* * * *
It was just past noon and Mick was bringing in the last box. As he neared the open door, he caught the tail end of what sounded like a somewhat heated conversation between Maribel and Wynn.
“—have to tell him,” Maribel was saying.
“Not until I’m certain,” Wynn replied. “I told you that.”
“He has a right to…”
Maribel must have seen Mick’s shadow in the doorway because she stopped talking. By the time he came inside, she was busily unpacking a box on the desk, putting the contents into one of the drawers.
“What do I have a right to know?” Mick asked, trying to keep the tension he was feeling from turning to anger.
Maribel chewed her lip, glancing at Wynn. He sighed, suggesting Mick put down the box before he was tempted to throw it.
“That bad, huh?” Mick set the box on the floor by the door then leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Spill it.”
“Remember Lionel?”
Mick snorted. “Vividly. What did he do, get resurrected or, hell, what do they call it, reincarnated?”
Wynn smiled wryly. “It should be that easy.” Going over to his worktable, he picked up a sketchpad from a pile he’d obviously unpacked while Mick had gone for the last box. Flipping it open, he handed it to Mick, telling him, “Go through the pages to the end.”
Mick did, he features darkening in anger. When he got to the last page, he swore vehemently. “Who the hell did this?”
“His name is Deacon, Lionel’s sibling.” Taking the sketchpad back from Mick, he read the last page aloud. “I am my brother’s keeper. What is done to him, I will repay tenfold.”
“Sounds like a religious nut. He certainly had fun, if you can call it that, with the red paint on your drawings. Dripping blood, spattered blood—that’s definitely not a nice message even without the written one. Why do you think this Deacon was responsible, and why did he wait so long? It’s been well over half a year since you got rid of Lionel.”
Wynn turned the pad so Mick could see, tapping the bottom corner. There, in blood red just like the rest of the defacement, were the letters ‘DK’ laid over a crudely drawn hourglass.
“I met him, once, although I didn’t know it was him until later. He came to a gallery show with Lionel—sort of tagged along behind him. I figured at the time he was one of Lionel’s underlings. Then I saw a picture of him with Lionel while I was meeting with his father about stopping Lionel’s killing rampage. He told me Deacon was his younger son and very much under Lionel’s sway, although he didn’t think Deacon knew Lionel had turned rogue.”
“That still doesn’t explain why he’s after you now.”
“It would if he just found out what really happened to his brother.”
Mick frowned. “Which means Lionel’s father had to have said something.”
Wynn nodded. “That, or he kept some sort of record of the plan to use me to stop Lionel. If Deacon found it, well it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Lionel suddenly vanished and who was responsible.”
“So he could be lurking out there somewhere, waiting to get you alone,” Mick growled. “Shades of when we tried to hide you out at the Peters’ cabin.”
“He’ll have to find me first. It’s not like I wandered around when I went down to get my things telling everyone and their brother I was moving up here.”
“Wynn…” Mick shook his head in exasperation. “I’m presuming that sketchbook was in your studio. All he had to do was stake it out and he’d have seen you packing up the truck. He probably did, actually, waiting for you to come back so he could attack you. One well-placed bullet or three and you’d be dead as a door nail now.”
“Lovely,” Maribel muttered, glancing toward the open door.
Then Mick had another thought. “Is it true shifters can teleport into a place, if they can see into it or have been there? I read something about that online.”
Wynn snorted. “Only in those role-playing games. I wish we could; it would make life a lot easier.”
“So how did he get into your studio?”
“Through the door? It’s the only entrance other than the windows and they have bars on them, given that it wasn’t the greatest neighborhood.”
“The door was locked when you got there?”
“Locked and dead bolted but I suppose any competent thief could get through those with the proper tools, and lock up after themself when they left.”
Mick nodded. “At least it’s nice to know that whole teleporting thing is a myth.”
Wynn chuckled. “When it comes down to it, I’m a myth too.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I do. And now, if you don’t have any more questions, shall we get out of here before your men come back to finish working on the windows?”
“Yep. And first thing tomorrow morning, you’re going to stop at the hardware store and talk to Mr. Grimes. He’s pretty well versed in setting up decent security and I want him to put some in in here. Okay?”
“You bet. I’d just as soon Deacon didn’t decide to see what other damage he can do to my things before he comes after me.”
* * * *
Maribel wanted to stop at the hotel so she could change into ‘something that doesn’t make me look like a day laborer’, as she put it. The second she was out of the truck, Mick rounded on Wynn.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about Deacon yesterday? It’s not like you didn’t have the chance to. She knew about it.” Mick thumbed toward Maribel, who was just entering the hotel. “But me you kept in the dark.”
Wynn started to say something, stopped, ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “First off, I don’t know he’s going to come after me. He could just have been trying to frighten me—playing some weird game just for yucks and grins. If he’s like Lionel, he’d get off on that.”
“Uh-huh. Try again, because that excuse isn’t cutting it.” Mick stared icily at Wynn and blew out a long breath. “You were afraid of how I’d react—because of what happened with Danny. Admit it.”
