“But you're not sure because there's a hole in your memories—your father?”
Sorcha couldn't think about that, and she didn't want him to probe further. “What are we going to do next?”
Gray's eyes swept her face.
Schooling her features into a tranquility she didn't feel, she waited for his response, holding her breath.
“Tomorrow we'll visit the bank and see what we find in the safe-deposit box. It's my day off, so we can spend the day brainstorming.” Gray glared at the cell phone vibrating on the bedside table. “Fu—frick. What now?”
Sorcha reached over, grabbed the rectangular metal box, and offered it to him.
“Sheriff White,” he barked into the receiver.
She knew instantly he'd be going out again.
Gray shifted her off his lap and grabbed a notepad and a pencil from the bedside table.
“When?”
Head and shoulder holding the phone in place, he scribbled furiously.
“Any word on the parents?”
Hand hovering over the notepad, he listened for a minute.
“Wonderful.” Sarcasm laced the one word. “I'll be there in a few.”
Sorcha searched his features as he continued to listen to the person on the other end. After Gray hung up, she asked, “What's wrong?”
“The other twin's turned up.”
The flat set of his lips told the whole tale.
“Dead?”
Gray nodded. “The shit's gonna fly tonight.”
“Is there anything I can do?” She hated the feeling of helplessness making her shoulders slump and her mind fog. Poor Tonya and Bruce, their family destroyed in the space of less than two days.
“Let me drop you over at Susie's. I don't want you here alone, honey.” Sorcha's eyes flickered to the alarm clock's digital readout as it glowed steady and certain on the bedside table. “It's almost six. Why don't I leave when you do and run up to the vet in my car? I know he opens early so folks can visit their pets before going in to work. I can check on Kumar and meet you later at the diner for breakfast.”
For a few seconds, she thought he'd object. But he let out this long-suffering, patently male sigh and said, “On two conditions. One, I follow you to Jimmy's and make sure you get in the front door. Two, you call me before you leave Jimmy's for the diner.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes. “Paranoid doesn't begin to describe you, Gray White. Deal.”
“We'll hit Spokane and the bank right after the diner. Make sure you take the key.”
Chapter Nine
Gray surveyed the once-handsome Hazard teenager, his face bloated, slate-tinged complexion blotchy and marred by uneven cuts and nicks.
“Can't tell until the autopsy's finished, but if he was as drunk as he smelled, he didn't last long in the lake.”
“Which one's this?” Gray asked, shaking his head. “What a sin.”
“You think?” Henry retorted. “I figure this saves the taxpayers money in the long run. According to his driver's license, this one's Kevin.”
“He's only seventeen. You never know… He could have turned around,” Gray argued. He loathed the scents of the morgue, never could get accustomed to the smell of formaldehyde and the aromas of all the other chemicals needed to preserve bodies and parts. His wolf sensitivity, he supposed. Gray cricked his neck, tilting his head right then left. “Any kid Kevin's age should be just starting out, beginning the adventure of life.”
“He began the adventure of drugs and binge drinking at eleven. With his parents and the environment he's been raised in, this kid was doomed from the start.” Henry drew a blue plastic sheet over the boy's body. “The parents still haven't contacted us.”
“Fucking Jim Dandy. Where are we on his movements?” The fluorescent lighting in the morgue made the bleak events even starker and worsened his brooding mood. He hurried out of the room with Henry in tow.
“Not much new. After they left the sports bar in Malott, the kids must have headed to Logan's Point. Neighbors on the south end of the lake opposite the point called in a noise complaint. Ted and Paul had gone on a run to Leader Lake, so it was an hour before they got to the point.” Henry halted in front of the coffeepot.
Leader Lake?
Site of the Native American satanic cult?
Gray scratched his scalp in an attempt to alleviate the sudden tingling ringing through every follicle on his body. The urge to interrupt had him biting his tongue, and he missed what Henry said next.
“Repeat that,” Gray ordered and glowered when his colleague smirked.
“Not getting your eight hours, boss?” The detective grabbed two mugs and poured coffee into both.
“Stop being a smart-ass.” Gray accepted the proffered cup and gulped a couple of mouthfuls of the hot brew.
“As I said two seconds ago, by the time Ted and Paul got to the point, it was deserted. Plenty of evidence of a party. A dozen-or-so empty booze bottles, roaches, and needles. They walked the perimeter and found Hazard lodged between rocks. At first they thought he was alive. Ted said it looked like he was staring at the moon.”
Gray couldn't begin to imagine how Bruce Hazard would take the news of both of his sons being murdered. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was face either parent.
“Ted spoke with the neighbors. They identified three vehicles at the point. Kevin Hazard's Corvette, a pickup, and a neon green Toyota Celica. The last vehicle belongs to George Brown's nephew, James. He's been staying with his relatives since the week before Christmas.” Henry propped his feet on the desk and crossed his ankles. Head resting on his linked palms, he said, “Neighbors got out the megaphone when we didn't show right away. The way I figure it, the bunch of them hooligans was partying, and when the neighbors announced they'd called the cops, they hightailed it out of there.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary there. Where's the 'Vette?”
“In the impound under examination.”
“Why were Ted and Paul at Leader Lake?” Gray asked the question burning his gut.
