Howling for Revenge: A Cori Sloane Witchy Werewolf Mystery (Cori Sloane Witchy Werewolf Mysteries Book 1)
Author: Maher, Tegan
Date: 2018-04-17
Description: Thank you for joining me for the first story in Castle’s Bluff, a small Southern Georgia town where the residents are diverse and nobody’s exactly how they seem. I hope you enjoyed reading Howling for Revenge as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Publisher: Magical Words Publishing

Table of Contents

Howling for Revenge

Author’s Note

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Thank You!

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Books by Tegan

About the Author

© 2018 Tegan Maher

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, by any means electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system currently in use or yet to be devised.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or institutions is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal use and may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a copy for that person. If you did not purchase this book, or it was not purchased for your use, then you have an unauthorized copy. Please go to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting my hard work and copyright.

Author’s Note

Before you start reading, I thought maybe a little clarification may be in order because I’ve gotten a few emails wondering about the linguistics and grammar.

First, thank you for giving me your time!

I use local dialect both in dialogue and in narrative. Noelle, Rae, Hunter, and crew are smart and/or educated, but still drop back to default dialect sometimes, as do most of us when we’re in casual situations.

Grammatical errors and use of slang are likely intentional (me and you vs. you and I, we was going vs. we were going etc.) You’ll even find some words that look flat-out made up, unless, of course, you’re from the South. ☺

That being said, typos are never intentional and if I’ve missed any, I apologize!

So please, I ask for a little latitude for the good folks of Keyhole Lake, especially Skeeter, Earl, and Bobbie Sue. I hope you enjoy the book—I’d love to hear what you think!

-Tegan

CHAPTER ONE

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I JOGGED ALONG THE stream, reveling in that peaceful, early-morning stillness that only lasts until the rest of the world stirs. I picked up my pace a little as I followed the sun-dappled path around the tree line, enjoying the brush of the cool breeze along my skin as it dried the fine sheen of sweat from my body. The only sound beside the birdsong was my heart beating in tempo with the soft, steady thud of my sneakers against the asphalt.

I sucked in a lungful of air, inhaling the scents of the early morning. For now, the damp, earthy scent drifting from the stand of trees overshadowed the stench of humanity. Night-blooming jasmine sweetened the air, masking the lingering odors of fast-food wrappers and cheap perfumes. I slowed as I neared the end of the trail, then stopped, placing my hands on my knees as my heart rate slowed and my breathing returned to normal. As always, tendrils of regret wound through me at the thought of leaving the peace and getting back to the grind. I propped my foot against a picnic table and leaned into a stretch, feeling a little euphoric as I did so. The endorphins flooding my brain were more addictive than any drug, which is the main reason I ran daily, rain or shine, in either this form or my other.

Now would probably be a good time to introduce myself. My name is Cordelia Delphine Sloane, but please, for the love of God, call me Cori. The only person on the planet who uses my full name is the woman who was hateful enough to give it to me to begin with—my mother.

You'll meet her in a bit, but there's no need for me to be mean to you right off the bat. Oh, and I should probably mention that I'm a werewolf. Well, technically, I'm half werewolf and half witch, but we'll get to that in a bit, too.

Right now, the relevant 411 on me is that I'm the sheriff of our little berg - a small town called Castle's Bluff, in the great state of Georgia. Don't let the name fool you—we have neither a castle nor a bluff. We have a nice lake, though.

Back in the early 1800s, a vampire by the name of Sean Castle won the property that the town sits on in a poker game by bluffing on a pair of deuces. He built the town, then had to move away thirty years or so later when people began questioning how he managed to stay so young looking.

As I lifted my arm and grabbed my elbow to stretch my bicep, the faint sound of voices caught my attention. I cocked my head; there were never that many people in the park this early.

I turned toward the direction of the voices and my good mood was replaced with a sense of dread. A quarter of a mile or so away, on the road on the other side of the trees, red and blue lights flashed from several police cars. Uniformed bodies stepped with care through the brush and into the edge of the forested area that separated the road from the running trail.

Torn between irritation and a sense of duty, I heaved a sigh. Of course, the tranquility was too good to last. I took one last longing look at the quiet spot behind me, then finished my stretch and trotted toward the bustle of activity to see what was causing such a commotion.

I approached a yellow police line and looked around. The county's meager police department was out in force: four of the five police cruisers surrounded the area, forming a loose circle around the scene. An ambulance sat along the edge of the road with its rear doors open and ready to go. The paramedics slouched on the back bumper with their arms crossed, watching, but not participating in the action.

The white coroner's van was backed up on the same side of the road facing the opposite direction, which explained why the paramedics weren't doing anything.

I lifted the police tape and stepped under it, nodding to a lanky deputy named Stan Lee. Yeah, I feel sorry for him, too. There was no need to flash my credentials; I was his boss. Well, that and we'd gone to grade school together.

I was nearly to the circle of cops and crime scene techs before I caught a glimpse of a delicate hand lying in the grass about ten feet from the side of the road, its glossy red fingernail polish gleaming in stark relief against the dull, gray skin of the fingers.

As I made my way closer to the scene, I saw that the hand was attached to the body of a woman that lay crumpled about ten feet from the edge of the road, her platinum hair covering her face.

Sam Cassidy, a seasoned deputy with forty-five years under his belt, waved me over. He used his body to shield me, which worked fairly well considering he was six-four and built like a tank.

I'd known him since I was a kid and even though I was his boss, he still saw me as a little girl if things got real. Of course, until the murders, "getting real" usually involved a drunk tourist getting handsy when I'd have to haul him out of the Hook, our local dive bar. Even with—or more likely because of—the confluence of supernatural beings in Castle's Bluff, things like that just didn't happen.

I squared my shoulders and strode the final few feet to stand beside him, a frown creasing my brow. I opened my senses and caught the faint scent of a strange werewolf along with all of the other scents that I'd come to expect in this type of situation.

The coroner, Colleen Bennett, and her team were finishing up and I would doubtless have the gory details in hi-def waiting in my email when I got back to the office. Murders, or any violent crime for that matter, were so rare that Colleen served as both coroner and lead CSI. She was more than qualified and willing, so it was a win for us.

I gestured toward the body, taking only a cursory glance as the two ambulance guys loaded the body bag onto the gurney.

"Same as the last?" I asked Sam.

"Identical. Looks like another animal attack, honey. Same tracks as last time are gathered around the body—some sort of dog or wolf. A big one." He paused for a few seconds. "We gotta find what's doing this, Cori. What was done to that poor girl ... nobody deserves that."

His voice was tired and his thick salt-and-pepper hair was standing on end. I knew he'd been running his fingers through it like he did anytime he was frustrated.

He gestured toward my running clothes. "I got this handled if you want to go home and change or something."

I gave him a wry half-smile. "I will, but first I wanna take a look at the scene before everything gets trampled worse than it has. See you back at the station in an hour?"

Sam nodded. "See ya then, kiddo."

Despite his use of pet names, Sam respected my position as sheriff. As a matter of fact, he's the one who pushed for it when others urged him to step into the role instead. He said he likes fishing too much to listen to old ladies bicker over parking tickets. To be fair, that's definitely a time-suck.

I noted the slight hitch in his step as he walked back to his cruiser. He brushed off his aches and pains, but I worried about him. At 65, he was healthier than a lot of people in their early 50s, but still.

I picked my way to the body, careful not to step on any tracks or get in the way of the photographer. Huge, dog-like paw prints surrounded the body, so numerous that they overlapped each other. I pinched my lips together as I bent down to study them; the prints confirmed what I already knew: it was a werewolf, and a big one.

Some of the impressions pushed deep into the mud, indicated that the wolf had been dragging something, which corresponded with the wider drag marks that were presumably left by the woman's feet. Others were less pronounced, as if the beast had been just standing or walking around the area.

It was as if he didn't care if he got caught, which was a problem on a number of levels. He had to know the pack wouldn't tolerate this, and if we didn't get him, the Trackers would, and that was a hot mess that I wanted no part of. Ever.

The Trackers were an organization of humans who'd made it their mission to stamp out supernaturals—shifters to be exact, but only because they didn't know about the others—way back before packs cracked down on literal crimes against humanity. They were small but lethal, and I didn't want them anywhere near my town.

So, I needed to find this wolf and deal with him before we caught any outsider attention.

I closed my eyes and pulled a deep breath through my nose, trying to pick apart the different scents. I may as well have saved my breath. Just like with the other victims, all I could discern was that it was definitely the same single male werewolf that had committed the other crimes. I opened my eyes and looked around one last time before getting up.

The wind blew and movement caught the corner of my eye. There was a small, broken limb to the left, and a tuft of black fur clung to it.

"Cori?" somebody said from behind me. My heart stuttered at the familiar voice, even though I hadn't heard it in nearly ten years.

I paused as a tangled rat's nest of competing emotions writhed in my stomach. I mentally wadded them up and shoved them to the back of my mind. That was a therapy session or twelve for another time.

I willed my heart to slow before I pushed to my feet and turned to face the only man I'd ever really loved. Because, you know, I didn't have enough to deal with right then. I schooled my face into a friendly yet detached expression.

He looked good. The years had chiseled the round edges of youth into the sharper angles that came with maturity. His hair was lighter, pushing toward a sandy blond, and his skin was a deep bronze that came from a life lived outdoors. I struggled not to look at muscles that were straining through the t-shirt he was wearing.

"Zach! How long's it been?" As if I didn't know. I stepped under the police tape and stood before him.

He was smiling, but his eyes looked wary. "Ten years."

I nodded, doing my best to fake nonchalance as my heart tried to beat its way out of my ribcage. "That's sounds about right. What are you doing here?"

He studied my face for a couple seconds, then said, "I have a friend here who told me about the animal attack, so I came down to see if I could help. I'd just arrived in town when I heard there'd been another woman killed by a large canine."

I confirmed what he'd heard; it wasn't like it hadn't already made the gossip circuit, anyway. "Wolf I think, but I won't know for sure until the coroner sends me her report. At this point, I can't confirm that they're related until I hear from her."

He'd said he came to see if we need some help. What did that mean? Though he tried to hide it, he was scanning scene. I don't know why, but I twisted a finger behind my back, bending the light around the tuft to make it invisible.

Clearing my throat, I said, "So, are you some kind of vengeful hunter and you're here to offer to help us track this thing and kill it, or are you actually a reporter looking for a story? Because to be honest, if it's the latter, my office has nothing to say to you that we haven't already said to the others."

Zach chuckled. "Not exactly as cut and dried as the former, and definitely not as nosy or predatory as the latter. I just came to help." He leaned toward me and handed me a business card.

A shiver ran up my arm when our fingers touched and my mouth went dry. The smell of sunshine, fresh-cut wood, and clean laundry floated toward me and I just wanted to lean in and inhale him. I gave myself a mental shake and glanced down at the card:

Zach McClure

Licensed Wildlife Control Specialist

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HIS PHONE NUMBER WAS listed below it, along with his federal license number. I slid my hand down my face. Having a "specialist" who thought he was dealing with a standard animal was so not what I needed right now. "So you think we should bring in outside help?"

Zach frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "As a matter of fact, I do. And you don't actually bring me in. I hold a license to do this and am only notifying you as a courtesy."

Really now? Despite the urge to tell him exactly what he could do with his license and courtesy, I shifted my weight, trying to find a diplomatic way to discourage him. I didn't need anyone poking around in this when I hadn't figured it out yet. It was both a safety and a security risk. A rogue werewolf going around killing people in my territory was my responsibility.

I handed the card back. "I really don't think the answer is sending hunters out into the forest to track and shoot anything until we know for sure what we're dealing with. My people and I are on this, and I have faith that we'll have it resolved shortly."

Apparently, my shot at diplomacy missed the mark because he got snippy. "I'm not exactly an amateur in cases like this. I've dealt with animals that would keep you inside at night if you knew they were out there. Keep the card." He pushed it back into my hand before he turned on his heel and stomped away without looking back.

I sighed. I hadn't won any points with him, but I couldn't let him run around thinking I was okay with him traipsing into my woods with a loaded weapon, especially consider I WAS one of those animals that would keep people up at night. If he thought I was being rude or condescending, then so be it.

My mission was critical. I had to catch a murderous werewolf before he could kill anybody else or out our kind. If that meant hurting some feelings, well, suck it up, Buttercup. There wasn't much I could do about it.

CHAPTER TWO

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THE DAY WAS AN ABSOLUTE nightmare and I was relieved when I pulled up to the farmhouse I shared with my best friend, Kat. I gathered up some file folders, my purse, and some takeout as I climbed out of my Jeep and nudged the door shut with my hip.

I tried to grasp the peace that just the sight of the wide porch with its swing and hanging baskets usually brought me, but it eluded me. Instead, pictures of both women filled my head.

As promised, I'd gotten the pictures and preliminary report from the coroner. They just confirmed what we all already knew—it was likely the same creature that killed the others.

I pushed the door to my house open with my foot, juggling my latte and keys in one hand and balancing a stack of files in the other. The smell coming from the box of Chinese takeout I had clenched by its handle between my teeth smelled so good I was drooling.

Chaos, our black and white marble fox, bumped my legs, then stood on her hind legs with her nose in the air when she smelled the food. I nearly tripped over her as I pushed the door shut with my hip.

"Knock it off!" I grumbled. "You'll get some, assuming you don't kill me first." She hopped onto the back of the couch, her shiny eyes never leaving the takeout box. "Kat!" I called around my dinner as I kicked the door shut and toed off my shoes.

Kat, or Katarina Bellarosi, was my roommate and best friend. She also happened to be a vampire, and tended bar at a hole-in-the-wall dive bar called the Rusty Hook. Olive-skinned, leggy, and exotic, she'd look graceful falling down a flight of stairs, not that she ever would. I suppose when you live in the same body for three hundred years, you pretty much master the moving parts.

She popped her head around the corner leading into the living room, then rushed over to help me before the mountain tumbled. Shaking her head and smiling as she took my coffee and the takeout, she asked, "Ever heard of making more than one trip?"

"Too much work. I'm beat." I plopped the files in the center of the coffee table and pulled my weapons belt off. Kat hung it on the hook by the door as I collapsed onto the couch, stretching my neck back over the edge of it.

Chaos hopped onto my lap and I ran my hand down the black stripe that ran from her ears to the tip of her tail. It stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her gleaming white fur.

"Rough day?" She sank down beside me and straightened my strewn files into an orderly pile.

I huffed out a breath, blowing my bangs out of my face. "You have no idea."

"Aww, I'm sorry, sweetie. Wanna talk about it?" Kat checked her watch. "I've got, like, ten minutes before I have to leave for work."

I waved her off as Chaos stepped off my lap onto the cushion beside me, then curled up in a ball facing us. "Nah. It's a whole boatload of crap, and I don't even know where to start. Maybe tonight over a bottle of wine. Or two."

She patted my leg. "Well, if you wanna talk before then, you know where to find me. Stop by and I'll buy you a glass of wine." She got up and sauntered to the door, pausing before she left. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to ask for some help sometimes. You don't always have to carry the entire load by yourself."

I gave her a half-smile, remembering Sully's words. "I know. It's just that I really don't know where to start. Things are getting ugly and it's gotta stop. Sully suggested I contact the local shifters and bring them into the loop."

Tilting her head, she said, "That's not a terrible idea. Even creating some awareness will make it tougher for the wolf to hide. I could check around if you want, too. I mean, I haven't smelled any more of your kind around here, but that doesn't mean one of my patrons doesn't know something."

Kat had quite a fan club, and many of them were people who could pull some serious strings. She was a networker, and had managed to amass quite the grapevine in both the human world and the supernatural one. Another advantage of being three hundred, I supposed. Plus, she had her own skill set that could help.

Kat possessed the stereotypical power of persuasion—which really was a stereotype. Most vampires had at least one gift, but they varied. She just happened to have that particular skill, and she could also read minds, or at least pick up emotions.

When we'd first met, that had taken a while to get used to, because she said I broadcasted like a radio station, with zero filter. I'd gotten better at it, but if was trying to keep something from her, I'd end up reciting my multiplication tables or the different cuts of steak. As a werewolf, it was hard for me to think of anything else when I had steak on the brain.

Of course, then she knew I was hiding something, but at least she didn't know what. She was also crazy strong, which came in super handy when we need to vacuum under the furniture but sucked when she'd go to the gym with me to keep me company.

Lucky for most, she was a live-and-let-live type who had no interest in world domination. She didn't even want the responsibility of a library card. That's not to say that she didn't get in the occasional rumble, though.

I would have been nuts to turn down the offer. "It would be great if you can keep an ear out." I frowned as I glanced at the files; a corner of one of the pictures was sticking out and I didn't have to see the rest of it to know what it was. "This can't keep happening."

She nodded as she stepped out the door. "I'll see what I can find out."

Chaos rooted in closer to my leg and wrapped her tail around herself, then shut her eyes. I smiled and stroked her again. "Wanna trade places for a day, girl? I'd love to just curl up on the couch and sleep." She peeped an eye open, then let it drift shut, obviously unwilling to give up the comforts of being her.

I picked up my latte and took a sip as the door clicked shut behind Kat. The silky texture of the coffee and the rich and spicy flavors of white chocolate and cinnamon were comforting as I poured through pages that were already dog-eared, hoping to find something I'd missed.

The first victim was Victoria Temple. I looked through her file first, even though I'd just been over it a couple of hours ago. Nothing new stood out. She was forty-five but looked ten years younger, five-five, blonde, and pretty in a Midwestern way.

Based upon her build, she was a regular runner. Since she was wearing running clothes, it didn't take a genius to figure that's what she'd been doing when she was attacked.

The smiling face on her driver's license made me sad. And mad. She was a tourist from New York, just escaping the grind of her nine-to-five accounting job for a week. She left a city with one of the highest murder rates in the country, then got her throat ripped out in our charming little town that had fewer crimes in a year than her office block had in a day.

The M.E. put her time of death at around an hour before I'd gotten there.

Tabitha Young's file was similar: an attractive blonde, twenty-three, wearing jogging attire, also about five-five. Unlike Victoria, Tabbie was a local and we knew for a fact she'd been out running. Her boyfriend reported her missing when she wasn't home when he got back from work. They'd planned to go to dinner when he got off work at 8 p.m. Her running shoes and earbuds were gone, and she generally ran around at six-thirty in the evenings.

Both victims were in excellent physical condition, but had nothing on a werewolf, or even a regular wolf for that matter. Were the similarities in appearance a coincidence? I wanted to believe that, but it didn't feel right in my gut.

So that brought me full circle. I couldn't find one single place where these women connected, and they were from different places. Victoria was a photographer and Tabbie was a waitress at Dana's Diner in town.

I studied every single report and picture in each file until my eyes crossed, then examined the tuft of fur. I'd kept it out of evidence because, well, the last thing I needed if the FBI came in was to just hand over proof that werewolves existed. That'd fire up their forensic scientists for sure.

I closed the files and leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling while my mind tried to arrange the pieces.

Taking a deep breath, I had to admit there was another angle I had to consider. It was possible somebody was jacking around with me personally in order to light a match within my pack. We'd been on solid ground for a long time, but I'd only recently started running the territory by myself. It could have been a power play.

I stared out the dark window, thinking, and my wolf stirred. The sun had set half an hour ago and I was blonde, just over five-five, and athletic, plus I loved to jog. Yet another reason I was starting to feel this was personal.

I pushed off the couch and went to get dressed, finally feeling like I was taking some action. Time to see what he'd do with a victim who could bite back.

CHAPTER THREE

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I JOGGED ALONG THE same path I'd taken that morning, the moon peeking through the trees and dappling the path. Although it wasn't quite full yet, it bathed the ground in a milky light. Even without my enhanced vision, I probably would have been able to see.

I'd slathered myself in orange oil, hoping if the killer showed up, he wouldn't figure out I was be a threat until it was too late. The downside to the oil is that it interfered with my sense of smell, too. I'd have to depend more on my hearing and vision.

I scanned my surroundings using my peripheral vision, careful not look like I was out doing anything other than enjoying a nice evening run.

The forest was unnaturally still; not even the sound of crickets or katydids broke the silence. Nothing but the sounds of my shoes on the pavement and the trickle of the creek that ran several feet to the right of the path.

I didn't like it. My wolf was antsy, growling that something wasn't just off; it was way off. She was howling to get out.

To my left and about ten feet behind me, I thought I heard a bush rustle. The hair on my arms stood on end as my ears strained to hear even the faintest sound. Nothing. Just the water and my pounding heart.

I kept jogging, playing the victim, out for a run without a care in the world.

The snap of a twig followed by a low growl brought me to a complete stop. I turned around slowly just as a giant black wolf with topaz eyes step onto the path twenty yards behind me. His lips curled back, exposing glistening white teeth.

I pulled in a breath when I saw how big he was, thankful for once that my brothers had never cut me any slack when we sparred.

Keeping my eyes locked with his, I sidestepped off the path, away from any prying eyes. If possible, I preferred to lure him into the woods and away from any potential humans that may happen by.

I gathered my magic with the intention of paralyzing him in order to take him to the pack. We needed to learn his identity and find out why he was killing people. It was possible he was rogue—it happened sometimes, especially if somebody wasn't trained to control his or her changes. There was also the chance he had an endgame or was working with somebody.

I rubbed my hands together, but my magic sparked, then fizzled. I swore under my breath. Of all the times for it to fail. One glance told me I had about ten seconds to defend myself. I crouched in the brush, maintaining eye contact as he stalked toward me.

The first ripples of my change were cascading up my spine. It was so natural to me that if I had to, I could change mid-leap and attack in wolf form before my paws hit the ground.

He leapt forward, but before I could complete my shift, a shot rang out and the black wolf yelped, then tucked its tail and slunk back into the underbrush. The cracks and snaps of underbrush gave away the fact that he was injured; no wolf made that much noise under normal circumstances.

I stopped my shift, jumped to my feet, and spun to face the shooter, huffing out an irritated breath when I saw who it was.

"Zach?" I asked, trying to decide what tack to take. "What are you doing here?"

Zach lowered his weapon and frowned as he gave me the once over. "Saving your ass, it would seem."

I snorted, trying to tamp down my impatience. "I didn't need saving." He'd just blown my ace in the hole. That trick wouldn't work again. I'd been so close to ending this once and for all. How many more people were going to die because he got in my way?

He closed the distance between us in three long strides. "That's not what it looked like from my end." He fanned his hand in front of his nose and wrinkled his nose. "Jeez, what's up with the orange?"

I spouted the neatest excuse I could muster on the fly, waving it away because it was the least of my worries right now. "Natural insect repellant. Anyway, I'll ask again, why are you out in these woods with a rifle? I had that," I waved my arm in the general direction the wolf had gone, "all under control. And I seem to remember specifically asking you not to be in these woods hunting."

He rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the last part. "Yeah. I can see that you had it under control. No gun, no backup, no radio, not even any pepper spray. Unless you planned to kill him with your bare hands, it doesn't look to me like you had anything under control. Are you even carrying your cell?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but what was there to say without blurting out something along the lines of, "Guns? Pepper Spray? Bahaha! Silly man, if you'd only waited two more minutes I would have been a one-woman killing machine?"

Instead, I snapped my jaws shut and glared at him while keeping one ear turned toward the woods.

He pulled his rifle strap over his shoulder and smirked at me. "Now this is one for the record books."

"What?" I asked, trying to keep from popping him one.

"The great and mighty Cori with no snappy comeback."

I just shook my head and tried to trace the wolf's path. I followed the tracks to the bush where I had last seen it and noticed blood on several of the leaves. I ran my fingers across the droplets and brought them up to my nose.

Definitely my werewolf.

My mind was racing, trying to think of a way to ditch Zach. I sighed and gave it up as a lost cause.

I shook my head. "Looks like you must have hit it. There's fresh blood here." I showed him my fingers.

He arched a brow. "Well, yeah. This isn't exactly a bug-zapper. And I'm a decent shot."

My mind floated back to the time that we used to spend shooting cans for kicks. There was no denying his skill; in fact, I was a little surprised that he missed.

"How about I take you home just to make sure you don't get into any more trouble tonight. Then I'll come back with my partner and we'll track our injured friend."

I drew myself up to my full height; I didn't remember him being so condescending. "I'm perfectly capable of seeing myself home, though that's not what I'm going to do. We need to find that wolf. Now that he's injured, he's probably more dangerous than he was before."

Zach nodded. "You're probably right, but you're not exactly dressed and prepared for hunting."

Ha! If only he knew. "Sheriff here, remember? I think I can hold my own." I motioned toward his rifle. "I presume you're carrying more than just that?" I'd noticed a slight bulge in his right boot, and would have laid money on an ankle holster.

Zach considered me for a minute. "You presume correctly. Why?"

"As you said, I'm not exactly outfitted to go hunting."

Zach frowned. "Are you sure there's no way that I can talk you out of this?"

I held out my hand. "No. And if you don't fork over that weapon, I'm going to arrest you for obstruction and firing on an endangered species. Hurry up; the longer we stand here, the farther away it's getting."

Regardless of all the silver-bullet baloney, a plain old bullet would kill him just as well. No need to melt down great-great grandma's tea set.

He growled but squatted and pulled a nine mil from his boot. "Those charges would never stick."

"Nope," I said, popping the p, "but they'd get you out of my way long enough to do what I need to do." I breathed easier when the comforting weight of the handgun was in my palm.

CHAPTER FOUR

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WE'D NO SOONER STEPPED off the path than thunder rumbled in the distance. The sulphuric smell of a looming storm filled my nostrils. Darkness replaced what little watery light had been filtering through the leaves as clouds obscured the moon. I looked up, and lightning flashed behind the clouds to the northeast.

Zach pulled a flashlight off his belt and flicked it on. "If we're going to try to find it, we'd better do it fast. I'd say we have half an hour, tops, before that storm moves in."

The trail was relatively easy to follow for the first twenty yards or so, but then started to fade. The heavy cover of trees masked most of the moonlight and even with my uber-vision, I could barely see three or four feet in front of me.

I clenched my teeth in frustration; if I were in wolf form, it wouldn't be an issue. My vision was twice as good as a human's in this form, but still much weaker than when I was wolfed out. For that matter, if he weren't with me, I could possibly do a little hocus pocus to help me along even in human form. My magic was sketchy sometimes, but I could do a simple tracking spell. I was fairly sure he'd notice a neon-blue trail, though.

Zack swung his flashlight back and forth on the trail, then backtracked to the last drop of blood. There were a few crushed leaves that led to where we were standing, but after that, it's as if it just disappeared.

The smell of the essential oils still hampered my sense of smell, so I couldn't pick up its scent. That left us where we started.

"You must have just grazed it," I said, sighing, after we'd traipsed ten yards around the last track.

He hummed in agreement. "I can't believe I missed that shot, though. By the way, what were you doing standing off the path, crouching like that? You know better—the object is to make yourself bigger, not smaller."

He paused, and his forehead crinkled. "For that matter, why were you running to begin with? You ran this morning."

