by RK Close
Bingo!
My heart races with excitement. This could be the break I’ve needed in this case. With shaky hands, I peel the envelope off the drawer and break the seal. Just like my dream, there is a single flash drive. Holy cow! This is the first time my freaking dreams have been useful to me.
I’m amazed and freaked out that something inside me could lead to this. With my exhilaration, fear also begins to creep into my heart. What the hell am I that my dreams tell me secrets?
As Scarlet would say, “I can’t think about that today.” The southern belle’s mantra has become mine.
My dreams just took on a whole new level of credibility. Before this moment, I’ve not given them any real validity. Maybe because believing them scares the hell out of me.
***
I’m anxious to know what’s on this flash drive. My next destination is Ugly Brew, my favorite coffee shop. Walking in, I spot a large leather chair in a secluded corner with my name on it. After ordering a medium coffee and an egg sandwich, I settle into my temporary office.
I set my laptop on the coffee table and dig into my lunch while I wait for the computer to fire up. In-between bites and sips, I plug the flash drive into the USB port. I look around the café, feeling very 007-ish while the files are loading. Nobody’s paying me any attention, so I watch the screen. Three file folders appear with the names O’Donnell, Martinez, and Davis.
I’m nervous to look at these. I already suspect that the Martinez and Davis files are pornographic, but do I want to see pictures of Madison doing the nasty with Sean or Cian? It feels like I’m betraying a friend’s trust. I’ve done this before. Hell, I’ve taken more than a few incriminating photos, but this feels too personal.
There’s no way around it. There can be no stones left unturned. I may never be able to look at those guys without blushing. Jeez!
Deciding to finish my sandwich before I make myself sick, I sit back, stare at the screen and drink my coffee. I’m going through all the scenarios I can think of to decide if I am obligated to inform the brothers that I have these photos. It’ll change my relationship with both, especially Sean. Even if I never tell them, it’ll change me.
Sandwich finished and most of my coffee down, I look through the Martinez folder first. Once I click the file open, my screen is full of single thumb pics of Madison and Martinez. My face burns and I close the laptop quickly. Oh, sh…
I’ve come across porn before but never dwelled on it too long. I’ve taken some extremely incriminating pictures, but I get what I need for a court case and get out. I don’t hang out for the show. Yes, I’m a bit conservative. I also don’t have any personal experience to speak of, so to say I’m curious is putting it mildly. But graphic pornography is not the way I want to gain this sort of knowledge. I’m a romantic idealist at heart.
Unlike Dayna, who would be grabbing the computer from me and ordering popcorn, I’m a bit timid and less adventurous. Looking around the café once more to make sure no one knows what I’m looking at, I open the laptop.
Okay, Sam. You are a professional. You can do this objectively. There could be a clue in one of the photos. There must be a clue. Why else would Madison show me where to find this?
***
Twenty minutes later, my eyes burn, and I have way too much carnal knowledge for any virgin to possess. The file for Davis takes about the same amount of time and yields even more erotic information than I need to know. I should have saved that file for after I meet with the professor. Talking to him now will mess with my A-game. It’s difficult to view someone objectively with this much intimate knowledge of them. By this point, my head is throbbing, and I’m even more anxious about viewing the O’Donnell file.
Feeling as though I’m about to lose a couple friends, I click open the last file folder.
What I see makes my mouth drop open. Inside the folder are three more folders. One is labeled Sean, and one is labeled Cian.
“Holy crap!” I exclaim, jumping up from my chair and almost dropping the laptop.
A third file is labeled Colin. Colin O’Donnell…as in the father of Cian, Sean, and Deirdre.
What the hell?
I sit back down when I notice everyone looking at me. Smiling sheepishly, I return my attention to the laptop. This may be the first time I’m not certain I want to find the answers.
With a shaky hand, I click on Sean’s file first and blink at the screen. The file is empty. Confusion and relief wash over me. Going back, I click on Cian’s folder. I’m assaulted with passionate photos of Cian with Madison. Surprisingly, these pictures affect me differently. Maybe because I’ve met him and like him. They’re just as graphic, but don’t offend me half as much as the others. Possibly because I have the sense that Cian is in love with Madison. It’s funny how the same type of action repulses me with the other two men, but these make my stomach flip.
Cian is gorgeous. There’s no argument here, but I’ve seen enough. There’s no need to watch the video. I can’t.
Closing the folder, my pointer hovers over the file labeled “Colin O’Donnell”. I’ve seen a driver’s license photo for the older man, but I haven’t met him face to face. He’s on my interview list simply because he’s the alpha for the Mojave pack and they are rivals with the Luna Pack. But this implies he’s more involved with this case than I would have guessed.
Once I click the file, pictures of Madison with a man fill the screen. Madison Taylor is something else. She managed to seduce both brothers and the father. Are people this simple, or does she know a secret? I now understand where the brothers get their good looks and excellent genetics from. Colin O’Donnell is a handsome forty-something man. He looks more like his early thirties, except for the slight graying at his temples that hints at his real age.
