Is that what this had been? Destiny’s attempt to slap her in the face with a wakeup call? Caroline sighed, and rested her head on the steering wheel in frustration. She had to admit that every new piece of information she learned about Lance made him seem more and more like a good match for her. But destiny would have to give her a much stronger sign if it wanted her to take on a relationship guaranteed to land her in the tabloid section of the news.
Caroline started the engine in her car and glanced at the clock on the radio. It was just past one a.m., which was fairly early to be heading home on a night of storm watching. Usually, the storms were later, and Caroline stayed for the whole show. But tonight, she’d decided she had to leave and get away from Lance as soon as possible. She hadn’t seen as much of the storm as she wanted to, but she figured she’d let this one go. She had plenty of ideas for her next painting series already. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to do any more public exhibits any time soon, so she wasn’t in a rush to get anything painted. The longer she stayed out of the public eye, the better the chances that this whole stir about the man in her paintings would blow over.
As soon as Caroline got home, she peeled off her wet clothes and climbed into bed, thankful that her roommate wasn’t around to make fun of her for being out storm watching again. Caroline fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, blissfully far away from any thoughts of her estranged family, of Lance, or of thunder.
The next day, after sleeping in late and spending time paying bills online, Caroline was feeling moody. She needed to get out of the house, but she feared running into someone who recognized her. She wasn’t a major celebrity or anything like that, but enough people around here seemed to recognize her these days that going out could be incredibly annoying. Especially on days like today, when her moodiness had reached the level where she wished she was the only human being on the planet. Her roommate made fun of her when she moped around like this, saying that all artists had been given an unhealthy dose of angst by the universe. Perhaps this was true, but Caroline didn’t want to discuss it with Samantha even on her least-angsty days.
Luckily, Caroline had found a dank, dark dive bar where no one seemed to know or care about anything remotely related to art. The place was small, and hardly visible from the outside. She went there often when she wanted to be alone, and the bartender knew her well by now. He knew which beer she liked, and that she wasn’t the chatty type. When she walked in, he would pour her a mug without a word, and then set it in front of her with a wink. He kept the refills flowing until she signaled to him that she was done, at which point he would bring her the bill. She always paid in cash, and always left a generous tip. She hardly ever said a single word when she went there, and it had quickly become her favorite hideout. The other patrons rarely spoke, either. People tended to come in alone and leave alone, not making eye contact with anyone except the bartender during their stay. It seems that everyone in that bar was hiding from someone or something, and they all had some sort of unspoken pact: don’t ask me any questions, and I won’t ask you any questions.
Which was why Caroline was slightly surprised to enter the bar today and see two men deep in conversation at the table a few feet away from her favorite spot on the bar top. She considered sitting somewhere else, but she liked her spot. She figured that as long as they didn’t talk to her, she didn’t care if they were talking amongst themselves. Caroline sat down, and made herself comfortable, giving the bartender a friendly nod when he set down her drink in front of her. One of the men, the older one, looked up at her briefly and seemed to be studying her face, but when she made eye contact with him he looked away and went back to speaking with his younger friend. Caroline took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before taking a long sip from her beer mug. She felt more relaxed already. Something about being here, away from her house and yet still in solitude, always felt so refreshing.
Caroline sipped the rest of her beer slowly, absentmindedly watching the baseball game playing on the ancient TV mounted above the bar. She refused to let herself think of anything related to Lance right now. She just wanted to relax and enjoy her drink. When the baseball game was interrupted for a commercial break, Caroline found her attention wandering to the hushed conversation of the men right behind her.
“How can we be sure it’s someone from the Coast Guard?” the younger man asked.
Caroline perked up, and shifted imperceptibly in her seat to try to hear better. She was always interested in stories involving the Coast Guard, and something in the man’s tone sounded sinister and intriguing.
“We can’t be sure,” the older man answered. “Whoever got to Kevin did a really good job of cleaning up after themselves. We didn’t find any fingerprints or traces of DNA in his car or his condo. Everything had been wiped clean. They took his laptop and surveillance equipment, and destroyed any records that were left behind. But the last several transmissions we received from before he disappeared all involved the Coast Guard. Specifically the Coast Guard rescue swimmers and their crews.”
Caroline was trying so hard to hear what the men were saying that she was holding her breath. DNA? Fingerprints? These guys definitely sounded like they were involved in something shady.
“But that could have been coincidence, right? I mean, Kevin was also looking at the Navy. Maybe one of those guys got him.”
“Anything’s possible. But we just discovered something somewhat concerning,” the older man said, then paused and lowered his voice so much that Caroline could barely catch what he was saying. “One of our agents up in Glacier Point, who is keeping an eye on the old warehouse up there that we were using, saw someone dressed in a Coast Guard uniform fly in to Glacier Point for one day. The guy who met him at the airport is a confirmed polar bear shifter.”
“Seriously?” the younger man said, his voice rising a little in excited concern. “Do you think the shifters down here are in contact with the ones up there?”