Crap. He had me there. My mind whirled as I struggled to come up with a logical explanation. "I'd bent down to tie my shoe when it just appeared out of nowhere. I was deciding whether it would be best to move or stay still when you took your shot." That sounded reasonable, right? "And you may have noticed the dead body that interrupted my run this morning."

He studied me for a few seconds—he always did have a good BS meter—but I either passed muster or he decided not to call me on it.

We worked our way out ten or fifteen feet from the last drop of blood again, but there wasn't so much as a bent leaf to be found. I was already irritated because I'd lost my chance earlier, so when my ponytail snagged on a branch, I growled in frustration.

"It's no use," I snapped, yanking my hair free. "If there was anything to find, we'd have found it. Let's call it a loss and get out of here before we get soaked."

I figured that I might come back the next day to see if I could pick up the trail sans Zach and the overpowering smell of essential oil, but I wasn't holding out a lot of hope, especially when a fat drop of rain plopped on the back my hand.

We made a mad dash back to the parking area as the drops picked up tempo and managed to make it to a little gazebo several yards shy of the lot just as the drops morphed into a deluge. My wet sneaker landed on a discarded grocery bag and I slid forward, scraping my shin on a picnic table bench before I could catch myself.

I cursed and collapsed on the bench, holding my leg. I'd scraped it so hard I could feel the warm trickle of blood. Clenching my teeth together, I waited for lightning to strike the structure. That would be pretty much the perfect ending this day.

When Zack tried to check my shin, I jerked my leg away from him. "It's fine," I snapped.

He reached for it again. "It's not fine. You're bleeding. Don't be a baby. We need to make sure there aren't any splinters in it before your natural anesthetic wears off and the blood dries. This stuff is made of treated lumber and it'll get infected, so cut the drama and give me your leg."

I couldn't argue with his logic so I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck my leg out. He turned his flashlight back on and examined it, then pulled out what felt like a 2x4 but was, in reality, only a half-inch sliver of gray wood.

"See?" he gloated, holding the splinter under the light for me to see. "That would have been nasty later, if you'd even seen it after it scabs over."

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of admitting he was right, I just leaned back and propped my elbows on the table behind me. "Thanks," I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Jeez, stop with the gushing gratitude already," he snarked. "I probably only just saved your leg. After I saved your life earlier."

I rolled my eyes, though the effect was probably lost in the darkness. "Please. Now who's being a drama queen?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but the hair on my arms stood up a split second before a bolt of lightning cracked directly overhead, shaking the gazebo and lighting everything up in freeze frame, like a giant strobe light. The pungent smell of burnt ozone filled the air and my heart rate spiked.

I love a good storm, especially at night. There's nothing quite like that feeling of being wrapped in a power so much bigger than yourself that you couldn't do anything about it if you tried. It's both humbling and liberating.

I'm not going to lie—being caught in that gazebo with Zach, with the rest of the world shut out, brought back some feelings I'd locked in a little box in my mind labeled memories. After all this time, I'd never expected to see him again, let alone be trapped in a gazebo during a thunderstorm with him.

"So," I said, then waited for a clap of thunder to pass. "What exactly does a wildlife control specialist do? Honestly, the phrase conjures some older guy in a white button-down shirt pulling a possum out of an attic, not some guy skulking through the woods with a high-powered rifle."

He lifted a shoulder. "It's self-explanatory. You have the right idea, but I focus on large animals."

"So you're the guy who comes and gets alligators out of yards or raccoons out of attics, or goes on the hunt for wolves or coyotes that are eating sheep or have bitten people?"

One side of his mouth quirked up. "Something like that."

"So, how do you find jobs? And how do you get paid? Not being nosy—I'm honestly curious."

"I usually contract with the city or county, but not always. Sometimes there's a federal bounty out on the animal, and sometimes private citizens hire me." He shrugged. "I don't really do it for the money. I'm more interested in public safety, and the travel is nice."

I waited for him to continue. Instead, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So how did you end up as sheriff? I kind of always just assumed Sam would take up the torch when it was time."

I shifted my weight and moved a couple feet down the bench to get out from under a drip. "To be honest, I always did, too. He didn't want it. Said it would cut into his fishing time. Nobody else really wanted to step into it, so here I am. There aren't a lot of employment options around here, in case you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten," he said, raising a brow.

"But you didn't have to stay here. You could have left."

That struck a nerve, because no, I really couldn't have. The pack needed somebody high up the chain in this area because it was secluded and thus vulnerable to usurpers, but I couldn't exactly tell him that I was the daughter of the alphas of the pack and thus next in line. "It's complicated."

He nodded, still looking out into the darkness, then replied so softly that I barely heard him. "It always was."

Lightning cracked and lit up the entire area, and I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Just a quick flash, but it was there. The feeling of being watched crawled over my skin. Nothing should be out in this storm.

I decided not to say anything to him about it. Despite what he seemed to think, he was in way over his head on this one, and I didn't want to encourage him.

I stepped back. "Zach—"

Like summer rainstorms tended to do, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the moon broke through the clouds. That clean smell that always follows a hard rain replaced the smell of ozone.

I scanned the forest again, looking for any hint of movement, but all remained still. I tried to shake off the bad vibe, but it just wouldn't go away; maybe I'd come back in the morning to check it out.

Zach waited for me to start my car before he pulled out. I ran the events of the day through my mind while I drove home but nothing made sense. I felt like I had all the pieces of a puzzle, but no picture to guide me.

I pulled into my driveway, and when I went to grab my bag off the passenger seat, there was a piece of paper tucked into the front pocket. I pulled the damp receipt out by the corner, and checked the front; it was mine from earlier in the day. I flipped it over, and my wolf roared in rage and frustration when I read the words.

Better Luck Next Time.

CHAPTER FIVE

––––––––

I TOSSED AND TURNED for most of the night, trying to make all of the pieces from the night before fit together. The last time I looked at my phone before drifting into a fitful sleep filled with creeping shadows and resounding rifle shots, it was four o'clock.

The crack of the shots grew louder and spaced closer together, and I jerked awake, ready to shift before I realized somebody was pounding on my screen door, not shooting at me.

Growling, I untangled my legs from the sheet and pushed myself to a sitting position. I could tell from the angle of light coming through my window that it was early and a one-eyed squint at my phone confirmed it: seven thirty.

I trudged to the door without bothering to throw a robe on over my tank and night shorts and yanked it open a few inches, scowling. If the sight of pajamas and bed-head bothered whoever was on the other side, they should have waited a couple of hours.

The bright morning light hit me in the face, blinding me, and when I put a hand up to shade my eyes, I groaned. A smiling Zach was standing there in a polo shirt and low-slung jeans, holding out a cup of coffee. When he saw me, his smile slipped a little, along with the confident look on his face.

He shifted his weight, then shoved a cup toward me. "I'm sorry. You used to be a morning person so I figured you'd be up. I wanted to make sure your leg was okay."

I heaved a sigh and pulled the door the rest of the way open, running a hand over my head to see just how bad the bed head actually was. From the feel of it, pencil trolls didn't have anything on me. Peachy.

Zach stepped into the foyer and handed me a steaming container that smelled like heaven in a cup.

"Thanks. C'mon in." I led him to the kitchen and pulled down a box of pastries I'd picked up the day before. Thankfully, my metabolism runs so high that I can eat like a laid-off lumberjack during football season without gaining weight, or else I'd be big as a house.

He took a seat at the table and placed his cup squarely in the center of one of the inset tiles. A corner of my mouth lifted. He'd always been just a little OCD and I'd found it quirky and charming. On the flip side, my complete lack of organization had made him a batty.

I was perfectly content having a clean laundry basket and a dirty one, while he no doubt folded his socks and stacked them according to color.

Pushing the pastry box toward him, I excused myself long enough to brush my hair and teeth and get dressed. I was still wrapping the scrunchie around my hair when I made it back to the kitchen.

"How did you know where I live?" It came out a bit snippier than I'd meant it to, so I added, "Not that I don't appreciate the effort. And the coffee." I sat down across from him and picked a Bavarian cream donut out of the box.

Zach shrugged as he chased a bite of apple fritter with a drink of coffee. "The beauty and the bane of living in a small town. All I had to do was ask the lady at the coffee shop and she gave me directions."

I ran a hand over my face. "Of course she did." I had no doubt he was talking about Mona, the owner and morning barista at Mocha Locha's, the only real coffee shop in town. She'd been trying to sell me on the whole marriage thing since she moved into town a few years back. She probably saw Zach as prime real estate and didn't mean any harm, but I needed to have a talk with her about respecting my privacy. He could have been an incredibly good-looking ax murderer for all she knew.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped." He popped the last bite of fritter into his mouth and licked the crackles of glaze off his thumb and forefinger. I lost my train of thought for a second until I almost dropped my donut in my lap.

I waved my hand. "No, it's fine. You're not the one who overstepped. Mona is, but she's a good woman and she cares about me. She's just a little too trusting sometimes." I took another sip of my coffee, breathing in the aroma of cinnamon and chocolate. "I can't believe you remembered how I take my coffee."

He laughed. "I think you're the only person I've ever met who likes it that way, so don't give me too much credit; it's kind of hard to forget. Plus, I asked Mona just to make sure it was still your poison."

"So what do you think about last night?"

Zach shook his head. "The way the trail dried up, I must have just grazed it."

I nodded. "So what brings you here, then? Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but usually when people show up first thing in the morning with coffee, they're smoothing the way for a favor."

"I just wanted to apologize for last night. I didn't expect anybody to be out there, especially you, and I know you're not happy about me being here." He set his cup on the coffee table and rubbed his hands on his pants, not meeting my gaze.

That raised my hackles a bit. "So do you mean you didn't expect me to be running, or you didn't expect the sheriff to be out there?"

He grimaced. "A little bit of both, I guess. I usually prefer to work with the local law enforcement. I only went out to take a look, see if I could find any prints or anything, then when it started getting dark, I headed back to the trail, and there you were."

I raised a brow. "You went to take a look with a scoped rifle?"

"In my line of work, you never know what you're going to run into. Unlike some people I know, when there's a man-eating beast on the loose, I try to be prepared. Besides," he said, smiling, "it turns out that it was a good thing I had it."

I shoved back the irritation at the implication that I'd needed saving. He had no way to know that I'd been armed better than he was.

Zach picked up his cup, twisting it round and round in his hands while he waited for my response.

I heaved a sigh. "I can't stop you from doing your job. But we need to coordinate. I'm going to be heading up some searches and I don't want anybody to take a bullet by accident. Just please let me know when you're going to be out there, okay?"

He dipped his head. "That's fair." He went back to twisting his cup, and the silence stretched until it was awkward.

I waited for what felt like an hour but was probably only thirty more seconds, then I just couldn't take it anymore. "Is there something on your mind, Zach?"

He set his cup back down and shook his head. "Not really." He looked up at me, staring intently at my face for a long moment like he was searching for something.

I met his gaze, trying to get my own read, but his face betrayed nothing. "If something's on your mind, you should just say it."

He got up and wandered to the window, staring out over my backyard. Without turning, he asked, "What went wrong, Cori? Why wouldn't you leave with me?"

He'd gotten a job offer in Colorado and had asked me to leave with him. I begged my parents to let me out of my pack obligation, but they'd refused. They didn't want me to throw away my future to follow after a human. When they wouldn't give their permission, the only options I'd had were to stay, or to be excommunicated. I would have been cut off from my family and friends forever.

I understood why my parents made the call. It wasn't like we were an average family—my parents were the alpha couple—but I also believed I had a right to be happy. Shifter/human matches weren't unheard of. Heck, they weren't even that uncommon. They're not exactly the norm, but it happened.

"I couldn't," I said around the lump in my throat.

I'd used him as a yardstick to measure every man I'd met since then. Though the rational part of my brain told me that I'd romanticized him because no man is that handsome, or considerate, or kind, I couldn't get that logic to cross over to my stupid emotional cortex. Though I had to admit, the handsome part wasn't an exaggeration.

Zach nodded. "Yeah. That's the same thing you said at the time, and it still doesn't explain anything."

I pursed my lips, regret for what could have been washing over me. I shook it off; I've never been one for shoulda, coulda, woulda. "Things always work out the way they're supposed to," I said with a small smile.

"Maybe that's why I'm here now." The hope in his voice was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I pushed back from the table and gathered our empty cups and the pastry box, then rose and tossed them in the trash. I couldn't deal with that; I had two murders to solve and an off-the-rails werewolf to catch. I didn't have the emotional space for nostalgic echoes of what might have been. Nothing had changed.

"I probably should be getting ready to go in to work," I said.

"Sure." Zach stood and walked to the door, but turned around with his hand on the latch. "Maybe we could hang out sometime. No pressure. Just to catch up."

I ran my tongue over my teeth and smiled, hoping that my desire to push him out the door so I could regain my mental footing wasn't as obvious as it felt. "That'd be great, sometime." Judging by the pained look on Zach's face my smile was an epic failure.

What would be the point? I couldn't explain any better than I already had, unless I were to spill my guts. Even if that were a possibility, I could just imagine the conversation.

Hey, Zach. Did I mention I can turn into a wolf, so not only do you get a girlfriend, but you get a dog, too? Total package here. Man's best friend and a not-too-shabby date.

Yeah, no weirdness there. I struggled to come up with a valid reason why I couldn't hang with him, but drew a blank.

"Cori?" He was looking at me expectantly.

I snapped back to the here and now. He'd been speaking and I had no idea what he'd said.

"Yeah?"

A big smile spread across his face. "Great. Pick you up at seven."

"Wait! What?" I blinked, grasping desperately for any remnants of the conversation that the listening part of my brain may have picked up. Nothin’. Nada. I may have just agreed to run naked down Main Street for all I knew.

"Dinner at that diner out on Route 6. The Hobo, right? That used to be your go-to greasy spoon, and I know it's still in business because I drove past it on my way in. You still like it, right? If not, we can go somewhere else."

I smiled a genuine, non-crazy smile. Looked like we were catching up because there was no way to unring that bell without awkward backpedaling. "The Hobo will be fine." Besides, the little railroad-car-turned-diner was my favorite place, and I hadn't been there in a while.

He turned and strode down the walkway, calling over his shoulder, "Good. See you this Friday at seven."

I shut the door and leaned back against it, blowing my bangs out of my face. I'd opened the door to rekindling an impossible flame while there was a rogue werewolf loose in my woods. Awesome.

CHAPTER SIX

––––––––

SINCE I WAS UP AND caffeinated, I decided to head straight to the office and dig in. Two hours after getting there, I was sitting with my feet propped on my desk, leaning back in my ergo chair, and chewing a pen cap, running everything through my head.

I did some of my best thinking there, but it just wasn't coming. I didn't have enough info, but I hated to wait for another body to learn more.

I picked up the phone and called my cousin Dani, who was the pack historian and also kept track of all the packs in our region.

"Hey, cuz," I said when she answered.

"Well, well. If it's not the long-lost golden child," she answered, and I could hear the smile in her voice. We'd been best friends growing up, but she'd moved a few towns over to go to college, then took a job as a history teacher there.

I snorted. "I wish I could get lost." We spent a few minutes catching up, then I cut to the chase.

"I've got a rogue over here. He's killed two girls already, and if I don't get him, the pack, the FBI, and the Trackers are all gonna rain fire and brimstone down on me. Have you heard of anyone going off the rails lately?"

She paused for a minute, and I heard her tapping the keys on the computer, no doubt pulling up the extensive database she kept and shared with other packs. She was trying to build a criminal database for shifters so that we'd have a better chance of spotting risky behavior.

"Nope," she said after a few minutes. "There were a few minor crimes an hour or so away from you last week, but that turned out to be teenage hi-jinx. We haven't had any violent reports at all. You know my system hasn't been well-received by all packs, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Thanks for checking," I said, deflated. "If you do hear of anything will you let me know?"

"Of course, sweetie. Anything else I can do for you?"

I started to say no, but then thought of something. "You still keep track of Trackers, right?"

"Sort of," she said, "though they don't travel in a group like they used to. Last we checked, there were only twenty of them left. Many of them got old and didn't have kids to pass the trait down to, and others lost the taste for it after they settled down. Most of them now are second generation and don't remember the wild days."

"That doesn't hurt my feelings," I told her. "Can you track them down and give me a heads up if you find out any of them head this direction?"

"Sugar, that was already on my to-do list. We keep a close eye on them. I'll run a check just to make sure, but as of a couple days ago, they were all where they were supposed to be."

We swapped a couple stories, then made the cursory promised to meet up soon before we ended the call. I felt better knowing I didn't have to worry about being blindsided by Trackers.

When my stomach reminded me for the fourth time in twenty minutes that I'd skipped breakfast, I dropped my feet to the floor. I wasn't accomplishing anything there, and a cheeseburger and fries couldn't hurt. Maybe something would pop into focus if I let it simmer in the back of my brain while I ate.

I noticed Sam's door was open and pecked on his doorframe to draw his attention away from the fishing magazine he was looking at. He looked up and smiled at me. "Hey kiddo. I didn't see you there. What's up?"

"Just heading down to Sully's to grab a burger. Wanna go?"

He shook his head. "I had a late breakfast, but go on. I did some checking on Tabbie's boyfriend, a guy by the name of Billy Braxton, and I don't think he did it. He's never had so much as a parking ticket and his story checked out. He'd made the reservations earlier in the week, and his coworkers had nothing but good things to say about him. Said he was hinting he was going to pop the question."

Huh. Still, I wanted to talk to him just to make sure I covered all the bases. But not before I had my cheeseburger.

I almost made it past the front desk before Ms. Ellen, our receptionist, called my name. I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut—I'd almost made it. I stopped in my tracks, took a deep breath, and spun around on my toes to face her. I already knew who was on the phone thanks to my Spidey sense—my Mom. And I did not want to talk to her.

"Sorry to interrupt sweetie—and trust me, in this case I mean it. But your mama's on line three." Her nose curled when she said it. There was no love lost between those two. My mom referred to her as "that bible-thumping old bag," and Ms. Ellen returned the love by calling my mama "that painted-up hussy whose nose is so high in the air it's a wonder she hasn't drowned in a rainstorm." Apparently, they went way back.

Ms. Ellen was staring at me over the rims of her '60s-style cats-eye glasses, replete with rhinestones, waiting for a response. More precisely, she was waiting for me to come answer the phone.

Everybody loves—and fears—Ms. Ellen. She's five feet tall if she's wearing her two-inch block heels and is seventy if she's a day. She has her blue-black hair curled and her roots done once a week at the beauty shop, and I've never seen her in anything other than a flowered little-old-lady's dress. Despite her diminutive stature, I've seen her shame petty criminals young and old into apologizing and changing their ways.

As she stood there holding the phone out to me, I cringed at the thought of talking to I wasn't ready to deal with her yet, especially on an empty stomach. She'd called my cell twice already and I'd let it go to voicemail.

I shot Ms. Ellen my most ingratiating smile. "Tell her I'm at lunch? Please?"

She narrowed her eyes at me for a couple of seconds, then picked up the phone and punched the button. "She says she's at lunch, Miranda. I venture to say she's avoiding you for one good reason or another."

I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath; I should have known better than to ask her to lie. She held the phone out from her ear and I could hear my mother's tirade about rude, ungrateful children and snippy old bats.

With raised brows, Ms. Ellen just dropped the receiver back in its cradle with a decisive nod, then smiled at me. "I won't lie, but I won't listen to that kind of ugly, either. Now you go on and have a good lunch."

I could have hugged her. Not many women—or men for that matter—had the fortitude to stand up to my mother, but Ms. Ellen doesn't take guff from anybody.

"Would you like me to bring you back anything?"

"No, dear. I'm meeting with the auxiliary to discuss the fall festival. You wouldn't believe some of the things they're wanting to add this year. But thank you anyway."

I took my opening and hustled out the front door, wondering absently what kind of "crude" entertainment had drawn her ire. Last year she'd protested the junior league's dunk tank because she said it was unseemly that the girls were going to display themselves in skimpy bikinis at a family event. When it passed anyway, she stopped at the booth five times, dunking the president and vice president of the junior league, plus a couple of their minions.

Brittney Williams, the president, had dressed up in her sequined bikini and her Miss Mayday ribbon. Her tiara was nestled into a perfect big hairdo, and she was perched on the swing blowing kisses to the crowd when Ms. Ellen dunked her. The expression on Brittney' face when she'd surfaced was priceless. Her tiara was tangled in her matted hair and her ruined makeup made her look more like a clown than a beauty queen.

I'd asked Ms. Ellen the next day where she'd learned to throw a ball like that and she'd just smiled, patted me on the arm, and said, "The Good Lord helps those who play on his team, dear."

I was still smiling at the memory when I walked into Sully's. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the pub. The smell of burgers and onions frying on the grill made my mouth water as I slid onto a black-cushioned bar stool and dropped my wallet on the bar. Since it was only ten, I had the place to myself.

A bear of a man—and I mean that literally because he's a bear shifter—finished polishing the beer glass in his hand and lumbered over to me, his bearded face split into a wide grin. "And how's the head of Castle's Bluff's finest? Ye'll be wantin' yer usual, lass?"

Though he'd been in the US for forty years and adapted mostly to American English, he still carried his Irish lilt. I stood on the brass foot-rail and leaned across to give Sully a hug. "That sounds great, and I'd be doing better if there weren't a werewolf killing people in my woods."

The mirth slipped from his face. "To be sure. Bad business, that. We've been keeping our noses to the ground for ye, but so far, not even the barest whiff."

"Have you had any strangers in?" That time of year was usually slow around there; School had just started, so most of the tourists were gone, at least until ski season. Right now, it was mostly locals.

"We always have a few, but nai that stand out." He eyed me speculatively as he sat my Coke in front of me. "Though I did see a long-lost face the other night."

Sully has known me all my life; I was the same age as his youngest son, Alex, and we' been friends from childhood. He and his wife Sarah, his high-school sweetheart, still called me up to go out every few months. That meant that he knew all about Zach. I heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I know. I've already bumped into him. He was at the crime scene yesterday."

Sully raised a brow. "And what would he be doin' there, then?"

"Hunting wolves."

The words fell between us like a lead balloon.

Concern etched his face. "Hunting as in Tracking?"

Everybody knows about the Trackers, or at least everybody who has two forms. "I don't think so. He's more of a bounty hunter. He thinks we're looking for a regular wild wolf gone bad, and I'm doing my best to keep it that way until I can figure out who's doing it and take care of them."

He nodded and started to say something, but the kitchen bell dinged, indicating that my food was up. He paused to grab it and slid it, along with a condiments caddy, in front of me.

"Have ye heard from yer folks?"

"Yeah, Mom's called me three times today, but I've been dodging her. I'd like to have something to tell her first so that she's not tempted to send in the pack." I layered the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions on top of my burger and squirted a puddle of ketchup by my fries.

"Well if this keeps up, you're going to have the FBI and the Trackers poking their noses in, too."

I dragged a fry through the ketchup and popped it into my mouth. "Trust me. I'm well aware of the walls closing in here. I just can't seem to catch even the smallest thread to pick. I'm going to head out to Billy Braxton's place tonight and see if I can get a read off of him, though I don't know how he'd be connected to the rest of them."

He shook his head slowly. "Yer barkin' up the wrong tree with that one. I've known that boy since he moved here five years ago; he doesn't have it in him. 'Sides, he loved that girl to distraction, and she returned the sentiment." He paused.

That was the second time in an hour I'd heard that, but no relationship was perfect. That still didn't open the door to murder, though. I shrugged. "If the feds or the pack do sweep in and I haven't talked to him, that'll be one more mark against me. I'll cover the base all the same."

"I suppose it's the right thing to do, lass, especially considerin' he's a werewolf. It would be remiss of ye."

I put my burger down. "Wait, what?"

He leaned an elbow on the bar and furrowed his brow. "He's a werewolf. Ye didn't know?"

"Well, no! It's not exactly something that would be on his public record, though he's not on my roster, either."

"I sniffed him out the first time he came in here. I don't know why he didn't check in, but like I'm sayin', he's a good boy."

Werewolves living in the territory were supposed to check in with me in order to ensure the security and safety of both the pack and the individual. Pack wars had been started by one bad apple causing trouble in somebody else's territory, so it was pretty much the rule of the land that you check in with the local leader.

It wasn't carved in stone, but it was atypical not to give a heads up, if for no other reason than to protect yourself while in wolf form. Strange wolves flying under the radar weren't always handled gently if they ran into a group of locals.

"I'll keep that in mind, but I still have to question him, especially now."

He refilled my coke. "So I suppose ye've heard Sean Castle's back in town."

My head snapped up and irritation flared. I should have known the minute he came back. "No, I hadn't."

"Well don't go gettin' your knickers all atwist," he said when he saw my expression. "He just came back last night. Only reason I know is because I was his first stop after he arrived."

I'd met Sean Castle a couple of times. Always charming and affable, but his eyes always held a little darkness. There was no doubt the man was lethal, and from what I'd heard, he could be ruthless when he wanted something.

I shrugged. "I guess since he founded the place, he should be able to come and go as he pleases. I assume he's here under an alias?"

"Nay," he said, picking up his rag and polishing more glasses as he talked. "He's using his real name this time around."

"Well at least that'll make it easy for me if I run into him in public," I said around my last bite of cheeseburger."

He held the wineglass he was polishing up the light coming through the window, checking for spots. "Ye should know, he's not happy about these murders, and a few other things goin' on about town. I'm surprised he hasn't already contacted you."

I heaved a sigh. "Wonderful. Another person disappointed in my job performance." I pushed around the last few fries on my plate. "It's not like I'm resting on my laurels. I need help, but pack politics are so precarious right now I hate to ask officially."

He folded the towel and laid it on the beer mat. "Have ye considered askin' for local help?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean, lass," he replied, scowling, "Is you haven't bothered askin' for outside help. You have a bear clan, a fox clan, and fellow wolves that live here, too. We don't like what's goin' on any more than you do. Just ask."

I hadn't considered that, but he was right. I didn't want a posse, but it sure couldn't hurt to spread some info and ask folks to keep an eye out. An organized search party wasn't such a bad idea. Even just having extra ears—and noses—looking out would be good.

"You're right. I hadn't thought of that. I'll make some calls and get a party organized. I have a tuft of fur, so if nothing else, we'll all have his scent."

We chatted some about Alex and Sarah and town gossip while I finished my burger. When I left, I headed straight to Billy Braxton's house.

CHAPTER SEVEN

––––––––

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I pulled up in front of an old but well-maintained trailer on the outskirts of town. The front porch sagged and the paint was faded, but bright pink and purple petunias flourished along the cracked walk. The yard, though bald in some spots, was neatly trimmed. Whoever lived there had invested plenty of heart into making it a home, but not a lot of money.

There was an older black pickup with primer on the fender and a beat-up Mustang parked out front and one of the white lace curtains by the living room window fluttered a bit. Somebody was home and already knew I was here. I tilted my head a bit as I made my way up the rickety porch steps. Heavy footsteps pounded toward the other end of the trailer and back again.

