Jamison pulled her Chevy onto the grassy shoulder of a single-lane asphalt road near Dalton's. Like most solitary creatures, he lived a few miles outside of town and his home was removed from any neighbor's view. It wasn't exactly close to where any of the deaths had occurred, but if he was involved, what better way to avoid detection?
She cut through the woods, using only the light of the waning moon to find her way. The smells of the forest struck her and she took comfort from the loamy earth and the scent of the nocturnal animals. She felt stronger than she had in hours and her confidence grew with each step. Soon she stood at the outer edge of the clearing on which her adversary's wooden-frame house sat. Jamison waited, checking for signs of movement within and though a light burned, she couldn't tell if he was home. His Buick sat in the front yard, but that didn't mean anything.
She wasn't sure how badly Dalton had been hurt in their fight. He could be inside recuperating or he could be out hunting in his jaguar form. Either way, she needed some answers.
Jamison used all of her heightened senses and the night shadows to make her way to the windows undetected. She still hadn't seen anything to indicate her enemy was present. Light flickered in the living room and she looked through the glass, ensuring the room was empty. Then Jamison tried the door handle, unsurprised to discover the house wasn't locked. Dalton's scent was all over the porch and inside the front room, dousing the place with his pheromones. It made sniffing him out difficult, but soon she realized he wasn't home. The interior was neat as a pin with nothing out of place, typical for a feline. It wasn't until she reached the bathroom that she found anything of interest.
Bloody clothing filled the hamper. He had come home to clean up, changed and left again. Since his car was out front, that meant he'd gone into the woods on foot. She was disappointed he hadn't been more seriously hurt, but more determined than ever to find him.
Scouting around the house, it took several minutes for her to discover a trail with Dalton's fresh scent leading away into the forest. Carefully, she trailed it a quarter of a mile from the house. Jamison realized how close she was only when she heard voices coming to her from behind the trees. Surprise hit hard when she recognized the voice of a pride sentry she had thought very highly of only a few days ago.
"Are you sure you won't tell anyone?" Xander Chiesel asked.
"Do you have the money?" Dalton said gruffly.
"Yes, here it is."
Jamison heard the sound of paper rustling.
"Then I won't tell anyone. I still think you're better off without that loser. Why don't you just let me put him out of his misery and get it over with?"
"He's my brother and I don't want to hear you say that again. This isn't his fault."
"Yeah, yeah. If you think he's so innocent why didn't you go to the Council for help?"
"Because they wouldn't understand," Xander replied hotly. "They would just assume he was the one they're looking for and he'd be killed on sight. I can't let that happen."
So Chiesel thinks his brother is the killer? How did he get Dalton involved in this?
"Fine, whatever. I found his spoor all over the basement of an old house near here. The place used to belong to our Kadin. Any clue why he'd be hanging out over there?"
"Maybe he thought a medicine woman could help him. He was pretty sick when he went up to the clinic in Canada and maybe he thought she would do a better job. That's the only thing I can think of."
"Yeah, except Mafdet died four months ago," Dalton said. "I have to wonder if this guy is firing on all cylinders."
"He's sick," Xander reiterated. "What's your excuse?"
Dalton laughed, but it wasn't a pretty sound. "You think I care if you don't like my attitude? Too bad. You just remember you owe me another fifty thousand when I find him."
"As agreed. Do you have an idea where to start?"
"Yeah. As soon as we talked earlier I got to thinking about it. Do you remember the old cave systems we used to explore up here when we were in school?"
"Explore?" Xander chuckled. "The only thing we explored was the inside of a bottle and some weed."
That answers how they know each other.
Jamison put it together that they suspected Chiesel's brother of being the murderer and they were trying to find him. She also realized that Xander was acting to protect his family, desperate to believe the man was innocent. For a moment she was tempted to step out of the woods and offer her word as Pieta that she and the Council would help find Xander's brother, but she held back. Dalton said he might know where to find the man, but if Jamison got involved he might try to mislead them. All Dalton was concerned with was the glory of being a hero and attempting to make Jamison look like a fool. Someone else might get hurt. It was better to let him lead her to the carnivore without Dalton knowing.
