Wolf Tracks: Tales of the Were (Grizzly Cove Book 17)

by Bianca D’Arc

  They’d started out early this morning from the hotel. Jim’s uncle, Arch, was going to hang out with their human ex-Navy SEAL friend, Ben Steel, for a few days before heading back to Pack territory. The bear brothers—Ace, King, and Jack Bishop—and their mates were staying on at the paper mill in West Virginia for a while, just to make sure things settled down for the human workers of the plant, and that no uncomfortable questions were asked. Or, if such questions were asked, that they would be there to run interference and provide the right answers.

  All three Bishop brothers were now working for SeaLife Enterprises, the conglomerate that owned the paper mill and many other businesses. It was based out of Grizzly Cove these days, Jim had heard, under new ownership. The story he’d been told had to do with a mermaid who had sought refuge in the cove and mated with one of the bear shifters who lived there. She’d inherited SeaLife Enterprises on the death of her stepfather, who had turned a once-legitimate business into something dark and sometimes illegal.

  The new owners were working to fix that, one business at a time, which was why Jack Bishop had been sent out to West Virginia, in the first place. That he’d found his mate while uncovering the evil that had taken over the paper mill was a huge bonus. Mates were hard to find. Some shifters went their entire long lives without ever finding that one special person meant for them.

  Arch was a lot older than Jim, and he’d never found his mate. Jim was at the age where he was looking to settle down, but it was in the hands of the Mother of All whether or not he’d find the special woman meant just for him. He prayed that it would happen, but he wasn’t going to beat himself up if it didn’t. He had a good life with a loving family and great Pack, though there was a complication that made mating—even dating—next to impossible most of the time. Jim sighed inwardly. Something would have to be done about it, at some point, but he’d been hoping the situation would resolve itself without him having to do anything overt.

  If he found his mate, he’d have to act. Until then, he could let things ride and just keep on keeping on. Doing jobs with Uncle Arch and helping keep the Pack secure.

  Uncle Arch was one of Jim’s favorite people, and Arch had been teaching Jim everything he knew for years, which Jim really enjoyed. From time to time, they went on missions together. Arch and Jim had become sort of a team of troubleshooters. When necessary, they’d leave Pack territory to do side jobs for the Pack, friends of the Pack, or Others who needed their specialized help. They’d been finishing up just such a mission when Ben Steel had called for help, and they’d hightailed it right over to act as backup at the paper mill. Luckily, they’d already been near enough to the area to get there fast enough to help.

  It had gone a bit like clockwork. They’d arrived on scene just in time to help with the mop-up, which was really the largest part of the job. There were a lot of confused human factory workers who had to be dealt with, and Arch and Jim had been able to arrive on-scene like the cavalry and played the role of first responders to all those dazed employees. It had worked like a charm.

  They’d stayed on through the weekend, but the bear brothers had things covered once Monday rolled around and the plant reopened. The Ebersoles had stayed, as well, regrouping a bit after their long journey, with Lisa Ebersole working her computer magic on behalf of SeaLife Enterprises while Martin had done his tracking thing.

  Martin had followed the missing employee’s trail eastward to a neighboring town, just down the highway. They would start the hunt in earnest there, and make decisions about whether or not Helen would continue to travel with them. According to Helen and Kiki, though, it was very likely Helen would be with the hunting party for some time to come. If their mother told Helen to travel with them, Mrs. Richards had likely foreseen a large part of the journey already.

  Jim thought about that as they drove along in loose formation. What must it be like to grow up with a mother who knew things before they actually happened? How could a kid have any fun—or get into any trouble—with a mother like that? Of course, she could also help a lot of people with her gift.

  That Helen, too… She had a healing gift that was incredibly powerful. She was a good person, down deep inside. Her spirit shone as she used her gift to heal that little girl who had been so abused at the hands of evil. Helen had worked with little Melissa several times since she’d been freed, giving the badly drained girl a boost in energy and inner strength each time. Jim had witnessed two such sessions and been impressed with the power Helen wielded with such grace both times.