I rapped on the front door.

"Billy Braxton? Castles Bluff PD." I figured it might be best not to identify myself because he'd likely recognize the name. I didn't want to spook him before I had a chance to feel him out.

I waited a few seconds and thought I heard a soft thump from what would likely be the back bedroom. I raised my hand but before I could knock again, the door swung open and a petite brunette in her early twenties opened the door.

"Yes?" Her chocolate eyes were a little puffy and bloodshot but she wore the same suspicious, slightly freaked-out look that most people her age had when the cops were at the door. The unmistakable scents of weed, werewolf, and apple-cinnamon air freshener floated out.

"Hi. I'm looking for Billy Braxton. Is he home?" She paused for just a heartbeat before responding. Something flashed across her face, but it was so fleeting that I wondered if I'd imagined it.

"Sure thing." She turned her head and tucked it behind the door. "Billy, there's a lady from the sheriff's office here to see you."

The girl moved back and a dark-haired guy in his mid-thirties took her place. He was barefoot and wearing faded jeans and an unbuttoned flannel.

"I'm Billy. Do you have news about ..." The blood drained from his face as he caught scent of me and realized who I was. He cleared his throat and recovered, though his voice wavered a little. "Do you have news about Tabbie?"

I raised a brow at him, silently calling him out, but I couldn't say anything in front of the girl. I picked up a wave of what felt like fear with my other sense, but it was fleeting. "Can I come in for a minute? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

He hesitated for a couple of seconds, searching my face, but I was careful to keep my expression neutral. He shrugged and stepped back from the door, careful not to get to close to me. "Yeah. Come on in."

The smell of pot mingled with air freshener was strong on the porch, but it was obnoxious once I stepped inside that it was all I could do not to ask if they'd rather talk on the porch. Actually, I was surprised that he hadn't suggested that; that's the normal reaction that I get from potheads.

The inside of the trailer was cute, decorated with what I guessed to be thrift-store furniture. Pictures of Tabitha and various other people, including several of her and Billy, were arranged in a collage on one wall and a big flat screen hung on the other. Little dollar-store doilies held a variety of knick-knacks and a bright quilt was thrown over the back of the couch.

As with the outside, whoever did the decorating had more love than money, but managed to make the run-down trailer feel homey, nonetheless.

Billy motioned to a chair and sank down on the sofa across from it, trying to hide a cringe as he did so.

He didn't hide it well enough, though. "That looked painful. What happened?" I asked, thinking back to the drops of blood from the werewolf the night before. We heal quickly, but if Zach did a little more than graze the werewolf, it may still be tender.

"What?" He looked confused for a minute, then blushed. "Oh, I, uh, fell off the porch last night when it was raining. Bruised my tail bone."

Given the condition of the porch, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but something felt off. I took a deep breath through my nose, trying to pin down his scent, but couldn't because of the apple-cinnamon pot smell pervading my nostrils. He noticed what I was trying to do, and one side of his mouth tipped up; I had no idea what to do with that response.

The girl looked decidedly uncomfortable, standing with one foot crossed over the electric-blue-tipped toes of the other. She was slender to the point of being gangly, with long, colty legs extending down from a pair of ratty cut-offs.

She stepped forward, tucking her hair behind her ear and chewing her lip. "Would you like a glass of tea or something?" She blurted. I almost wanted to say yes just to give her something to do, but decided against it.

"No, thank you ..." I let the sentence hang, pushing her for a name.

She sank to the couch to sit beside Billy. "Oh, Amanda. Amanda Baxter. I'm Tabbie's best friend. I live here. We're roommates. We went to school together and have known each other forever. She got me this cat when we were in the ninth grade ...."

She seemed to realize she was rambling and stopped mid-sentence, chewing on her lip and fighting back tears.

Billy rubbed her back, almost without thought and she leaned over into him. I looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to gauge the body language, but it was hard. There was nothing overtly inappropriate about it.

"So what can I do for you, Sheriff?"

"I just wanted to stop and follow up. See if you remembered anything else since you talked to Deputy Cassidy yesterday."

Sam had talked to Billy at the lumberyard where he worked. He'd also checked the kid's alibi, and it had checked out with the exception of a thirty-minute lunch break. It was tough to imagine he could have gotten away, killed her, cleaned up, and gotten back. Still it was possible, and he'd been off on the day Victoria Temple was killed.

He shook his head and a hank of his shaggy hair fell forward over his brow. "I haven't. I've been wracking my brain, trying to think if there was anything at all. I can't think of a single person who would want to hurt her. It sounds cliché, but everybody loved her. Seriously. She was known as the peacekeeper at work, and she and I never fought."

"Never?" I asked, skeptical.

Despite the gravity of the situation, he rolled his eyes. "Well, almost never. Nobody agrees all of the time."

"And what are some of the things that you hadn't agreed about lately?"

If he was innocent, I was kind of digging my thumb in the raw wound, but I needed to see how he responded. Because of the shady circumstances, there was no way I could eliminate him as a suspect yet. In fact, if I found out he'd so much as stood in line for coffee with one of the other victims, I was going to haul him in.

He shifted uncomfortably, then sighed. "She wanted to meet my family and accused me of being ashamed of her when in fact ..."

He didn't have to say any more. I'm sure he knew I understood where he was going with it. Most packs didn't condone relationships with humans; it was even possible that one of his pack members eliminated the threat.

I looked at him pointedly. "Well, I'm going to need your family's information."

He locked gazes with me, his icy blue eyes unwavering. "I assure you that's not necessary."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." I could play this game.

Amanda had sensed an underlying meaning to the conversation and was watching us volley back and forth, confused. "Why would you need to speak with his family?"

I didn't break eye contact with him. "It's standard protocol," I replied, and from the way he drew his brows together, he knew I was referring to the fact that he hadn't checked in with me.

The poor girl, however, was completely lost. "It is? Why? They hadn't even met Tabbie. Or been to Castle's Bluff, for that matter. Have they, Billy?"

"No, they haven't," he replied, refusing to be the first to look away. The visual power struggle is a wolf thing. He—or she—who looks away first submits. As the rebellious daughter of elder members of my pack, I wasn't used to being challenged, and there was no way I was backing down from this. He was in the wrong, and this was my town. I'm not a stickler, but some rules exist for a reason.

He heaved a huge sigh and looked away. That was all I needed; he acknowledged my position. There was nothing else to be done in front of a human.

"Have you found any connection between Tabbie and the other ... person?" he asked.

"Yeah, we heard the other woman looks just like her. Is that true?" Amanda was on the edge of the couch now.

I was reluctant to give away too much because I didn't want to start a panic among blonde female runners, but it wouldn't hurt to answer this. They pictures were public.

"Yes. They really could have passed for sisters, though we're not sure if that's coincidence or not yet."

"When will you know? Do you think there will be more?" Amanda's eyes were a little wild as the thought settled in.

"I certainly hope not. We're still early in the investigation, but we're following up on several leads." I shot Billy a weighted look. "Did either of you happen to know the first victim?"

Amanda shook her head.

"No, I didn't," Billy said. "But good luck with those leads. I hope you find some useful information, Sheriff," he replied in reference to his family, though he sounded more tired than sarcastic. He pushed himself up from the couch, wincing as he did so. "If there's nothing else we can do for you, I need to get ready for work."

I stood as well, not wanting to give him the advantage of standing over me. I tried one last time to catch his scent, but he'd put several feet between us when he'd gotten up. I got the distinct impression that it was intentional.

"There's nothing else for now. Here's my business card." I laid it on the bar that separated the kitchen when it became apparent that he wasn't going to take it. "It has my cell number on it. Please feel free to call me." In other words, when you're not around humans, you better give me your 411.

He nodded once. "Thanks, Sheriff. I'll do that."

Just to make sure I could find him, I took both their numbers. I thanked them both and offered my condolences, then locked eyes with him again. "Talk soon." When he looked down right away, I turned to Amanda. "I really am sorry for your loss."

"Thanks," she said with a wobbly smile.

"Sheriff?" Billy said when I was reaching for the door.

"Yes?"

"I was planning to ask her to marry me the night she died." His voice cracked, and unwanted sympathy washed over me. It could just as easily have been from regret as from sadness.

I already knew he'd supposedly been home alone that night, waiting for her to get back from her run, so he had no alibi. Still, his words had a ring of truth to them. I searched his face for a lie, but all I saw was the truth. What a hot mess.

I took a deep breath of fresh air as soon as I stepped outside; I was pretty sure I'd breathed in enough fumes to fail a drug test. The visit had given me lots to think about, and I picked up my cell to call my cousin Dani, who was a PI a couple of towns over. We'd been tight our whole lives and I knew she wouldn't rat me out to Mom and Dad.

She assured me she'd start looking into Billy right away. I could hardly wait to find out what he was hiding.

CHAPTER EIGHT

––––––––

WHEN I LEFT BILLY'S, I drove around for a bit, just trying to think. I was at a dead end. I pulled over at a spot that had a great view of the lake and bounced my forehead off the steering wheel.

I needed to go to the diner and talk to Dana, the owner. She was one of the best judges of character I knew, and if something was off between Tabbie and Billy, she'd be the one most likely to have noticed.

As luck would have it, I was on the right side of town; the diner was only a few miles away. I swung around and headed that way, and when I pulled into the gravel lot, I was glad to see it was mostly empty. The dinner rush hadn't started yet.

The rush of cool air when I walked through the single door felt great, and the smells of bacon grease and coffee made my stomach growl even though I'd just gorged myself at Sully's an hour before. Dana was bent down behind the counter arranging the display of desserts in the pie case underneath it.

She glanced up when the little bell on the door jangled and smiled when she saw me.

Standing and smoothing her server's apron, she grinned. Though she was in her mid-fifties, she looked closer to forty—one of the benefits of being a fox shifter. Her red hair had only a few streaks of silver and her face was classically pretty with just the beginnings of crow's feet around her amber eyes.

"Cori!" she said, coming around the counter. "What a pleasant surprise—I haven't seen you in a few weeks." She tilted her head. "You better not be cheating on me with another diner!"

Smiling, I gave her a quick hug. She and my aunt Carol went way back, and I'd known her all my life. "Absolutely not. I know better than to bite the hand that feeds me."

"So what brings you by today? I smell Sully's on you. Since it's too early to drink, I'm assuming you've already eaten." The smile slid from her face and sadness reflected in her eyes as realization dawned. "You want to talk about Tabbie."

"Yeah," I said. "If you can think of anything at all, that would be great. I've hit a brick wall."

She glanced at the two tables that had guests, then motioned me over to a small booth in the far corner.

I chose the side facing the door, and she slid onto the bench across from me. "What would you like to know?"

Starting with the most obvious, I asked, "What do you know about Billy? How did they get along?"

Crinkling her brow, she said, "Normally, they were peas and carrots. They had a huge fight a couple of days before ..." she sniffed, and her eyes filled with tears. "Before she was killed."

I raised my brows. Billy had failed to mention that. "Any idea what it was about?"

"Yeah. She wanted to meet his family, but he kept telling her it was complicated." She pinched her lips together. "I assume you know he was a werewolf, right?"

"I do now, but I didn't until Sully told me a little bit ago."

She crinkled her brow. "That's odd. He seems like a good kid. I'm surprised he didn't check in with you."

I shrugged. "I have no idea, but Dani's checking into him. We need to find out what pack he's from. It's strange that he'd stray, and even weirder that he avoided me. He was jumpy when I went to see him."

She took a deep breath. "I hate to say it, but you know there are only a couple of reasons he'd do that."

"Yeah," I said. "He's excommunicated or hiding and there aren't too many good reasons for either scenario."

She fiddled with the sugar caddy, straightening all the packets. "I don't want to believe it of him, but I guess that's what folks always say about a murderer after the fact."

"That's for sure." I thought of how earnest the kid had looked and a shard of doubt shot through me. "But don't write him off just yet." There was at least a fifty-fifty chance he was guilty, but if he wasn't, I didn't want to ostracize him from his support system.

CHAPTER NINE

––––––––

I WAS JUST A FEW MINUTES from home when Mom called again. Taking a big breath and releasing it, I decided avoiding her would just make matters worse. She could be like a dog with a bone, pardon the pun. I pulled off the road into a wide spot.

Sliding to answer, I did my best to sound positive. "Hi Mom. How are you and dad?"

My attitude must have caught her off guard because she paused for a second. To be fair, I wasn't usually so cheerful when she called. We had very different views on life, and our relationship was more cordial than loving. I was definitely a daddy's girl.

"We're better than you are," she said, her voice tinged with judgment. "I heard you had another murder. Please tell me you know who did it and you have the situation contained."

I ran my tongue over my teeth. "I'm all over it, Mom."

"That's not an answer. Have you caught and dealt with the murderer?"

"No," I said, grudgingly giving up the pretense. It wasn't like she didn't know exactly what was going on anyway. "So far, he's like a ghost." I didn't want to bring Billy's name into it yet, both for his sake and mine.

"So I've heard, but there's no such thing as a murderous ghost." She paused, and I knew I wasn't going to like whatever she said next. "Your father and I have decided to send you some help."

I bristled. Anybody my mother chose would likely come in believing they were sent to do a job I couldn't.

"I assure you, that's not necessary," I said, thinking of Sully's suggestion to bring together the local shifters. That would be better than having my parents intervene.

"We believe it is." She dropped all pretense of mother-daughter concern. "The bottom line, Cordelia, is that we can't afford to appear weak on any front. Pack politics are ... volatile right now. The person we're sending is discreet and loyal. He'll help resolve the issue, then you'll be left to your own devices again."

Resigned, I tried one last time, even though I knew the decision had been made. "And there's no way I can talk you out of this?"

"No. The arrangements have already been made. His name is Alexander Dixon and he'll be there tomorrow."

I racked my brain trying to place the name. Our pack was large, but not so big that I hadn't at least heard the family names. "Who is he?"

"Not that it matters, but he's only been in the area for a couple of years. He's proven himself useful and appreciates the delicacy of the situation."

"All right then," I said, resigned.

"We're on your side, Cordelia, but this needs resolved. We need strength on all fronts."

"Yeah," I said, irritated that this was all about politics to her. "And I need innocent women to stop dying in my town."

"Then it sounds as if our goals align." She sighed and her "I'm not a monster, Cori, but what you have running loose down there is. Politics aside, I really am on your side and I'm sorry you feel we don't trust you to handle this."

Though it grated to admit it, I had no idea where to go next, and if my mother had handpicked somebody, it was a fair bet my odds of catching this guy just improved. I needed to set my personal issues with her aside and do whatever it took to keep anyone else from dying. That didn't mean I had to like it, though.

Before I pulled back onto the road, I pulled up a name and hit send. If there was already one extra man stepping up, I may as well call in the whole cavalry.

It only rang twice before somebody answered.

"Yeah, Sully? How soon can you call a den council meeting?"

***

KAT WAS UP WHEN I GOT home, which was unusual considering it was still early afternoon. I tossed my purse on the entry table, then plopped down beside her on the couch, scooching a scowling Chaos over to make room.

"Hey! Glad you're up. It seems like I haven't talked to you in a week," I said.

She smiled back, her perfect teeth gleaming against her olive complexion, but behind the smile, she looked concerned. "You haven't seen anybody in over a week. I know you're busy with these murders, but you have to take some time out."

I waved her off. "I'll have plenty of time to chill when this case is over. Right now, it just wouldn't feel right having fun while he's out there."

"Cori, you can't do this," she said, turning toward me on the couch and drawing her perfectly arched brows together. "You have to strike a balance or else you'll lose yourself. I know it's horrible. But for now, what do you have? What are you doing tonight that could possibly lead you to him?"

Shaking my head, I huffed out a frustrated breath and dropped my head back on the cushion. "Nothing. I've got nothing. No ideas, no suspects, not a clue. I just keep running the case through my head. I know I've missed something, but damned if I know what."

"Then you need to stop. Give your brain a break. Right now you're on a loop, and you need to look at it with fresh eyes."

The call with Mom popped into my head and I pressed my lips together.

"What?" she asked when I went quiet.

"Mom's sending me help," I said, putting it in air quotes. "He'll be here tomorrow."

Kat chewed on her lip. "Well then," she said, "even more reason to go out. Take an evening to chill before your mom's minion shows up and steals your sunshine."

She had a point. Not that I hadn't had my nose to the grindstone since the beginning, but this guy would be reporting my every move to my mother. When the corner of my mouth tipped up in a half smile, she knew she'd won.

She fist-pumped and grinned. "Yes! I was hoping you'd cave. I pulled together a girls' night, but was afraid you'd miss it, since you blew me off last week."

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't blow you off."

She waved a hand. "You totally blew me off. But that doesn't matter. You're coming tonight!"

The idea of getting together with the group and having some fun and a couple glasses of wine was appealing, though I felt guilty about having fun while there was a murderer on the loose.

"So who's going?" I asked, pushing the guilt aside. Kat was right; my brain was on a loop and I needed to break the pattern.

Our group was small because neither Kat nor I were huge people people. We had a regular group that we hung out with, but not everybody always showed.

Scarlett, another werewolf and a stay-at-home mom, had been my friend since grade school, though we'd drifted apart some since she'd had kids.

Monica, a healing witch who'd moved to Castle's Bluff several years before and opened up a shop called Mystic Treasures, was of indeterminate age but looked to be in her early thirties.

Finally, Rissa was an accountant for supernaturals and was a vampire. We didn't see as much of her since she found a steady boyfriend a few months back.

"That's the best part—so far, everybody. Can you believe it?" Her eyes were gleaming. She lived for our nights out, especially considering it seemed like she never took a night off.

I raised my brows; we hadn't been together as a complete group for at least six months. Suddenly, I was looking forward to it. "That's amazing. I'm gonna grab something to eat. When are we meeting?"

"Eight," she said, yawning and pushing up from the couch. "I'm gonna take a quick nap before the sun goes down, but I wanted to catch you before you had a chance to settle in for the evening." She narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger at me. "No backing out!"

I held up my hands. "No backing out—I promise!"

Truth be told, she couldn't have paid me to miss it.

CHAPTER TEN

––––––––

BY THE TIME SEVEN ROLLED around, I'd done some research on the local packs because a few new ones had moved in since my family moved away. There were no Braxtons, and no hint of an excommunication.

That bugged me because he had to have come from somewhere. Until I knew, he was an unknown quantity and a suspect as far as I was concerned.

Maybe when he came in the next day, he'd be a little more willing to talk, since we'd be alone and I could speak without weighing my words. That was a problem for then, though.

I slid the hangers down the rod in my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. It's not that the Hook was fancy—far from it—or that I was lacking in clothes, but it was hard to pick a favorite t-shirt. I had dozens of them, ranging from band shirts to ones with snarky expressions.

Snatching my best pair of jeans and one of my favorite shirts—a purple one with Sarcasm is my Superpower scrawled across the front—I shut the door and headed to the shower.

As I showered, my mood lifted. Monica was probably my next closest friend after Kat, and I hadn't seen her in several weeks. Thinking about it, I probably should have because she had what she called intuition, and I called magic.

She'd helped me out with cases before; she'd found a kid who'd wandered into the woods, and she'd pointed me in the right direction several times in cases involving stolen goods.

Monica was self-possessed and knew exactly who she was and what she could—and couldn't—do. She didn't talk about her past much; all I knew was she came from another small town and that she had no family. I figured everybody had the right to privacy, so I respected hers.

But I was going to talk to her. It was a new angle, and Kat and Sully were right—I needed to ask for help.

Sully's was rockin' when we got there. The jukebox was cranking out “Saw You Standing There” by the Beatles at a level just below deafening, even for paranormals with super hearing.

Kat elbowed me and yelled, "This just isn't the same as watching them perform it live!"

I smiled and shook my head; she looked so young that sometimes I forgot she'd been around for three hundred years. She'd looked exactly the same right then as she had fifty years ago when she'd seen John Lennon and crew on stage.

Sully's had two rooms—one big one that housed the bandstand, dance floor, several tables, and the bar, and a smaller one that was a little quieter.

The rooms had been separated by a wall, but Sully had taken out nearly half of it so people could come and go, but the bartender could still see most of what was going on.

The smaller room had pool tables, a golf game, and some pinball and dart machines, along with a handful of tables. That's where we headed.

The cocktail waitress came and took our orders and I smiled when Rissa and Kat both ordered bloody marys. Being a vampire himself, Sully version of the drink was literal, though he did serve the traditional recipe to non-vampires.

While she was gone, Rissa fed money into the golf game and we teed off. None of us played actual golf, but we were pros at the video version. The band took a break before their next set, so we had a chance to talk a little.

"Has anybody heard from Scarlett?" I asked after putting my ball in one under par.

"Yeah," Monica said as the server delivered our drinks. "She called and said one of the kids are sick."

I pinched my lips together, disappointed. "I was looking forward to having us all together again. I love the kids, but I miss the old times."

Rissa gave me a half smile. "You get used to it. Things change. Look how great her kids are and how happy she is, at least when one of them isn't tossing their cookies. Maybe next time we can do something kid-friendly so she can bring them."

I felt a little bad that none of us had thought to do that before. In theory, girls nights were meant to be a time when we got together and forgot about life for a while, but if it meant Scarlett could join us, then I was all for it.

Moving my finger in a circle and uttering a couple words, I built a muffling bubble around us so we could talk in normal voices.

I was a people-watcher at heart. I'd never been much for being the center of attention, so when I wasn't directly involved in conversation or taking my turn, that's what I did. Sam said it was one of the things that made me a good cop.

The bar was busy but not slammed, and there were the typical couples dancing and working guys stopping for a beer after work. I was watching one of them try to pick up a chick at the bar, making a mental bet based on body language that he was gonna score, when somebody tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned, and one of the most attractive men—people—I'd ever seen in my life was standing there smiling at me. "Hi," he said, his smile reaching his emerald eyes. He ran a hand through sun-streaked hair that was a little too long, and I tilted my head, wondering if the move was planned or incidental.

Incidental. He didn't have the look of a player, and I was a pro at picking that up, both from my experience as a cop and as a woman. When he lifted his arm, his button-up shifted a bit and I caught sight of a quartz pen. I tried to get a better look without letting on, but he distracted me by speaking.

He nodded toward my drink. "Would you like another?"

I shook my head. I had a strict policy about letting anybody buy me a drink. I didn't know whether it was just a southern thing or an egocentric thing, but a free drink was rarely free. It was easier to politely decline right out of the gate rather than three drinks in.

"No, but thank you," I said, then held up a finger. It was my turn, and we were on the eighteenth hole. "Excuse me just one minute."

I finished 10 under, one of my personal bests, and turned to find the guy still standing there, one side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. Monica winked at me with her back to him, and waggled her eyebrows.

He was walking toward me when I noticed Kat, who was on her third drink, was starting to look a little green around the gills.

She squinted and drew her brows together. "Guys, I don't feel so great."

Despite the common misconception, vampires were sturdy, but they weren't entirely immune to sickness.

Monica looked at her, concerned, and touched her forehead. "You don't look so hot, either. Let's go somewhere a little cooler; you feel too warm." She looked around the table. "How do y'all feel about grabbing some ice cream?"

"Maybe you guys should go on," Kat said, waving us off. "I'm gonna head back to the house. I'm fine."

I arched a brow at her. "You rode with me, remember?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but vampire super speed, remember?"

Actually, I hadn't. I had to admit, that part made me a little jealous. I could cover a lot of territory in my wolf form, but that took a lot more work than just stepping out the door and making sure nobody was looking before I zipped off.

"I don't think that's wise," Monica said, shaking her head. "Let's go to my place. It's the closest. We can find a movie on Netflix if you turn out to be okay." She held out her hands, examining them and frowning. "And maybe do our nails while we're at it."

Kat opened her mouth to argue, but Monica held up her hand. "No objections. I wanna make sure there's nothing wrong before you head home."

"I'm fine," Kat protested again.

It was a little concerning because she never got so much as the sniffles. I didn't want her to sneak off by herself either, so I took a little different tack. She had a way of rebelling against mothering.

"Good," I said, grinning. "Then we're saving you some regret. If you go home, then feel better, you'll wish you'd have come."

Rissa agreed, giving a sharp nod. "Yep, so you're going with us."

The band, who'd been on break, chose that minute to launch into a semi-decent rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama,” and I shouted to Mr. Hotness that my friend was sick and we were leaving.

He tried to lean in closer to say something over the music, but at that point, I was more worried about Kat than my love life.

We drained the last of our drinks, dropped some money on the bar when Sully glanced our way, and left. Once we were in the Jeep, she sagged into the seat. I fired up the Jeep and pulled out of the lot, then stole a glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She really didn't look good.

Monica lived above her shop, and the smells of herbs and scented candles had permeated the entire store and seeped into her apartment. It was pleasant—vanilla and spices combined with undertones of fresh herbs she grew in window boxes and planters around the apartment.

People of all types came to her for her medicinal blends; if you had a problem, it was a good bet she could make a concoction or tea that would help.

Her brow was furrowed in concern as Kat collapsed into a chair. "Sweetie, you really don't look so hot."

Finally giving in, Kat replied, "I don't feel so hot, either. I feel like I'm being burned from the inside out."

I cast a worried glance at Rissa and was surprised. All color had faded from her lips and her eyes were dull.

"Rissa? Are you okay?" I asked, nudging Monica with my elbow.

She turned her attention from Kat and focused on Rissa. She felt her forehead with the back of her hand, then grasped her arm.

"I don't think I am," Rissa said, rubbing her face. "I feel the same as Kat—like I'm burning from the inside."

Monica's gaze darted to me. "She's hot, too. Something's not right. Will you get me my medicine kit? It's in my bedroom."

I did as she asked. She lifted to lid, revealing at least thirty small containers of different herbs and vials of liquid, each labeled.

She ran her fingers over the bottle, then pulled out three full vials. She motioned toward the kitchen. "There's a bag of O-positive in the fridge. I need it. And two clean vials."

I did as she asked, then sat on the arm of Kat's chair, my hand on her back, until her breathing became labored. For the first time ever, her eyes had a tinge of red, and I got a real sense of just how lethal she could be. My wolf raised her head, but I tamped her down.

"Move," Kat said from between clenched teeth, gripping the arm of the chair so hard her fingers sank into the wood. "Please. Now."

I did as she asked as Monica added a few drops of a greenish liquid into each of the two vials. It interacted with the other ingredients and the concoction turned a deep green. Taking the hospital-style bag of O-Positive from me, she filled the vials the rest of the way up, then whispered a few words in what I assumed were Latin over them. The concoction changed color yet again to a vibrant purple and she handed Rissa and Kat each one.

Rissa was rubbing her arms, and red-tinged beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her hands shook as she took the vial, but she didn't look as bad as Kat did.

"Bottoms up, ladies," Monica said. "It's gonna taste like shit, and it's probably going to hurt, but it beats a slow, miserable death."

