Finders Weepers

by Belinda White

  When they hadn't come home when they were supposed to, I'd went into Find mode. They were my first dark Find. By the time I made it to the campsite, the local police and even the FBI were already on site. Ruining any chance I might have had to track the killer and avenge their deaths.

  Not that I didn't try. I'd tried to get a whiff of everyone present, to match scents to people present. But there were simply too many people, and the grief was far too fresh. Luckily Mason had been there. My savior.

  Everyone in the area knew my family. More importantly, they knew there were two Hunt daughters. I was only sixteen. I would have been an easy target. If the Luparii were trying to eradicate the Benandanti, they should have finished the job.

  Now I understood. "I was a teenager new to wereing, so they didn't see me as a threat. They left me alive as bait. To see if the Benandanti would claim one of their own. And no one ever did."

  Rebel whined and pushed his wet nose against our hands. Rebel. Benandanti. I smiled at him.

  "You came to me though didn't you, fellow? You stayed with me all these years. So I wasn't ever really alone, was I?" I ruffled his fur, only now realizing just how great a gift I'd been given. He may be different, but darn it, he was family.

  Rose insisted I stay to dinner, so I did. It was only as I was driving home that I realized Rose never mentioned what it was she needed from me. Why now of all times the Foundation had called me home.

  She had added her home and cell numbers to my cell phone. My phone book now consisted of exactly four numbers. Work, Mason, and Rose times two. What a sad comment on a lonely life. On the bright side, I'd doubled my contacts in just one day. Who knew what tomorrow might bring?

  It's funny, but even knowing that Rebel was under suspicion of murder, there was an unknown killer loose in the park, and that the Luparii organization (the Beast now had a name) was sure to be on their way to Spencer to deal with me, I was actually happy. For the first time in sixteen years.

  Which of course was when the bullets started hitting my car.

  Chapter 6

  The shots were coming from the left-hand side of my driveway, the side that was the heaviest wooded. Not that I was going to slow down and look through the trees to try to find the shooter. Not knowing what I was driving into, I threw the car into reverse and backed down my long drive at speed, adding a few dents and scratches to my paint from the passing tree limbs. Luckily most of the trees were pine and seemed to be more than agreeable to moving out of the way of a flying Jeep. I hit the main road and hauled it toward Spencer, making for the sheriff's office.

  If I'd been thinking straight, maybe I would have parked somewhere close and watched for someone to leave my drive. Then again, it could have been a long wait, and chances are they would have doubled around behind me for another shot. Maybe with a little better aim this time. Reb was having a cow in the backseat, obviously wanting to go after the assassin, so he must be okay. I glanced down at my dash. No red lights were on and the gas gauge wasn't dropping drastically, so hopefully the shooter hadn't hit any major car organs.

  I was halfway to the jail when my brain finally kicked in. What was I going to tell the Sheriff? That a werewolf hunter was after me? What a conversation that would lead to.

  But I am an innocent werewolf, dang it. As I thought about it, I realized the hunter would be in the same boat with me. He couldn't very well plead he was just doing his job in killing a werewolf, now could he? All I had to do was not change. I mean, they couldn't make me change, could they?

  Luckily there wasn't much traffic through Spencer on a Saturday night, as I'm pretty sure I ran a stop light or three. Spencer only has three, or it may have been more. Which only goes to prove that there is never a cop around when you need one. I would have been more than happy to explain myself and even accept a ticket to see a nice deputy right about now. As long as it wasn’t Jeffries.

  I raced into the jail's lot and was relieved to see Dunwood's Ford Explorer in the employee lot. Now I could deal with the big boss and not have to try to reason with a Jeffries clone. In my present mood, I may have been driven to do and say some pretty stupid things. But then again, I hadn't made it through my report yet. There was still time for dumb and stupid.

  The Spencer Sheriff's Department is housed in the same building as the jail. Most people who come to this post are either inmates or visitors for inmates. Callers have set hours. And, oh goody, I was in time for visiting hours. If you ever want an awakening as to just how bad life can get, go to the jail during visitations. It helps if you've just been shot at.

