Grave Rites: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Grant Wolves Book 6)

by Lori Drake

  “Ready for lunch?” Amy asked with a twinkle in her eyes as she swooped in to top Chris’s cup off again. This time he put a hand over it to forestall her.

  “Actually, I was hoping you might have a moment to chat now that things have slowed down.”

  A faint blush colored her cheeks. “Oh! Sure. I mean, well... This is awkward. I’m married.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. Not that you’re not lovely, but I’m engaged.” His expression sobered. “Naomi Shaw was a friend of mine.”

  “Oh.” She looked away, blush swiftly fading. “I’m, uh, sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks. Yeah, it’s pretty shitty. I’m just trying to make sense of it all, you know? I hadn’t talked to her for a few weeks, I was just wondering... did anything seem off about her before she disappeared?”

  Amy fidgeted with the coffee carafe, shaking her head. “No, not really. But we didn’t chit-chat much. I worked the night shift until she... you know.”

  “Ahh. By choice, or was it a seniority thing?”

  She shrugged. “Just how it was. Naomi always got the best shifts. You should talk to Sal. He’s the manager.”

  Another waitress scoffed on her way past, calling over her shoulder, “Sleeping with the boss will get you that.”

  Chris blinked. “Well, that was... blunt. Was she? Sleeping with Sal?”

  Amy looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. “God, I don’t know. I’m still the new girl.” She slid into the chair across from Chris, lowering her voice. “There were rumors. She did always get the best schedules. But, to be honest, she wasn’t well-liked by the rest of the staff.”

  “Present company excluded?” Chris arched a brow.

  She shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t really know her. I try not to form opinions on hearsay. But if you want my honest take...?”

  Chris nodded and leaned forward conspiratorially.

  She leaned in too, lowering her voice even further. “I think they were jealous.”

  “Of her rumored relationship with the boss?”

  Amy wobbled her head. “Yes, but more than that... she made them look bad. Never called in sick. Rarely took time off. And she was good at her job, too. I’ve had a few awkward conversations with regulars who asked for her specifically.”

  That sounded more like the Naomi Chris knew. He couldn’t imagine that she was sleeping with her boss—she had a long-time boyfriend, and hadn’t seemed like the cheating type. It was more likely that she got the best shifts because she was a hard, reliable worker and regulars asked for her specifically. The rumors were probably the result of jealousy and spite.

  “Thanks, Amy. That’s... illuminating.”

  “It sucks, what happened to her. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  “Me either. Say, is Sal in?”

  Before she could answer, a gravelly voice barked, “If you’re not on break, you’d better get back to work.”

  Amy launched herself from her chair so quickly that she knocked the carafe toward the edge of the table. Chris’s lightning-sharp reflexes kicked in automatically, and he caught the edge of it to keep it from sliding over the edge. The pain didn’t quite sink in until it was already righted. He jerked his hand away, wincing.

  Wide-eyed, Amy grabbed the carafe by the handle as if it might make another suicidal leap. “Shit, are you okay?”

  The owner of that caustic voice stomped over and shooed Amy away with a scowl that smoothed away before he turned to face Chris. “So sorry about that, sir. She’s new. A bit of a klutz.”

  “It’s fine. Sal, I presume?” Ignoring the lingering burning sensation in his left hand, Chris stood and offered his right to shake.

  Sal nodded and shook Chris’s hand. He was shorter and had to look up to meet Chris’s eyes, but there was a sort of confidence about him that reminded Chris a little of Joey. Short, but not small. His dark hair was slicked back with enough gel that it’d probably survive hurricane-force winds, and if he was sporting a five o’clock shadow at 11 a.m. Chris wondered just how dark his stubbly jaw would be by the dinner rush.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Sal asked. “Can I get one of the girls to box you up a slice of apple pie for the road? On the house.”

  Chris glanced down at his palm. It was a little pinker than normal, but the burning sensation was fading quickly thanks to his fast-healing lycanthrope genes. “It’s fine, really. All good. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about one of your girls.”

  Sal cast a baleful glance over his shoulder. “Which one?”

  “Naomi Shaw.”

  Sal’s head whipped back so fast, it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash. His expression sobered, olive-toned features turning somber. His eyes assessed Chris frankly. “You’re not a cop.”

  Chris shook his head and tucked his hands in his pockets. “A friend. That’s all. I was just wondering when Naomi’s last shift was.”

  “Why?”

  The question threw Chris off. He hadn’t expected it and faltered briefly for an explanation that wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions. “I’m just trying to make sense of it all,” he began. Hey, it’d worked on Amy. But judging from the narrowing of Sal’s eyes, he needed more. “The cops didn’t take her disappearance seriously enough, you know? Her family is thinking about filing suit, but they asked me to look into it first. Establish a timeline, you know?” He hated throwing shade on the Seattle PD when they might not deserve it, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice.

  A few seconds passed before Sal gave him a nod. “They may be right. I called in a report myself, after she missed her second shift and wasn’t returning my calls. It just wasn’t like her. Never got any follow up.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, her last shift was Thursday. She got off at three o’clock, and that was the last anyone here saw or heard from her, as far as I know.”