In tandem, Kat and Rissa drained the vials, and gagged.

Kat wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Holy shit," she said, then gagged again. "That was foul. What was in it?"

"You don't wanna know," Monica replied.

She pulled me to the side. "Go get Sean Castle. I did what I could, but my knowledge of vampire constitutions is limited." She raised her brows and turned her palms up. "I've never had reason to learn much, since they pretty much never get sick."

Kat covered her mouth and made a dash for the bathroom, and Rissa did the same a few seconds later, stumbling toward the bathroom in the master.

Monica pushed me toward the door. "Go!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

––––––––

SEAN CASTLE STILL MAINTAINED a sprawling Victorian mansion on several acres on the outskirts of town, and it took me fifteen minutes to get there, even driving like a bat out of hell. I wasn't even sure if he was going to be there, but I was trusting Fate to have my back.

Sure enough, when I pulled up, his Lambo was parked out front and half the lights in his house were on. Several other cars that cost the equivalent of five years of my salary lined the curved drive. I bolted out of the Jeep as soon as it skidded to a stop, then ran across the span of grass and vaulted onto the wide veranda.

Before I could even lift the lion-head knocker on the ornate door, it swung open and a tall, stoic butler looked at me like I was a wet dog.

"Yes?" he said, looking straight down his long nose.

"I need to see Sean Castle. It's an emergency." I peered around him. Several men were sitting around a poker table, smoking cigars.

"Master Castle is indisposed."

"Well I need him to get un-indisposed, Jeeves. Tell him the sheriff is looking for him."

"Indeed?" He made a show of looking around me, obviously for somebody who wasn't a thirty-something woman wearing jeans and a smart-ass t-shirt.

"Indeed," I said, pulling my badge from my back pocket and flashing it at him.

He took a deep breath, but didn't bother to uncurl his lip. "Wait here, Sheriff."

He shut the door in my face and I was just about to pound on it when Sean Castle himself opened it and stepped out.

"Cordelia," he said. "It's been a while. How's your mother?"

I inclined my head. Vampires, at least ancient ones, adhered to a certain formality, and if you wanted to earn their respect, you went through the paces. "Sean. Welcome back to town. Mom's as bossy as ever. She and Dad moved to Charlotte. I don't mean to be rude, but we have an emergency. I believe you know my roommate, Katerina Bellarosi—"

"Ah, yes," he said with a half-smile. "How is Kat?"

"Deathly ill. That's why I'm here. We were at the Hook, and she and another friend, Marissa Williams, were apparently poisoned—"

His smile faded and his face hardened. "Where are they?"

"Monica Loveridge's. She lives above her shop, Mystic Treasures, on Travelers Street. She's a healer and did what she could, but she's afraid it's not enough."

He gave a curt nod, and before I could open my mouth, he was back in front of me. "I'll meet you there, Cordelia" he said, and was gone in a blur.

Stupid vampire speed. At least he did me the courtesy of letting me know. I glanced at my watch. I'd been gone more than twenty minutes, and it would take me another fifteen to get back to town. Kat and Rissa could already be—I refused to think the word.

Desperate, I did something I'd only done twice before—and the last time had landed me in the middle of a lake instead of where I meant to go, minus a pinky finger. Mom had fixed it, but I'd been afraid to try it again, lest I lose something more important than a pinky finger. Sometimes my werewolf blood didn't play well with my magic.

I was willing to risk it, though. I closed my eyes and focused on Monica's kitchen, then gathered my magic.

I was relieved when the scent of vanilla and spices filled my nostrils, and opened my eyes. I was standing exactly where I'd pictured.

Monica looked to me, startled, as I examined myself for missing parts. "I didn't know you could do that," she said.

"I can't," I answered, then waved her off when she raised a brow. "How are Kat and Rissa?"

I'd no sooner asked than Sean Castle burst through the front door. He sniffed, then headed directly toward the bedroom, where I assumed the girls were, without so much as a by your leave.

Underneath the worry, I felt a little twinge of satisfaction that I'd beaten him there. Still, I considered it luck. We followed Sean into the bedroom and I was relieved that both girls looked much better, though still not up to full speed.

Kat was explaining what happened. "The only thing I can figure is it must have been our drinks. It hit me faster because I drank more."

Sean turned toward Monica. "What did you give them?"

"She rattled off the ingredients. "And I used an incant I learned in Ireland from Siobhan McCourt."

The name meant nothing to me, but it obviously did to Sean. His expression changed from mildly condescending to surprised respect. I made a mental note to ask Monica about it later and realized yet again how little I actually knew about my friend.

Sean examined them again, firing off a few more questions about who was working and who wasn't. I tuned back in, because these were questions I would have asked. I planned to do everything in my power to catch whoever tried to kill my friends.

A look of horror crossed Monica's face. "What if the whole batch was poisoned?"

I picked up what she was saying. If so, somebody had likely died.

I pulled Rock's number up on my phone, noting as I did that it was after midnight; the band should be packing up. He picked up after just a few rings and, there was a low hum of voices and clinking glasses in the background, but no blaring music.

Giving him a brief rundown, I asked if there were any other real bloody marys sold.

"No," he said, and I could picture him scratching his jaw, mostly because I could hear the scrape of whiskers. Sometimes super hearing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Kat and Rissa got the last of it because I ran outta mix. Got more comin' tomorrow mornin'."

"And they're the only ones you served bloody marys all evening?"

"Not the only ones, but the only ones outta that batch. They finished it, beginning to end, between the two of them."

"You're assuming it was in the blood or the mix," Sean said. "What about the vodka?"

I relayed the question.

"No way," Rocks said. "I did a coupla shots outta that bottle myself. Since it was Kat's, I used the good stuff. And I did the shots after they left."

I thanked him and hung up.

Monica took a deep breath. "There's another alternative."

Sean raised a brow. "And that would be?"

"The server," I said, realization dawning.

"And I hate to say it, but Rocks could have done it, too."

Sean and Kat shook their heads.

"No way," Kat said. "Rocks and I go way back. And I mean way back."

Sean rubbed his jaw, but said nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why aren’t you agreeing with her?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I don't trust anybody."

Kat scowled. "Thanks."

Sean rolled his eyes. You know what I mean. I haven't seen him in twenty years."

"But I have," Kat said. "And I'm saying no way. I've worked for him for ten years and known him for a couple of centuries. If he wanted me dead, he's had plenty of opportunities before now."

"Things change. Or maybe you weren't the target." He glanced at Rissa.

Raising her hand palm out, she said, "Oh, no. I haven't done anything to anybody. I keep my nose clean and to myself."

"Well we're not going to figure it out tonight." Monica pulled her hair back from her face. "We may as well all go to bed. I know most of the people in this room are wired to be up at night, but I'm not."

"Me either," I said. "I'll do some checking tomorrow."

"And I'll do some checking tonight," Sean crossed his arms, and looked every bit the killing machine he was, rather than the playboy he generally pretended to be.

I shivered. Though I was lethal in my own right, I wouldn't want to be on the bad end of that. Glancing at Kat and Rissa, my wolf growled and hoped that somebody would be.

CHAPTER TWELVE

––––––––

THE ALARM ON MY PHONE was a cutesy, fun melody, but when it went off a few hours after we got home, I wanted to throw it out the window.

When it rang ten minutes later, I almost did. I groaned when I saw Mom's face pop up on the screen, but knew I needed to take it.

"Yes, Mom?" I said like she was the hangman. That made sense, because it was kinda how I felt about her right then.

"Cordelia Delphine! I taught you better manners than that. Use them."

I force a smile to my face because they say actually smiling releases happy endorphins, which seemed the be in short supply for me right then.

"Good morning, Mom. How are you," I said, starting over.

"That's better. I was just wondering if Alexander has gotten in touch yet."

Pulling my phone away from my face to check the time, I scowled. "It's not even eight, yet. No. He hasn't gotten in touch yet."

She paused. "That's odd."

"What's so odd about it? I'm not at the office yet."

"I was under the impression he was going to be there last night."

"If he is, I haven't heard from him. He's probably waiting 'til I go to work. You know, like normal people do."

"Sarcasm isn't attractive on you, Cordelia."

I rolled my eyes, then squinted as the sunlight hit me when I opened the drapes. "I know, but neither is being up half the night with Kat, then having my mother play twenty questions before I've even had my first cup of coffee."

Her stiff tone told me I might have gone a tad too far. When she replied, I knew I had. "I hardly call making sure your backup arrived playing games. After all, two women are dead, and you're not having any luck. One more and the FBI will come in. Is that what you want?"

I pulled in a huge breath through my nose, then blew it out through my mouth. "Of course not, Mom. But he isn't here yet. As soon as he is, I'll let you know, okay?"

She sniffed. "Thank you."

"Then you'll be the first to know."

"Oh, and Cori? Be nice."

Scoffing, I said, "When am I ever not nice?"

"I'm just saying. Put a little effort in here. He's a valuable asset to the pack."

My bullshit alarm was bouncing into the red, but I had more pressing issues than worrying about what was going through my mother's head.

"Will do, Mom." I paused for a moment and considered whether or not to tell her what had happened to Kat and Rissa, and decided not to. The last thing I wanted was to throw more fuel on that fire, at least until I decided whether or not there was a connection.

I took a quick shower, pulled on my favorite burgundy blazer, and headed toward town. I was glad to see that MochaLocha's, my favorite coffee shop, wasn't busy. The smell of fresh-baked bread and coffee welcomed me when I pushed through the door, and Mona, the owner and barista, was already making my coffee when I walked through the door.

"I'll have you fixed up in just a second, hun," she said, frothing the milk. She was one of the most pleasant people I'd ever met, and a real character. She'd been around as long as I could remember, and was a witch with mad kitchen magic. If it weren't for my wolfy metabolism, her pastries would be sitting right on my hips.

She also made it her business to keep track of everything going on in town, and was free with the information. Sometimes too free, since she'd told Zach where to find me. I decided to let it slide.

She popped the lid on my coffee and slid it across the counter to me. "Hang on just a second, sugar. I gotta go to the back and get your danish. There aren't any left up here."

Mocha's was the hotbed in town for all the best gossip, and several eyes turned toward me while I waited. I didn't have to be psychic to hear the questions, and my face burned because I didn't have the answers.

"Now that's what I call service," a voice said to my right.

I turned and was surprised to see Mr. Hotness from the night before smiling at me.

"Imagine running into you, two days in a row," I said, smiling back. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me."

He cleared his throat and I raised a brow.

"It's not exactly like that, but I was planning on meeting you. Just not quite the way I did."

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

He held his hand out. "Alex Dixon." He glanced around the shop, aware of the eyes on us, and stepped closer so as not to be heard. "I know your mother and she said I should look you up while I'm here. I went to your office when I made it to town, but you were already gone. So I figured rather than show up at your house, I'd have a beer and wait 'til today."

The way he said he knew my mother was diplomatic and vague, and I couldn't decide whether he was just used to playing pack politics or if he was trying to avoid invading my space any more than he was being paid to do. Or if he was just playing it cool because we had an audience.

Examining him, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least until he gave me reason not to.

After all, my mother was a lot of things, but she knew how to get things done and tended to know who would be best for the job at hand. If she'd sent him, she believed he would be useful, and I could use a heaping helping of that.

I had my pride, but I wasn't willing to risk more people dying for the sake of it.

I stuck out my hand. "Cori Sloane. Pleasure to meet you."

Shaking, he motioned toward the pastry case just as Mona came back and handed me my danish in a little bag.

"All of it," she answered for me as she slid a fresh tray of blackberry danishes into the case. "Just depends on what you like."

Nodding, I said, "She's right. If you like sweets, there's not a thing in that case you won't like. If you don't like sweets, I don't know what to tell you, except you don't know what you're missing."

Grinning, he told Mona, "I'll take whatever she has, then, and a double caramel latte."

I pulled cash out of my wallet, but as usual, Mona waved me off, but studied me for a second, her faded blue eyes seeming to dig into my soul. "I put a little extra in your coffee. I had a feeling this morning when you walked in. You be careful, you hear?"

She turned back toward the coffee machine to make Alex's coffee, and I chewed my lip, uncertain whether to ask more or not.

She had the site, and was usually dead on. If she told you to be careful, you'd do well to follow her advice. The only problem was that I didn't understand what she meant. But if that's all she said, it was likely all she knew. When she saw more details, she shared them.

"I will," I said, my mind wandering over the possibilities as she handed Alex his coffee.

She frowned when she saw my expression. "Don't overthink it. Just use your noggin before you act. That's all I got. Now go on and have a good day. Good luck."

Alex followed me outside. "What did she mean, she put something extra in your coffee?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I know she put something in there, but your guess is as good as mine as to whether it was for energy, or luck, or a head cold."

"You're just going to drink it?"

I cocked a brow at him. "What else should I do with it?"

He blinked twice. "I guess I don't have a response to that."

"I don't trust many people," I said, taking a sip of my coffee, "but I do trust Mona. Whatever she put in there will only help. And she always seems to know exactly what I need."

Shrugging, he took a bite out of his danish.

"Besides," I said, thinking back to the night before. "It may be better to worry about people who don't tell you what they put in your drink."

"Is that what happened to your vampire friend? She looked like hammered shit, and that's quite a stretch for a vampire."

I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to decide whether or not to tell him. "Just out of curiosity, what are your orders from my mother?"

He crinkled his brow. "I don't have orders, per se. She asked me to come help you out. I have an ... affinity for this type of thing."

"What type of thing?"

Lifting one corner of his mouth up, he said, "Figuring out puzzles."

That didn't make much sense, but it seemed it was all he was going to offer.

"Speaking of my mother," I said, reaching for my phone, "I need to let her know you're officially here."

Surprised, he said, "I already did."

I shook my head. "She called this morning and I told her I hadn't seen you. I didn't know who you were last night.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

––––––––

I GAVE HIM DIRECTIONS to the courthouse, and he met me there. Once we were in my office, I shoved the files to him, then pulled my danish out of the bag.

"The victims had nothing in common, no common people or places or jobs. Not age or politics, just ... nothing."

He flipped through Tabbie's file, and I noted how clinical his expression was as he examined the pictures. Not cold, so much, but detached. These weren't the first gruesome pictures he'd seen.

"Any evidence at all, other than the prints?"

I started to shake my head, but then remembered. "There was a tuft of fur at the last scene."

He flipped through to the evidence list and scanned it again as if he'd missed it. "I don't see it."

"That's because I didn't think it was wise to leave proof of werewolves in an evidence locker."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "I'm not used to dealing directly with humans. Most of my projects involve supernatural people only."

"Projects?" The more cryptic he became, the more curious it made me. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose, but it didn't feel deliberate.

"Yeah, projects. I do everything from help locate stolen goods to tracking down people who don't want to be found. Though I have to admit, this is my first time for a rogue werewolf."

"Well welcome to the club," I said, frowning. "May it be our last."

Billy Braxton was supposed to come in and see me that day, so I left a message with Ms. Ellen to send him back the minute he got there.

Alex raised a brow. "Person of interest?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure yet. He's the boyfriend, but he's a wolf and didn't register with me when he came to town several months ago." Billy's earnest expression flitted through my head. "I'm reserving judgment for now. He's supposed to come talk to me today."

"What for, if you questioned him yesterday?" Alex leaned forward in his chair and put his elbows on his knees, waiting for my answer.

"He was with a human—the victim's sister—and couldn't tell me about his family. More important, when I went to talk to Tabitha's boss yesterday, I found out they've had some arguments recently because she wants to meet them and he refuses."

Alex leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "Yeah, but we both know what the problem might be there. She's a human and not all packs would sanction the match. It may have put her in danger if they even know about her."

I ran my hand down my face. "Believe me, I know."

His eyes lighted with understanding. "Oh. Yeah, I could see where somebody in your station may run into that problem."

I smiled bitterly. "It gives me the urge to allow a little latitude, at least with the meet the parents thing. Failing to let me know he moved here is a whole other kettle of fish, though. I'm not letting him off the hook for that one."

Over the next couple hours, I brought him up to speed on what had happened so far, and what I'd tried, which sounded so lame when I spoke it out loud that I was embarrassed. But what more could I have done? We reviewed each victim, their backgrounds, and family members.

I even told him about Sully's suggestion that I bring in other members of the community, at least to put more eyes out for the guy.

"That's not a horrible idea," Alex said.

"I know." I pulled up my shifter graphs on my computer. A couple years prior, we'd had some land disputes and I'd drawn a map detailing where one family's territory ended and another began. Some areas were shared, if the families got along.

It was also helpful for keeping track of everybody.

I flipped my screen around and showed him. "Every inch of the county is claimed, which means in theory, we'd have eyes everywhere. I scheduled a meeting with the clan leaders for this afternoon."

He squinted at the screen. Some areas were small, either because the family was small or because some species didn't need that much space. "Can you trust them all?"

Shrugging, I said, "For the most part. Not when it comes to everything, but when somebody's out there murdering people, I do. Nobody wants the feds—or even elders of my pack—coming down on us."

"Or the Trackers," he added.

I dipped my head. "Definitely not the Trackers.

"When are we meeting with them?"

"Two, in the back room of the Rusty Hook," I said, checking the clock on my phone. "That gives us plenty of time if you want to check out the murder scenes."

He nodded. "I definitely do. Now?"

"No time like the present," I said, pushing up from my chair.

"What about the Braxton kid?" he asked, standing as well.

I pulled his number up on my phone and dialed. It rang five times then went to voicemail. I left him a quick but no-nonsense message reminding him that if he didn't come see me, I'd come find him, then left my number and told him to call me.

"Ready?" I asked, tucking the case folders under my arm.

"Ready."

On the way out, I stopped and introduced him to Ms. Ellen. She pulled her glasses down and looked at him over the top of them. "Well hello," she said. "Cori's single."

Oh sweet baby Jesus. She and my mother may not see eye to eye, but they sure were on the same page there.

He bit his cheek to keep from smiling, but didn't do much of a job. "So her mother tells me."

"Yeah," she said, wrinkling her nose, "But you can't believe anything that stuck-up old windbag tells you. She never has gave Cori her due. The girl's a fine catch. Personable, good work ethic—"she tilted her head toward me—"and she ain't too shabby to look at, either. Man could do much worse."

I groaned and ran my tongue over my teeth, wishing I could just crawl in a hole. "Thanks, Ms. Ellen, for the glowing review. I'm sure Mr. Dixon has somebody at home. He's only here to help out with the case."

He grinned openly and held up a bare left hand. "Nope," he said. "Nobody waiting for me."

"See," she said to me. "Time's a wastin' girlie."

I didn't think I could be any more embarrassed, but I didn't want to stick around to find out. "C'mon, Alex." I glared at Ms. Ellen, though it seemed to be lost on her. "We have business to attend to."

Once we were out the door, I said, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into her. She's brassy, but she doesn't typically try to auction me like I'm a prize cow."

He laughed, and I liked the sound. "Well, to be honest, I got almost exactly the same spiel from your mom."

"I have no doubt," I said, thinking back to her plea for me to be nice. "It seems that even as a leader of a multi-state pack, she somehow still finds time to torment me."

"Well," he said, "look on the bright side."

I arched a brow as we skipped off the last couple steps of the courthouse and into the employee lot. "And what would that be?"

His eyes sparkled. "They could be trying to hook you up with an ugly old guy."

I sighed as I hit the button to unlock the doors to the Jeep. "Small blessings, I suppose."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

––––––––

IT ONLY TOOK US A FEW minutes to get to the park, and I took him to the first murder scene first, since it was the closest. Both sides of the trail had lots of trees and shrubbery so that the road wasn't visible, even though it was only twenty yards or so away.

"A guy was walking his dog, and the dog found her back here," I said, taking a few steps off the trail. I tried to avoid the markers that were still there, even though the trail was old.

He crossed his arm over his chest then rested his elbow on it and rubbed his chin, taking in every detail. I handed him the pics out of Victoria's folder so he could compare them to the scene.

After shuffling through them and examining the spot from a couple different angles, he said, "So was she killed here, do you believe?"

I nodded. "The ground was saturated with blood, though he did snatch her on the trail and drag her here to finish her. There were droplets on the trail and drag marks where you tell she'd struggled. Dirt under her nails and grass stains on the butt of her running shorts."

He puckered his lips and pushed them to one side, his gaze wandering over the scene. "Any guess as to how big he was?"

"I'd say a buck fifty, maybe a little more." I pointed toward a partial set of prints that hadn't been destroyed when the emergency crew extracted her. "As you can see, his paw prints are huge. Half again as big as mine and the impressions are a good half-inch to an inch into the soil."

He pushed the toe of his boot into the ground, watching to see how deep the print went, then examined the print. "The ground was about the same as it is now? Not wetter or dryer?"

"It's about the same. It's rained since then, but only once. That's pretty typical."

Nodding, he squatted down and examined the print. "Anything outstanding about the prints?" he asked without looking up.

"Not that I could see."

He took a deep breath through his nose, pulling in the scent, then furrowed his brow and swallowed. "Wow, all I can smell is ... her."

"Yeah," I said. "I had the same problem. A faint scent underneath it all, but it was so overwhelmed that I don't even think I'd recognize it if the guy was standing right beside me."

Did you come back in wolf form to look for a trail?" he asked, pushing back to his feet.

I gave myself a mental forehead slap as we stepped back onto the trail and turned toward where we'd found Tabitha. I hadn't told him about Zach yet. "Sort of."

He raised his brows. "Sort of? How do you sort of come back?"

"I came back to this scene, but there was nothing, other than the faint scent, and even that died at the trail. My guess? It was so early he shifted back to his human form on the trail. Maybe his clothes were hidden nearby, or he parked by the road." I pointed toward the road with my chin. "There's a pull-off right through these bushes."

"And the second scene?"

I pulled Zach's card out of my shield wallet and handed it to him. This guy showed up while we were processing the scene."

He read it, frowning. "So who is he? I mean, really?"

I told him what I knew about Zach, omitting the personal details, then thought better of it. "Remember that human relationship we touched on earlier?"

Pulling in a deep breath, he said, "Don't tell me."

"Yup," I said. "He showed up out of the blue. Hadn't seen or heard from him in twelve years."

"Then I suggest you let me deal with him," he said. "That way, you don't have to worry about personal baggage interfering with the investigation, and neither do I."

That was probably for the best, though I didn't think Zach would see it that way. I nodded.

"Besides, the last thing we need is a trigger-happy dude with no idea what he's gotten himself into," Alex said.

We'd reached the spot where Tabbie had been killed. "I couldn't agree more. Unfortunately, he's not that easy to persuade. I told him that, and then the night this girl died, I came back here to try to pick up a scent, and he showed up."

I told him about the incident, and was frustrated all over again by the missed opportunity.

He huffed out a breath. "Damned interfering civilians. He thinks he's out here helping, doing society a service, but eventually he's going to end up hurt or dead when he runs into something that does more than go bump in the night."

Stepping off the path and toward the brush line where we'd found Tabbie, I said, "This is where we found Tabitha Young. Same MO. Except I found the fur."

"Same color as the one your buddy grazed that night?" he asked as he stepped off the path to check it out.

Irritation shot through me at his use of the word buddy, but I pushed it aside. "Roughly," I said. "If I had to lay a bet, I probably would."

I thought back to that night, and something clicked in my head. "Though wolf I met wasn't as big as I'd expect the killer to be." I shrugged. "He was big though, so I guess it's possible I misjudged his size one way or anther."

He reached for the folder, and I handed him the pictures. Again, he flipped through them, moving around so he was viewing the scene from the same angle as the picture he was looking at.

"What about families?" he asked. "I'd think they'd be all over you by now."

Lifting a shoulder, I said, "Victoria had no family, and I've talked to Tabbie's mom a couple of times on the phone. Sam talked to her in person. She's older and can't get out much. Tabbie was a midlife surprise."

"Speaking of Sam," Alex said, "Where does he fit into all of this? How much does he know about you?"

I smiled. "Sam knows everything about me. He's an old family friend. Dated one of mom's friends for a while in high school, though he doesn't have anything much nice to say about my mom now."

"Why not?" He bent down closer to examine the print. It was faded to almost nothing since that part of the trail wasn't sheltered by trees as much as the other spot.

Again, he drew in a deep breath, leaning closer to the spot where I'd found the fur. Frustrated, he shook his head. "Still nothing."

"Yeah, same thing as last time. I haven't had a chance to examine the spot again. I'd thought about doing it last night, then Kat got sick."

He stood and brushed his hands off. "Yeah, what happened to her? I don't think I've ever seen a sick vampire."

"Poisoned," I said, walking back to the trail. "Both of them. Fortunately, Monica—the witch who was with us—knew a cure. I may as well tell you that Sean Castle, the vampire the town's named after, is back in town. He knows about it and is checking into it himself. It seems it was either the server, or the bloody mary mix."

"Who had access to the mix?"

I kicked myself because I hadn't thought to ask that, then fired off a text to Kat, asking her the same question. I also wanted to make sure she was okay. She was likely asleep since it was the middle of the day, but I wanted to know as soon as she woke up. "I assume the bartender, the server. The dishwasher, probably. The cook. I need to follow up on that, if Sean hasn't already."

He drew his brows together. "You're content to let a civilian vampire lead the investigation?"

"Sugar," I said, "It's not a matter of being content. It's a matter of not being able to stop him, of respecting vampire law, and of being willing to let him use his considerable resources to get to the bottom of it."

"What if he gets the wrong person?"

I puffed out a dry laugh. "Sean Castle doesn't get the wrong person. He's fair, he's smart, and he's respected. He'll make damned sure somebody's guilty before he takes action, but he will find them and take action."

He nodded, understanding. Because we had so many different sub-cultures, it was unrealistic—and to be honest, dangerous—to expect everybody to abandon systems that had been developed over centuries.

Most cultures followed similar rules—take care of your own and punish rule-breakers accordingly. The humans in my constituency were the only segment who looked solely to me to keep law and order. Fortunately for them, all of the other species had strict laws about harming humans or my job would have been much more complicated than it was.

Shifters and vampires already had laws—effective, enforced laws—in place to deal with every crime imaginable. I wasn't going to question it as long as those rules were fair, applied equally, and the punishment fit the crime.

And as far as I was concerned, somebody had poisoned my friends, most likely in an attempt to kill at least one of them, and Sean would find them and deal with them much more efficiently than the human justice system would.

I was okay with that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

––––––––

WHEN WE GOT BACK TO my Jeep, I checked my messages. Billy Braxton hadn't called me, and I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, thinking.

"You think you were wrong about this kid?" Alex asked.

I pinched my lips together. "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to me, but it's not looking good."

"Maybe we should head out to his place. See what's up."

"Yeah. If I was wrong about him, I don't wanna give him too much of a head start." I turned the Jeep around and headed toward the trailer.

When we pulled in, neither his car nor Amanda's was there, so we got out and took a look around. Alex wrinkled his nose as I pounded on the door. "I'm getting a buzz just standing here."