Do the brothers have any idea that their father has more in common with them than blood and the moon? This case is turning out to be an enormous can of worms. And do I tell the Taylors about their daughter yet? This “potential” war already has casualties. Information like this could be the tipping point, and it weighs heavily on me.
I’m dreading a visit with the professor, but I don’t want to miss anything that could be substantial. Colin certainly has a motive.
Colin O’Donnell has just joined his sons on my persons-of-interest list. At that, I think he may top that list now. Who has the most to lose from an affair with Madison Taylor? At this point, I’d pick the alpha of the Mojave pack. And this is, of course, the information Madison was trying to lead me to. She’s not above blackmail, and obviously, that’s her game.
Colin O’Donnell may have killed Madison Taylor to keep his secret. This is the most plausible theory I’ve found so far. Time to pay a visit to Mr. O’Donnell.
21
Alpha
This is the best lead I have so far. Paying Colin O’Donnell a visit is on the top of my agenda. My head is spinning with all the images and thoughts from the discovery on the flash drive. There’s so much to consider, but the biggest issue is finding out what happened to Madison.
From my sleuthing, I’ve learned that Colin O’Donnell emigrated from Ireland with his wife and three young children fifteen years ago. I’m still not certain on the details of how or when he became alpha of the Mojave pack, but I do know that he slowly built a name for himself by working at, then owning, the bar Rúla Búla. Over the years he acquired another bar and started a third. It was a surprise to find that my favorite Irish pub is owned by Sean’s father, whom I have never seen there before. So many pieces of the puzzle fit into place. The trouble is, I didn’t know some of these pieces were part of the same picture. It does make sense that Sean manages one of the bars in the family business. My guess is that Cian might manage the other.
The second bar Colin O’Donnell acquired was the Red Moon. As I started digging up the details of the older O’Donnell, I discovered that he also owns the country bar Moonshine Whisky, where Cian works. I haven’t made an appearance at Moonshine or Red Moo
n because I’m a little confused why Creepy Stalker Guy would have a matchbook from a bar owned by the rival pack. It wouldn’t be wise of me to make an appearance there until I understand what it all means.
Since it’s Monday, I’m taking the chance that Colin O’Donnell’s at his home, which is inconveniently located out in the sticks. That, and I called his home number and hung up when he answered. This felt a bit juvenile, but I don’t think scheduling a visit with my prime suspect would work. I considered asking his sons, but I can’t risk them alerting him, either.
When I searched for information on Deirdre, I learned that she still lives at home with her father. I’d rather not bump into her while I’m asking her dad about his affair with a girl not much older than her. She will hate me for sure if she doesn’t already. All the O’Donnell family may hate me before I’m through. Imagining Deirdre or Sean hating me makes me all kinds of sad. All these thoughts keep me company as I make the long drive to the O’Donnell home on the outskirts of Phoenix.
The family ranch is in the middle of nowhere, down a long dirt road off Interstate 17, north of Phoenix. All the colors seem to match the gray cloudy day as I take in the desert landscape—varying shades of brown and the dull greens of winter in the southwest. Their driveway must be at least a mile long. I’m beginning to feel nervous as I realize how isolated it is out here. My car is covered in fine dust that’s kicked up from the road as I drive slowly, dodging ruts along the way. My vintage Mustang was never designed for this type of road.
A large clump of vegetation and leafless trees signal that the home is close. Thoughts of caution start to push aside my melancholy mood as I stop my car in front of a large single-story adobe-style home. Round wood beams protrude out through the white stucco of the walls. There is a good-sized barn to the left of the home, and a free-standing four-car garage to the right.
The rustic feel of the home along with the large cottonwood trees scattered around give it a warm and inviting air, even in winter. It occurs to me that a killer may live here. Werewolves live here. My hand fondles the knife under my denim jacket. I’ve been practicing the moves Gabe taught me, as well as some I’ve learned from Adam. The more I handle the knife, the more confident I become. It’s my suspicion that the vampire blood in my veins has also helped to speed up my training and abilities. Either that or my ancestors were warriors and skilled with blades. Naw. It’s the vampire blood, and I’m okay with that.
Stepping out of the car, I look at my phone to see if I have cell service, and I do. Just to be safe, I send a quick text to Adam, letting him know where I am. I turn the ringer off and shove the phone in my back pocket. In case I should suddenly disappear into thin air, Adam and Jacob will know who to interrogate first. This thought was supposed to be humorous, but it feels morbid, as I walk to the front door.
Before I reach the top step of the porch, the front door opens, and an attractive dark-haired man wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt steps out toward me. I stop abruptly. Colin O’Donnell stares hard at me but says nothing. He looks like a slightly older version of Sean. Between the resemblance to Sean, the unfriendly look on his face, and the pornographic photos running through my head like a movie, I’m speechless. I stand there staring with my mouth open like I forgot why I’m here.
This is so not like me.
Before I can recover and pick my dignity up off the ground, he looks me up and down slowly, crosses his muscular arms across his chest.
“Are you planning to tell me something?” His Irish brogue is not as strong as I expected from someone living here for only fifteen years.
