was difficult since they had a whole network organized to protect themselves.”
“Did you find him?�
� Jarrett repeated.
“No, I didn’t find him,” Cade admitted.
“Your father had passed by the time Cade came along,” Delphene explained reverently, sounding as if she grieved for the man.
Jarrett turned to face her. “You were a part of his pack?”
She nodded. “Your father was a good man, Chère. None that came after him could ever hope to measure up to him.”
“Tell me—”
“I saw Cade, and I saw a fantôme. A newcomer with my friend’s face came looking for answers. I could only stare in disbelief as our pack leader lied to him, knowing this stranger was not only one of our kind, but clearly of Samuel Cade’s bloodline. Unfortunately, none within our number had the courage to tell the truth.”
“Samuel,” Jarrett repeated.
“That was your father’s name.”
Jarrett looked to Cade. “You’re named after him.”
A tick showed in Cade’s jaw, but he stood straighter and offered a nod of assent. Though his brother was proud, Jarrett also recognized a hint of guilt for not disclosing the information sooner.
Jarrett felt Cynda’s medallion hanging around his neck and pondered the circles and links in this story. He was learning about his biological father from a brother he’d barely learned to trust. An exotic woman that often came to Jarrett’s mind held personal memories of the father he never dared hope for. An invisible thread spun around them, connecting the lycans in unbelievable continuity. He reflected on it for several minutes, and they did not intrude on his thoughts. Had Jarrett been a religious man he might have believed the circumstance miraculous.
Part of him regretted his years spent alone as The Hunter. When he cut ties with Cade, Jarrett forced himself to give up hope of any family. Connections were dangerous, so he’d never thought much about his real father. He imagined the experiences Cade and Jarrett might have shared if Samuel had taken them at birth.
“Before you think it, you should know our father couldn’t have raised us,” Cade told him. “His world was as complicated as Lyndell’s.”
“You favor him,” Delphene interjected.
The Truth of Victory: A Powers of Influence Novel Page 9