  I pushed the button to ring the inner sanctum. "What do you want?" asked a crackling voice. Maybe I was paranoid, but it sounded like Jeffries. He wasn't going to like the fact that Reb was standing beside me in the tiny cubicle outside the visitor's holding area. But there was no way I was leaving him in the Jeep with a maniac on the loose.

  "I need to see Sheriff Dunwood. It's an emergency." My voice was shaking.

  "The sheriff is busy at the moment, but I'll be out in a few minutes to help you." The crackling ended. He had hung up on me.

  I pushed the button again and this time held it down. The locked inner door exploded open and a red-faced Jeffries came bursting out. "I said...," he stopped and actually took a step back when he saw Rebel, his hand on his gun.

  "We aren't going to do this again, Jeffries," I said, making sure I was between him and Reb. "Rebel isn't a killer, and I'm not leaving him in the car. My Jeep is full of bullet holes from a sniper and right now, I truly believe he is more protection to me than a new recruit who thinks every Fido is a big, bad wolf. Now, get me Dunwood."

  He looked like he was going to argue, but he never got the chance. Dunwood came out the inner door behind him.

  "Jeffries, don't make me turn you into a Barney Fife with that firearm,” Dunwood said. “Go finish up your paperwork. I'll take care of Ms. Hunt."

  Jeffries glared at me, probably blaming me for making him look bad in front of the boss, but I could have told him he deserved all the credit for that one. He went back in the office, leaving me and Dunwood standing in the middle of an audience who seemed grateful for the show. I don’t think Jeffries is very popular with the local crowd.

  Dunwood jerked his head toward the door. "Let's go take a look at your vehicle."

  We walked in silence to the parking lot. He winced when he saw the side of my Jeep. So did I. I'd been so focused on getting to the Sheriff, I hadn't looked at my beautiful Jeep. At least it had been beautiful.

  Bright yellow (Reb had insisted) original paint with a black soft top. And only four years old, which for me counted as new. Now the left side was peppered with bullet holes. With all the scratches I'd gained in my backward race, it looked like a kindergartner’s attempt at connecting the dots. I walked forward and fingered the holes. Two in the front quarter panel, one in the rear quarter panel, and the left taillight lens had disintegrated. Surprisingly though, there wasn't a single hole in the soft top. Huh.

  Dunwood shook his head. "I didn't think he'd go this far."

  My jaw dropped open. "You know who did this?" For a crazy second, I thought about running. Being a werewolf can make a person more than a bit paranoid, so I have bolt holes scattered around the area. I like to think of them as fall back locations. Right then falling back seemed to be a really good idea.

  He nodded. "James Riley would be my guess."

  I drew in a deep breath, feeling my shoulders lower themselves back to normal position. My head newly filled with Luparii, I'd never even thought about Riley. The man could be called a lot of things, but Luparii wasn't one of them.

  He turned an apologetic look to me. "In light of everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, I really hate to admit it, but Jeffries is...was Jimmy Riley's cousin. He went and ran off his mouth to the Rileys and then James came looking for me. He demanded I arrest you and put Rebel down. I told him you were fully cooperating and that the Coroner was checking bite
marks to see whether or not Reb was guilty. By the way, the results are in. Reb's innocent."

  I bit my tongue and just went with a duh look.

  "Anyway, James ranted and raved and said that if the law wouldn't take care of his boy's killers, he would." Dunwood sighed. "I really thought I'd talked some sense into him before he left, but I guess not. I'm sorry, Taz."

  My heart rate started to slow down. Not Luparii. Just a crazy gun-toting father. He'd probably missed my driver's door and soft top on purpose, just wanting to scare me. I was probably safe from his wrath, but I had the feeling he'd kill Rebel on sight, just on principle. Even Jeffries still had it in for my dog, and he'd been proven innocent.

  "Did you let the Riley's know the Coroner's tests proved Rebel didn't kill their boy?"

  "I called them first thing when I found out. I was going to call you, but I figured I'd deliver the news in person." He gave me his trademark half a smile. "There's a note on your door, but I'm betting you didn't get that far."

  "The bullets started flying about halfway down my drive."