"True, but other than that house he was hiding in, it's probably the only other place he knows around here."
"Let's go then," Xander said. "What are we waiting for?"
"Not so fast. In case you didn't know, it's dark and he's likely out hunting. I'd rather come up on him in the daylight. Maybe we'll catch him sleeping."
Coward.
"Are you afraid of him?"
"You haven't seen him lately," Dalton said. "But I have, and trust me you don't want to interrupt this guy in the middle of a feeding."
Jamison suddenly flashed back to the night of Hank's murder. She remembered the beast in the moonlight, the silver eyes without a hint of pupil or iris and the forked tongue of a reptile. Whoever or whatever this thing was, he was no longer a typical shape changer.
"Why do you say that?"
"You'll find out. Just have my money ready. I'll call you when it's time."
"Are you going to be all right? That's a nasty injury and I have to know you can handle it."
"Thanks for your concern," Dalton said snidely, "but I'll be fine by tomorrow. It's just a little cut."
"Right, that's why half your ear is hanging off your head. You should get that looked at, it's pretty gross."
"Shut up. Just be by your phone. I'll be ready to go by this weekend."
"Whatever you say," Xander said.
Footsteps crunched through the leaves, moving away from her and toward her at the same time. Xander was leaving and Dalton heading for home. Jamison crouched down and held her breath as he walked by her. Blood still ran down the side of his neck from the torn ear, glinting wetly in the faint light and Jamison felt a surge of satisfaction. Not the mortal blow he deserved, but it was something. Now she knew he was somehow involved, but she still didn't have anything tangible. This weekend she planned to stick to him like a tick and find out where the monster was hiding. After that she would have to get the Council involved to apprehend him because she wouldn't be able to do it alone. If Jamison could bring the other hunters into the mix and contain the predator before Dalton, Xander Chiesel wouldn't be able to sweep this under the rug. The truth would come out and the situation could be dealt with properly. The killer would be brought to justice and forced to stand trial for his crimes, not carried off to hide behind the safety of the Felidae Pride.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LEE AWAKENED SUDDENLY and pulled back from the wet tongue enthusiastically lathering her face. "Cleo stop it, I'm up."
She pushed Cleo back a few inches and stroked the bony head with her eyes closed, relaxing into the pillows for a few more minutes. It was still dark outside, informing her that it was too early to worry about getting up. Slowly, the conversation from the night before with her father came to her and she thought about his attitude toward Aunt Chris and the other Panthera. In a way, her reaction to seeing Jamison morph into a jaguar wasn't far removed. Her behavior had been ignorant and biased against something she didn't completely understand. Suddenly, she was very ashamed of how she had behaved, turning to run while Jami was fighting another jungle cat. How could she do that to her if she really cared, especially when everything she felt told her she w
asn't any different?
It was true that Jami had kept the truth from her and they would have to talk about keeping secrets, but she didn't think it was anything they couldn't get past. What bothered her most was that she felt like a fool for not putting it all together herself before it came to that point. A thought occurred to her and Lee sat up staring into the darkness. Jamison was fighting when she left.
What if she's hurt? What if Jamison is mortally wounded, no one aware of her location? She could die!
Lee dove for the cell phone at her bedside and turned the ringer back on. When the display lit, she saw Jamison had tried to call six times and she had two voicemail messages. Jamison wouldn't have done that if she'd been seriously injured. Relief flooded her so strongly that she felt lightheaded for a few seconds.
She had to go back. The situation in Harmon didn't leave Jamison the luxury of running away and Lee wasn't going to let her face it alone. Not anymore. Her father had opened her eyes to a lot of things and one of them was the fact that whatever or whoever Jamison was, Lee loved her. She didn't know if she would ever be able to shift or if the Panthera would ever fully accept her because she was half human. At least, from what she had experienced, she could sometimes foresee future events. Now if she could just manage to activate her Wonder Twin Powers at times other than when she slept.
