by Jane Godman
“It’s beautiful.” Amber turned to view the river, clearly enjoying the warmth of the early evening sunlight.
“It looks like she’s home.” Vigo indicated the open garage door and the car parked inside. That had been one of his fears. That they would drive out here to find Monique was out. Or that she’d gone on vacation. Worse still that she’d moved away in the few months since he’d last seen her. But the black Chrysler was the one she’d bought three years ago just before she’d changed jobs.
They stepped up to the front door and Vigo knocked. Last time he was here he hadn’t noticed the silence, but that was probably because there was a party going on. Now, the quiet seemed to crowd in on them. How did Monique stand it? He couldn’t even hear any sounds from inside. No TV, no radio, no music . . . and Monique always listened to music.
“She always listens to music.” He frowned. “No matter what she’s doing. I used to say it would drive me crazy, but Monique said it helped her concentrate. If she’s in there, I’d expect to hear music.”
“Maybe she’s asleep?”
“Maybe.” He knocked again. Longer and louder this time. There was still no response. The feeling of unease grew. Spiraled. Became something more. “Let’s go around the back. We may see something if we look through the windows.”
“Won’t that be weird? I mean, if she’s fixing dinner and we turn up and peer through her kitchen window, she won’t be too happy.”
Vigo was already moving around the corner of the house. “I’d rather be weird than walk away and hear later that something had happened to her.”
His intuition was already working overtime. He had been in too many situations like this one. They weren’t going to find Monique fixing dinner.
When they reached the rear of the house, the back door was open. It hadn’t been left open, either deliberately, or by accident. It hung drunkenly from its hinges, the lower panels splintered from repeated contacted, probably with a heavy boot.
“Looks like it’s been kicked in.” Vigo moved closer to the steps that led to the porch.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Amber cast a glance around as though half expecting to see someone lurking in the surrounding trees.
“Let’s check it out first. There could be a simple explanation.” Who was he kidding? He already knew they weren’t going to find Monique singing as she made pancakes.
Once up the steps, they walked through the ruined door and into the cool of a darkened kitchen. Vigo’s keen gaze took in the little details. A woman’s purse lay on the counter, a bunch of keys next to it. Had Monique come home from work and immediately locked her doors? It would make sense to get into that routine since she lived alone and was so far from anyone else. Or maybe she was scared?
There was no sign of any activity in the kitchen. No smell of coffee. Monique couldn’t last long without her caffeine hit . . .
“There.” Amber clutched his arm, pointing to where a woman’s black court shoe lay on the floor close to a door that appeared to lead into the den.
It was possible Monique had been kicking off her shoes as she walked. Just one shoe? That looked more like she lost it as she was running. Sure enough, they found Monique’s body in the den.
Sprawled on her back on the sofa with the other shoe dangling pitifully from her foot, the bruises on her neck told Vigo everything he needed to know. Just like Lilah, Monique had been strangled.
* * *
Amber decided Detective Alburn would benefit from a punch to the throat . . . and she would be more than happy to deliver it.
“Have you any comment to make about the fact that both the murdered women were known to you, Mr. Durand?”
Amber made a frustrated growling noise, but Vigo ignored her. “I think it’s fairly obvious that someone is trying to set me up.”
“Did you tell anyone you were intending to come and speak to Ms. Taylor today?” Alburn asked.
Amber saw the question register with Vigo. The only people who knew they were coming out here to Monique’s house were his brotherhood friends. The killer couldn’t possibly have known he would come out here today. May not even have known anything of the connection between Monique and Lilah. It was a tenuous one, hinging on a single conversation in his past.
“Only a small group of my close friends. They are above suspicion.” Vigo’s voice was tight as he said it.
Above suspicion. The words triggered set a chain of thought in motion in Amber’s mind. Was that true? She wasn’t going to discuss it out loud in front of Alburn, and it seemed unthinkable, but was there a possibility one of the brotherhood wasn’t above suspicion?
“This is ridiculous. I have been with Vigo since he returned from Svalbard. I was with him when he found the body. He couldn’t have killed anyone without me knowing about it.” As she surged up out of her chair at the kitchen table, her eyes went of their own accord to the den where the forensic team was conducting a painstaking investigation. “Or are you trying to imply that I’m an accomplice?”
Alburn regarded her with an expression midway between weariness and dislike. “I’m not implying anything, Ms. Merova. I’m trying to ascertain what happened to two women who have been murdered.”
Vigo put his hand on her arm. “We need to let the police do their job.”
She sank back into her seat. They had been here for over two hours, repeating the same information over and over. It was clear Alburn was trying to trip Vigo up because he believed he was guilty. Based on what? Some unsavory photographs taken six years ago? She wanted to grab the man by his lapels, get in his face, and shake him out of his narrow view. Why would he bring me out here? Why would he call you? Get out there and find the person who did this instead of clinging to your stupid prejudice. She was amazed Vigo could remain so calm.
Alburn’s attention was diverted when Detective Stein entered the room accompanied by an older man who was clearly distressed. “This is John Riley, Ms. Taylor’s closest neighbor. Although he lives some distance away, along the road that borders the river, he thinks he may have some information that could help us.”