"I know. The last time I was here, it was awesome. They'd tried to cover it up with air freshener."

"So what now? Are you going inside?"

I glanced around the neighborhood and noticed an older lady in a flowered house dress sweeping the same spot on her porch over and over and casting what I'm sure she thought were overt glances in our direction.

"Nah," I said, keeping an eye on my feet as I navigated the rickety stairs. The last thing I needed was tetanus. "Let's see what Ms. Nosy Neighbor has to say."

He grinned. "Gotta love small-town America."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye while smiling at the woman. "It's a pain, but she probably knows more about them than she does about her own kids."

She gave up the pretense of sweeping and leaned on her broom as we approached.

"Hi," I said when we were almost to her. "I'm Sheriff Cori Sloane and this is ... Special Agent Alex Dixon. We're looking for the young man who lives over there. Do you know when he was there last?"

She gave me a cursory glance and turned her attention to Alex, giving him a semi-flirtatious smile. One of her front teeth was missing, and it took everything in my power to keep a passive face when she gave him a once-over. It seemed it would be best to let him take the lead.

"Special Agent, huh?" she said, pulling herself up straight and patting her curlers.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, glancing at the neat rows of petunias lining the porch. "You have a beautiful lawn. I'm sure you keep a close eye on the neighborhood, and it sure would be helpful if you could share any information. Miss ..."

She snorted, then shook her head and leaned back on her broom. "Silver-tongued devil. You remind me of my Albert, Lord rest his ornery soul. Handsome as all get-out, and smooth, too." She held out her hand. "Agnes Ketterling. I reckon you're lookin' for the boy, am I right?"

"We are," Alex said, shaking her hand. When she frowned, he was quick to add, "But he's not in any trouble, at least not yet. We just need to talk to him."

She nodded, and her face sagged, sad. "About poor Tabbie, no doubt. You ain't went and got it in your head he done it, have you?"

"Why would you ask that?" I asked.

"I just figured, since he up and left in the middle of the night after you was here, that he musta been in some kinda trouble."

She shook her head. "All three of 'em were such good kids. Billy mowed my lawn every week, and Tabbie and Mandy would come over and help me dust and run the sweeper. I have problems haulin' it out of the closet anymore, and my eyesight ain't what it used to be either."

"I think Mandy smoked some pot, but Tabbie and Billy were straight. Never did see either one of 'em stoned."

She grinned at the startled expression on my face. "Honey, I'm seventy-one years old. I was at Woodstock—the original one—and spent a couple months in Haight-Ashbury in the sixties. I've worn daisy chains, and protested wars, though I ain't never disrespected a soldier in my life. Punched a girl in the mouth once for doin' it, though. Course, that was all before I settled down and started my family. Still, I was smokin' pot before their parents were born."

Alex coughed to cover a laugh, and Alice's eyes sparkled, then she sobered as she remembered what we'd been discussing.

"It's a damned shame about Tabbie. She was gonna make somethin' of herself, that one."

"So you don't think Billy could have done it?"

She heaved a sigh. "The kid was hidin' somethin'. Every time I asked about his family, even somethin' generic like where he was from, he'd skip all around a real answer, and Tabbie told me they were havin' some problems cause he wouldn't take her to meet them."

Leaning the broom against the outside of the house, she settled into a one of two little chairs on her porch and rubbed her knee as if it ached. "I'd love to say there's no way he coulda, but you just never know."

I handed her a card. "If he comes back, will you let us know?" I asked. "I just want to ask him some questions."

She quirked a brow. "That's what the law always says."

"I know. But in this case, it's the truth."

Looking into my face, she seemed to be taking my measure. I must have passed muster because she nodded. "If he comes back around, I'll call."

"Thank you." Alex smiled at her again, and we left, but before we made it out of the yard, she called, "You know about what he is, right?"

I glanced at Alex out of the corner of my eye before turning slowly back to her. Surely she didn't mean what we thought she did.

Again, she studied me, then held up her hand. "I see you do. It ain't no nevermind how I know, but it's the only reason I'll call you; otherwise, I know there's no way he'da done it. But he fits the physical bill, so I trust you'll figure it out and give him a fair shake."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, and turned back toward my car.

"Well," Alex said. "Every time I think I have people pegged, I meet someone like her."

"No kidding. The whole conversation was almost surreal. But we got confirmation from another source that all was not well in Young Love Land." I glanced at my watch; we only had an hour before the meeting with the clan leaders.

While we were buckling up, I called the lumberyard where he worked. His boss said he'd called in the day before claiming he had a family emergency and didn't know when he'd be back.

It was official. Billy Braxton was in the wind.

My next call was to Dani, who hadn't had any luck figuring out who he was, but she said she'd keep at it. I asked her to check into Zach and figure out where he'd been and what he'd been doing for the last twelve years.

That would be much easier, considering he was a human. Bureaucracy was sometimes a wonderful thing.

I punched the disconnect on my Bluetooth dash, and turned to Alex. "It looks like we're gonna have to change tacks."

"So it does. Luckily, I'm used to getting creative."

Barking out a laugh, I said, "It's probably a good thing you didn't say anything like that in front of Mrs. Ketterling, or you'd have a date."

"Go ahead. Laugh," he said, smug. "I'll tell Ms. Ellen and your mother you were mean to me."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Funny. You didn't strike me as a tattletale."

He grinned that the cat that ate the canary. "I'm not. I'm a winner."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

––––––––

ON THE WAY, THE SKY turned leaden, and the electricity in the air was almost palpable. The wind was picking up when we pulled into the bar parking lot, and I figured we'd missed the afternoon downpour by the skin of our teeth.

We hadn't had time to grab lunch, so when we stepped into Sully's, the tangy smell of wings and fried foods made my stomach growl.

"I feel your pain," Alex said when his stomach followed suit. I gave my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim interior, then headed to my stool at the bar. Sully often joked he was gonna put a nameplate on it for me.

"Ye doin' a beer or a tea, lass?" Sully asked, lumbering from the far end of the bar to where we were sitting.

"Better make it a tea," I said. "No telling when I'm gonna need my wits about me, and at this point, I don't know if I'd stop at just one."

"Rough day, eh?"

I rolled my head on my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension in my shoulders. "You have no idea."

He raised a brow, and I lifted one corner of my mouth in a wry half-smile. "Or maybe you do."

Turning to Alex, he said, "And you must be the watchdog—pardon the pun—Miranda set on my lass here."

Alex frowned. "Not exactly. I'm here to help. I don't report to Miranda, except in the most general of terms."

I raised my brows, surprised. I'd assumed he was there to watch and report back, as well as help.

"Well ye can report back that she's doin' as fine a job as anybody in her shoes could. Now what'll ye be havin'?"

"I will have a beer. Guinness if you've got it."

Sully snorted. "Course I got Guiness. What's a bar without it?"

While he poured our drinks, I asked Alex, "What do you mean you only report to my mother in the most general of terms?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I'm contracted by the pack, not your mother's direct employee. I report vital information, and I determine what's vital."

"But my mother is the pack."

"No, technically your father is pack leader. We see eye to eye. Your mother tends to be ... short-sighted."

I chewed on that for a minute. "She also tends to get what she wants regardless of who she plows over to get it. I'm not immune to that, and right now, she thinks I'm failing."

He shook his head. "Actually, she doesn't. She's worried about you."

I scoffed. "Miranda Sloane doesn't worry about anything other than appearances and keeping the pack united."

Dipping his head, he said, "That's true to a certain degree, because it has to be. However, she specifically put it out that you requested my presence."

I wrinkled my brow. "Why would she do that?"

He sucked in a big breath, then blew it out, shaking his head. "Don't make the mistake of being myopic. She wanted it to appear as if you made the call to bring in a specialist."

"That's the second time you've referred to yourself like that. What, exactly, is your specialty?"

Another big sigh. "You don't make things easy, do you?"

"It seems easy to me," I said. "If we're working together, I need  to know what your skill set is."

He paused, and I wondered if he was pulling together a lie. Instead, he turned and looked me in the eye. "Like you, I have witch blood. Though I'm half, rather than a quarter. My mother is a witch."

I cocked a brow. "Convenient," I said. "How did that happen?"

"Uh, if you don't know ..."

I felt the blush creep up my cheeks and scowled at him. "I don't need the birds and the bees speech, thanks. I meant, how did your mom and dad manage to come together to begin with? It's not exactly a traditional pairing."

"It's not as uncommon in other places as it is here, and it wasn't a planned thing. My dad was the best man at a wedding, and my mom was the maid of honor."

I did my best not to laugh, but failed miserably. "So you're the result of a wedding hookup?"

He glared at me. "Go ahead. Laugh. But when my skills save your ass, you'll be grateful for the tradition."

Sully overheard the conversation and smiled, his gaze far away. I met one of the most talented lasses I ever had the pleasure of—"

I held up my hand. "If you like me even a little bit, please don't finish that sentence."

He guffawed and held his hand out to Alex. "Pleased to make yer acquaintance, lad. I trust ye have my girl's back." He narrowed his eyes. "Should anything happen to her on your watch ..."

"Hey!" I said. "I'm not exactly a damsel in distress, here. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself!"

"I wasn't implyin' otherwise, girlie. Just that some jobs need more hands than others."

A man who could have passed for Sully's twin if not for his blond hair stepped through the door, squinting as he did so.

"Liam!" Sully boomed. "Long time, no see, brother." He went around the bar and the two men shook, then went in for what looked like a crushing one-armed hug. "Come over and meet our fine Sheriff."

He introduced me to the man, who had an infectious smile that I suspected was always near the surface. I introduced Alex.

"Liam is our den leader. He'll be representin' the local bear shifters. We're still waitin' for Donald Wilson, the leader of the coyote shifters, and Reina Foster, the alpha of the badger clan."

I raised a brow. "When you decide to call a meeting, you do it right. I only expected to meet people from your clan, not that I'm complaining."

Sully shook his head. "Girlie, it's time to pull together. We need to stop the murders, both for the safety of all, but also to protect our region. We don't want to draw any more unwanted attention than we already have."

Within a few minutes, a small, sinewy woman strode through the door, a single white streak running through her glossy black hair. She'd just introduced herself when a wiry red-headed man arrived.

We gathered at a table in the back and ordered lunch. It was a shifter thing; all meetings generally started with food, likely because it allowed folks to get a feel for one another. And also because we all loved to eat.

Reina was outspoken, while Donald spent most of the time listening. He was friendly enough, but a bit reserved. I suspected he was taking our measure.

I explained the situation, though they knew most of the details already. Since I had a physical description, I gave them that. "I have a clump of fur, but not enough to share for the scent.

"We've already been to the scene, Reina said. "After the human took a shot at him. We picked up the scent."

Donald nodded. "As did we," he said, his expression stony. "We weren't willing to wait while you continue to flail. And what are you going to do about the human hunter? He was in our territory last night."

I took a deep breath. "Aside from arresting him, there's nothing I can do. He has permits and is legal."

"Then arrest him," Reina said. "We don't have much to worry about, but our larger brothers and sisters do."

At that moment, Sean Castle himself swept in the door. "I believe I may alleviate some of your concerns," he said. "I've taken steps to deal with the human so we may settle the situation without interference."

"And what dog do you have in this fight?" Liam asked.

Sean ran his tongue over his teeth, then replied, "Perhaps you've forgotten that I founded this town. I was against humans moving into it, but there wasn't much to be done about it. Now that they're here, I take it personally when one of them"—he met the eyes of everybody at the table—"or any of you, come to harm. One of my dearest friends, and her friend, were recently poisoned, so I'll be running a dual investigation."

My thoughts turned to Zach. "What steps have you taken to deal with Zach McClure?"

"Don't worry, Sheriff. No harm will come to him. I'm simply utilizing some of my connections to disrupt those permits you spoke of. I believe the red wolf is an endangered species and by sometime late today, you'll find the forestlands that extent throughout the county, are now considered a federal park, managed at the county level, under direct supervision of the sheriff. Hunting is, of course, restricted."

I raised my brows and took a deep breath, then exhaled. "I have to hand it to you, Sean. When you move, you move big."

He smiled, and that deceptive boyish charm was back. "Is there any other way to move, Sheriff?"

Zach was gonna be pissed seven ways to Sunday, but I was relieved. I'd no longer have to worry about his safety, or that of my shifter communities. For that matter, I wouldn't have to worry about stray bullets hitting a human. I'd also be free to shift and hunt for this guy as I saw fit.

"And what are your plans for dealing with this man when you find him, Sheriff?" Liam asked.

"He'll be subject to pack law," I said. "My plan is to capture him and turn him over to my parents. We need to know why he's doing this, and make sure he's a singular concern rather than part of a bigger picture."

"And if one of us runs against him while hunting or in human form?" Donald asked.

I paused, considering, then gave the only real answer I could come up with. "Defend yourselves as necessary but avoid engagement and contact me if possible. We claim first right in this case as he is a wolf."

The general rule, put into place to avoid vigilante justice or prejudice was that people who committed crimes were dealt with within their own ruling government.

Reina nodded once. "Your parents have proven themselves to be fair. We're fine with that, and respect that you've called the communities together."

Donald snorted and looked at me with disdain, but everybody else nodded and agreed with her.

"Thank you. And thank you for coming together. I don't want anymore deaths."

"Nor do we, lass," Liam said. "Nor do we."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

––––––––

THE MEETING HAD JUST ended when my cell rang, and a sense of dread settled on my shoulders. I knew who it was before I even looked at the caller ID, and was afraid I knew why he was calling, too.

I slid my finger across the screen to answer. "Hey Sam."

"Hi Cori." He sounded like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "We've got another body—a man this time. Another runner found him on the other side of the woods right off the trail. I haven't been able to get much out of her because she's in shock, but I doubt she'll have much to offer, anyway."

"Damn it. That area was cordoned off for a reason. Where are you?"

"About a hundred yards north of the rope swing."

I knew exactly where he was talking about; I'd swung off of that rope into the lake hundreds of times as a kid; every time I ran past it, memories of those times flashed through my head. I had a feeling they weren't going to be so pleasant after that today.

"And Cori?"

"Yeah, Sam?" The note in his voice notched my concern up about five levels.

"He's naked. Not a stitch of clothes to be found anywhere."

"Oh, shit," I said. "I'll be right there."

"Another one?" Alex asked, worry creasing his brow.

I gave a sharp nod and ran my hand over my face. "Apparently two people didn't see all the bright yellow and orange tape closing off the area. And unless I miss my guess, he was a shifter of some sort. Buck naked."

His face went white. "That's not good, Cori. The peace within the pack and with other supernaturals is tentative right now. This could start a war."

"I'm aware," I said as we climbed into my Jeep. "So let's find this guy. Time for you to do your thing, Mr. Specialist." Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye as I buckled up, I said, "And what exactly is your thing, by the way?"

"My thing is that I'm precognitive. And a little bit psychic. And I can do most of the basic spells others can."

"Oh." That did stack the odds for me at least a little.

"And I can tell you right now, your Mr. McClure is fixin' to be extremely unhappy with you."

We made our way to the scene. The rain had let up and the sun was shining. That meant that in about twenty minutes, it was gonna be so humid we'd be breathing our water. The site was about half a mile from the last, but this time the body had been partially hidden in a bush.

Sam was standing guard at the caution tape and lifted it for me, sweat beaded on his brow. A ring of looky-loos dressed in casual summer clothes were standing at the perimeter, so he waited until we were  yards away before speaking.

"The guy obviously didn't have any ID on him and we don't have anybody reported missing yet. Stan's down trying to find a vehicle that may belong to him, but the ladies' auxiliary is hosting a public picnic down by the gazebo to raise money for the fall festival. There are dozens of cars in the lot."

I heaved a deep sigh. "Of course there are." Because Fate hated me. I had no idea what I'd done, but I was going to start being nicer, maybe volunteer at the soup kitchen or something. I'd done a short stint at the animal shelter but was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to adopt them all.

I squatted down and pushed the branches and leaves aside to find a youngish looking male: tall, dark hair, chiseled physique. Unlike the other victims, he had some battle wounds, but was intact. There were bite marks on his throat—unless I missed my guess, cause of death would be broken neck.

Bracing myself, I pulled in a lungful of air through my nose. He was a wolf.

My hackles rose, and rage coursed through me at what this man had endured. I snapped a quick pic of his face to send to Dani, and to Sully, who would either recognize him or send it to the other leaders. We needed to get him identified, and for the sake of inter-species politics, I wanted full transparency and a spirit of cooperation from the get-go, now that we'd agreed to work together.

I groaned when I realized this was three—the magic number for a person to officially be tagged a serial killer. There was no way the FBI wasn't going to be crawling right up my backside, and the Trackers along with them, if I didn't solve this soon.

Footsteps sounded behind me and I pinched my lips together. It was Zach. "I thought you could use some coffee," he said, handing me a cup. "Sorry, Sam. I didn't think to get you one."

The older man smiled. "Well, I can't say as I blame you; I'm not nearly as pretty as she is. I'm a better fisherman, though."

I snorted. "You should be, as much as you practice."

I took a sip of my coffee, then a longer slug when the first drink didn't burn my tongue; after the big lunch, I needed the caffeine.

Alex, who had gone further up the path to see if he could pick up a scent trail, clothes, or any readings of either the victim or the killer, returned and glanced briefly at Zach before turning back to the scene.

"No prints or any other evidence the killer came from that direction," he said to me, stepping off the path and toward the body.

"He was likely hiding near the trail waiting for the guy," I said as he slipped around behind the bush.

"I'm going to see if Stan needs any help. Maybe somebody saw something," Sam said noting the tension even though Alex didn't seem to. "We're trying to, keep this off the radar as much as possible, though with the picnic, that's wishful thinking."

"Thanks Sam," I said, bending down to take a closer look at the body.

"Colleen was tied up at a family reunion but said she'd pull the team together and be here within thirty," he said. "I held off on calling the emergency squad until she gets here. No need to attract any more attention than we have to."

"Speaking of attracting more attention," Zach said to Alex, "you must be new." He stuck out his hand. "Zach McClure. Wildlife Control Specialist. And you are?"

Alex glanced at his hand, but left it hang. "Here to help the sheriff," he said without looking at him again.

I furrowed my brow; I didn't know him well, but that seemed uncharacteristically rude. However, I didn't step in and make the introduction. If Alex didn't want his name out there, it was his right.

"Thanks, Sam," I said, "Let me know if you find anything."

As he walked away, Alex squatted down beside the guy's feet. "Different MO altogether."

"Yeah. But why change it up now?"

He bent down and pulled the limb back, then turned to Zach, who had moved closer.

"Should he have access to the scene, Sheriff?"

I actually felt bad for Zach right then, but now that we had shifter involvement, things were more complicated. By necessity, Colleen knew about us. She'd been brought into the loop twenty years ago when she'd drawn blood from a car-accident victim and realized something was off. She was neither stupid not predisposed to be prejudiced, and it was a good thing to have somebody on the inside.

But the rules of the game had certainly changed and Zach's information needed to be filtered, especially if

Casting an apologetic look at Zach, I said, "He's right, Zach. I'm sorry, but things have changed. Small-town rules no longer apply, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He glowered at Alex, then looked as if he were going to argue. I held up my hand and shook my head. "I'm sorry, Zach."

He paused for another heartbeat, then turned on his heel and stomped away.

"That went well," I muttered once he was out of earshot.

Moving a limb with a pen so he could get a closer look, Alex said, "I told you he was gonna be in a snit."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me it was gonna be because you threw him off the scene."

He shrugged. "He shouldn't have been on the scene."

I couldn't argue with that, because he was right. I'd just figured playing nice would enable me to filter his info and keep track of him better. There I went thinkin' again.

I stood back and examined the area from a broader perspective, drinking my coffee and rolling everything around in my head. We had the when, where, and how. Now we needed the who and the why. "So what's your take on it? I've been over every detail of this case a hundred times and can't find a single thread to start picking."

Alex was quiet for a long moment while his eyes roamed over the paw imprints in the soft soil. "I don't know. A wolf with a score to settle?"

If that were the case, the guy was gonna screw up at some point. Looking at our victim, I thought it was possible that maybe he just did.

"Are your spidey senses picking up anything?" I asked.

He arched a brow at the term, but shook his head. "Only a few vague impressions. Regret. Anger. I think this guy knew the killer."

"Yeah, I thought maybe that was the case because of the way he killed him. Quick, but there was a fight. And he wasn't messy."

"Well, if this scene is like the others, we're wasting our time looking for anything." He tore his gaze away from the prints that he was examining, then took a step further into the woods. I followed him for a few yards, and we came to an area where the growth was trampled. Clumps of fur were scattered about, and the ground was scarred with claw marks.

I bent to examine a piece of the fur. It was the same shade of gray-black as the wolf that I'd encountered—and that Zach had taken a pot-shot at—the night that Tabitha was killed. Other tufts were tawny, and I assumed they came from our victim.

Frustration washed over me; this man may not be dead right now if Zach hadn't poked his nose it that night. I pulled in a couple of deep breaths, reminding myself that he didn't know what he'd done.

There was a trace of chilliness in my voice when I said as much.

"You can't beat yourself up over it. There was nothing you could have done differently, so let it go."

I pushed it from my mind as well as I could and turned my attention back to the task at hand. I stood in the middle of the clearing and breathed in deeply, but again, all I got was a faint male werewolf scent, along with all of the other scents that one would expect. The rain had washed away anything useful.

Honestly, the pack and the FBI worried me far less than one other factor: how long before the Trackers took interest, if they hadn't already? How long before they sent one of their men to take care of things, and probably me, while they were here? It's not like those people discriminated. To them, we were all aberrations.

I had to do something different. I needed to hunt him in the form best suited for it, and I needed to do it that night.

The coroner and ambulance pulled in just a few minutes later and had the scene processed in fifteen minutes. Colleen stopped to talk to me as they were loading the body up.

"Cause of death is pretty much what you'd think. My guess is broken neck. Wolf, probably, same as last time. Just an educated guess, but he's been dead for about twelve hours, which would put the time of death at around four this morning."

Which means they probably met and the fight started earlier than that. "That's much earlier the first two victims," I said, trying to put a scenario together that made sense. "Most people don't run in the middle of the night."

"Most humans don't," she said.

I nodded, picking up what she was saying. Maybe he was out in wolf form, doin' a little howling at the moon when he was attacked. "Appreciate it, Colleen."

She squeezed my shoulder. "We'll get him, Cori."

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back from my forehead. "I really hope so. I'm getting damned tired of people dying in my town."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

––––––––

I CALLED SAM'S CELL to see if they'd had any luck finding our guy's car. They'd managed to narrow down it down to ten vehicles and were heading back to the office to run the plates. Hopefully, the vehicle was registered to the victim so we could match a picture to the face.

Sully had replied to my text; he didn't know the guy, but had sent it on along with my number.

I'd just put the Jeep in gear when my cell rang. I shifted back into park and plucked my phone out of the cup holder. It was a local number.

"Sheriff Sloane."

There was a pause at the other end, and I'd just pulled my phone away from my ear to see if I'd lost the call when a tentative female voice said, "Sheriff? This is Mandy ... Amanda Baxter. Tabitha's best friend."

"Hi Amanda." I mouthed Billy Braxton's roommate to Alex, then continued. "What can I do for you? Did you remember something?"

Another long pause. "Kind of. I don't know if it means anything—I really hope it doesn't—but Billy's gone, and there was something I didn't tell you."

I heard her take a deep breath and decided to wait her out. My patience was rewarded when she continued.

"There was a guy who got crude with Tabbie at the diner a night or two before she was killed. Billy was in there bringing her a fresh shirt because she'd spilled coffee down the front of hers." Another pause. I could tell she was struggling with whether to continue or not, so I gave her a nudge.

"Then what happened, Mandy?"

"The man was drunk and said something about a wet-t-shirt contest, and that Tabbie would surely win. He smacked her on the ass right as Billy was walking in, but she just blew the guy off. Billy was pissed. He snatched the guy by the shirt and yanked him clear out of the booth. Like, I couldn't believe he was that strong. Tabbie had to pull him back, and the guy laughed and called Billy a punk for letting a woman tell him what to do."

My heart sank. Werewolves weren't known for their laid-back attitudes at the best of times, especially when it came to their family or their mates. That was a double slap to him; first the guy laid hands on his girl, then he insulted his manhood. Frankly, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd lost a finger or two on the spot.

I forced myself to return to the conversation; once Amanda had started talking, she was like a broken faucet; the words just kept coming. "Honestly, I'm glad Billy was there because the manager was out back helping unload a truck and she was in the front by herself. Well, except for the other creepy guy—the old dude who runs the strip club—and he's just as bad about gettin' handsy as the stranger."

My temper flared; she was talking about Bob Bleigh. I'd had problems with him before; he was a self-entitled drunk who treated women like they were property. He'd been punched by so many husbands, boyfriends, or just strangers who'd popped him for being a douche that we'd started a tally on how many times he called to complain that he'd been assaulted.

The number was well into the double digits though there had never been any arrests. He'd frequented the Hook, at least until Kat barred him.

I'd been at the Hook one night when he was taking a whipping because he'd pinched another man's wife on the butt, right in front of the guy. It made me smile inside when I saw the guy bust Bleigh in the nose, so I let him get a couple more licks in before I intervened. The guy had it coming to him and some people only learned if they figured it would hurt to do it again. Plus, I was off-duty.

"I know who you're talking about, Mandy. But why do you think this is important?"

"Well, Billy and Mandy had a huge fight about it. He was angry that she didn't stand up for herself. Honestly, I think he was more frustrated that she was in the position where she had to take it, but you know how it is."

"Yeah, but why would he hurt Tabbie?"

She drew in a huge breath and let it out. "That whole thing about wanting to meet Billy's family had really gotten under her skin, which made the diner incident worse than what it would have been. They'd been arguing for days, but that night, they got in a huge fight. It was so bad I thought they were gonna start hitting each other."

I pinched my lips flat. The circumstantial evidence was piling up. One thing was bothering me, though.

"Mandy, what made you come forward now?"

"He'd told me that he and Tabbie made up before she died, and I believed him. I could picture them being one of those forever couples. Then after you left, he freaked completely out. I had to leave to get ready for work, and he was gone when I got back. I thought maybe he'd just gone to clear his head or something, but it's been two days now. Why else would he run?"

Why else, indeed. I thanked her for calling, and asked her to let me know if she heard from him.

I mulled it over in my head as we drove back to the office.

"You know you have to look at this objectively," Alex said. "We both understand why he couldn't introduce her to his family, so there's no mystery there."

"Yeah," I said, "But there's something goin' on with this kid. It's not outside the realm of possibility that he would have killed the guy, even if it wasn't pre-meditated. If he'd been running in the woods, blowing off steam, and he was right there ... I could see it, but he didn't kill him. Tabbie would up dead."

"Yeah, and how would Victoria Temple tie into it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he was out running off steam and she reminded him of Tabbie?"

"Maybe," he said. "But there's something else we need to consider."