  She was a beauty, too. Classical features and sunshine-blonde hair with pale blue eyes that looked almost gray. Fair Helen was gorgeous, both in body and in soul. Tall and willowy, she looked as if a good strong wind would blow her away, but there was also an odd sort of strength about her. Jim felt a keen attraction to the delicate healer, but he wasn’t sure if she felt the same.

  Who was he kidding? A woman like Helen had her pick of male company. No way would she choose a hard-edged ex-soldier werewolf with complications in his life she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Helen was so pure of spirit. So untouched. He wouldn’t mar her life by trying to worm his way into it. He wouldn’t be that cruel.

  Helen drove along, between the two pickup trucks, wondering why her mother had been so insistent that Helen travel with the trackers as far as possible. She had driven to West Virginia all by herself and had managed all right. She didn’t need babysitters to get her back to southeastern Pennsylvania and her family.

  Mom had to have had ulterior motives. Mom always had ulterior motives. What they were might come clear in time. Or not. Mom’s gift was cagey that way. Helen had, more or less, come to terms with being manipulated by an oracle since birth. When you were born into the Richards family, that was just the way things were. You learned to deal with it and move on with your life.

  If Helen were to place a bet, she might think her mother’s machinations were designed to let Helen spend as much time as possible with the dishy werewolf in the truck behind her compact car. Jim Hanson was the kind of man women had midnight fantasies about.

  Tall, ripped, handsome as sin. The golden streaks in his dark blond hair invited her to run her fingers through the short strands. She’d had to sit on her hands to stop the impulse to touch him when he’d been sitting next to her on Kiki’s patio the other night. She’d wanted to stroke his arm, hold his hand, touch him any way she could, but she mustn’t. He was a werewolf and had not invited such liberties.

  She didn’t know much about shifters, but she had heard that they didn’t like to be touched by strangers without an explicit invitation. She figured that was reasonable. She didn’t like it when strangers touched her without permission, so it was only fair. It’s just that he looked so…so…pet-able.

  She could only imagine what his wolf side must look like. He probably had soft, silky fur in those shades of brown and gold, like his hair. And those striking blue-green eyes that reminded her a bit of the ocean. He’d said he had been a Navy SEAL. She could see that. His eyes spoke of the turbulent depths of the Atlantic, and it was clear from his physical form that he was physically fit. Fitter than almost anyone Helen had ever seen, and she lived among farmers who labored all day, every day, on their farms.

  She’d seen her share of physiques sculpted by hard work, but Jim Hanson’s body was honed like a fine-edged blade. Sharp, dangerous and devastating to the opposite sex.

  He could have his pick of female companionship, and probably did. She didn’t blame him. Shifters were of the earth, and they had instinct and impulses that were probably a lot stronger than most people. Since learning about shifters living among the regular population in secret, Helen had been fascinated by the very idea of them. She’d learned all she could from the available sources, which were few and far between. Her magical tradition didn’t have much to do with shifters, in general. Which was unfortunate.

  She wanted to know more, but she knew asking flat out was not the way it was done. S
he’d have to ask Kiki to share some things, but that would take time. She wasn’t about to bombard her little sister with questions during what was essentially her honeymoon period, even though they hadn’t had the official wedding, yet.

  Part of what Helen would be doing when she got home was planning a big country wedding for Kiki and Jack. Once things settled down at the paper mill and it was safe to leave for a while, they were going to head home to the family farm. They’d hold the wedding so Kiki would be married in the eyes of their friends and neighbors, though from what little Helen had been able to learn about shifter culture this past weekend, once mates found each other, they were considered mated as soon as they let their friends, family, and any leaders of their Packs or Clans know.

  Helen wasn’t completely clear on the Pack or Clan thing. The bears had a Clan, she’d heard them say, but the wolves spoke of their Pack. It made sense for the wolves. Non-shifter wolves ran in Packs, too. But non-shifter bears? She’d thought they were mostly solitary creatures. She’d have to do some more research, now that her little sister was mated to one.