Amber slid her hand into Vigo’s and his fingers closed around hers.
“It was earlier this evening.” Riley blinked away tears as he spoke. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. We sometimes get people along this road who are looking for places to fish, or swim, or who are just out to enjoy the views. Anyhow, this particular car didn’t drive on by, it pulled into my drive and a man got out. I had been sitting on my porch, so I stepped down to ask what he wanted. He said he was looking for Monique Taylor. Now and then, I’ve had that happen. Monique has ordered something and the delivery driver has assumed my house is the last one on the road.”
“Had you seen this man before?”
Riley shook his head. “But I’d know him again. He was distinctive looking, big and powerful with hair as white as snow—” He broke off as he caught sight of Vigo. “Looked a lot like you.”
“But it wasn’t me.” Vigo got to his feet.
“No.” Riley’s voice was firm. “It wasn’t you.”
“You’re sure about that?” Alburn asked.
“I might be old, but I’m not stupid,” Riley said. “This isn’t the man I saw earlier. The build and coloring are the same, but the main difference is the voice.”
Amber felt a slither of dread run down her spine.
“Can you describe his voice?”
“Sure can. It was like he’d swallowed something that had mangled his voice box all to hell. The way he spoke sounded like a bear growling in pain.”
Amber pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle the cry that was trying to break free. While Alburn and Stein continued questioning Riley, she drew Vigo to one side so she could speak to him without being overheard. Although she wasn’t entirely sure she was capable of speech.
“That description he just gave of the murderer’s voice . . .” Her adrenaline levels were climbing so high, she struggled to get
the words out.
His expression told he had already made the connection. “You think it could be the same guy who ordered the murders of your family and their friends?”
Pleased he wasn’t dismissing it as her overwrought imagination at work, she nodded. “You know what this means?”
Vigo ran a hand through his hair. His expression was stunned. “It means you were right when you said this was about you.”
* * *
“I can’t get in touch with Kristof.” Vigo placed his cell phone on the table with a sigh. “That’s the third message I’ve left.”
“We’ll have to continue this conversation without him,” Lowell said. “One of us can bring him up to speed when he does arrive.”
Kristof was the only absentee. The rest of the group, plus Gunnar, were seated around Lowell’s kitchen table in their usual campaign headquarters. The latest developments were strange enough to warrant this meeting.
Fenrir is dead. Chastel is dead. But there is still something strange going on.
And it meant he had to look his friends in the eye and tell them the truth. He took a long gulp of water. No time like the present.
“Okay. You know the police came to interview me about the murder of a woman with whom I once had a relationship. Six years ago, Lilah and I took part in a sex game. The way she died mirrored that game.” So far no one had walked out. No one was looking at him in disgust. No one had called him a sick bastard. “There was a concealed camera. I didn’t know about it. We’ll never know if Lilah did. The only person who could have helped me in my statement to the police—my former boss—was killed today. In the same manner as Lilah. You are the only people who knew I was going to see her.”
“Someone is framing you?” Samson asked, and Vigo felt the same wave of gratitude wash over him as he had when Amber had accepted what he was saying. He had spent so long believing he was worthless it was hard to accept other people might think otherwise.
“That’s how it looks, but the killer slipped up. He went to the wrong house before he killed Monique, my former boss. He spoke to the homeowner. And the murderer has a very distinctive voice.”
“Is that important?” Lowell asked.
“I think it could be very important, but I’m still trying to figure out why.” Vigo turned to Amber. “This next part is your story. Do you want to tell it?”
She licked her lips nervously. “I’ve been in hiding for the last five years, ever since my family and our entire pack were brutally murdered. The men who killed them were Arctic werewolves and their leader had the same distinctive voice that the witness who spoke to Monique’s murderer described.”
There was a minute or two of silence. Vigo looked around, seeing his friends doing what they did best in this situation. Processing. Analyzing. Reviewing. Slow and steady, that was the wolf way. They adhered to a strict werewolf code. Basic wolf rules for life. First, the pack came before the individual. Next, they protected the young and honored their mates. Finally, no member of the brotherhood would ever place the others at risk. They were savage warriors, but they would never go into a fight for no reason.
“Coincidence?” Wilder asked. “Plenty of people have unusual voices.”
“True,” Vigo agreed. “And we could possibly dismiss it as such, if there weren’t other things that concern me.”
Madden put his head in his hands in mock despair. “How did I know you were going to say that? How did I know there was going to be more?”
Sebastian placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Because this is the brotherhood. There is always just one more thing.”
“The men who killed Amber’s pack were looking for her specifically. They mentioned her by name.” Vigo turned to Amber. “What exactly did their leader say?”
“He said time didn’t matter. They would find me, and, when they did, the debt would be paid.” Her voice trembled pitifully, and he placed his hand over hers.
“Sound familiar?” Vigo looked around the table.
“Fenrir.” Gunnar exhaled the name like a sigh. “Almost his last words.”
“Add in the explosion at Norway Tech, and it seems pretty clear to me that Amber is the common denominator,” Vigo said.