Wynn dropped his gaze, nodding. “To some degree, yes. Different scenario but still…”
“Damn it, Wynn! In case it hasn’t gotten through that thick head of yours yet, I’m a law officer. Even in a town as small as this one, I live with the idea something dangerous could happen at any time. It’s part of who and what I am. I don’t need to be coddled just because I happened to get shot. What kind of a sheriff would I be if I let that dictate my life from now on?”
“I’m sorry,” Wynn replied softly. “I had no right to try to keep it from you—not if we’re going to have a relationship in all the ways it should be.”
Mick took his hand, squeezing it. “I can’t say I’m not still upset, but I understand your reasoning. Just don’t do it again. Hiding things from each other is not good, no matter what.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“Thank you.” Mick traced the line of Wynn’s jaw, smiling before he slid his hand under Wynn’s long white hair, urging him close enough to kiss. It might have deepened into something more erotic if Maribel hadn’t rapped on the truck window before opening the door and getting in.
“What are you all, a pair of teen-agers?” she asked with a grin.
“Nope,” Mick replied, “Just a couple of stressed out men trying to relieve a bit of tension.”
“A good way to do it, but better if you aren’t doing it in public.”
Wynn looked out the window and chuckled. “There goes your sterling reputation, Mick.”
“I had one?” Mick countered with a laugh. “Okay, how about we take this discussion somewhere a bit more private.”
“You called what you were doing a ‘discussion’?” Maribel ducked away as much as she could in the truck’s cab when Wynn took a swat at her, grumbling cheerfully about over-sensitive males.
“I vote for the house,” Mick said.
* * * *
“I’m presuming from all your comments, Maribel, you’re well aware of what Wynn is.”
She snorted. “If I wasn’t, that alone would have clued me in he wasn’t quite run-of-the-mill.”
“True. All right, we need to come up with a plan to stop Deacon before he steps up whatever he’s got in mind. For starters, Wynn, is he a black jaguar like Lionel?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. It never came up in my conversation with his father. I would suspect not. His father is, his mother isn’t, so there’s a more than fifty-fifty chance he’s a spotted jaguar.”
“Any chance you can get a copy of the picture of him and Lionel from their father? The sooner the better.”
Wynn smiled. “Give me a few minutes and I can make a drawing.” He hurried into the office off the living room, coming back with a pad of paper and a pen. He sat cross-legged on the sofa as he worked, finally showing them what he’d come up with. “You wouldn’t know he and Lionel were brothers to look at them. Deacon’s much slenderer and his hair is light brown. His only real distinguishing feature is his eyes. They’re a deep, almost cobalt, blue.”
Maribel looked at the drawing and nodded. “I remember him now, vaguely. You’re right, Wynn. He was definitely in Lionel’s shadow when he came to the gallery.”
“Do you have any problems with my showing this to my deputies?” Mick asked Wynn. “I’ll just say he’s a person of interest in a crime across the state and he might be heading this way. I’ll also tell them they’re to do nothing more than let me know if they see him.”
“It’s all right with me, as long as they definitely know not to stop him or interact with him in any way. I’d just as soon he doesn’t think anyone but me knows who he is or why he’s here. That’s presuming, of course, he actually did manage to follow us.”
“You didn’t spot anyone on your tail while you were driving?”
Wynn shook his head. “Most of the time we were on multi-lane highways. When we turned off to come up here—” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, “—there were a few cars behind us, of course, but none that stood out. Besides which, at that point, if he was smart, he’d have parked somewhere at the edge of the highway and shifted. He’d have had no problems following us that way.”
“Which means, he could be out there anywhere, as long as he stays to the tree line.” Maribel shivered, glancing toward the large living room window.
“No trees that way,” Wynn commented with a slight smile, seeing where she was looking. “But yes, he could be close by.”
“Now back to the original question, how do we stop him?” Mick looked at them. “Any brilliant ideas?”
“A huge trap and a lot of catnip,” Maribel replied then held up her hands when the men glared at her. “Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit. I know this is serious.”
“We know and we have the bait; we do need a trap however.” Wynn scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Some place where he’ll feel safe in attacking me without anyone knowing.” He shot a look at Mick, anticipating what he’d say. “I’d rather it not be my studio. It may be the obvious choice but I don’t want to live with the memories if I, we, have to kill him there.”
“Quite understandable,” Mick agreed. “So, any other bright idea?”
Wynn nodded. “There’s a cave deep in the side of the mountain about two miles from the cabin. I found it a long while ago during one of my rare treks to visit my father and then used it after the accident. It’s virtually invisible unless you know what you’re looking for.”
“So you’re planning on camping out there until he shows—if he shows?”
“Not camping out,” Wynn said slowly, as the plan formed in his mind. “While you’re working, I’ll be spending time at the studio. But I’ll also shift and go for runs, ending up at the cave. It has a good view of the area but it’s not easy to hike up to. Being the smart shifter that I am, I go up on foot the first time, with drawing supplies. After that, I make the journey as a jaguar, shift, and flash on some clothes—and yes, I can do that,” he said when Mick looked surprised, “then do some sketching.”
