by Terry Spear
She quit pacing and folded her arms. “Last month. Which was why I was adamant about not going until the waning crescent or the new moon was upon us.”
“This will make it harder to deal with, but we’ll do it.”
“And if everything goes to hell?”
He pulled her into his arms. “Candice, we’ll handle it. One way or another.”
“You mean turning people?”
“That could be a disaster. We can feign you’re suddenly ill or something. We’ll figure it out. We might not have any problems at all.” He rubbed her back, but she couldn’t let go of the worry.
When someone knocked on the door, Owen glanced at it and frowned.
“One of the guys?”
“Maybe Cameron coming to talk to us in person.”
She followed Owen to the door, and he peeked out. “Aw, hell,” he said under his breath.
“What?”
“We have a new problem. That homicide detective, Rowdy Sanderson.” Owen opened the door and said, “We don’t allow salesman to solicit around here.”
“I’m not selling anything. May I speak with Candice Mayfair? I’m Homicide Detective Rowdy Sanderson. I spoke with you earlier and tried to call Ms. Mayfair, but she’s not answering her phone.” Rowdy flashed his badge. “I know something about the Arctic wolves that rescued two snowmobilers in South Dakota a few days ago. I also am well aware that Miss Mayfair is an author of Arctic wolf romances, and I’ve read all of her books. You see, in my business, I’m called when the victim is deceased. I like a happily ever after. I love the paranormal. Do you mind if I come in and talk with her?”
Candice couldn’t believe he’d follow her here. Or that he’d been reading her books! She wasn’t sure if he suspected the rescue wolves had been werewolves, except for his reference to her writing. Still, that would be a really far reach. He probably assumed she used her Arctic wolf pets’ antics to write more realistic Arctic werewolf stories.
“You’re trespassing. Your badge says you’re from Montana. No dead bodies around here, and you’re out of your jurisdiction anyway,” Owen said.
“I know what I know. I find the world an incredibly fascinating place. Just open your eyes and your mind a bit, and it’s amazing what you’ll see. I’m on your side. Really, I’m friends with a couple of divers out of Montana who are just like you. Or almost.”
“I don’t know what you think you know, but we don’t own any wolves.”
Rowdy cleared his throat. “I’m well aware that what Candice writes about isn’t fantasy.”
“Hold up a minute. You’re saying these people you know in Montana are werewolves? And what? That Candice knows werewolves, and that’s why she’s writing about them?” Owen asked, sounding convincingly like he thought Rowdy had a screw loose.
She thought Owen would just shut the door in Rowdy’s face, but he didn’t, probably as curious as she was about the people Rowdy had mentioned. And what he knew about them. Were they really werewolves?
“Paul Cunningham and his wife and their friends Allan Rappaport and his wife. The two men were SEALs, and they’re with the sheriff’s dive team. So is Allan’s wife. Here’s my card. If you don’t know them, here’s Allan’s number.” Rowdy wrote it on the back of the card. “He can verify that we’re good friends and that I want to help you in any way I can if you run into any trouble because you rescued the snowmobilers.”
“Thanks. We don’t need any help. But I appreciate the offer.” Owen closed the door, and he and Candice watched out the window until the detective left.
“That isn’t good news,” Owen said.
“I’m going to call them, unless you know them already.”
“I don’t.” Owen gave her the card, and they sat in the living room while she called Allan with the phone on speaker. “Hi, I’m Candice Mayfair. I just got a visit from a Montana homicide detective who says he’s a friend of yours. A Rowdy—”
“Sanderson? Yeah, I know him. Why did he give you my number?”
“He’s trying to track down two Arctic wolves that rescued a couple of snowmobilers in South Dakota. You might have seen it on the news.”
Silence.
“He thinks I had something to do with it because the wolves left a trail to my cabin.”
“Did you? Have something to do with it?”
“Believe me, I’d like to say I had everything to do with it.”
“So…you’re in South Dakota. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a little Arctic wolf pup that ended up in Texas and was returned to a family in Minnesota, would you?”
“Corey? Yeah, I had a close encounter with him in Minnesota on a camping trip. And I’m visiting with his family and friends now here.”
“Well, hell,” Allan said.
“What’s the deal with this guy?” Owen asked. “Should we be worried?”
“And you are…?”
“Owen Nottingham. I’m with the group here in Minnesota. A PI like the other men. Cameron’s a good friend, and Corey is his son.”
Candice couldn’t believe the homicide detective actually knew about werewolves, but she found the conversation with another wolf fascinating. No one was willing to admit they were members of wolf packs until the dots were well connected.
“He suspects there’s more to us than meets the eye. But he’s covered for us so far, so we still consider him one of the good guys,” Allan said.
“And you haven’t turned him or killed him yet?” Owen asked, sounding amazed.
“That could cause real problems for us. He has no family to speak of, but if a homicide detective is killed, it would create an ongoing investigation into the matter. If he’s turned, then he’ll have a hell of a time working his job. All we need is another newly turned wolf to have to take care of. As long as he doesn’t cause trouble for us, we leave things the way they are. But I don’t like hearing that he’s been chasing Arctic wolves all over. I know he went to see a cousin in South Dakota. I saw about the wolves rescuing the men and figured they were some of our kind. But I had no idea Rowdy would stick his nose into it.”