  “That helps a lot, thanks. It seems like she wasn’t popular with her co-workers…”

  Sal rolled his eyes. “Bunch of jealous harpies, the lot of them. If they put as much effort into doing their jobs as they did complaining, they’d probably make better tips.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what they complained about?”

  “Stupid woman shit. They resented the fact that she got the day shift—that’s where the best tips are, ya know? Our evening rush isn’t anything to write home about. Said she thought she was better than them, especially after she came into that money.”

  Chris’s brow furrowed. “What money?”

  “You didn’t know about that, eh? Yeah, she didn’t like to talk about it, but she inherited a tidy sum a few months ago when her grandmother died. Enough that she didn’t need to keep working in this dump, that’s for sure. I think the girls resented that, too.”

  “Resented her enough to do anything about it?” Chris asked, glancing around the room at the servers he could see with a newly suspicious air.

  Sal huffed a laugh. “Doubtful. Unless flapping jaws could kill.” He winced. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

  Waving him off, Chris shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s suspicious, you know? She comes into some money and a month or so later, this happens.”

  “Yeah, well, if I were a cop I’d be asking that man of hers some questions. He always seemed a bit shifty to me.”

  “How so?” Chris had only interacted with Naomi’s boyfriend a couple of times, but he seemed nice enough.

  “Hard to put into words. He just… smiled a little too much. Like maybe he wasn’t sure how much was appropriate in any given situation.”

  Chris nodded. “Gotcha. But about the day she disappeared… did anything seem… I dunno, off? Was she out of sorts? Any complaints from customers?”

  “She seemed fine. No complaints that I can remember. She rarely got complaints, anyway.” Sal’s eyes wandered, and Chris followed the direction of his gaze to the front door where a customer stood waiting to be seated.


  “Angela!” Sal snapped.

  A waitress across the room—the one who’d made that passing remark about Naomi sleeping with Sal—quickly tucked her phone in her pocket and hurried toward the entry.

  Sal rolled his eyes and shook his head, flashing Chris a long suffering look. “You see what I have to put up with?”

  “Mmmhmm. Well, thanks for giving me a few minutes of your time.” Chris removed the business card holder from his pants pocket and withdrew a card to offer to Sal. He didn’t have a business, per se, but Joey had printed up some cards at home for them to hand out while they were out pounding the pavement. “If you think of anything later, give me a call or drop me an email.”

  Sal took the card, giving it a cursory glance before tucking it in his pocket. They parted ways, and Chris lingered over the rest of his coffee, waving off Amy every time she offered to refill it. It was Angela he wanted to talk to, even though he doubted he’d like what she’d have to say about his dead friend.

  At this point, she was his only suspect.

  There was something about sitting in a dead woman’s living room that gave Joey chills. It probably had something to do with all the photos of her looking so alive. Naomi had loved to travel, and there were pictures of her—sometimes alone and sometimes with the dead-eyed man currently sitting across from Joey—at various landmarks around the world. He was considerably less dead-eyed in the photos, of course. The love between them was as easy to see.

  Isaac Connelly’s grief was palpable, a weighty presence hanging in the air around him. His light brown hair was carelessly tousled, like he couldn’t be bothered to run more than his fingers through it, and his jaw was shadowed with days’ worth of unshaved growth. Joey was no stranger to grief, but that didn’t make her more comfortable around it. Her skin itched on the inside, and for a moment she forgot why she was there to begin with, surrounded as she was by mementos of a life half-lived.

  Slumped in the battered armchair across from her, Isaac seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely.

  Joey cleared her throat to get his attention and unlocked her tablet for note-taking. “Thanks for agreeing to sit down with me. I know this is a difficult time for you, and I’m so sorry for your loss. Chris and I were completely floored when we got the news.”

  His eyes lifted to hers, then slid away. He shrugged a shoulder.

  “As I mentioned on the phone, we want to retain a private investigator to look into what happened, so I have a few questions for you. The more we can give them up front, the better off they’ll be. I’m sure the police have already come to talk to you…?”

  “They think I did it.” His voice was hollow, and Joey’s heart went out to him.

  “Oh?”

  He shrugged again. “They didn’t say as much, but I can read between the lines.”

  “I’m sure they’re following all the leads they have. In the meantime, can you tell me… Do you remember the last time you saw or spoke with Naomi?”

  “The night before she disappeared.”

  Joey’s fingers danced over the digital keyboard, but she tilted her head. “Don’t you both live here?”

  “Yeah, but she goes in so early that I’m usually still asleep when she leaves.”

  “Ah, I see. Did you exchange any messages or anything that day? Any contact at all?”

  “One or two messages during her shift, I guess. The usual stuff. We made plans to meet for dinner around four. She likes—liked—to beat the evening rush.” He swallowed thickly. “Only she didn’t show up, and she didn’t come home either.”

  “When did you call the police?”

  “The next morning. She wasn’t answering messages or calls. I knew something was wrong.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Hell, I knew something was wrong when she didn’t turn up for dinner. I called around to see if any of our friends had heard from her, but no one had.”