“Is Deacon going to buy that?”
“I hope so. He’ll want to get me off on my own. If he is around now, he’ll undoubtedly follow me when I go to the studio. Tomorrow I’ll do what you said and stop at the hardware store first to talk to your security expert. Maybe, with luck, I can get him to come up with me to install something. That would give Deacon pause, and a reason not to try to break in.”
Mick was on his phone moments later. When he hung up he said, “Mr. Grimes will be ready with the basics in the morning.” He made another call then said, “Your windows are finished, which helps.”
“Good. So all I have to do is start the routine and hope Deacon falls for it.”
“Wynn,” Maribel said, concern in her voice, “will you be able to deal with Deacon on your own?”
“If we’re both in jaguar form, yes, barring something unexpected. If he decides to hunt me in his human form with a gun…well, I’ll just have to be doubly careful, won’t I? Once I get inside the cave, everything’s on my side because the entrance is long and very narrow. He’d have to crawl in after me in either form.”
“That plays both ways, Wynn,” Mick pointed out. “Once he knows where it is, he could be waiting inside for you.”
“I’d know if he was. He can’t eradicate his scent.”
Mick didn’t look convinced but nodded nonetheless. “So, if all this works the way we hope, we’ll be able to get back to our normal lives fairly soon.”
“Speaking of which,” Maribel said, “I’ll be leaving in the morning with the truck, because I actually do have a life too—and a gallery to run.”
“Then let’s go get something to eat, a farewell dinner,” Wynn replied, giving her a hug. “To thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Pfft. I haven’t done anything any friend wouldn’t do under the circumstances.”
Wynn smiled. “I’d debate that, but you’d just debate back and we’d never get out of here.”
Chapter 19
As planned, Maribel did leave early the next morning. Wynn and Mick met her at the hotel to say goodbye then watched as she drove away, to make very certain no one was following her. They were all well aware she could be a possible target if Deacon decided to play more games before coming directly for Wynn. As a result, they’d set it up that she would call every ten minutes for the next hour, using a coded phrase to let Wynn know she was all right.
“Paranoid, I know,” Wynn said when they made the plan the previous evening.
“But practical, all things considered,” Mick replied, getting an affirmative nod from Maribel.
After Maribel left, Mick went on to work while Wynn headed up to his studio where he was to meet Mr. Grimes, the man who was installing the security equipment for the cabin. Mr. Grimes was already there and after Wynn introduced himself and unlocked the cabin door, the man set to work.
Wynn watched for a few minutes then began setting up his easels and emptying the boxes on the work table, laying out some things on it, putting the rest away on the shelves along the wall opposite the new windows. While he did that, he received three calls from Maribel.
After the third one, Mr. Grimes chuckled. “You’re a popular fellow, Wynn.”
Wynn rolled his eyes. “My agent. She’s still not happy I’ve moved up here and keeps coming up with new questions on how we’re going to handle everything.”
“Women are like that. My wife will have me help her rearrange the living room then spend the next hour asking me if it looks okay or should we go back to the old way. I just nod, smile, and tell her it’s perfect.”
Wynn chuckled and they went back to what they’d been doing. By noon, Mr. Grimes announced he’d finished and spent a few minutes explaining the system to Wynn. Wynn paid him, thanked him, then watched fr
om the doorway as Mr. Grimes drove away.
Are you out there somewhere, Deacon? He wondered, scanning the area for any signs of him. If he was, he wasn’t making his presence known, which didn’t surprise Wynn in the least. He hardly expected Deacon to walk out of the trees surrounding the cabin and introduce himself. Still, he stepped quickly back into the studio, closing the door firmly behind him. He knew Mick had been right. A couple of well placed shots and he’d be dead.
I just don’t see it playing out like that, though. He finished putting everything away and set up one of the unfinished paintings on an easel. If he just wanted me dead, he could have taken me out at any time. He likes the game. He wants to escalate my fear. Wynn chuckled softly. Not happening, Deacon. I don’t scare that easily.
* * * *
Wynn almost abandoned his thought when he arrived home that evening. He knew Mick was still at work, having talked to him minutes earlier to, among other things, reassure him Deacon hadn’t shown up at or around the studio. So when he walked into the house and heard music playing, he stopped dead in his tracks.
He knew he’d turned off the CD player when he and Mick left to meet Maribel at the hotel. The only way it could be on again was if Mick had stopped at the house for lunch, something he rarely did. Unless…
Very cautiously, Wynn made his way into the living room. Other than the music, the room was quiet and empty, as was the kitchen when he checked it. There were no signs Mick had been there during the day.
Only one way to find out. Wynn realized he’d been stupid not to call Mick the moment he’d entered the house.
When Mick answered, Wynn told him what was happening. Mick immediately ordered him to get out of the house and wait in his car until he got there. Wynn agreed, although he only obeyed the first part, opting instead to circle the house to see if there was any indication how the intruder had gotten inside.
Mick arrived, squealing to stop behind Wynn’s car, just as Wynn made it back to the front porch.
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