"What's that?"

He rubbed his nose. "Maybe the guy we just found is the one who killed the first two. Maybe our boy's been on the hunt."

I scrolled through my phone for Dani's number. I needed to talk to Billy Braxton, and now.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

––––––––

THE REST OF THE DAY was a wash. I'd dropped Alex off at his hotel and called Dani. She still hadn't learned anything at all about Billy and none of the cars in the lot had belonged to the victim.

"It's like he just doesn't freakin' exist," Dani had said about Billy. "This guy literally appeared in your town five years ago. There are no Braxton packs. I've sent his picture out, and nobody recognizes him."

It wasn't unheard of for werewolves to have no digital footprint. For obvious reasons, we're birthed at home, many of us are home-schooled, and larger packs often have enough jobs to keep everybody employed under one umbrella.

"What about the other packs? Was anybody reported missing, or even ex-communicated, around that time?" There had to be somebody. A werewolf doesn't just appear out of thin air.

"I've checked all of the local packs and have reached out to the regional ones. I've heard back from most of them. Of course there have been some ex-communications, but none that fit your guy's description. I'll get in touch once my contacts in each region have checked in, but it's not looking good."

I ran my hand down my face. "Thanks, Dani. I owe you big."

"Well, you're going to owe me even bigger. Rumor has it that the pack is getting concerned about the attention that you're drawing down there. I'd guess you have less than a week before they overrule your parents, so do what you do, girl. I'll hammer at it on my end, too. Good luck."

Since it was Friday night and I really didn't feel like cooking, I decided to grab a pizza.

I stopped and picked up a pie from Georgio's Hometown Italian. I'd called in ahead of time and when I pushed through the door, the smells of fresh-baked dough, garlic, and Georgio's special sauce swirled around me, drawing me in and making my mouth water.

Nobody knew Georgio's story for sure. He just showed up in Castle Bluff thirty years ago or so and opened the shop. He looks the same now as he did then. He's a big teddy bear of a man: bald, rotund, and dressed in the traditional Italian chef's uniform, complete with the hat and sweeping mustache.

He made everything from scratch, including his mozzerella. His recipes were as secret as his past, though. He wouldn't even share them with the guy who cooked on the one day a week he took off.

When the bell above the door jangled and he saw that it was me, a huge smile split his face. His sparkling eyes were already a little glazed and his hat was askew—Georgio loves his sauce, and I'm not just talking about what goes on his pizza. He makes his own lemoncello and starts sipping on it around noon. By the time closing time rolls around, he's as stewed as his tomatoes.

He came around the counter and swooped me up into a hug, then held me at arms' length and looked me up and down.

"Ma bella! Youra too skinny! Let Georgio throw you in a nice big piece of tiramisu!" There was no way I was turning that down; that concoction was manna from the gods.

I grinned up at him. "Now you're speaking my language!"

He pulled not one, but two giant slices packed in to-go containers from the cooler and tucked them into a paper bag and set it on top of my pizza, then tossed some fresh zeppolas in a bag for good measure. My wolf licked her chops.

I fished some cash out of my wallet and thanked him for watching out for me as always.

"You take-a good care of yourself now, you hear? Ifa dis boy I hear your mama sent gives you any problems, you let Georgio know about it, Bella!"

I smiled and assured him that I would, then gathered up my loot and scrambled out the door.

When I pulled into my drive, it was nearly eight and to my surprise, Zack was there, sitting in the porch swing waiting for me. Kat's car was there and the light was on in the kitchen, so she was there, too. I was glad, because I wanted to make sure she was okay, and find out if they'd learned anything.

Zach came over to the car and picked the pizza box out of the front seat but I grabbed the bags. I wasn't taking any chances with those.

"Wow, that smells amazing. Georgio's?"

"Of course. Is there another pizza place in town?" I was kidding, but seriously, Georgio had remodeled a few years ago and the shop was closed for about two weeks. I ordered from one of the chain places and swore I'd never do it again; he's ruined me for any other pizza. "C'mon in. I have plenty."

CHAPTER TWENTY

––––––––

WE MADE OUR WAY ACROSS the porch and he pulled open the screen door for me, then grabbed a bottle of wine from the swing where he'd been sitting. We made our way into the kitchen and piled the food on the table. Chaos hopped up on a chair and poked her nose over the edge of the table, sniffing. Pizza was one of her favorite foods.

I smiled. "You know you'll get some, but you can't have it all." She sat back on her haunches and wrapped her tail around her feet, telling me with her eyes to hurry up.

If Zach was curious about a fox sitting at my table, he didn't let on. As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to be aware of anything other than his own feet.

"Look, Cori, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I knew they'd be sending somebody in. I'm assuming he's a fed, and I should have realized what was going on when I saw him. I didn't mean to overstep, or get you in trouble."

I waved him off. "It's no big deal. Thanks for understanding."

Kat glided into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, swirling what would look to Zach like a glass of red wine.

"You look so much better! You didn't text me back, and I was getting worried."

"Sorry about that. I slept until just a little bit ago."

Taking a closer look, I saw she still had some smudges under her eyes, but besides that, she looked healthy as a horse.

I made the introductions and pulled paper plates and napkins out of the pantry, then popped the cork on the wine he'd brought.

We helped ourselves, and Zach nodded toward Kat's glass. "That looks great. Rich, and look at the legs! What vintage is that?"

She barely missed a beat, and I nearly choked on a piece of crust when she replied, "Italian, 1972, but this is the last of it."

Well, at least she'd closed the door before he could ask for a glass. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Her eyes were glittering with humor as she steered the conversation in a safer, if less entertaining, direction.

Kat plucked a piece of pizza from the box and tore off the crust. Chaos's gaze zeroed in on her, and when Kat held it out, the little hustler took it in her mouth and ran. "So Cori tells me you're a bounty hunter of sorts. You hunt down wild animals that have harmed people?"

Zach swallowed a bite of pizza and tilted his head. "Something like that."

Kat brought her eyebrows together and examined him. "Enlighten us, then. It sounds exciting. Do you hunt all animals, or just certain types? What kind of training do you have to have for that?" I doubt Zach noticed that her tone had gone from friendly to predator-versus-prey, but I did. I frowned at her, but she shot me an almost imperceptible head-shake.

Zach appeared to be floundering a little under her scrutiny; Kat could be downright scary when she wanted to be. "Well, technically I'm licensed and trained to hunt any type of potentially dangerous animal, but my partner and I specialize in wolves."

"Partner?" I asked, surprised. "Where's he at?"

"Remember the friend I mentioned who called me about the first death?"

I nodded.

"He's related to them so he's been staying at their place catching up while I've been doing most of the footwork. He's been out with me a few times, but this is turning out to be more of a vacation for him other than that."

Kat wasn't quite ready to let the whole job thing slide quite yet. "So about the wolves ... do you kill them, or are some of them rehabilitated or relocated?" Her piercing black eyes remained laser-focused on him as she waited for the answer.

"The type of animals I hunt can't be rehabilitated." His expression was hard and I picked up a trace of bitterness in his voice. I sensed a story there, but Kat seemed to lose interest and after a few minutes, it was as if there had never been any tension.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

––––––––

ZACH LEFT SHORTLY BEFORE ten, claiming that he wanted to get up early. Kat was off, so we sat up and shared a bottle of wine and caught up, Chaos curled between us on the couch. I told her all about the meeting with the clan leaders and the most recent killing, but she was distracted, which was completely unlike her.

By the time we'd finished the first bottle and started the second, the suspense was killing me. I was in the middle of telling her about the Billy Braxton mystery, but she wasn't hearing  word I was saying. Instead, she was gazing down at her hands, absently picking at her fingernail polish.

"So yeah, I've decided that the best thing to do would be to strip naked, set my hair on fire, and run down Main Street."

"Oh, yeah. If you need any help ... wait, what?"

She snapped her eyes to me and for the first time in half an hour, gave me her full attention.

I raised my brows and waved a hand in front of her face. "You were a million miles away, and you're never spacey. What's up?"

She took a deep breath, running her hand down Chaos's back to the tip of her tail. "Something's screwy with Zach."

"What do you mean, screwy?"

"I mean, he lied when I asked him about his job, or at least skewed the truth. I couldn't pick out much information because he was mentally scrambling for plausible answers, then when I changed the subject, the only thing I got from him was intense relief."

I let that settle, and thought about what it could mean. "So what do you think he's lying about?"

She threw her hands up. "I have no idea. The rest of the time he was here, he was pretty much wondering why I didn't eat any pizza, and what you would look like naked. Completely relaxed and focused on keeping his eyes off your boobs."

I laughed at that. "Well, at least that's nothing new. There used to be some serious electricity between us."

Examining my face, she said, "Used to be?"

I picked at a string on the couch. "Yeah, used to be. I don't know about now. It's been a lot of years." Unbidden, Alex's face floated through my mind.

She still looked troubled. "Just be careful, okay? The few images and feelings that I did pick up were of dead wolves and intense, almost savage, satisfaction."

Yeah, okay. That wasn't so nice to know.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

––––––––

WE CAUGHT UP ON SOME episodes of the latest vampire series on Netflix—she rolled her eyes so many times I was glad she was sitting down; otherwise, she would have fallen over backwards. She watches them for about the same reason some people watch so-called reality TV or wrestling—it amuses her to pick out the absurdities.

Before I knew it, it was after midnight, so I had to call it a night. Chaos grumbled when we stood from the couch, then stretched and headed for my bedroom, her tail waving behind her.

Kat decided she was going to go see what was up at the bar and have a look-see into the heads of the folks there in the hopes of finding who poisoned her, so I gave her a quick hug and headed to my room. It had been nice to hang with her; we hadn't had much time to do that lately.

I crashed almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, but slept fitfully, dreaming about mangled bodies, dead wolves, and being shot at. I gave up around three thirty when I practically bolted out of bed because I'd just been dream-shot for the third time.

Drenched in sweat, I untangled my legs from the sheets and swung them over the edge of the bed. Nervous energy hummed through me and I decided it was time to take the tiger ... err ... wolf by the tail. I was going hunting.

Pausing, I debated calling Alex. Even I wasn't dumb enough to go hunting a murderous wolf twice my size if I had backup. I called, but his phone rang half a dozen times and went to voicemail. I left him a message, then decided to at least visit the scenes.

We lived on a cul-de-sac that butted up to the same woods our victims were found in, so I decided to make the change at home and cut through the woods. Maybe if I made my way through areas that weren't traveled by people, I'd pick up a trail, or at catch an undiluted scent.

We'd installed a seven-foot privacy fence around the entire perimeter of the back yard, with a gate facing the woods. We'd installed the latch three feet off the ground and rigged it so that it could be opened from the outside as long as the inside was unlocked so that I could come and go in either form.

I'm a werewolf and she's a vampire. Burglars aren't really a concern for us and the creatures that can do us harm wouldn't be deterred by a gate.

I stripped before I left my room and shifted under the cover of a giant oak in the yard. I reveled in the power coursing through my veins and shook my whole body in delight; you can't really appreciate how good that feels until you've experienced it. After stretching a bit and settling into my new form, I trotted out the back gate and into the woods.

It was about four miles to the park, so I settled into an easy lope. The moon was half full, so visibility wasn't an issue; in this form it may as well have been broad daylight. About a quarter of a mile out, I slid to a stop and put my nose in the air.

The scent of a strange wolf filled my nostrils and I put my nose to the ground, sniffing in an ever-widening circle until I caught the trail. Once I picked it up, I followed it deeper into the woods and it kept getting stronger as I went.

I made my way into a broad clearing that local witches use for their solstice celebrations and the scent of wolf filled my nostrils even over the lingering smells of burning wood and incense from the last gathering. A twig snapped and when I jerked my head in the direction of the sound, a flash of movement on the other side of the clearing caught my eye; a low limb was snapping back from something that had pushed through it. My gaze roamed over the area, and I saw him—a black wolf staring at me. When he caught my eye, he took a step toward me.

I bolted in his direction, stretching my body and laying my ears back flat against my head; my wolf sung as the air brushed through my fur. He turned tail and ran. He didn't bother trying to be quiet, but I could hear him—and it was definitely a male—rushing headlong through the undergrowth.

The smell of fear was now intermingled with the musky scent of sweating wolf. A black tail flashed several yards ahead and ruthless exhilaration rushed through me. I turned up the speed, trying to gauge my location.

We were heading away from the park and the thought coursed through my brain that I may have caught him before he had a chance to kill again. A splash from somewhere ahead of me clued me in on our exact location.

Dammit! We were on the back side of the lake, and if the splash was any indication, he was already in the water. I turned up the speed, now running nearly flat to the ground; if he made it out of sight before I got there, he was a free man. Even my nose doesn't work in the water, and there was so much shoreline that it would take me days to search for his point of exit.

I underestimated how close the lake was and when I broke through the trees and onto sandy soil, I almost went head-over-heels into the lake by the time I skidded to a halt. I stared out over the water, searching in all directions for the slightest hint of movement, but he was gone. My vision went red and I pushed back on my haunches and howled my rage.

After my heart slowed down and reason returned, I debated what to do; I could go home, but there was no way I was going to be able to sleep now. If the wolf had been heading back from the park, there may be another victim. I had a gut feeling that was pulling me toward the park, so I decided to head that way just to make sure that everything was OK.

I could have followed the lake around to the park but didn't want to leave any wolf tracks that may trigger alarm. Instead, I cut through the woods. When I got within half a mile of the park, I lifted my snout to the sky and sniffed. Nothing caught my attention at first, then I smelled ... Zach? It was faint, but nonetheless it was there. I followed it until I realized it wasn't going to get any stronger. It must be a residual scent from all his time traipsing around out here hunting for the killer.

I sniffed further and finally, there it was; the faint hint of werewolf musk—the same one that had been behind the house. I followed his scent until I ended up near the garbage dump, where all the smells ran together. Picking out just one was pretty much impossible. I trotted a few yards away and breathed in as deeply as I could.

The wind blew, putting the dumpster downwind from me, and I picked up the scent again, stronger this time and my brain spun. I recognized scent—oh, how I recognized it—thanks to all the crime scenes. There was only one problem: it was a different wolf than the one I'd just chased into the lake. I shook, then sniffed the air again, trying to pick up both scents.

I didn't have time to puzzle it out right then. I exhaled and let it all go as I closed my eyes and concentrated on picking apart the smells assaulting me. True, I didn't know all the smells per se, but one in particular tickled my senses, almost taunting me to remember. Try as I might, I couldn't put my finger on it. I was concentrating so hard on picking up the scent that I nearly tripped over a pile of clothes crumpled and tucked behind a pile of garbage. Despite the stereotype that wolves are graceful creatures, I'm nearly as clumsy when I'm  a wolf as I am when I'm in human form.

I sniffed around the clothing, trying to pick up a trail I could follow, but there was nothing solid—just the garbage and a hint of laundry detergent. I crossed the trail and put my nose to the ground, hoping to pick up something away from the garbage.

A twig snapped to my left. Adrenaline spiked through me as I twisted, but I saw only shadow. The breeze was blowing the wrong way to get a good smell, but all seemed clear. Shaking off the feeling of being watched, I kept on moving, searching for more clues, though I did step off of the main path.

I hadn't gone but a few steps when a shot rang out, accompanied almost immediately by a searing pain in my hip. Snapping my jaws shut to suppress a yelp, I managed to stay quiet as I veered into a large grouping of bushes. Fearing the shooter may have seen where I went, I trekked deeper into the undergrowth, keeping low to the ground.

Fortunately, the leaves were still wet enough from the rain that I didn't make much noise, and since I'm not much bigger than a regular wolf, I managed to maintain a good pace while keeping the undergrowth between me and the trail. I didn't know if I was bleeding enough to be tracked, though I didn't feel a trickle.

The brush was getting so thick that I was going to have to make a decision: risk crossing the path and making a run for it, or crawl deeper into the brush and wait for the sun to rise. I wasn't a fan of either, and cussed myself for changing at home. The last thing I wanted was to be seen in this form in broad daylight.

Just when the foliage became impassable, I literally fell into a depression at the base of a huge oak tree. Fortune was on my side; there was a hollowed area at the very base of the trunk just big enough for me to back into, and it was completely hidden by dense brush. Hiding with no escape route went against every instinct I had, but I didn't have much choice.

I tucked myself inside and used my teeth to pull a small sprig of leaves over the entrance. It covered the hole just well enough that I could still see but not be seen. I stayed still and waited, trying not to think about the bugs and spiders that were probably in the hole.

I was just about to think I was in the clear when I heard soft, careful footsteps; whoever it was had experience being stealthy. With human ears, I'd have never heard them. I slowed my breathing, though it was a wonder to me that they couldn't hear my heart pounding.

The footsteps stopped on the path directly in front of the hole and I held my breath; all I could see was a pair of dark hiking boots with army fatigues tucked into the top and my heart sank.

hat was the traditional uniform for the Trackers. I couldn't see high enough to tell whether or not he was wearing the traditional black t-shirt with the logo or not, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

You're probably asking yourself why we, as top predators, allow such an organization to exist. The easy answer is that most of them have families that would report them missing, and since they tend to hunt in concentrated areas, because werewolves lived in concentrated areas, we didn't want to draw national attention to our towns. You can see why that would be an issue.

They're also a small group; it's not exactly easy for them to recruit because it's not like they can put an ad on Craigslist. There are only fifty of them or so, and most of them have other jobs, so once we started keeping track of them a couple decade ago thanks to computer tech and the availability of data, it became easy to avoid them.

Unlike them, we weren't animals out to eradicate beings just because we didn't understand them. We chose to live our lives around them, and for the most part, it worked.

Unless, of course, you let a big fat mess such as mine get out of hand.

I wanted to howl my frustration that one single rogue wolf was bringing so much chaos to my territory, and I hadn't been able to do a damned thing about it.

I regulated my breathing and backed up, wincing as a searing pain shot through my hip. I took a deep, but silent sniff. Nothing but the faint scent of wet leather. I was baffled because he was standing right there. I shouldn't have had any trouble sniffing him out at all. Who doesn't have a scent?

My muscles stayed tense and ready for anything and my hip throbbed as I kept vigilant watch. The man backtracked, and the sound of scraping limbs and squishing footsteps told me he was pushing through the bushes several yards behind me. He poked around looking for tracks for at least ten minutes, and I must have left something because he was slowly making his way my direction.

Eventually, he was within a couple of feet of my hole and I prepared to push from the hole and come out fighting. I didn't want to have to do it, and I wouldn't kill him if I could avoid it, but if it came to him or me, well, I like me. I don't even know him.

He knelt down and just as I was sure he was going to reach out and pull away the brush from in front of the hole and expose me, a howl sounded from the north, the opposite direction of my house. He snapped to his feet and listened.

The howl sounded again, and he beat a hasty retreat in that direction. I released the lungful of air I'd been holding and waited several minutes before I pushed out of the hole and quickly covered it back up; that was a handy place to remember. Then I moved as quickly as I could on three legs back in the direction of my house.

My senses stayed on high alert in case he returned, or heaven forbid, there was more of them. Then, of course, there were also two other werewolves in these woods. Yeah, I didn't plan on letting my guard down until I was back in my bedroom and dressed.

Once I made it to the back side of the woods that twisted around the lake to my place, my hip was killing me. The bullet had gone through the front side of my right hip and out the back. Not life threatening, and it didn't feel like it had hit the bone, but it was a problem nonetheless. I'm a little surprised I didn't leave a blood trail, but that brush was thick, so maybe I just got lucky.

I waited behind a thicket for another ten minutes just to make sure I wasn't tracked, then hobbled the last mile to my house. I was careful not to leave any more signs of my passing than possible, avoiding mud or sticks that jutted out and could snag my fur just in case somebody decided to expand the search area. The trip was slow and painful, but I made it without incident.

With a relieved sigh, I shoved through the back gate and latched it behind me. The adrenaline drained from my body and my muscles relaxed. Instead of feeling better, though, I felt the aches and pains of holding so still for that long, and my hip was killing me. I made my way through the back door just as smudges of purple began to lighten the eastern sky.

I leaned back against the door, not sure if I had the strength to make it up stairs. Chaos butted her head against my legs, her emerald eyes sparkling up at me. "I'm in rough shape, girl," I said. "You're gonna have to cut me some slack." She stared at me for a minute, then disappeared.

I glanced at the clock on the microwave as I limped through the kitchen: almost five. I'd only been gone an hour and a half, yet it felt like a week. Kat wasn't home yet, but should be tripping in any minute. She didn't mess with sunrise.

I hobbled to the living room couch, grabbing a sheet from the hall closet on my way past so that I wouldn't stain the cream microfiber. I stopped to check my wound out in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, but even with the light on, I couldn't twist around enough to get a good peek.

I gave up and resigned myself to my fate. If I was going to escape without gangrene, I was going to have to admit to my best friend, the graceful, beautiful vampire with perfect, well, everything, that I'd been shot in the ass. Perfect ending to a wonderful night.

Chaos hopped up on the couch and curled up against my chest, her little tongue swiping my cheek before she tucked her head under my chin. At least my fox still loved me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

––––––––

WHILE I WAITED, I THOUGHT about my situation. First, I considered the werewolf that was creeping around practically in my back yard. It was weird to me that he ran this time, but wanted to fight last time.

Now I had to avoid the Trackers while I was trying to track down said murderous werewolf. Oh, and I was pretty sure there was going to be a pack response. I needed to call my parents and let them know that we had company; I no longer had a choice. And where did Billy Braxton fit into all of it?

And then there was Zach. He paid such close attention to the police scanners that he almost got to the last scene before I did. And he was no slouch at his job; I remembered clearly how well he could shoot. This was above his pay grade though, which meant that he was a liability. Ugh, why did life have to be so complicated?

The sound of a key sliding into the deadbolt dragged my thoughts back to the hear and now and I braced myself for the tide of humiliation I was about to ride. Kat pushed the door open, giggling as a guy tried to spin her around to face him. Crap. And here I was, buck naked with a gunshot wound in my butt.

"Kat," I hissed before they could make it all the way in and get a full moon.

Kat spun around to face me. "Shit!" Her nose crinkled as she smelled the blood; she says it's the worst smelling part of me, except for when I'd been running in the rain. She turned back to her companion and ushered him back out the door. "Sorry. I forgot my roommate was sick. Maybe another time."

She had the door shut and dead-bolted before he could even say goodbye. I heard a muffled, "Call me," through the door.

Kat didn't even bother to answer; she was too busy trying to figure out what was going on.

"It's about time you stumbled home." I grumbled. I tried to sit up, but the throbbing in my hip was a major deterrent. Unlike in the movies, we don't heal immediately. We heal faster and have killer immune systems, but it takes a few days to heal completely from something like a gunshot wound or broken bone.

"Says the girl with the bullet hole in her backside. What the hell happened?" She sat beside me and examined the wound, gently prodding around the edges of the entry wound.

"Werewolf Trackers and, lucky me, they caught me in wolf form. At this point, I hope they got the real killer, seeing as how I don't seem to be able to. But knowing those trigger happy morons, they shot me and figured they had it all wrapped up." I gasped as Kat turned my hip slightly to look at the exit.

"Well," she said, poking around, "the good news is I see a small entrance hole and a bit larger exit wound. The bad news is I'm going to have to clean it out. You think it hurts now, but you ain't seen nuttin' yet, girl." She got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and a little blue pill. "Take this."

I frowned. "What is it?"

"Something to help take the edge off the pain and make you tired so you can sleep." She put the pill in my mouth as I lifted my head off the armrest, and then helped me take a drink to wash it down. With the way my metabolism runs, it wouldn't take more than just ten minutes or so for it to kick in.

"Drink the rest of the water; you've lost some blood and that'll help." Since my mouth felt like the Sahara desert, I had no problem draining the glass. Satisfied, she went back to the bathroom and emerged a few moments later with the first aid kit, along with a bottle of alcohol and some cotton swabs balanced.

I sighed and let my head fall down on my hands, my shoulders going numb from where I'd been propped up on my elbows for so long. She was taking this pretty much in stride, which surprised me, though it shouldn't. She's lived through a dozen wars; a simple through-and-through flesh wound was probably just a tick above a scraped knee for her. Still, I was curious because she had awesome stories. "How do you know what to do?"

Kat removed what she'd need from the first aid kid and spread everything across the coffee table. Instead of launching into a tale about the civil war or the French Revolution, she just shrugged.

"It's one of those things that I just know." Her eyes looked past me, like she was trying to remember. "Maybe I was a doctor or a nurse before I was turned. I wish I could remember." Her eyes returned to mine and she smiled. "Or maybe I learned by osmosis watching all those stupid medical dramas with you. All I know is that I know, so relax."

That happened to her on a fairly regular basis. Unlike most vampires, or turned werewolves for that matter, she had absolutely no memories of her life as a human. Sometimes she just knew things. One Christmas, just for kicks, we stopped at the instrument store in the mall, where she proceeded to play Vivaldi's Autumn on the piano. Perfectly.

I nodded. "I hope this is one of those times when you really know, and not because of a television show."

She grinned and came at me with an alcohol pad. "Me, too. Roll over on your stomach."

I did as she asked, then took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut; it's not like I had a choice. What was I going to do—go to the hospital and say, "Yeah, I was playing wolf in the woods over in the park and some hunter shot me because he thought I was the one that's been killing people?"

Not so much. Plus then there was always the possibility that the Tracker knew he'd hit me and would be watching the only hospital in town for gunshot wounds.

"Relax," she told me. "How bad can it be?"

"Says the one who doesn't have the bullet holes in her butt."

She offered her hand and I nodded and took it. She poured the alcohol over the wound. I hissed and tried not to tense my muscles, squeezing her hand for all I was worth. If she was human, I would have broken several if not all of the bones in her hand.

"Ow! I need my hand back now," she said, shaking it when I let loose. "I'm extremely durable, but not invincible."

"You ready for the rough part?" she asked without even meeting my gaze.

"Just do what you have to do," I managed through gritted teeth.

I'm pretty sure she used a post hole digger instead of tweezers as she cleaned it out.

"Got it." She said after she drilled into me one final time.

I released a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. I smiled. "So we're done?"

Kat snorted. "Hardly. That was just the first half. Don't be a baby."

I swear she was paying me back for all the dirty dishes I'd left in the sink over the last six years.

"Did you have any luck finding out who poisoned you?" I talked to distract myself.

She hummed. "Sort of. It was definitely in the drink mix. Rocks kept the bottle, and Sean had it analyzed. Silver nitrate, just like Monica thought. I don't know where she learned that, but I'm glad she did."

"Me too. You scared the crap outta me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

She laughed. "If you're saying that while I'm doing this, you either really love me, or the pain pill is kicking in."

"Both," I said. "But that's all you learned? No idea who it was?"

"Nope," she said, ripping open a gauze pad and placing it over the exit hole, then repeating the process for the entry wound. "But he's looking. And I wouldn't want to be the one on the other end of that search."