“Okay, thanks. We just needed to make sure we weren’t going to have to do something drastic with this guy.” Owen gave his phone number to Allan in case they ever needed to get in touch.
Candice thanked Allan and then ended the call.
“I wonder if a homicide detective could look into this Houston PI and his newfound Clara…and learn some things we’re not able to,” Owen said.
“You have a good point. Though I’m still nervous about flat-out admitting we’re wolves to anyone who isn’t one of us. Rowdy might be able to help us when we go to Houston to lay claim to the inheritance. He might be willing to serve as an official detective to put a stop to whoever the impostor is and the PI who ‘found’ her,” Candice said.
“We’ll have to discuss this with the rest of the pack though. We never do anything that would impact the rest of us without talking it over with everyone.” Owen called Cameron with the news and said to Candice, “All of them should be over in a few minutes.”
Chapter 11
The pack got together, the kids playing computer games while everyone else sat down to discuss the issue with Rowdy and Candice’s problem controlling the shift. Even Owen and the rest of them could have trouble at this time of month.
“I don’t want to share our secrets with some stranger,” Cameron said.
“I agree, but he already seems to know them.” Owen brought cups of coffee over for everyone.
“And if other wolves seem to think he’s all right and if he could help us with this, I’m inclined to think we could use his assistance.” Candice thanked Owen for the coffee and sipped from the snowman mug.
“Like Count Dracula? And his minion, Renfield?” Faith asked, smiling.
They all laughed.
> “I’m sure he would love hearing that’s what we would think of him.” But Candice thought it was so true. “Okay, so I’ll call him…and tell him what? That I have an inheritance that is at stake?”
“Maybe he can use his own resources to find dirt on the PI and the girl. He doesn’t have to meet with us. We don’t have to tell him about the problem with your shifting. Or mine either. Just tell him we’re doing all we can to investigate this case of fraud, and if he could help, that would be great. If not, then no problem.”
“Okay. Sounds good.” Candice called Rowdy and put him on speaker as soon as he answered. “Hi, this is Candice Mayfair. I wasn’t sure if you could really help us with this or not, but I do have a problem.” She explained to him about how the PI agency was looking into this, but if Rowdy had other resources he could tap, they would be grateful.
Everyone was quiet while they listened to what she said. The kids had even turned down the sound on their laptops when their mom told them to.
“Okay, give me the name of the investigator, and I’ll learn what I can. When are you going down there to sign the paperwork?”
“We’re leaving tomorrow. The signing will be in a few days.”
“Driving though, right? It’s probably too close to the full moon to fly.”
“We’re driving. Do you ever worry that some people might feel threatened by what you think you know?” Candice really didn’t understand this guy. She wasn’t sure what she would have done, had she known werewolves existed, but she didn’t think she would have been contacting them to tell them she knew about them.
“Truthfully? That’s a hazard of my job. The perpetrator usually doesn’t want to be apprehended. That means I’m often facing a lethal foe. I’ve had a number of near-death experiences on the job. I’m good at what I do, having one of the highest success rates in bringing in murderers and procuring their convictions. But what if I had superpowers like all of you have? I could be even better, both in apprehending the criminal and in ensuring I have the right man, and probably in less time than it would normally take. Which can be years sometimes.”
“Superpowers?”
“Yeah, sure. What else would you call your enhanced abilities? Okay, look. Allan’s wife would have died—well, she did, twice—and she would have been permanently dead if Allan and his friends hadn’t stepped in to help out. Allan loves her. He did from the beginning, I believe. I didn’t stand a chance against him in the romance department.”
“Do you think you’ll have enhanced sexual powers too?” Candice asked, getting a kick out of him. Though she realized that was somewhat true because of how the pheromones deepened the experience. At least for her with Owen.
All the adults were smiling.
“Your books say they do. Whether it’s true or not, I’d be willing to test the theory myself. But back to Allan’s wife. If I got shot on the job, I’d stand a lot better chance at recovery. Right?”
“And could be discovered for your faster healing genetics. Plus, you’d more than likely take more risks, thinking you were invincible,” Candice warned.
“Which could help me solve more cases and faster. Witness identifications aren’t that reliable. But what if I could smell the scents of those who were at the scene of the crime?”
“And how would you explain how you knew it was the real perp? Tell them you smelled him there? Even if you could identify the murderer by scent, you’d have a hell of a time proving it,” Owen said.
“Yeah, but at least it would narrow our suspect list, and I could put all available resources on the correct guy.”
“Let’s say, for the sake of argument, you became a part-time wolf. You wouldn’t be able to work your job until you had the shifting under control. What would you do?”
“I’d find a job I could work from home until I could return to the other job. Like you did. Like the private investigators do. Hell, maybe you could use an investigator like me who has prior Special Forces experience, is hard charging, and would never let you down.”
“You don’t even know us.”