  "You got insurance to fix 'er up?"

  I nodded. "If the bullets trace back to James Riley, I'd like for him to pay for the fixing. The last thing I need is an increase in my insurance premiums."

  He smiled grimly. "I'll see to it personally. You wait in your Jeep while I tell the folks inside I'm leaving. I'll lead the way to your cabin." His lips tightened. "Then I'll go have a talk with James Riley."

  SUNDAY MORNING DAWNED warm and bright. Not that I saw the actual dawn. Mason would be here tonight, and I was still stretched out in bed halfway through the morning. My mind was pondering the wisdom of having my first-ever sleepover when Reb barked. I may have heard the cars before then if I hadn't been wallowing in sinful thoughts. Didn't anyone ever call first anymore?

  I threw on yesterday's jeans and a baggy shirt to cover the fact that I couldn't find my bra and ran for the door, just as the knocking started. I glanced out the peephole first. After all, I had dodged bullets just the night before. There, on my tiny little porch, stood Dunwood and the hunky ranger from yesterday.

  Crap on toast.

  I backed a few steps away from the door and yelled, "Just a minute."

  Darting into the bathroom, I grabbed my brush and started attacking my hair. The short, layered pixie shag looks good after a shower and air dry. Not so good after a night of tosses and turns. Sections of hair simply refused to stay in place. Rubber duck it.

  I threw some water on my face and scrubbed it off with my guest towel, wishing for time to brush the little fuzzy coat off my teeth. I'd just have to remember not to smile. Yeah, don't smile, Taz. Especially not at the gorgeous hunk of Ranger whose breath was probably minty fresh.

  Walking the short two steps from my bathroom to the front door, I took a deep breath. I could do this.

  I opened the door wide with a big friendly grin on my face. Some plans are just destined to fail. Then out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my black lacey bra hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. I shut the door, stuffed the bra into the cabinet over the sink, and opened the door again, sans grin.

  The two men just stood there and looked at me. I looked back.

  Dunwood opened his mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again. "Could we come in, Taz?"

  I smiled. Drat. "Sure, Sheriff." Stepping back, I allowed them to pass into the house. I could see the Ranger's quick appraisal of my cabin, including his raised eyebrows at my Jacuzzi.

  "Did we get you up?" Dunwood asked.

  What a choice. I could either admit to being a lazy bum that slept until ten o'clock in the morning, or to always looking like I just stuck my finger in a light socket.

  "I was up late last night watching movies." Luckily, I had rented a couple of DVDs from the library a few days before and they sat right there on the TV, lending credence to my outright fib.

  "I really like your home," the Ranger said. "You know from the outside it looks a lot smaller. It's actually quite livable in here. Comfortable, even." His eyes kept going back to the hot tub.

  "Jed said the two of you had already met?" Dunwood asked.

  "Yeah, over at the grocery store. By the way, where's Maggie?" I asked.

  "I left her at the hotel. Sheriff Dunwood said you might be able to take me to where you found the grave. I figured if you agreed, it might be easier on all of us if Maggie stayed home," he answered, giving Rebel a nod. Reb harrumphed and brushed past him to stand at the door.

  "I'll let you out, but don't go thinking about breaking into the hotel. Remember that's about a five-mile jog. And they don't have doggie doors," I said, opening the door for him. Then I remembered what and who might be out there and it was no longer hard not to smile. "Stay close, okay?"

  "Woof."

  I turned back to the men. "Yeah, I can take you out. But I'd like a little time to get ready if you don't mind. I'd have been ready if you'd called first." I smiled to take the sting out of the words. Double drat.

  Dunwood grinned. "I tried, Taz. Your cell phone is off."

  Confused, I walked to my purse and dragged out my phone. It was off. I never turned my phone off. It was my link to the world, even if I could count on one hand the number of people who had my number. Thinking maybe the battery had died, I turned it on. Full charge. That was strange.

  "Sorry about that, Sheriff. I don't know how it got turned off."