Or had she already? She thought about her last nightmare, where Jamison was being hunted, the killer ready to strike and it had fallen to Lee to save her. She'd awakened to shredded sheets and a belief that her arm had transformed. Was that a prophetic vision or her subconscious expressing her deepest fears? Lee didn't know, she had no frame of reference to decide or to distinguish between the two.
But if she's in trouble and I'm not there, Jamison will die.
Flinging back the covers, she got out of bed and headed for the shower. She stopped long enough to call downstairs and ask Davis to get her car ready and to care for Cleo in her absence. There was no way she was taking Cleo back into danger if she could prevent it. They would be reunited once all this was over.
Lee washed and dressed quickly, her hair receiving a cursory towel dry before she reached for her keys, wallet and cell phone. The mobile rang just as she picked it up and Lee almost dropped it again in surprise. Hoping it was Jamison, she didn't bother to check the readout.
"Hello?" she answered somewhat breathlessly.
"Lee Grayson?" a familiar voice she couldn't quite place asked.
"Yes?"
"This is Sheriff Macke."
Lee thought she was calling about how the murderer had gotten in and out of Mafdet, and then she frowned at her own terminology. That wasn't right. This killer changed form and hunted as an animal, a lion according to Jami. He stalked his prey and killed by using the weapons nature gave him--fangs and claws. He was a predator. Pushing those considerations away for the moment she asked, "Did you have some news for me, Sheriff?"
"I'm not calling about the break-in. Bernie from the bed and breakfast said you stopped by yesterday to speak with one of their guests, a Debra Mason?" Her voice sounded guarded, catching Lee's full attention.
"Yes, that's right. What's Debbie got to do with this?"
"I hate to be the one to tell you, but a hunter found her car overturned on an old dirt lane late last night. It looks like she got lost on the back roads around Harmon."
Lee felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She should have known immediately that something was wrong when Bernie told her Debbie had never returned. "You said you found her car. Did you find Debbie?"
Sheriff Macke hesitated and Lee instinctively knew she wouldn't like the answer. "Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid we did. I'm sorry to inform you that she was pronounced dead at the scene. It looks like she fell prey to the same suspect that killed Hank Morgan."
"Oh, God. I'm going to be sick."
Lee bent over clutching her stomach, tears flooding her eyes. It took a moment to realize the sheriff was shouting her name and reluctantly she put the phone back to her ear. "This is my fault. She went up there to see me and I wouldn't even talk to her. She told me she didn't know her way around, but I didn't care."
"Stop it! Blaming yourself isn't going to help, and the truth is the only one to blame is the bastard who did this. Now do I have your attention?"
Lee sniffled and took a ragged breath. "Yes. Of course."
"I need you to come down to the Medical Examiner's Office and make arrangements for your friend's belongings to be returned to her family. You'll need to go by the inn to get the rest of her things, too."
Lee nodded until she realized the sheriff couldn't see her. "I'll take care of it." She glanced at her watch. "I can be there by three o'clock."
"Ms. Grayson, I'd think you would make this more of a priority." The disappointment in Macke's voice was obvious.
"I'm in New York. I'll be there as soon as I can," Lee snapped.
"What the hell are you doing there? Never mind," she amended quickly. "I don't need to know. Just, please take care of it as soon as possible. Oh, and don't worry about breaking the news to her family. I've already done it."
"Thank you," Lee said sincerely. This was hard enough to deal with on an emotional level without having to face Debbie's mom and dad. Notifying the family was the sheriff's job as a law enforcement official anyway.
She ended the call and stared at the wall for a moment, trying to come to grips with recent developments. A tap on the door startled her and she opened it to find Davis standing there. Lee had almost forgotten him.