"Me either," I said, thinking back to what I'd told Alex. "But I'm cheerin' for him."

"Me too, and I hope we solve it soon. I hate to admit it, but now I worry every time I drink anything when I'm out. It's been a long time since I've felt vulnerable, and I don't like it."

She was silent for a minute while she finished taping down the pads.

"All done." She ran her finger around the edges of the pad, making sure the tape adhered everywhere, then examined her handiwork. "Good as new," she said, slapping me on the non-shot cheek.

Craning my neck around, I tried to see what she'd done, but all I could see was white gauze. Since she was finished torturing me, I was feeling floaty; I don't know what she gave me, but it was lovely right about then. "Thanks, Kat. You're a life saver. Or should I say you really saved my butt?"

Kat rolled her eyes. "Ohmugod. You did not just say that! And I was trying to be so nice about it. I'm gonna write that off to the pill. Now, get some sleep. You don't have to worry about your butt cheek falling off now that it's clean, but you'll heal faster if you rest."

My eyes began to feel heavy as I watched her cleaned up all the medical supplies.

"Kat?"

She glanced over her shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

"Sorry about ruining your date."

She chuckled. "Pht. Don't worry about him. He'll be back. I'd much rather dig splinters out of your butt, any day."

I smiled as my eyes flutter closed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

––––––––

I WOKE UP THE NEXT morning to pressure on my chest and a cold, wet nose nuzzling my cheek. When I opened my eyes, Chaos was staring at me nose-to-nose, her emerald eyes scolding me for sleeping past breakfast time. It seemed an empty belly trumped sympathy and compassion.

As if she read my mind, she licked me on the cheek and nuzzled her face against my cheek.

I laughed, scratching her behind her ears. "Okay, already. I'm awake, and I know you love me. I also know it's past breakfast time."

When I shifted my weight, she bound off the bed, landing with a soft thump on the hardwood floor. Her tail twitched, and she looked over her shoulder, making sure I didn't fall back in bed. I didn't, but it did take some maneuvering to get up.

For some reason, I hadn't expected to feel so bruised, but I guess it made sense. After all, I was hit with a flying projectile moving at about three thousand feet per second. I wasn't going to complain about a little tenderness. Much.

I winced as I put my weight on my bad hip, but it wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be. Once I took a few steps, it settled to a dull throb, so I made my way downstairs. After I popped a pod in the coffee maker and hit start, I rinsed out Chaos's bowl and mixed up her breakfast-dry kibble mixed with a can of tuna.

Once I sat it down, she no longer had any interest in me whatsoever. That was okay, because I was focused on getting as much caffeine in my system as quickly as possible.

Tires crunched on my gravel driveway and I peeked out the kitchen window to see who was there. An anxious-looking Alex was out of the car and heading toward the porch before I could even hobble over to open the door for him. He'd already pounded twice, calling my name at the same time, before I swung it open.

His gaze traveled over my face and body, and I felt bad that he looked so frantic.

I tilted my head. "What's up?"

He pushed past me into the foyer and through to the kitchen, and I limped along after him.

"What's up?" he said, his voice an octave higher than it usually was. "What's up is that I got a voicemail from you while I was in the shower last night, then when I tried to return your call, you didn't pick up. I came straight here, but you were gone."

He was pushing past worried and frantic to angry. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't realize you'd worry. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go see if I could pick anything up. I figured you were asleep already."

"And you didn't think to call me when you got home?"

Scowling, I said, "No, it didn't. I had no idea you were my keeper."

Pulling in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and rolled his head, then focused on me again. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's just, I got a message last night from one of the guys in my network that Trackers were headed this direction, and when you didn't answer, I got worried."

I raised my brows and cringe-smiled. "Yeah, I kinda found out the hard way they were here," I said.

For the first time, he noticed that I was favoring my hip. "Holy crap, Cori. What happened?"

I ran through the story, ending with Kat patching me up.

"But you didn't see a face?"

Shaking my head, I said, "No, if I'd moved far enough out to see it, he would have seen me." I drained the last of my coffee and moved toward the machine. "Want a cup?"

He nodded, then jumped up. "You sit. I'll make it."

Biting my lip to hold back a smile, I said, "I'm not exactly feeling up to sitting  right now."

It took him a second, but he laughed. I was glad to see the humor was back.

"Oh yeah," he said. "That must be a real pain in the ass."

Okay, so maybe I wasn't as glad as I'd thought.

"Yes, Mr. Smartypants, it is. So if you don't mind, I'll stand."

"Oh, it's a shame I can't tell anybody about this. Wait, I can tell Sam."

I frowned at him. "No, we're not going to tell Sam. He thinks of me as his daughter and he'd worry himself sick."

He sobered. "You're right. It's just a shame to have to keep such a golden opportunity to myself."

More tires crunched outside, but this time, Alex went to the window, then rolled his eyes. "You're admirer is here."

I scrunched my forehead. "My what?"

"Your admirer. Mr. McClure."

"Pht. He's no admirer. He's here on a job. That's it."

He arched a brow at me. "Trust me—he's an admirer."

"Well he can't know I'm hurt," I said, hobbling to the table. "How would I explain it?"

"You sit. I'll deal with him."

I scowled. "Don't be mean."

"There's somebody with him," he said, walking toward the door. "Sit!"

Though I didn't like it, I didn't have much choice.

The door opened and Alex said, "Mr. McClure."

"Mr ... I'm afraid I didn't catch your name yesterday." Zach sounded surprised and irked.

"That's because I didn't give it. I assume you're here to see Cori?"

Oh, for Pete's sake. I peered around the short span of wall that separated the kitchen from the foyer. "I'm in here, Zach. Please, come in."

Alex shot me a dirty look, but I returned it. It would be worse if he didn't let him in.

He stepped back and made a sweeping motion with his hand. "Ms. Sloane will apparently see you now."

Chaos hopped up onto my lap and I cringed as she circled, then laid down in my lap, peering up at me with sparkling eyes. I swear, sometimes that fox knew exactly what she was doing. Now I had a reason not to get up.

Zach stepped around Alex and made his way to the kitchen, followed by a tall man with dark hair. He looked familiar to me for some reason, but I couldn't place him.

"Mornin', Zach. I'd get up, but I'm currently being used as a pet bed."

He smiled and bent forward to pet Chaos, who was watching the new guy. She wasn't much for strangers but had taken to Zach the night we had pizza after he'd given her the tip of his pizza rather than the crust.

"This is my partner, Aaron Shepard. Shep, Cori Sloane and ..." he turned to Alex.

"Alex," he said, adding a blop of creamer to my fresh cup of coffee and handing it to me before making his own.

"Pleasure to meet both of you," Shep said, taking a closer look at Chaos. "What kind of animal is that?"

"She's a marble fox," I replied. "We rescued her when she as just a kit. Found her in the woods, nearly starved to death."

"I had no idea foxes were legal in Georgia," he said.

Alex saved me from replying. "So what can we do for you gentleman? Is this a social call, or a business one?"

Zach ran his tongue over his teeth, and I did my best to smooth the situation. "Would y'all like a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks," Zach said. "This is actually a business visit. We heard a wolf in the woods last night while we were out hunting."

My eyes snapped to him. "Where exactly were you hunting?"

He drew his brows together. "Near the murder scenes."

I set my cup down, and Chaos stirred, picking up on my irritation. "I closed that entire end of the park."

"We were unaware it applied to us," Shep said.

Alex raised a brow, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "Why would you think otherwise? The sign clearly says Authorized Personnel Only."

"Our licenses give us authorization," he replied, his back stiff. There was a pissing contest imminent, and I wasn't playing, especially when I knew for certain now that the murderer was still in those woods. The last thing I needed was for two boneheads who thought they knew what they were doing to get killed on my watch."

"I'm the only one who can give you authorization, and I didn't. I don't," I said, putting steel in my gaze and wondering why it was taking so long for Sean's favors to come through.

"We came here as a courtesy," Zach said, "To let you know the wolf was still out there."

"Thank you, but as it happens, we've already had a reports. Two actually. And neither of them were in that part of the woods." It wasn't a lie. I'd seen one behind my house, and heard another several miles away—the one that drew the Tracker's attention from me."

"Well we have it on good authority that a wolf was sighted near the murder scenes," Zach said, taking a deep breath, then looking me in the eye. "I just wanted to let you know, okay? Be careful."

For once, Alex was quiet, and I was thankful. This was my chance to end things on a good note.

"Thanks, Zach. I will be. You, too."

An awkward silence followed, then he cleared his throat. "I guess we'll be going then."

Alex surprised me when he held out his hand to Zach. "Mr. McClure, we have the same goals. Thank you for letting us know."

Zach cringed a little at his use of us, but shook his hand.

"Mr. Shepard," Alex said, holding out his hand again.

Shep looked at it like it was poison, but didn't have much choice but to take it or insult him. And Alex didn't look like a person anybody wanted to insult. "Alex," he said, following Zach toward the door.

Alex watched them leave with a troubled expression. "Have you ever met his partner?"

"No, though I felt like I'd seen him somewhere before," I said, sipping my coffee.

"He does not like you." The crunch of tires faded and he stepped away from the window.

So that was why he shook their hands. He wanted to read them. "It doesn't surprise me, I just drew a line in the sand, then kicked them out of the sandbox."

"True," he said. "I wonder what's taking Sean's people so long to come through. He strikes me as a man who gets things done."

"He is," I said as I heard the faint sound of my phone ringing upstairs. I started to push to my feet, but Alex was already halfway up the stairs. By the time he got to me, it had stopped. I whistled when I saw that I'd missed twelve calls. Ten of them were from Adam, though.

The other two were from Dani. I slid my finger across her name to return the call.

"Girl!" she said, picking up on the first ring. "I was just about to haul my bad self down there just so I could lay eyes on you. You didn't answer your phone and Sam says you haven't been to work yet."

"So?" I said, not understanding what the problem was. Sometimes it took us two or three days to return each other's calls if we were busy.

"So I got info back on your boy, and I was afraid you were shot somewhere," she said.

"You have no idea how close you are," I said, "but you're going to have to be more specific about which boy you're referring to. I have you looking at a couple of them." Hope flared that she'd found Billy Braxton.

She dispelled it in one fell swoop. "Nah, that boy's a ghost. There is no Billy Braxton. I'm talkin' about Zach McClure." Eight years ago, his father was killed on the job. Wanna take a stab at what he did for a living?"

I huffed out a breath. "Not really. When they lived here, he ran a hunting supply store. It's been a rough couple days. How bout you just tell me."

"He was a Tracker. With a capital T. And your boy is a chip right off the old block."

Dizziness overwhelmed me, and Alex snatched the phone from my hand. He'd heard everything she'd said thanks to his wolf hearing.

Dani, this is Alex Dixon. I'm here to help Cori."

"Babysit her, you mean." Dani had never been one to mince words.

"No, I mean help her," Alex snapped. "What can you tell us about his partner, Aaron Shepard?"

"Nothin' yet. This is the first I've heard of him. You need to know?"

"If you can."

"Of course I can. I'll get on it, and as soon as I know something, you'll know something."

"Sooner, if possible. Cori's sitting here with a bullet wound in her butt, and I'm pretty sure one of those two gave it to her."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

––––––––

I GOT DRESSED AS QUICKLY as I could, the called Sean to see what was taking so long on the forest changes. I also wanted to see where he was at on the poisoning. Alex was determined not to let me out of his sight.

"So," I said after we climbed in his car, "What have you reported back to my mom?" I shifted my weight to take the pressure off the wounds, but the exit wound made that practically impossible.

He stiffened in the driver's seat. "I've reported that you're utilizing every resource you have to find the killer."

"And?"

"And she's worried, but confident that we're doing everything we can."

"Well, I thought of something while we haven't done," I said, wincing when he hit a pothole.

"And what's that?"

"Two things, actually. First, Zach said that Shep was staying with friends. I want to know what friends."

"And the second?" he asked, flipping on the blinker to turn onto the main road.

"The second is that you haven't tried touching the victim's clothing."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "I've gotta admit—I'm a little embarrassed I didn't think of that before."

"Then let's stop at my office before we do anything else. We have their clothes in lock-up."

We drove for a few minutes in silence, both of us lost in thought.

"I've been giving a lot of thought to your idea that maybe we already have our killer," I said.

"It's a possibility, but I'm not banking on it until we find out who he is, at least."

I fired off a text to Sully, asking if he'd heard anything back about the victim. He hadn't, but said he hadn't heard back from everybody yet.

We were almost to the courthouse when my phone rang, and when I saw the caller ID, my heart stuttered a little. It was the internal number from the sheriff's office.

As soon as I answered, Ms. Ellen said started talking without preamble.

"There's a woman been here for the last half hour waitin' on you. Says she won't talk to nobody but you, and her knickers are all in a twist. She wanted your personal cell, but I told her you were on your way. You are on your way, right?"

"I am. Did she give you a name?"

"Nope. But she's insistent. Says she ain't leavin' til she sees you."

I chewed my lip. "What's she look like?"

Ms. Ellen huffed out a breath. "She looks like a woman. Middle-aged if I had to guess, mousy hair, average build. Clothes clean but old. Her shirt's been mended, and her shoes are from the Walmart."

I racked my brain, but she'd just described half the women in the county. "I'll be right there," I said. "We're only about three minutes away.

"Weird," I said.

Alex shook his head. "Not really. Remember, nothing happens in a vacuum. Somewhere, somebody knows both the latest victim and the killer, even if they don't know for sure he's a killer."

As promised, we pulled into the courthouse lot three minutes later and I jumped—or tried to jump—out of the seat of his car. As soon as I twisted around, I realized my mistake when pain shot through my hip. It wasn't as bad as it had been even that morning, but it still wasn't a tickle.

I sucked in a breath and Alex reached for my hand. I shook my head. I couldn't look weak. I'd popped a few Advil on our way there, and as fast as my metabolism was, it was already starting to kick in. Unfortunately, that same fast metabolism would also process it in a couple of hours and I'd be hurting again.

At any rate, I climbed out of the car, gritting my teeth to keep from grimacing, then walked gingerly up the steps to the back entrance, thankful there was nobody around to see the slight hitch in my gait.

Using my key card, I got us into the inner sanctum and through to my office. Once I was situated in my chair, I rang up and told Ms. Ellen I was there.

It wasn't fifteen seconds before a woman burst through my door, steaks of mascara running down her face. She swiped at tears, then pulled a baggie out of her purse and handed it to me, her hands shaking. She slid into the chair across from my desk and plucked at the lace on the bottom of her peasant's blouse. Realizing what she was doing, she folded her hands in her lap.

There were two items in the baggie. One was an expensive-looking gold necklace with the letter V swinging from it, and the other was a cell phone. When I hit the power button, nothing happened, but I'd lay money once we fired it up, it'd belong to Tabbie.

"I found those in my husband's truck, in the glovebox," she said.

"First things first," Alex said. "What's your name?"

"Maryellen," she said. "Maryellen James."

I drew my brows together, trying to put my finger on where I knew the name from. "James. You live on the other side of the lake, right? Moved here a year or so ago?"

She nodded, chewing on her lip. "That's right. From Kentucky. It was too hot. I still have family there, but Papa—" she cut herself off. "I'm ramblin'. What I'm tryin' to tell you is I found that stuff, and he ain't come home in two days. I heard somebody else was kilt yesterday, and I'm afraid ..." She looked at her lap, going silent.

"You're afraid it was him," I finished for her.

She nodded. "Or that he's the one that done the killin'." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and fresh tears started to flow. This time, she let them fall.

I glanced at Alex, who sat down beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She glanced sideways at him.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Her voice hitched. "Cause he don't never not come home, and he's been actin' weird, agitated, for the the last week or so."

"Weird, how?" I asked.

She waved a hand. "Just, weird. I'll explain, but first I gotta say we're wolves."

Nodding, I said, "I know. You called and let me know you'd moved in."

"We did. But I didn't reckon you remembered me. I imagine you get a lot of calls."

I gave her a brief half-smile. "I do, but I try to remember names. I stopped out by your place to introduce myself a couple times, but you weren't home."

"We ran into you here later, or at least Roy did. Somebody broke into our barn three times and killed some of our chickens. Et 'em. He reckoned it was a fox."

Ah. That rang a bell. "It was a fox. A shifter."

She shot an accusing glance at me. "You didn't do nothin' about it. We had to buy more chickens."

I furrowed my brow. "I did do somethin' about it. I worked with the local fox den and found out it was a couple kids. They were supposed to make restitution. Promised they did. Said they fixed up your barn and made your coop more secure."

She drew in a deep breath and let it out again. "They never said that's what they was doin. They brought peach and blackberry pies their mama made, and helped fix some stuff up around the house when they saw what condition it was in, too. Wouldn't take no money for it. We just thought they was bein' neighborly."

That was my fault. I'd followed up with the kids, but had forgotten to check in with the Jameses.

"They mostly were," I told her. "All they were ordered to do was fix the barn. I know the family, and they're good kids for the most part. They were just bein' stupid that night."

"Well Roy thought you blew us off cause we ain't from here and ain't got no money or pull. Or maybe you just didn't have as much control over the region as you claimed to. It stuck in his craw, and to be fair, mine too," she said.

I sighed—proof that a simple misstep could cause hard feelings when you were in a position of power. I'd dropped the ball, but not in the way she thought. I just hadn't followed up.

"I'm sorry. I shoulda made more of an effort to communicate with you," I said. I took the kids at their word, and assumed they'd confessed what they did."

She waved it off. "Makes no nevermind now. What matters is what's in that bag, and who's in your morgue. I reckon I know the answer to the first. Now what about the second?"

All I had were the pictures I'd taken at the scene. Far as I knew, Colleen hadn't processed the body yet, so the pictures may be the least traumatizing. I pulled them up on my phone and handed them to her.

She didn't take the phone. Just glanced at them and nodded, then put her hands over her face and started sobbing.

We gave her a couple of minutes, and when her sobs turned to hiccups, Alex put his hand on her shoulder again. "This is important, Maryellen. What color wolf was your husband?"

She looked at him, confused. "Red," she said. "Why?"

Alex glanced at me; he was giving me the option of going into detail, or not.

"I'll get to that in just a minute," I said. "You mentioned he's been agitated lately. Any clue why?"

"None," she said, shaking her head. "Now what does it matter what color Roy was?"

"Because," I said, weary. "We don't know for a fact whether he was the murderer or not. There was proof of a fight. With a black wolf. We'd assumed your husband was a victim, but ..." I glanced at the bag she'd brought.

"But Roy had possessions from the victims." She dropped her head into her hands.

"Yeah," Alex said. "But first we need to figure out who the other wolf is."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

––––––––

AS SOON AS SHE LEFT, Alex picked up the bag and pulled the necklace out. Closing his fist around it, he shut his eyes, and concentrated. He flinched a few times, then opened his eyes.

"Anything useful?" I asked.

"Maybe." He paused, then picked up Victoria's phone and did the same thing.

He furrowed his brow. "That's odd. From the necklace, all I got was fear, pain, thoughts of a cat, weirdly enough."

"What about the phone?"

"I didn't get much of anything off of it. Exhilaration, I assume from the run, then a brief flash of fear. My guess is she dropped it at that point, or it fell off her body. If it wasn't in contact with her, it likely didn't absorb any of her energy after that."

I leaned back in my chair, then leaned forward again when pain shot through my butt cheek. So we have nothing."

"Not really. I don't know what to make of it. Do you have anything else of Tabbie's?"

"Yup. Down in lockup."

We were almost to the evidence room when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

"Sheriff Sloane."

"Sheriff? This is Alice Ketterling. I told you I'd call if Billy came back. Well, he's back."

As usual, Alex heard, and followed when I pivoted on my heel and headed for a side door a few feet to our right that led to the lot. It was an emergency door, but I waved my hand over it to silence the alarm before we got to it, then reset it when we were outside.

"Mrs. Ketterling. About ... what you know about him."

"What about it?" she said, a little suspicious.

Alex hit the key fob and unlocked the doors, and I jumped in, despite the pain.

"What color is he?"

She paused for a few seconds. "Black. Why?"

"Because I have reason to believe the murderer is a black wolf."

"Oh. In that case then, gotta go," she said, and the line went dead.

I held my phone away from my face and looked at it; she'd hung up.

Alex hit the gas and we made it to the trailer in six minutes rather than the ten it would have usually taken.

Deciding it wouldn't make any difference whether he saw us coming or not, we pulled up in front of the trailer and bolted toward the front door.

A voice stopped us in our tracks. "Over here, sheriff!"

I turned, and Mrs. Ketterling was sitting in her chair on the porch, her bright pink curlers matching her pink, flowered sundress. However, both were in stark contrast to the blued steel of the shotgun she had leveled at Billy Braxton.

"Holy shit," Alex said under his breath as we loped across the lawn. Well, he loped, I kind of trotted like a horse with one leg shorter than the other. "Even the little old ladies around here pack."

I smiled as we reached the porch. "Not all of 'em, but the ones who do are harmless as long as you don't cross them."

Billy was sitting on the edge of the porch, his hands behind his head.

"Understand, son, it ain't personal. I think you're a good kid, but so was Tabbie," she said to him.

For his part, I expected hostility, but was surprised when a tear trickled down his cheek.

Glancing toward Alice, I said, "Thank you, Mrs. Ketterling. We've got it from here."

"I think I'll keep him pinned 'til you get the cuffs on him," she said. "Just in case."

"How 'bout we talk to him first," Alex said. "Billy. Care to explain what's going on?"

"Yeah," he said. "I do." He peeked over his shoulder at the shotgun still pointed in his direction. "But I'd feel a whole lot better about it if I wasn't worried about her accidentally shootin' me."

Alice scowled. "Don't you worry none about that," she said. "I don't accidentally shoot anything."

"Said the last person who accidentally shot somebody," Billy grumbled.

"We got him," I told her. "I promise."

She narrowed her eyes and looked between me and Alex. He gave her that thousand-watt smile and she hmphed. "Ain't no need to turn on the charm with me, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. I been around long enough I'm immune." She lowered the shotgun. "I caught him for ya, against my better judgment, I might add. If you let him loose before you get your answers, it's on you."

He nodded, moving his gaze back to Billy. "Understood. And thank you."

I hadn't taken my eyes off Billy, but he didn't show any signs of going anywhere. He just sat, shoulders slumped and swinging his feet, looking miserable.

"So, Mr. Braxton," I said. "Or at least we'll call you that for now, but you're going to tell me your real name before we're done talking. We had a date at my office a few days ago. Mind tellin' me why you didn't show up?"

"My dad's sick," he said. "I had to go home."

"And where might home be?" Alex asked.

He took a big breath through his nose and puffed it out through his cheeks. "Just outside of Savannah."

"That's outside of our territory," I said.

Mrs. Ketterling cut in. "Which, unless I miss my guess, is why he moved here, and why he didn't come clean with his name," she said.

I'd forgotten she was sitting there, and panic flushed through me.

She rolled her fingers, telling us to get on with it. "My best friend, way back when, was a wolf," she said. "You're not talking about anything I don't already know."

Alex stared at her for a long moment, then at me. I made the call.

"Go on, Billy."

"She's right," he said. "It's why I moved here. I'm tired of all the fighting, and I met Tabbie at the diner when I was passing through." He looked me in the eye. "It's time I introduced myself. My name really is Billy. Well, William. But my last name is Arrington."

Alex sucked in a breath, and I let my head fall back on my shoulders when he said the name. The Arringtons were the isolationist pack leaders of a sliver of territory that ran up the coast of Georgia. They were hold-outs to uniting the region, refusing to even negotiate even though being part of the regional pack would offer many more protections and opportunities than staying apart would.

"Yeah," Billy said, huffing a self-deprecating laugh out his nose. "Now you understand why I wouldn't tell you who I was."

I glanced at Alex, confused. He just raised his brows in a don't ask me expression and shrugged.

"No," I said. "I really don't."

He scowled at me. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have ripped me to shreds the first chance you got. I'm the heir to the alpha."

"I don't know what you've been told, but we don't go around ripping people to shreds, though we're concerned that you do," Alex said.

"Me?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "I tried to warn you, but you tried to kill me. Then I saved your ass when that Tracker almost had you."

"Wait. What?" I frowned, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

"I came to see you the other night, to tell you what was going on. I'd just came back from the coast, in wolf form. I kept to the woods so I came through the back way, planning to shift back and come talk to you."

"It was the middle of the night," I said.

He lifted a shoulder. "It's when I got back, and I wanted to clear the air right off the bat. I didn't want to wait until morning."

"Okay," I said, "then why didn't you?"

"Because you came out the back gate before I got there. Then when I tried to turn around and shift, you started chasing me, and all I could think was that you were going to kill me, like my parents said you would."

I heaved a big sigh. In retrospect, considering my behavior and the misinformation his parents were apparently spreading, I understood why he ran.

"But then I circled back around. I figured you were looking for whoever killed Tabbie, and if you found him, I wanted to make sure you had backup." His cheeks turned red and anger lit his eyes. "And get a piece of him, myself, if I could. Then I saw the Tracker, and before I could warn you, he shot at you."

Glancing toward my leg, he said, "I assume he got you, based on the way you're favoring that hip."

I dipped my head. "He did."

"Why didn't you help her?" Alex demanded.

Mrs. Ketterling spoke up. "What? And get himself killed in the process?"

Alex scowled at her.

"She's right," Billy said. "I didn't wanna die, but I did run down a mile and howl, to draw him away from her."

Everything clicked into place in my mind, except for one thing.

"Okay, then. Why didn't you come this morning?"

"I did, but the Tracker's car was there. I recognized it from the parking lot in the park last night. It was the only vehicle there. So I came here instead, to try to figure out what to do."

"Okay, so you're the black wolf, and we have another wolf, a red one, dead. If you didn't kill anybody"—I studied his face—"you didn't kill him, right? There were signs of a fight in the woods, and we found patches of both black and red fur. And I was attacked the other night in the woods by a black wolf."

He shook his head. "It wasn't me, either time."

"Okay then," Alex said, "If you didn't kill him, then we have another wolf on the loose. We're no closer than we were."

I let everything roll around in my head for a minute.

"We still have the clothes," I said. "You didn't get anything off her phone, but you didn't get a chance to check her clothes. There's still a chance, there."

"What phone?" Billy asked. "Tabbie wasn't carrying her phone when she was killed. Her phone's at the house." He motioned to the trailer.

Alex and I glanced at each other. The phone. There was a chance it belonged to Victoria, but if not ... we rushed back toward his car.

"Hey! What about me?" Billy called, and I paused.

"Come on," I yelled over my shoulder. I didn't trust him to run off half-cocked and do something stupid to prove himself, or to avenge Tabbie. He beat me to the car and was in the backseat before as I slid as quickly as my injuries would allow into the passenger side, and we were off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

––––––––

MY PHONE RANG ON THE way there, and Dani's number popped up on the screen.

"Hey, Dani. Shoot. You're on speaker." It's not like everybody in the car didn't have super hearing anyway.