  Joey leaned forward, suppressing the urge to reach for him, to comfort him. For one, he was across the coffee table and out of reach. For another, it probably wouldn’t be welcome. They barely knew each other, after all. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if he was a witch. Since he hadn’t been at the all-hands coven meeting, she suspected not. But it was her wolf’s instinct to comfort with touch, and at times it was difficult to deny. “I can imagine how scary that was.”

  Isaac flung himself out of the chair so suddenly that Joey leaned back in surprise. But all he did was pace away from her to brace a hand on the edge of the window, staring out. Joey had gotten a glimpse of the ocean view on her way through the condo, and mentally upped her estimate of what their rent must be like. Again, she wondered how they afforded it, on a waitress’s and swim coach’s salary.

  She shifted in her seat, turning toward him with the tablet all but forgotten in her lap. “How was she, in the days before she disappeared? Did anything seem off?”

  “No.” His reply was so soft at first, it was only her sharp wolf ears that caught it. “She seemed fine. Everything was fine.”

  His shoulders began to shake, and Joey winced. Leaning over, she traded her tablet for a tissue from a box on the coffee table and walked it over to him, leaning against the wall beside the window and holding it out in silence. He took it but only held onto it while a few tears dripped down his face. Joey gave in to impulse and put a hand on his back. When she did, her wolf suddenly sat at attention, ears perked. What the hell did that mean? She did the mental equivalent of eyeing her other half dubiously.

  Shaking off the strange sensation after a moment’s pause, she focused on the matter at hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Naomi was… an exceptional woman. Everyone that knew her felt it, and we’re all reeling.”

  He nodded, still gazing out the window with a curious mix of longing and grief on his face. Something was off, but Joey couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Not even with her wolf in hyper-alert mode. She sniffed subtly, nostrils flaring. He smelled briny, and she wondered if he’d been down to the beach for a morning swim. An odd activity for a grieving man.

  Joey rubbed a gentle circle on his back, but it failed to ease the tension in his frame. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but… it’ll get easier.”

  A soft, humorless laugh escaped him. “I doubt that.”

  “I lost my mother a few months ago. I know it’s not the same, but… I don’t think it’s entirely different either.”

  “I get that you’re trying to help, Joey. But really… you’re not.”

  Flinching, Joey stepped back and let her hand fall back to her side. “Sorry. Is there anything I can do?” She should’ve brought Chris. He was so much better at the empathy thing and putting people at ease.

  “Stop saying you know what I’m going through.” He turned toward her, his expression shuttered. His voice had a rough edge to it, like a stone that time had failed to wear smooth. “You don’t.”

  “Okay,” she said with a bob of her head. It was hard to fault the man for not being entirely rational, given the situation. Questions swirled in her head, some she’d prepared and others that’d come up during the interview. But facing his dead eyes and guarded posture, she hesitated to continue. His vibe was off-putting, and even Joey’s wolf fidgeted uneasily. “Are you okay? Should we continue this another time?”

  Isaac sighed and waved a hand. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “Alright. Do you have any sort of ‘find my phone’ link with her phone?”

  “Yeah. I tried using it the morning after she disappeared, but it was offline. The last location was a couple of blocks from the diner. I keep wondering…” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Would it have made a difference if I’d tried sooner?”

  “Probably not,” she assured him but, curiosity piqued, backtracked to the coffee table for her tablet and brought up a map of the city. Bringing the tablet over to Isaac, she held it out to him. “Show me?”

  He took the tablet and fiddled with it, zoomin
g in on a city block in Kirkland and tapping the screen to place a pin. “There’s nothing there,” he said as he handed the tablet back. “I went and looked myself, but couldn’t—” His features twisted in pain and his hands began to shake. “Couldn’t find any trace of her.”

  “Did your phone say what time the device was last online?”

  “3:10.”

  “AM?”

  “PM. She got off work at three.”

  “Did she usually drive to work?”

  “No, she took the bus.”

  Joey nodded, studying the map for a moment before putting the tablet back to sleep and tucking it under her arm. It sounded like Naomi had been ambushed on her way to the bus stop. In broad daylight. Why hadn’t anyone noticed? Then again, maybe they had. She wasn’t privy to police reports, after all.

  “Okay, that’ll help establish a timeline. Thanks. Now, this next question is difficult, and I’m sorry, but I have to ask… Can you think of anyone that might’ve wanted to hurt Naomi?”

  He shook his head, finally swiping at his cheeks with the tissue. “No. I mean, everyone has people they don’t get along with, but I can’t think of anyone who would take it this far.”

  “What about anyone that might’ve benefitted from her death? Did she have a life insurance policy, anything like that?”

  “Now you sound like the cops. Do you want to know if we were getting along, too? If her money made me feel like less of a man?” His tone turned bitter, like over-roasted coffee beans, and though his eyes shone once more, it wasn’t with sorrow. His fingers twitched at his sides like they wanted to ball up.

  “Sure, if you’re offering. But it wasn’t my intent to accuse you of anything.” She noted his touchiness on the subject, however. And what was that about money?

  He puffed out a breath, like the wind was taken out of his sails. “If she had a policy, I don’t know about it. And things were fine between us. We were planning a trip to Cozumel, so she could finish up her scuba certification.” He swallowed roughly.