"Your car is ready, Miss. Would you care for breakfast before you go?"
"Um, no thanks. I'll get something on the way." Eating was the last thing she could think about after learning of Debbie's brutal death. "Just take good care of Cleo for me?"
Davis smiled and actually winked at her. It was the first time she could ever remember him making such a gesture. "Count on it."
Lee knelt down and hugged Cleo. She scratched her ears and spoke to her for a few moments, promising to return soon. Then she stood and walked away, trying very hard not to look back. Cleo was more than just a dog, she was a friend, and part of Lee couldn't help feeling like she was abandoning her. Even if it was only temporary.
She slid behind the wheel and was already on the Turnpike before she realized she was driving her gold Mercedes. She smirked at the irony that when she'd left New York for the small town, her sole concern had been starting over in anonymity. Her biggest fear that more people would try to take advantage once they discovered she was wealthy didn't seem all that important anymore. Jamison would never consider such a thing and Harmon was her home now.
The smile faded as realization dawned. Lee had always demanded honesty from everyone else, but she hadn't been willing to do the same. If she'd told Debbie the truth, that she didn't love her, she might not have died. Knowing how Lee truly felt, she would probably have stayed in New York. Whoever said secrets could kill was absolutely correct and Lee wouldn't be responsible for anymore misunderstandings.
Almost exactly four hours later, she turned onto Main Street and parked in front of the Harmon Arms Bed and Breakfast. She was distantly aware of the admiring looks cast toward the car, but this time the staring didn't really bother her. A lot of it had to do with the unpleasant task on which she was about to embark. Going through her ex's things was the last thing she wanted to do. Even when they were dating, Lee wouldn't have considered invading her privacy in such a way and with the distance between them since the break-up it would be doubly hard.
The same young woman she'd spoken to before was behind the counter and Lee reluctantly approached her. "Hi, Bernie. I'm Lee Grayson."
"Yes, ma'am, I remember." Bernie offered her a smile. "That's a great car. I'd love to have one like it someday."
"Thanks. Uh, not to be abrupt, but Sheriff Macke wanted me to come by and ..." Lee had a hard time saying the words and swallowed past a lump in her throat.
"Oh, right." Her expression
immediately contrite, Bernie said, "I'm so sorry for what happened. Here's the key and if you need any help just give me a shout."
Lee was touched by the gesture and could only nod in response. She took the offered key and headed up the same set of stairs she'd used last time she was here. For some reason, the hallway seemed to stretch out longer than it should, taunting her with the distance it took to reach the room.
After the door closed behind her, Lee stood and looked around for a moment. Someone had been in to clean recently. The bed was made and there was nothing to indicate a guest resided here.
But she doesn't reside here anymore, Lee thought, grief slamming into her once again. While it was true that she hadn't loved Debbie in the way a life-long commitment would require, she had cared for her. Debbie wasn't a heartless person, she had just been a little disconnected from the rest of the world, more focused on her career and giving the right impression to the right people. In a way, Lee felt she had never truly known the real person behind the façade. To die in such a senseless fashion when she had so much potential just wasn't fair.
Lee steadied herself, determined to complete her task and get the hell out. She pulled open the top dresser drawer and found it full of clothing. Leaving it ajar, she went to the closet and found a
Victorinox suitcase. Only the best for Debbie, she thought wryly. The closet also held a few evening gowns and several pair of high heels. Fortunately, Debbie had stacked other bags inside the large suitcase. Lee tossed the largest piece of luggage onto the bed and quickly packed up the clothing in the closet. Once she was finished she moved to the dresser. It took several minutes to empty the contents from the chest and by the time she had, most of the bags were full. She moved to the bathroom from there and removed all of the toiletries Debbie had brought along for the trip. Satisfied that she had completed the chore, Lee took one last look around and realized she'd forgotten to check the nightstand.
I hope there's not much in there. I don't think the bags can hold anything else.
Under the Midnight Cloak Page 25