“Common denominator to what?” Wilder asked.
Vigo sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that . . . because I don’t know.”
Samson frowned. “I can’t see how this can all be linked. If it is, we’re talking about some powerful forward planning. You’re suggesting that six years ago, someone knew Amber would join the brotherhood. So that person set about planting incriminating evidence against Vigo so he, or she could murder Lilah and make him look guilty? To what purpose?”
“To take away a layer of Amber’s protection?” Sebastian offered the suggestion.
“Or a potential mate?” Madden said.
Vigo saw Amber’s blush. Only the two of them knew the truth. There had been no one else. He was the first man in her life. Was it possible Madden was right? Was this somehow about jealousy?
“That brings it back to Fenrir.” He voiced his thoughts out loud. “He said Amber belonged to him. He alone has the sort of power to see into the future and take action to stop us being together.”
“And the debt?” Amber shivered slightly as she asked.
“It could be part of Fenrir’s pact with Chastel. The men who came after your pack may not even be true werewolves. They could be Hellhounds, Chastel’s devoted followers. Chastel often used his magic to bespell them so they appeared to be werewolves.” Vigo’s expression was grim. “Even though Chastel is dead, some of the Hellhounds are still active.”
“What happens now?” Samson asked.
“Well, the police seem to be focusing on the man with the distinctive voice instead of on me,” Vigo said. “But they haven’t found him yet. He’s still out there somewhere. I want to discover who he is and why he wants Amber. We know there was a new employee at Norway Tech who arrived just before the explosion who showed an interest in the brotherhood. His name is Retief. It’s worth checking him out.”
Madden nodded. “I’ll use my contacts in the police to get onto that.”
“Lowell, can you look into this debt? Specifically, how it relates to Fenrir?”
Lowell grinned. “You know how I love the opportunity to get back to my books.”
“For the rest of us, it’s a waiting game. We’ll protect Amber until something else happens.” It was frustrating, but it was all they could do.
“At least Fenrir is dead,” Samson said. “Although we’re still dealing with his legacy, we don’t have to face him again.”
There was a collective sigh of relief around the table. Whatever else they had to deal with, it would never be as bad as Fenrir.
Chapter Thirteen
“I will pay you back.” Amber bit her lip as she tucked the roll of cash into the pocket of her jeans. “I have money in my account. It’s just that my cards went up in flames along with everything else.”
“Amber, stop worrying. I trust you.” Vigo laughed.
She sighed. “I’ve just gotten used to being independent. It feels strange to have to ask you for money so I can buy new underwear.”
“Get whatever you need.” He checked his watch. “I have my own errands to run. I’ll meet you back here at three.”
Convincing him that he didn’t need to accompany her on a tour of the lingerie section of this department store hadn’t been easy. She knew he wanted to protect her, but she assured him she had skills when it came to looking after herself.
“The monsters are dead, remember? What’s left are people and werewolves. We can deal with them.”
He nodded. “I keep forgetting. The old habits take a long time to die out.”
Amber watched him walk away with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Deceiving him didn’t feel good, but she had to pursue this feeling that had been bothering her ever since they had found Monique’s body. If s
he told him what she suspected, Vigo would want to check it out. And it may be nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing.
Did you tell anyone you were intending to come and speak to Ms. Taylor today? That was what Detective Alburn had asked them when they were at Monique’s house. Vigo had replied that he’d only told his close friends and they were above suspicion. But Vigo didn’t know about Kristof’s very odd behavior earlier that day. He didn’t know about that almost obsessive hug, or the predatory expression in his eyes when he gazed at Amber. I’m the only one who saw how Kristof looked when I told him we were going to see Vigo’s old boss.
Since she didn’t have a cell phone—I don’t have anything—she had been forced to resort to cunning to find out where Kristof lived. Gunnar had recruited him, so it followed that Gunnar must know more about him than anyone.
“He has an apartment in a new complex near the disused coal mine. Why?”
Damn. Now she had to think fast. “Oh, something he said about the view.”
Odessa, who had been nearby had grimaced. “Of a coal mine?”
Gunnar laughed. “Well, I have to admit, when I went there the coal mine did take some getting used to. But, although the block is only three stories high, his apartment is on the top floor, so he has views across the hills as well.”
It had been almost too easy. In a way, she’d hoped not to find out where Kristof lived. That way she could hold her hands up, say “I tried,” and walk away from it. Now she knew, she had to do something. Without knowing what he was doing, Gunnar had forced her into taking action.
Once she was sure Vigo had gone, she left the store and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Maybe her next excuse could be that she couldn’t get a cab? She had no cell phone and she didn’t know the area, so that might be a valid excuse. The fates continued to conspire against her. As she looked around, a cab pulled up right alongside her and a woman got out. There really was no excuse. It was as if a giant hand was pushing her in the direction of Kristof’s apartment.
Ignoring the uncomfortable thought, she got into the cab and gave the driver her destination. “That’s strange.” He studied her in the rearview mirror for a moment. “You’re not the first person I’ve taken out there. And the guy looked like you. Well, he had the same coloring.”