“It looks like it. Our guy got a grainy photograph of the Coast Guard visitor. It wasn’t much but it was all we had to work with. After a lot of digging around, we figured out who he is. Ace Grimes, helicopter pilot for a Coast Guard rescue crew.”
There was slight whooshing sound as the man slid a photograph across the table. Caroline shifted slightly in her seat, trying to see the photograph without making her interest obvious. It was an eight by ten glossy photo of a man with dark brown hair and eyes staring sternly into the camera and wearing a Coast Guard uniform.
“The guy looks like he could be a bear. Grizzly, maybe? Definitely brawny enough.”
Caroline furrowed her brow. What were these guys talking about? Polar bear shifter? A man who looked like he could be a grizzly bear?
“Naw, I don’t think he’s a grizzly. He doesn’t have the right eyes for it. Black bear is my guess. I’d almost say panda, but I don’t think there are any of them left.”
Caroline stared down into her empty beer mug. Was she hearing things incorrectly? She had only had one beer, so it couldn’t be the alcohol making her misinterpret what the men were saying. They were really sitting here talking about bear shifters and the Coast Guard. Were they drunk? Caroline carefully looked them over out of the corner of her eye, but they looked completely sober. And the two beer mugs in front of them looked untouched. But they were definitely sitting there talking about shifters like that was something that actually existed. Maybe they were just certifiably crazy. They probably had a dozen conspiracy theories about the government and how it was using shapeshifters to spy on people or something like that.
Caroline almost giggled, but stifled her laugh at the last second. She had never met someone who actually believed that shifters existed, and it was funny to watch these two burly men talking about folklore like it was reality. Their whole conversation was pretty entertaining, and she wanted to keep eavesdropping on them. But if they knew they were being spied on, they would probably stop talking.
The bartender set a beer refill dow
n in front of Caroline, and she nodded at him in acknowledgement, then turned her attention back to the men, who were now looking at a second glossy photograph.
“This is Ben Harrington, the copilot for the crew,” the older man said. Then he slid two more photographs across the table. “This is Brett Smith, the rescue swimmer, and Lance Bowman, the flight technician.”
“All bears?” the younger man asked.
“We think so,” the older man replied.
Caroline’s eyes widened and she choked on her beer as she saw the men peering over a photograph of Lance. She coughed violently, trying not to look at the men and worried that she had just made it obvious that she was watching them.
“Are you okay, miss?” one of the men asked, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
Caroline nodded. “Just swallowed wrong. Sorry to disturb you,” she said. Then she turned completely around so her back was facing them. She hated not being able to watch out of the corner of her eye, but she felt like she had already drawn too much attention to herself. She needed to make it very clear to them that she really had just choked on her beer, and that she wasn’t interested at all in whatever they were doing.
“So what are we going to do about it?” the younger man asked. He had dropped his voice so low that Caroline was again holding her breath trying to hear them.
“We have two choices, as far as I can tell. We can try to capture them, and take them to Alaska for use as test subjects. Or we can eliminate them here. I’m inclined to just kill them off here, because they seem dangerous. Kevin was one of our best intel guys. He was always super careful, and they still somehow managed to get rid of him. My guess is he’s at the bottom of the ocean right now.”
Caroline sat frozen in her seat, her eyes wide. This had just gone from an amusing eavesdropping session on some crazed lunatics to a very serious matter. Kill them off? Were these guys really going to try to kill Lance and his crew? Caroline took a chance on shifting in her seat again, moving just far enough over that she could see the men in her peripheral vision. They didn’t appear to be joking, as far as she could tell. And they must be crazy. Who else would sit there talking about shifters and killing people off in the middle of a public bar? Sure, the place was mostly empty, but it was still a public place. And Caroline was sitting only a few feet away from them. She must not look very threatening, with her hair in a messy bun and her outfit of plain old blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt. She had a ratty canvass messenger bag sitting on the barstool next to her that had been serving as her purse for the last several months. She probably looked like a college dropout with no money. Caroline sighed at the thought. She actually wasn’t a college dropout, because she’d never attended a single college class. You can’t drop out of a race you didn’t even start. And she wasn’t poor, although she’d started out that way. She just didn’t see the need to get all dressed up and fancy to come to a dive bar.
Caroline took a few deep breaths, trying to steady her racing heart. She kept listening to the men, but they weren’t talking at the moment. The older one, who seemed to be somewhat in charge, was leaning back in his seat and stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Do you disagree with killing them?” he asked the younger man, seeming to want an honest answer.
The younger man shook his head. “No. I don’t disagree. In fact, I think it’s pointless to try to get these new shifters up to Alaska. We have plenty of polar bear shifters up there to choose from if we want to run tests on the viruses. Better to get rid of these guys and get them out of the way before they stir up a fuss. But you’re sure they’re all bear shifters? I don’t want to kill innocent men.”
“We’re not one hundred percent sure. But we’re sure enough. At the very least, they’re connected to the shifter clans in Alaska in some way, and we’re fairly confident that they’re responsible for Kevin’s disappearance. I don’t want to kill innocent people, either. But this is war, buddy. Sometimes innocent people have to die in the name of a greater good. Don’t go getting all soft on me.”