Feeling like an idiot, I extend my hand to him and close the distance between us. “I’m Samantha Chase, a private investigator, Mr. O’Donnell. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m hoping you have a few minutes to talk to me about a missing girl named Madison Taylor.”
This is the moment when people decide to convince me of their innocence or lack of involvement, or they clam right up and lock me out. Sometimes they start sharing, change their minds, and then lock me out. On very rare occasions they spill everything without me having to ask the first question. I don’t think this will be one of those times.
His face is unreadable. He simply stands there watching me. When he doesn’t shake my hand, I take it back. Feeling nervous and needing to fill the silence, I volunteer the information that I expected him to ask me. “Madison has been missing for almost three weeks, and no one has heard from her,” I say, pausing for some response.
He gives me nothing. Colin O’Donnell is like the ice man. He is effortlessly throwing me off my game. I’m feeling like a rookie. Somehow he’s managed to put me on the defensive.
How does that even happen?
Feeling uncertain makes me edgy. With my hand on my hip and my head cocked to the side, I say, “You know, the girl that both your sons have dated recently?”
There it is! Something flashes across O’Donnell’s face before it’s hidden behind the ice mask. He wasn’t nervous about me questioning him about Madison until I mention his sons.
Now it’s my turn to stare at him with my version of ice princess. This time, I hold it and wait for him. We stare at each other for what feels like forever. Finally, he asks, “What does this have to do with my boys?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping you can tell me. Can we sit somewhere or shall we stand here until it rains on us?” I ask, looking up at the cloudy sky.
“We can talk right here. What do you want from me, Ms. Chase?”
Okay, fine with me. I don’t have a good feel for him, yet. And now comes the scary part—showing him my cards. My hand touches the place where my dagger hangs in its shoulder halter. The movement is subtle, but Colin’s gaze follows my hand with a knowing look. There’s a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Is that amusement or challenge?
My phone starts to vibrate in my back pocket, but I ignore it. Most likely, it’s Adam calling to yell at me.
“I want to know if you have any information that could lead me to Madison or the reason for her disappearance.” My phone has only stopped vibrating for a few seconds before it repeats. It’s very distracting.
“Are you going to answer that?” Colin asks, looking at my hip.
I’m caught off guard, surprised that he knows my phone is going off. I can feel it, but I can’t hear it. “It’s nothing. Can we continue? You were just about to tell me some useful information about Madison Taylor,” I say, ignoring the phone buzzing on my butt.
O’Donnell has the nerve to smile at me instead of answering my question. Again, he motions toward my hip, as if he can not only hear the phone but see it as well. Grabbing the phone from my back pocket, I see that I’ve now missed four calls and a text message from Adam. I text a quick reply and place the phone in airplane mode before shoving it back into my pocket. I cross my arms over my chest to mirror his body language.
His smile makes me more nervous than his icy glare. “Why don’t you ask me what it is you want to ask so we can part ways? I have things to do, Ms. Chase.” And back to ice man.
“I already know how your sons were involved with Madison. Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with her?” His eyes widen just a fraction. I’ve just surprised the ice man.
“Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know so much.”
“Okay,” I say, walking up the steps and past him to plop myself into a patio chair. At first, he doesn’t even turn around, and I’m left staring at his back. Slowly he turns and looks at me.
“First off, I know what you are, Colin O’Donnell,” I say, placing my Converse-clad feet on a stool and crossing my legs. He remains standing—watching me.
“And what am I?”
“Let’s just say that I know you like to get a little crazy when the moon is full.” I’m feeling quite smug, chipping away at the ice man with all the things I do know.
He blinks at me and then bursts out laughing. I’m flabbergasted. That was not the response I e
xpected. Once he gets himself under control, he says, “Ms. Chase, I don’t need to wait for the moon to ‘get a little crazy.’”
It’s my turn to blink at him. “You don’t?” I ask, swallowing hard.
Sunday was the last of the full moon, so I assumed that was how Chad could turn or whatever he did.
“Nope. Would you like to see?” There is an underlying threat in his words that is unmistakable.
I did not know that little fact.
Werewolves are supposed to change into monsters on a full moon, right? That’s what I get for letting Hollywood educate me on monsters. We could fill a book with all the things I don’t know about supernatural creatures.
This could be a problem.
“I’ll pass for today, thank you.” Trying to act as though this revelation doesn’t concern me, I add, “Did you have anything to do with Madison’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“But you had an affair with her.”
“I wouldn’t call it that. Where do you get your information, Ms. Chase?”
All those photos come to mind, and I know I’m blushing. Colin notices and narrows his eyes at me. Could it be that he doesn’t know he was caught on film? “What would you call it, Mr. O’Donnell?”
“A mistake. Again, where do you get your information? Did Madison tell you?”
I’ll have to hand it to him. He is unshakable.
“I’ve never met her. I was hired by her family.”
“I had nothing to do with her disappearance. I had a weak moment, involving plenty of alcohol. I’m not proud of it, and I’d just as soon forget. Do you have any further questions?”
I stand up as I feel my welcome is about to be revoked.
“What do you think the Taylors will say when they learn you slept with their daughter?”