“You’re some of the good guys. I know, because I’ve dealt with a lot of bad guys over the years.”
“We’ll think about it,” Candice said as the other adults shook their heads no. They probably figured they already had enough issues—with being turned seven years ago and then adding a pack member more newly turned—without taking a brand-new wolf into the fold. “But if you can help us look into this case of fraud, we’d be grateful.”
“I’d be happy to. And we can meet in Houston. I’ll keep you informed about what I learn.”
“Thanks. We’ll talk later.” She was hopeful someone on the outside with other resources might be a help. Or were they just creating more trouble for themselves by taking him into their confidence?
* * *
At four the next morning, Candice and Owen got up and began loading the car. They took a couple of suitcases and emergency weather gear—blankets, thermal and regular, plus food and water—in case they had any trouble along the way, and both of them brought their laptops.
After a quick breakfast of ham and eggs, Candice climbed into the passenger seat. “I can drive too, possibly today. Just let me know when you need a break.” She opened her laptop to work on her new book—set in Minnesota, of course. She just loved the new setting and had been writing away with her new muse helping her.
A little while later, Owen finally reached more of a highway and started the long drive to Houston. “When you have to shift, do you feel it coming on beforehand so you have a bit of a warning?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.
She didn’t blame him for worrying about whether she could manage the shift okay. She’d learned early on that driving was out of the question while she was having a lot of trouble controlling the shifts. “Yeah, I can fight it for about a half hour, most of the time. Sometimes longer. Sometimes shorter. Then I have to give in.”
“During the phase of the full moon, I can fight it for a couple of hours. But then I can’t hold off any longer,” Owen said. “I’ve tried to fight shifting completely, to see if I can learn to control it, but I can’t. When the new moon phase is here, I can’t shift, even if I wanted to. I’ve tried, just to see if I could force it. But it won’t happen.”
“Do you find you miss the ability during the new moon?” Candice asked.
“Yeah. It’s like a habit. Or maybe a better word for it would be an ability. And then all of a sudden, you don’t have it. Like you said, you run a couple of times a day, morning and night, great exercise, and it makes you feel good. I do too. I have a lot harder time getting motivated to exercise when I can’t run as a wolf. You don’t have to bundle up in the winter. You just strip and shift and run.”
“I feel the same way. Though I do like to take walks in the woods as a human sometimes.”
“Then we need to do that too when we return.”
Candice pulled up her file on her laptop. “I’m going to work on my book for a while. Just let me know if you become tired of driving.”
“Sounds good.” Though if Candice was happily working on her book and didn’t need to take a break from it, Owen would keep driving. He liked to go on long driving trips, which was a good thing since flying was out of the question when the full moon phase was drawing close.
While he was driving, Candice was typing away, pausing sometimes and then typing again. He drove for several hours, and she seemed to be really adding to her word count, so he was glad. He finally had to pull into a service station travel center where they could grab lunch.
“Do you want hamburgers or something else?” he asked.
“Hamburgers would be great. A cheeseburger. I’m going to run to the little girls’ room.”
“Okay, be inside in just a second.”
David called as soon as Owen started to fill the tank. Owen
hoped that meant his partner had good news.
Candice stretched and then headed for the building.
“The PI, Felix Underwood, is legitimate,” David said. “As much as I could discover so far. He’s a lone investigator and has had a Houston office since 2000. He’s been doing this for a while. No brushes with the law that I could find. He owns a car and home, no mortgages. Lives in a nice home out in the country with some acreage, so he has a bit of a commute to his office in downtown Houston. He has a secretary. No dirt on her either.”
“And the woman calling herself Clara Hart that he so fortuitously found?”
“Cameron is trying to run her down. Rowdy said he’s digging deeper on the PI. This guy might be perfectly legit, but the temptation to find a fake Clara was just too enticing not to make an attempt. Not when Strom had gotten suspicious about Candice and confirmed she had a fraudulent book tour. The opportunity to find the real Clara would have been hard to pass up, particularly when there is no other real Clara. And the deadline is quickly approaching. He might believe you’re really a fraud with a great scheme, and he’s copycatting you.”
“You’re saying he’s never done anything wrong in the past, and he wouldn’t have this time if he hadn’t had such a lucrative deal dumped in his lap.”
“On the surface, it looks like it. Of course, he might have done illegal stuff and never gotten caught. Think of it. A multibillionaire tells you he thinks the woman who claims to be Clara is a fraud. Maybe the PI looks a little but can’t find the real one. Then what does he do? He can either fail to find the right woman—and Strom obtains all the money—or he can find someone who fits the bill and take a cut of the proceeds. Maybe retire and leave the area permanently afterward, in case the real Clara ever shows up.”
“Okay, sounds viable.” Owen finished filling the tank and closed up the cap on his car.
“How are things going for you two?” David asked.
Owen knew he didn’t mean the drive, but the issue of shifting. “Good, so far. We just stopped for gas, and we’re going to grab a couple of cheeseburgers.” He headed for the building. “Let me know if you learn anything else. We’ll talk later.”