"Probably not the best choice of words," she said, "but okay. Aaron Shephard checks out. He's been a Tracker for the last twenty-three years, and his daddy was one before him. He only partnered up with Zach a year or so ago, though. Both parents are dead. No siblings."

"Wait, twenty years? The guy we met this morning is, at most, in his mid-thirties. How old was he when he started?"

Maybe they started training young. I heard the clacking of keys.

"Says here he became a full-fledged member when he was twenty," she said. "Lemme send you a pic."

My phone blipped, notifying me of an incoming image, and when I pulled it up, a bearded man with a stern expression popped up. And it was definitely not the Shep we'd met that morning.

"Yeah," I said into the phone. "That's definitely not the same guy. We'll get back to you."

"Wait," she said, "Before you hang up. I decided to run a first-name search on all the wolves in the state who would be in the age range of your Billy Braxton. The only one who matched the search probably isn't your kid. He's one of the Arringtons. The heir to be exact."

"Then I'm gonna surprise you," I said. "He's exactly our kid. He's with me now, and it's a long story, but I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself for now."

"Of course," she said. "Lips are sealed. But Cori?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. The last thing we need is a pack war, and they've been threatening a revolution over the past few months. The only thing that's stopped them is the old man's not doin' too well."

I glanced over my shoulder to Billy in the backseat. He was studying his hands, which were folded in his lap.

"Somehow I get the feeling the picture my family's painted of your pack isn't exactly dead-on," he said.

"Yeah," Alex said, looking at him in the rearview mirror. I get the feeling you're right."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

––––––––

"SO," I SAID, "IF ZACH's partner isn't Shep, then who is he?"

"You're the cops, plus you're connected to one of the biggest packs in the country. Don't y'all have some sort of facial recognition software or somethin'?" Billy asked.

I thought about that for a second. It seemed only logical that we would, but I know I didn't have access to it as sheriff. "We're small-town. I don't have that kind of equipment."

"What about Dani, though?" Alex asked.

Shrugging, I replied, "I guess she probably does. I mean, if she has pictures to match with names, then knowing her, she has some kind of reverse program to match names with faces."

"Yeah, Alex said, "but we don't have a picture, and it's not like we're going to be able to just go up to your admirer and ask for a photo op."

"True." I pinched my lips together. "The best bet we have is that phone. If Roy wasn't the killer, he was hanging onto it for some reason."

My phone rang, and I picked it up from my lap. It was the number Zach had given me, or at least I thought it was. I'd only glanced at it.

"Sheriff Sloane."

"I just got notification from my boss that my permits have been pulled and this entire area has been declared state land, in your control. Care to explain?" He was not a happy camper.

"Sounds pretty self-explanatory to me," I said, wondering if Sean had known they were Trackers when he pulled the strings. Likely not—Trackers were a vampire thing, and I'd just mentioned that I needed him out of my hair.

"Sounds fishy to me," he said. "I tried to work with you Cori, but all bets are off."

"Yeah," I said. "You did, but you weren't exactly straight up with me, were you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, though his tone was wary.

Now he was just pissing me off. "You think because we're a podunk little town that I don't have resources, but I do. You're not some wildlife specialist. You're a member of some crack-pot vigilante group out hunting fairytale creatures. I hardly call that competent behavior, and I won't have somebody who believes that people turn into wolves wandering around my jurisdiction shooting at things."

He was silent, for a minute, then the line went dead.

"Well," I said. "That could have gone better."

Billy smothered a laugh. "Yeah, but you sure sounded convincing. And it was a much better excuse for pulling his permits than saying you didn't want him killing you or other fairytale creatures in your jurisdiction. I mean, you gotta protect the unicorn population."

I rolled my eyes, but when he put it like that, the nugget of guilt I'd felt at calling Zach a crackpot melted away. We may not have any unicorns, but it would have been my job to protect them if we did. And I'd do whatever was necessary to make it happen.

***

WE DECIDED TO SKIP the whole psychic thing with Tabbie's clothes until we got a look at the cell phone. As soon as we made it back to my office, I pulled it out of the drawer and plugged it in. Luckily, my charger fit it. Within just a few seconds, I had it on and running, and I opened the photo gallery, mentally crossing my fingers that we'd find something.

The first few pictures made me gasp. They were of me. Leaning over the body, talking to Zach. There were a couple of me and Zach eating pizza at my house, and one of us walking up the trail after he'd almost caught me, then the last one of us was the one in the gazebo.

Then others were of Zach alone, taking aim at me, in my wolf form. That picture was clear as a bell, and I was thankful yet again that I looked more similar to a standard wolf rather than my brothers, who were all humongous.

Then there were pictures of Tabbie's body, and from the way the light was still a little gray, I'd have bet my bottom dollar that they were taken immediately after she was killed. I did my best to shield them from Billy, but I looked over and his jaw and fists were clenched, and tears were streaming down his face. "She didn't deserve that," he growled. "Nobody deserves that."

A few more pictures were of Roy and Maryellen James, smiling. A few more in, Roy didn't look so happy anymore. Though Maryellen's face still smiled openly from the pictures, Roy's smile looked forced.

The next several were of The date on the happy pictures was right after the first murder, then the later ones were after Gabbie was killed, right before the ones of me and Zach.

"They don't make any sense," Alex said. "Pictures of you and Zach, and Maryellen and Roy, all on the same phone?"

It was starting to make sense to me, though. I was fairly sure I knew who the phone belonged to. The only thing I couldn't figure out was the why. My suspicions were confirmed when I scrolled down a few more picture and came to a single, long distance one of Maryellen and the man calling himself Aaron Shepard. They were candids and fuzzy, as if they'd been taken in a hurry. In one, they were throwing horseshoes, and the man's face was in profile. The other was a straight-on shot, though it was still fuzzy. Still though, why?

"Lemme see that," Billy said, snatching the phone from me. He zoomed in on the picture and the blood drained from his face.

"I know who that is. His name is Erik, and he's my uncle. My dad's brother."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

––––––––

EVERYTHING FELL INTO place. My mother's warnings that pack politics were tenuous, the lies that Billy—the heir to the only remaining isolationist pack—had been told about us. The pictures of me, the regional leader, with a Tracker.

It had takeover written all over it.

They, or at least he, was trying to set me up as incompetent, or a traitor. No matter what pack you were from, or how high or low on the totem pole, consorting with a Tracker would be treason. These pictures would have discredited me and made the area ripe for takeover, especially given that many local families weren't gung-ho to have such a young leader.

I fell backward into my chair, barely feeling the pain of my injury.

They'd set out to discredit me, and disgrace me. Not only was I unable to protect the citizens of the region, I was in cahoots with a Tracker.

Maryellen's words drifted back to me. Maybe you didn't have as much control over the region as you claimed to. It stuck in his craw, and mine too. They'd already been set to believe the worst about me.

Something else occurred to me and I felt as if somebody'd dumped a bucket of ice water over me.

"Zach," I said. "He's with Zach. And we just pulled their permits. Zach is of no more use to him. He already has the pics."

"Call him," Alex said. "Tell him to meet you to—whatever. Talk about the cases, get naked. Whatever it takes to get him here so we can end this."

"Before we do anything, I need to call Mom." Words I never thought say. "If this goes south, she needs to know what's going on."

Billy pulled out his phone. "I better call mine, too. My dad's too sick to do much. I'm surprised he's lasted this long, to be honest. Mom's stepped up. As beta, she needs to know what's going on." His face paled. "Oh, God. What if she already knows?"

Alex put his hand on his shoulder. "Then better you find out now. You're the heir. When your dad passes, it's going to be your job to make the tough decisions. And building a relationship with our pack—or not—will be up to you."

I dialed Zach's number, and waited. It rang several times, then went straight to voicemail. He was either ignoring me, or unable to answer. Chances were about fifty-fifty either direction.

He'd said he was staying at his old homestead, so I grabbed Alex by the arm. "Let's go. I know where he's staying, and I hope he's there alone."

Maryellen's face popped into my head. She was a loose end. I started to call Sam, but there was no way I was putting him in the path of a vengeful werewolf. Instead, I grabbed the keys to one of the county cruisers.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked.

"You two've gotta go pick up Maryellen," I said. I'd gotten her contact info before I left, and I scribbled Zach's address on it, too. I shoved the paper into his hand. "My guess is she's his next target. If he hasn't gotten her already, there's a good chance you'll run into him there. Here's her number and address, and the one where I'll be is on the bottom. I'll get Zach, then meet you back here."

Billy had stepped out of my office to make his call, and I was counting on his integrity. At that point, I had to trust him, and I was betting that he wanted revenge even worse than I did because of Tabbie.

"She didn't know anything about it," he said. "She's put out a watch and will report back if he shows up there. But we know he won't. He's gonna see this through to the end."

"And what happens if he dies? He's your father's brother."

Billy shook his head. "Not anymore, he's not. Dad said to use lethal force if necessary. If not, and he's turned back over to our pack, he'll get a death sentence, anyway." He looked at his feet. "I think it would be merciful if we did it here. My dad's sick. I don't want his last order to have to be the death of his brother."

I nodded once. "Go!" Pushing out of my office, I tried Zach's phone again on the way to the car. No answer. His old place was on the outskirts of town, so I had almost as long a drive as Alex and Billy did.

CHAPTER THIRTY

––––––––

I GOT INTO THE CAR, grateful that my injuries were feeling better already. Thank you, werewolf healing!

I  drove the few miles to where Zach's old homestead was, almost missing the driveway because it had been years since I'd been there, and it was overgrown with weeds. I was surprised he'd kept it. It was a beautiful place, a little two-story farmhouse nestled among oaks.

An old tire swing still hung in the yard, though the rope was black with rot. I could see Zach had been doing some work to the place. The grass was cut, and fresh lumber shone bright where he'd replaced a couple of the steps. There was cardboard over a couple of the windows, but fresh panes leaned against the outside of the house beneath them.

His mom had always kept a garden off to the side of the house, but it was overrun with weeds. Still, some of the wildflowers she kept were still growing, taking away some of the abandoned look.

There was only one car there—the one Zach had been driving—but that didn't mean anything. The one time I'd seen them together, they'd been in the same car. That didn't mean Erik didn't have his own vehicle, but if he did, it wasn't there. I tossed a little prayer to whatever beings were listening that Alex and Billy got to Maryellen before he did.

I stopped my car and shut off the engine. Stepping out of the vehicle, I took the time to look all around, watching for movement in the shadows. I opened my witch senses up, too. They weren't strong, but I could often sense the presence of other people. Someone was there, but I didn't know whether it was Zach, Eric, or both, then I heard a noise behind me.

Heart pounding, I spun around, but it was just the rope on the tire swing, creaking as it swayed in the breeze.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the house, keeping an ear out for any sound as I climbed the five steps that lead up to the wraparound. I tiptoed to the closest window and peered in. There was a new couch sitting in front of a flat-screen, and a couple of milk crates overturned with soda cans sitting on them. The place was spartan, but clean. I wondered if he was planning on staying, or if he was fixing it up to sell.

I knocked, hoping it was Zach who answered, and that he was alone. I flicked the trigger strap open on my holster as footsteps sounded. Zach was coming down the stairs, smiling until he saw it was me.

Pulling the door open, he said, "What do you want, Cori?"

Huffing out a breath, I said, "Look, Zach. I don't wanna be on bad terms with you. I had my reasons for doin' things the way I did. I couldn't have you traipsin' out in the woods after dark when something was killing people. Let's lay our cards on the table, shall we?"

I studied me through slitted eyes for a minute, then stepped back from the door. "C'mon in."

Stepping inside, I looked through to the kitchen. He was doing more work in there and I asked the question I'd been wondering about outside. "Are you moving back, or getting it ready to sell?"

Sighing, he said, "Not that it matters now, since you seem to be with Alex and think I'm a crackpot, but I had planned to move back. I wanted to see if we could work things out."

"Oh," I said, feeling awkward. Truthfully, when I'd seen him, and when we'd eaten pizza in my kitchen that night, I'd wondered the same thing, but that had kinda flown out the window, what with the whole Tracker thing. It was tough enough to maintain a relationship under average circumstances, but when your man would rather shoot your relatives than go to a family reunion with them, well, I didn't see that working out at all.

I smiled at the thought, though it really wasn't funny.

"Alex and I aren't actually seeing each other, though I do have to admit I'm a little concerned about the werewolf thing."

When his body went rigid, I said, "Though not for the reasons you may think." I don't know why I added that, and hoped he didn't ask me to explain. Luck was with me, because he didn't.

"So what got you into that job to begin with?" I asked, feeling the urgency to leave, but not sure how to get him to go.

He snorted. "What do you care? You think I'm crazy, anyway."

I lifted a shoulder. "Maybe I want to understand." That was the truth. How does a person just become a Tracker?

I knew it was often handed down from father to son—or daughter, I supposed—but I wondered what kept the tradition fed. From all accounts, they weren't that successful. Most of us had integrated into society and were just as law-abiding as the next person. More so in most cases.

We didn't want the hassle of dealing with either pack police or Trackers. Neither tended to be particularly kind to rule breakers. There was a reason crime rates were so low with shifters. Our laws were harsher than human ones.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said.

"Why don't you try me? Let's go to Mocha and grab a cup of coffee. I'd like to know the story."

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Mocha's is all the way in town. I have coffee here, if you want a cup."

"I have a better idea," Erik said from the top of the stairs. "Why don't you show her your trophy book?"

"Trophy book?" I asked, raising my brows.

Erik grinned. "It's lovely. Kinda slim, because there's only only one picture in it, and it was his father's, but still. It's enough to make him believe."

Zach pressed his mouth into a firm line. "Now you're going to tell me you don't really believe, either? Even though you're in the same business I am?"

"Oh, no," I said, deciding to go for broke. If necessary, I could always get Kat to work some of her charm on his memory later. "He definitely believes. Because he sees proof of it every morning when he looks in the mirror, don't you Erik."

Erik laughed. "So I do," he said, "But I'm not the only one, am I, Cori?"

Zach was looking back and forth between the two of us, trying to figure out what was going on. "Why did you call him Erik?"

I didn't take my eyes off the guy who tried to frame me, and was likely going to try to kill me. "Because that's his name. Erik Arrington. He tried to discredit me. He killed those people, and the last one was one of his best friends."

"That's where you're wrong," Erik said. "Roy was my cousin. He'd moved to Kentucky when he married that girl, and got himself ex-communicated. It's why he moved into your territory and not ours. He reached out a few months ago, complaining about how incompetent you are."

"What?" Zach was trying to connect the pieces, but his brain just wouldn't pull the pieces together. My guess was that some part of his brain hadn't really believed in werewolves. More likely, that little piece thought he was hunting plain old wolves.

Erik's gaze snapped to him. "Wake up, idiot. I'm not your partner. Good ole Shep died so I could take his place. I knew you had ties to Castle's Bluff and that it wouldn't take much to get you to come back here."

"Go on," I said, egging him on. "Tell him how you killed those girls, just because you wanted to start a war."

"I didn't want to start a war, you naive twit. I wanted to avoid a war. If your pack took you out of here, a takeover wouldn't have been that hard."

I snorted. "You underestimate the Sloanes, then. They would have just replaced me with somebody else."

"Then I would have gone public with the pictures and made this scorched earth. If nothing else, it would have put distance between your territory and ours, and would have gotten you off our backs."

He drew a gun from his waistband.

"Really, Erik? A gun?" I raised my brow, then stood from the table and walked into the living room, drawing his attention away from Zach. "I have my own gun, if that's how you want to play it."

He put his hand in his pocket. "You caught me. It isn't how I want to play it at all. Because this will never work if he dies from a gunshot wound. He dropped the gun and my witchy senses warned me a split second before he lunged. I leapt toward him, changing in midair, and was shocked when something pierced my skin.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

––––––––

I YELPED AS MY BODY began to go numb in sections, and I crashed to the stairs, rolling down them as I struggled to remain conscious. I landed facing Zach, and the look of horror on his face was heartbreaking. I didn't love him anymore, but I didn't want him to die, either.

Erik skipped the last few steps toward me, shaking his head. "I really thought you would be a lot harder to land then this. I'm disappointed, Cori; you walked right into it."

I growled as my heart beat wildly. I could feel my body, but I couldn't move. I saw an empty needle lying on the floor a few feet from my face.

"Lucky for you that I don't want you dead just yet."

I growled and tried to shift back. The paralytic had me trapped as a wolf and I couldn't even summon my magic.

Zach, for his part, was terrified. I could see it on his face, and he reached for his hip. He wasn't wearing his gun—of course he wasn't. He was at home.

"But why?" he asked.

"Why, what?" Erik asked. "Why kill the girls?"

Zach shook his head. "No. Why stay here, now that they know who you are?"

"Who's they? She's way too independent to have told anybody, and even if she did, they'd have to out themselves if they wanted to defend her. They won't start a war either, because they're already on shaky ground with the northern packs."

He kicked me in the ribs. "So, what's going to happen is that I'm going to kill you, as a wolf of course, then she's going to disappear. Four wolf killings in this span? The place will be crawling with Trackers."

I tried to move my left rear leg—the one underneath me that he couldn't see— and found that, though it was a little tingly, I had almost full use of it.That was good. My metabolism was burning off the drug. I growled. Just a few more seconds and I could probably put an end to all of this.

The front door creaked open, and the last person on the planet I expected to find was Sean Castle. He cocked a brow and looked at me.

"Really, Cori? I'm gonna have to work with you on some impulse control. You werewolves are horrible with that."

I rolled my shoulders when Erik looked away from me toward Sean. I finally had full use of my limbs, and I concentrated on shifting. Within a matter of a few seconds, I was in human form again. Erik's back was still to me and I grinned at Sean, whose mouth twitched a little in return, though he kept Erik's attention on him.

"You know what your mistake was, Erik? Well, your biggest one?"

"What's that?" Erik said. "Please, I love critique from a mere human."

Oh, snap. He'd just mistaken one of the most powerful vampires in the world for a human. Sean's pupils went wide, and I knew he'd just whammied Erik with persuasion. I had a minute to gain control of myself, because it was sure thing that Erik wasn't going anywhere until Sean released his hold.

"Well, I was going to say you failed to think things through and take her other strengths into consideration, but I've changed my mind. You're just dumb as a rock all the way around. And I trust Cori will choose an apt punishment."

I focused my magic, trying to think of what I should do with him, then smiled when it occurred to me. I shot a blast toward him that froze him in place, just like he'd frozen me, except mine wasn't temporary.

I turned him to stone.

Sean laughed, delighted. "Well done, my girl. And all without bloodshed. Your father would be proud. Your mother, maybe not so much, because she has a bit of a wicked streak, but I approve!"

For his part, Zach sat immobilized. He had no idea what to do. I was standing there buck naked after changing from a human to a werewolf and back again, some strange guy had waltzed into his place as if the whole thing entertained him—which, to be fair, it did—then I'd turned his sort-of partner into statuary that would do wonders for keeping the birds out if his mom's old garden.

Sean walked toward him, a kind smile on his face. "I know this is difficult for you."

Zach just watched him approach, stunned. "Yeah, you could say that ..." He gazed around him at Erik, or what used to be Erik, lying tipped over on the floor.

Sean glanced at me, a question in his eyes. I knew what he was asking, and knew he was showing me huge respect by even bothering. He knew what needed done, and so did I. I nodded. "You may want to do something with the statue-formerly-known-as-Erik, and put some clothes on," he said, "though I have to say, the view is impressive."

I scowled at him, but moved to do as he suggested.

Alex and Billy burst through the door, and Billy had the good grace to look away while Alex pulled off his button-down and handed it to me. I slipped it on and was glad to see that it came almost to my knees.

"You guys are here just in time," I said. "I need help getting that"—I pointed toward Eric—"outside. Though what we're going to do with him from there is beyond me. I think it's a little creepy to just put him in the garden, though that was my initial thought."

Alex laughed. "I'm not carrying that." He gripped the stone around his neck—the blue quartz I'd noticed the first night I'd met him—and closed his eyes for a second.

Sean huffed out a breath. "All you halflings wandering around. You need to spend more time practicing your skills than playing human. Cori, Alex, I'll expect both of you at the mansion weekly for lessons. I have a wonderful witch in residence who's absolutely charming. You'll love her, I'm sure. Now, get moving. I have a memory to modify."

I frowned, semi-ignoring him in favor of watching the stone glow between Alex's fingers. He opened his eyes, then pointed toward the statue, raising it up and moving it toward the door.

"Wow!" said Billy, his eyes round. "Dude! You can change into a wolf and do magic? That's amazeballs."

I laughed, but waited until he got the stone outside before saying anything. "How did you—"

He put his hand out, shushing me, then raised it higher and pushed it out thirty or forty yards. "Duck," he said.

"What?" I no sooner got the question out than he opened his fists and the statue exploded into a thousand pieces. A small piece thunked against the hood of Sean's Lambo, and I cringed.

"Maybe we shouldn't mention that," Billy said.

"Yeah, maybe not," Alex replied.

Alex stopped by his car and popped the trunk. His overnight bag was in there, and he rummaged through and found me a smaller t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts that were big, but not so much that they would fall off. The guys turned their backs while I changed, then Alex slipped his shirt back on and we headed back to the house.

"So what does the crystal do?" I asked.

"It's meant to help me organize my thoughts and balance my two halves. I had a ton of trouble with my magic until my aunt, a healer, got me this for my twentieth birthday. Now I never take it off."

I hmphed. "I gotta get me one of those, then."

When we got back inside, we found Alex sitting at the table chatting with Zach. "Hey guys!" he said. "Sean said you were coming, but I was starting to worry."

I glanced at Sean, wondering what lead I was supposed to be following.

"I was just telling Zach here that you were coming to help him paint, since he's been doing this all himself. It's a nice welcome-home gift," he said. "Very generous of the three of you."

I rolled my eyes.

"What?" he said, raising a brow. "You're obviously dressed to paint."

"Yes," I said, giving his my most smarmy grin. "Yes I am. Zach, where do you want to start?"

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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ZACH ORDERED PIZZA and we helped him paint until almost midnight. He went on and on about how close he was to opening up his own sandwich shop, something he'd always wanted to do.

I knew the sandwich-shop thing was real, but I didn't know what strings Sean had pulled—both in Zach's mind and in real life—to make it happen. I did know, though, that if he planted those memories, it was a sure bet that there would be a sandwich shop, or the beginnings of one, at the exact location Sean had planted in Zach's head.

By the time I made it home, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was collapse in a chair, drink a glass of wine, and chillax. Chaos jumped into my lap as soon as I sat down, then curled up and went to sleep, and I leaned my head back, enjoying being still.

"Hey roomie!" Kat said, dancing down the stairs. Not that I wasn't glad to see her, but she had way too much energy for me right then.

"Hey, yourself. I can't decide if I love you or hate you for being a night owl."

She poured herself a glass of wine and joined me. "You love me, but whether it's because I'm a night person, or in spite of it is a question only you can answer."

"So have you had any more leads on who poisoned you?" I asked, taking a sip of my wine and stroking Chaos.

"As I matter of fact, I did," she said, pulling her feet up underneath her. "Lindsey Leeanne Hall."

I raised a brow. "Never heard of her. Why on earth would she want you dead?"

"It seems her boyfriend was working a kazillion overtime hours so he could buy her a super-nice engagement ring, and she got it into her head he was cheating. Rather than just call his work and verify, she started nosing through his phone."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "It so happened he'd called the bar one night—probably to order to-go food since he works right up the street—and she took another idiotic leap and assumed he must be calling a girl."

I groaned. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Nope. And guess who the lucky girl working that night was!"

"Just ... wow. So what's Sean gonna do with her?"

She crinkled her brow. "Honestly, I'm not sure. It's such a convoluted mess that I don't think he knows, either. He's brutal, but he's fair. We're not necessarily sure the standard punishment fits here, so she's cooling her heels in the dungeon while he decides."

Drawing my brows together, I said, "Won't anybody notice she's gone?"

"Doubt it," she said. "The guy left her because ... well, she's batshit crazy, obviously. She has no family, and no job because he was supporting her, too."

Sometimes people astounded me.

"So tell me about your day," she said. "Sean says there was a little excitement."

"Yeah, you could say that," I said, smiling. I gave her the rundown pausing the tell her about the blue quartz pendant Alex used to balance himself so he could control his magic.

She crinkled her forehead. "That is so weird that you'd say that."

"Why?" I asked as she pushed to her feet and set her wine glass down.

"I'll be right back."

When a vampire says that, take them literally. Within three seconds, she was back, dangling one of the most beautiful pieces of blue quartz I'd ever seen from her fingers.

"Wow," I said, turning the stone as it dangled. "Where did you get that?"

"That's what's so weird," she said. "A good friend that I roomed with for twenty years or so stopped in to see me last week. She's an earth witch."

"Yeah, I remember her. Aina, right?" Chaos was focused on the stone, watching as it swung back and forth.

"That's right!" she said. "You did meet her. Anyway, on her last day here, she gave it to me and told me I'd know what to do with it when the time came. She used to make me crazy talking in riddles like that, but I learned to trust her. So ... I think I know what to do with it."

She handed it to me.

I hesitated. The piece was beautiful. "Kat, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, pushing it toward me. "It feels right."

Chaos hadn't taken her eyes from it and watched, intent, as I fastened it around my neck.

The stone warmed against my neck and Kat grinned.

"I looked down and was surprised to see a faint blue glow emanating from inside it, just like Alex's had done."

"It was made just for you," Kat said.

"Yes it was," said Chaos, "And it's about time it found you."

THE END

<<<<>>>>

Thank You!

Thank you for joining me for the first story in Castle’s Bluff, a small Southern Georgia town where the residents are diverse and nobody’s exactly how they seem. I hope you enjoyed reading Howling for Revenge as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If this is the first of my books you’ve read, I invite you to visit Keyhole Lake, another small southern town, by starting with Sweet Murder, the first book in the Witches of Keyhole Lake Series, available on Amazon.

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Books by Tegan

Books in the Witches of Keyhole Lake Series

Sweet Murder

Murder to the Max

Murder so Magical

Mayhem and Murder

Murder and Marinade

Hook, Line, and Murder (May 16, 2018)

Witches of Keyhole Lake Shorts

Bubble, Bubble, Here Comes Trouble (Book 3.5)

Witching for a Miracle (Book 4.5)

Cori Sloan Witchy Werewolf Mysteries (Coming April, 2018)

Howling for Revenge

Enchanted Coast Magical Mysteries

The Deadly Daiquiri

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About the Author

I was born and raised in the South and even hung my motorcycle helmet in Colorado for a few months. I've always had a touch of wanderlust and have never feared just packing up and going on new adventures, whether in real life or via the pages of a great book.

When I was a little girl, I didn't want to grow up to be a writer—I wanted to raise unicorns and be a superhero. When those gigs fell through, I chose the next best thing: creating my own magical lands filled with adventure, magic, humor, and romance.