  She’d heard both Arch and Jim refer to an Alpha. It sounded like the Alpha was the leader of their Pack, which also made a certain amount of sense. But, having met Arch and Jim first, she would have pegged both men as Alphas, at least in the sense that she knew the word. They were both powerful, intelligent, and they had this aura of competence about them. They were leaders. Alphas. Though, it sounded like they both answered to someone they respected enough to take orders from. Helen would be afraid to meet the werewolf that could give warriors like Arch and Jim orders.

  When the truck in front of her put on its turn signal, Helen followed suit. She looked into her rearview mirror and saw Jim do the same in his truck, behind her. They all got off the highway at the next exit, and Helen followed the Ebersoles’ pickup into a large parking lot adjacent to a diner with shiny silver panels on parts of the exterior and large windows. It was nearly lunch time, and she hoped they might stop for a bite, but she’d do whatever the others decided. She was just along for the ride.

  They parked in a row, next to another vehicle. Helen was aware that Jim positioned his pickup on the far side of the other car. Martin had parked between the other car and the diner. Helen’s car was next to Martin’s, adding another layer of obstruction between the diner windows and the car in the middle of the two trucks.

  She got out of her car and stretched her legs. Martin helped Lisa and Melissa out of the pickup. By the time the family was standing in the parking lot, Jim had joined them all.

  “That car is the one Buford left in. He dumped it here. I didn’t touch it, preserving it so you could search for evidence, but I did pick up his scent trail and followed it back to the highway for a bit. He got a rental car at the lot just down the street and then went back to the highway. The trail goes cold at that point. At least for me,” Martin admitted with a grimace. “I was thinking maybe you might find something in the car that would give you fresh sign.”

  “Good call. Why don’t you all head into the diner while I take a gander at the car?” Jim suggested.

  “Yeah, it’s about lunchtime anyway, and we could use a pit stop,” Martin agreed. He turned to his little family and shepherded them toward the door of the diner.

  Helen hesitated a moment. “Shall I order food for you?” she asked Jim.

  He seemed surprised by her offer. “I’d really appreciate that,” he told her. “Roast turkey on rye, if they have it. No mustard. No mayo. Extra tomatoes. And fries. And a big glass of O.J. Maybe a slice of apple pie?”

  “No problem,” she told him with a smile, pleased to be able to do this little kindness for him. “It’ll be waiting when you finish.”

  He paused to meet her gaze, a spark of blue-green making her want to catch her breath. “Thanks, Helen.”

  She nodded and turned away, unable to form words. She practically skipped into the diner, her emotions running so hot and…weird. Jim’s simplest words made her feel all fluttery. Like some kind of teenager mooning over a heartthrob. She really had to get a grip.

  Helen sat at the large table with the others, keeping a surreptitious eye on the parking lot to see if she could figure out what Jim was doing. Whatever it was, he was better at stealthy maneuvering than she would have credited. How did a big guy like Jim manage to keep such a low profile? It boggled the mind.

  “Don’t expect to see too much,” Martin told her quietly, his eyes twinkling with amusement when she met his gaze. “That boy’s a former Navy SEAL, and he’s got a direct line to one of the legends of the Spec Ops community. I bet he knows more about stealth than just about anyone, other than his Uncle Arch.” Martin looked past her, out the window. “Look, here he comes now. Boy doesn’t give much away, but I’d bet he found something.”

  “What makes you say that?” Helen turned to watch Jim’s long-legged amble into the diner.

  “Because if he hadn’t, he’d still be out there looking.” Martin winked at her as he grinned. “That boy’s no quitter.”

  Jim had no sooner sat down at the table with the others when the waitress came out with a large tray, delivering the plates heaped with food to everyone. Jim winked at Helen when the turkey sandwich he’d asked for was deposited in front of him, sending her a smile of thanks that nearly melted her bones. He really was the most attractive man she’d ever met.