  "No problem." His face tightened. "By the way, I talked with Riley last night. He's a guest at my facility right now, but the Mrs. will probably have him bailed out soon. Still, he should behave himself now that Reb is in the clear. Mrs. Riley swears she never had a chance to tell him the news. Seems he was already out getting his drunk on when I called."

  After seeing how Jeffries handled seeing Reb after he'd been cleared, I wasn't counting on James Riley all of a sudden coming over to the light side. I'd checked out my woods last night after the Sherriff had left. The area where Riley had camped out waiting for me had been littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, and the heavy smell of chickens. They had the right shooter, all right.

  Dunwood cleared his throat. "I was heading to a family reunion and just led the way out for Jed here. Your place is kinda hard to find unless you're a local. Thanks for taking him out, Taz. I'd do it myself, but there'd be the devil to pay if I missed this shindig. My mom's been calling me every day to remind me."

  That explained why he was in jeans and a suede bomber jacket instead of his plain brown uniform and sheriff's hat. I'd been right about getting him out of uniform. He looked nice. Maybe not as nice as Jed, but nice. Sturdy. The kind of man you could trust to take care of you.

  I realized they were both staring at me. "What?"

  "Is it okay if I go now?" Dunwood asked. I frowned, then realized I was still standing in front of the door. I stepped aside and let him out.

  Jed stepped to the door, too. "I'll head into Spencer and pick up some lunch meat and stuff for the woods. Could you be ready around eleven?"

  "Sure, and I'm really sorry my phone was off." I felt guilty sending him all the way back into town, even if it was just a few miles. "Look, why don't you stay here? I've got some leftover fried chicken we can throw into containers for lunch. And I've got a can of coffee and a thermos in the cabinet if you want to make coffee." The coffee pot was bright red and standing on the counter, so I didn't figure he could miss it.

  "I'll just be a few minutes," I said, retreating into the bathroom. I think it was the first time I’d locked the door since I'd owned the cabin. But then it was the first time I'd taken a shower with a man not ten feet away. Even if there was a door between us.

  Stripping down to skin, I was reaching to turn on the water when I heard his burst of laughter. I froze, banging my head on the shower stall door. He had probably just seen the world's first coffee can wearing a black lacey bra. I turned on the water, wondering if it was possible to drown yourself in a shower.

  Unfortunately, it
wasn't. I lathered, rinsed, toweled dry, combed my hair, and brushed my teeth. I pulled clean underwear, jeans, and a gray pullover sweater out of my small wardrobe and dressed. Looking desperately around the small room, I couldn't think of anything else to do.

  He was still grinning when I came out, but to his credit, he didn't say a word. I ignored the coffee pot completely and went to the fridge to get a soda, pulling out the plate of chicken, too.

  "I know it's still early, but if we eat a light lunch now, we won't have so much to carry in and out," I said.

  "Sounds good to me. That chicken looks great. Mind if I have a breast?"

  Chapter 7

  I let him survive. After choking down a drumstick and wing, I loaded some bottled water into my backpack and was ready to hit the woods. We decided to take separate vehicles and meet up at the park. If we'd made that decision an hour ago, I'd still be able to look Jed in the eyes.

  I'd been expecting to see the DNR vehicle on my drive, but Jed had traded in the loaner for his own personal car. A sky blue fully restored 1978 Chevy Nova sat just behind my Jeep. The muscle car suited him. He climbed in the Nova, Rebel and I jumped in the Jeep, and we headed out.

  Once at the park, I led the way to the service road that came closest to the site. From there we walked to the little clearing with the hole that had once held the body of Jimmy Riley. The area around the shallow grave was now littered with tracks, human and coyote. A pure symphony of smells accompanied them.

  The coyote tracks all headed out in the same direction. At least seven distinct tracks. Seven coyotes. I had never seen more than three together at a time. Neither had Jed, and coyotes were kind of his specialty.

  In the short walk to the site, I learned that Jed was a Special Investigator consulting with the local DNR. His position was actually with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Division, making him an official government agent. I guess you could call him a detective ranger. At least that's what he was, whether or not they had another name for it. I also found out that he lived in Greenwood, which was about an hour's drive from Spencer. He had taken a room at the local hotel to be closer while he tracked the coyote pack.