The younger man sighed loudly. “Fine. But how are we going to do it? Poison.”
“No. On the off chance that they are, in fact, pandas, that would mean they survived the Great Epidemic. If they survived that virus, then they have super strong immune systems, and poison will be difficult to kill them with. We’ll do it the good old fashioned way,” the older man said, then paused dramatically. “With guns.”
“Sweet,” the younger man said. “I’ve been itching to get some target practice in.”
Caroline’s stomach turned at his giddy tone. Did he really think it was amusing to kill people? She didn’t know why she was surprised. After all, he was delusional enough to think that bear shifters actually existed. She thought she was going to throw up as the men continued to discuss in hushed tones their plans to murder the Coast Guard crew. She had to warn Lance somehow, but she didn’t even know his number, since she’d shredded the card she sent him. Caroline decided to try searching online for a way to contact him. Hopefully he wasn’t as crazy about keeping his information private as she was.
Caroline slipped off the barstool and grabbed her messenger bag, trying to look casual as she headed for the bar’s tiny restroom. It was a one-seater, located at the opposite end of the room. Caroline snuck a peak back at the bar just before closing the bathroom door behind her. The place had completely emptied out except for her and the two men, who were leaning over some paperwork on their table and didn’t seem to have noticed that Caroline had left.
Caroline took a deep breath and locked the door, then pulled her cell phone out of her purse. Thankful that she had finally given in to her roommate’s pressure to get a Smartphone with internet on it, Caroline pulled up a browser window and started searching for Lance. She typed in his full name, which brought up several pages that seemed to be somehow related to the Coast Guard. Nothing looked like a personal number for him, though, and she could feel her palms getting sweaty. She didn’t want to be in here too long and take a chance that the men would leave without her at least being able to follow them out and get a license plate number or some other piece of identifying information.
Caroline found a main number for the San Diego Coast Guard Air Station, and she decided to take a chance on calling it and seeing whether there was a way for whoever answered to get her in touch with Lance. After three rings, a pleasant-sounding receptionist answered the phone. Caroline took a deep breath and started talking.
“Hello, I’m not sure if the is the best number to use, but I’m trying to get in touch with one of the flight technicians who works there. His name is Lance Bowman. It’s really important that I speak with him.”
There was a long pause before the receptionist answered. “Um, I know who Lance is, but I’m not sure if he’s working today. Can I place you on hold for a moment while I check?”
“Sure. If you do find him, tell him it’s Caroline calling and it’s an emergency.”
“Alright, dear. Hold on,” the woman said. Moments later, Caroline’s ears were flooded with hold music, and she nervously chewed on one of her fingernails while she waited. The minutes were ticking by, and she hoped that the men outside were still sitting there. She wished that the door to the bathroom had some sort of crack in it so that could peek at them, but she didn’t see any flaws in the solid wood.
After what only amounted to about five minutes, but felt like an eternity, Lance suddenly came on the line.
“Caroline?” he said his voice sounding cautious and concerned. “What’s going on?”
“Lance! I’m so glad I caught you. I know I was a little short with you last time I saw you, so hopefully it’s not too awkward that I’m calling you at work like this. Well, who am I kidding? Things are about to get really awkward when I tell you what I’ve just seen.”
“You’re actually lucky you caught me. I’m off work today, but was up here to use the workout facilities. I was just on my way to the showers when the rece
ptionist saw me and flagged me down. What’s going on? Are you okay? The receptionist said it was an emergency.”
“Well, it is, sort of. I don’t really know the best way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. I’m at a bar, and there are two guys here talking about killing you and your crew because they think you’re bear shifters. Like, shapeshifters who can turn from human to animal. I know that sounds crazy, and they must be insane or delusional or something. But they sound serious about it, and I had to warn you. Maybe we should tell the police? I’m afraid that they’re actually going to go through with trying to hurt you. They were talking about poisoning and guns.”
There was a painfully long pause on the other end of the line. It was so long that Caroline would have thought Lance had hung up, except that she could still hear background noise from the air station coming through the receiver.
“Lance?” she finally asked. He must not believe her. She realized that she probably sounded like the insane one right now. She had just told him quite a story.
“Where did you say you are?” he asked, his voice tight and angry.
“I’m at a bar. It’s just a tiny dive bar and—”
“What’s the address?” Lance interrupted her. His voice had taken on a strange, severe tone that frightened Caroline. She gave him the address, and there was another long pause. This time, Caroline let Lance be the one to break the silence.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I want you to get out of there. Don’t talk to the men, and don’t let them know you’ve contacted me. Don’t call the police or anyone else. Just leave as quietly and quickly as you can.”
“But Lance—”
“Please, Caroline. Just do as I ask. These men are extremely dangerous, and you don’t want to mess with them.”
An Alpha's Thunder (Water Bear Shifters 3) Page 5