  There was just something about him that drew her like a moth to a flame. He was probably just as dangerous to her gentle soul as that fire was to a moth’s tender wings, but she couldn’t help herself. The longer she was around him, the more she felt this uncanny pull to be near him…always.

  Conversation halted until the waitress left, but once they all had their food, they were able to talk, as long as they kept their voices low. Lisa was doting on her daughter, but Martin looked keen to find out what Jim had learned. As was Helen.

  “This was stuck in a little crevice behind the door panel,” Jim said, handing something over to Martin.

  “Well, well, well,” Martin mused. “Careless.”

  “There’s every indication he cleared out in a hurry. Food wrappers all over the place. General grunge in the passenger area. This, however, was the only piece of even remotely identifying data left. He scrubbed the vehicle of anything that might lead us farther down the trail, only he missed this bit, in his haste.” Jim looked smug as he took a big bite of his sandwich.

  “What is it?” Helen asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  Martin handed her the little rectangle. It was a library card. She looked closely. A library card from Virginia Beach, with a man’s name on it, that was not Buford Somersby.

  “What does this mean?” she asked, puzzled. “Was this left behind by some other person, or does Buford have a friend named Gil Smithsby?”

  “Gil Smithsby is likely one of Buford’s aliases,” Martin explained gently. Helen felt like a dolt when he said it. She should have realized.

  “We can use that name to trace him. Maybe,” Jim added. “I already texted the info to Ezra Tate in Grizzly Cove. He’s running a computer search now.

  “If he doesn’t turn up anything, I might be able to make a few calls,” Martin offered.

  Chapter Two

  As it turned out, Ezra was able to find out a great deal about Gil Smithsby. By the time they’d finished eating and were working on dessert, Jim had received a full dossier on Gil Smithsby, alias Buford Somersby, alias Gerald Settersby, alias, alias, alias. The man turned out to have a list of aliases longer than Jim cared to read.

  Buford was the newest of his long line of false identities. The best part of being able to link Buford with the others was being able to trace any activity by the older identities. In this case, they were able to find out that Gerald Settersby had rented a car just up the road from the diner, paying by credit card. Ezra had used his investigating wiles, calling the rental place and pretending to be a credit card fraud investigator, he’d learned a
great deal about what Buford/Gerald had said to the clerk—and, more importantly, what he hadn’t said.

  He’d told the clerk the rental would be for one night, that he was not leaving the state, and that he’d return the car tomorrow. Buford/Gerald had claimed to be visiting a friend in the area when the clerk had remarked upon his driver’s license being issued by the State of New Jersey. He’d had a plastic bag full of papers in addition to three large suitcases. When prompted, the clerk had revealed that he’d noticed a few things. Like a map of Virginia among the other man’s collection of papers and a quickly glimpsed luggage tag on one of the cases that had a Virginia Beach address on it.

  “Could be a setup,” Martin mused. “Though I can’t think of any reason they’d want to lure people to Virginia Beach. I hadn’t heard anything about that area being a hotbed of sinister activity, but then again, I’m not really in the game anymore these days.”

  “I haven’t heard anything negative about Virginia Beach either. Nor had Ezra and his sources,” Jim said as he ate his pie. “Thing is, I know the general area pretty well. I spent some time in Norfolk, which isn’t too far away as the crow flies, when I was in the Navy. I may still have a few friends in the area.”

  “Then, it would be a good idea to call on them,” Martin said with finality.

  “That’s the plan,” Jim agreed. “But I’m going to head in that direction while I do that. I have a feeling that’s where I need to go.”

  “Then, I suppose we’re going to part ways sooner than I expected. We head northeast from here,” Martin said, regret clear in his tone.

  “And I’ll be going southeast,” Jim replied, nodding. “It was a pleasure meeting you and working with you,” he said formally, to the older man.

  “Likewise,” Martin responded warmly. “You have my number. If I can help in any way, just call, okay?”