“Another vandalized camp store, according to Chief Perce. This time near the north end. Perce is also complaining about unusual wolf activity. Says there's been nonstop howling and other”—Henry drew quotation marks in the air—“peculiar noises.”
“They find anything?” He massaged his knotting neck muscles.
“Campers' belongings hacked to smithereens. Feces and urine covering the ripped-up tents and the whole perimeter of the campsite.”
Scats and pee; the way any alpha wolf scent-marked his pack's territory.
His grandfather had eliminated the last of the black wolves, Gray reminded himself.
Gray reasoned that fact meant either some loony who believed he was a Satan-serving black wolf had recruited followers, or a group of bored, macho teenagers who wanted the shock-fame associated with shitting and urination had committed the vandalisms.
Either way, the news didn't sit well with him. “When did we find his twin?”
“About forty minutes ago.”
“Coroner finished with the body?” Gray slumped into the high-backed chair behind his desk.
“Hasn't started as far as I know,” Henry answered. “Central's not too thrilled with 400, and they're overwhelmed at the moment.”
“I bet.” Letting out a long sigh, he muttered, “Been a few fucking incredible days.” Gray kneaded the small of his back with his fists. “The other twin's Ken, right?” When Henry nodded, he asked, “Where'd we find him?”
“Don't know for sure. We barely got Wicks's report on the body before static drowned him out. There's an electrical storm in the area.”
Gray hit Speaker and punched his computer dispatcher's extension.
“Yes, boss.” Eden Harold always sounded as if she smiled when she spoke.
“Edie, I want to know the second Wicks is back on CAD.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Edie replied. “I can't even raise his GPS, and CAD doesn't show him signe
d on.”
Half the county's budget had been spent replacing their local computer-aided dispatch system with the state's satellite-based version. Since going live some three weeks ago, software glitches had plagued Okanagan County.
A state-of-the-art station came with many irritating drawbacks, and one particularly bothered Gray: almost no windows. It was impossible to tell the time without checking a clock. His stomach growled, and he glanced at his watch. Seven fifteen—the sun should be peeking over the horizon. “There's not much I can do here. I'm going to grab a bite at the diner. Buzz me if the Hazards contact you.”
Gray called Sorcha once he left the station, and they agreed to meet at the diner in fifteen minutes. Feeling the aftereffects of too little sleep and too much emotion, he decided a walk in the fresh air would clear his fogged brain.
Golden rays highlighted glistening dewdrops on pink petunias draping jute baskets that decorated the twin columns fronting Miss L's shop. Gray halted in front of the bungalow, thinking of the innumerable heated discussions he and the older woman had enjoyed over one of her home-cooked dinners.
A mental memory jerk had him twisting around to stare at the matching cottage on the other side of Main Street. Victor Morgan's shoe repair had been vandalized, and less than two days later, Miss L had been murdered. It would be so easy to mistake one bungalow for the other, especially if the perp entered from the lakeside.
What if Miss L hadn't been the intended victim?
Shaking his head as if the action would clarify his scattered thoughts, Gray continued on his journey, sifting through different scenarios. He added Kevin Hazard's death and the shoe shop vandalism to the five parallel tracks he'd related to Sorcha earlier. Although he'd only been sheriff for the last six years, he'd learned the hard way never to discount or disconnect one seemingly unrelated event from another.
A chill gust ruffled his hair and bent the recently sowed bedding plants lining the pathway to the diner at a diagonal angle. The scent of bacon mingled with potatoes and onions frying perfumed the air, and his mouth watered as his appetite kicked in. Hunger cramps gnawed at his belly.
Gray spotted at least four empty booths once he entered the diner. The spot he favored stood empty, so he didn't wait for the waitress-cum-hostess to seat him. He slid onto the vinyl bench that faced the doorway and searched the place mat/menu for today's specials.
Hans Whitener appeared in the periphery of his vision. Gray stifled a groan when the diner's cook and owner took off his apron and headed in his direction. A butcher by trade, Hans had purchased the establishment years ago. He hadn't liked the man from the get-go. And after he returned to live in Twisp, he'd recognized the reason behind his dislike. Hans was the kind of person who would set fire to a cat's tail or slice the wings off a butterfly.
“Sheriff White,” Hans boomed, his hand outstretched.
The stench of blood mixed with onions and garlic assaulted Gray's nostrils.
His palm connected with Hans's moist, beefy flesh, and he tensed against an automatic shudder reaction.
“We have another murder?” Hans asked in a guttural accent that turned the w in “we” into v, and the v in “have” into an f.
The man actually hoped he would say yes, Gray realized. He hated to reward Hans, so he replied, “We won't know anything until we get the coroner's report.”
“What about Miss Herrington? Dat was a murder, yah?”
“Yes.” Gray pointedly looked at his watch. “I'm in a bit of a hurry. Why don't I fill you in another time?”
“Yah, of course. You are busy with suspects.”
Gray headed straight to the bathroom, washed his hands to the elbows, paper toweled his skin dry, and returned to his seat.
Sorcha's scent mixed with Kumar's hit his nostrils seconds later. His lips curved into a smile before he lifted his head and found her blazing blue eyes.
Beaming at him, she wound her way through the tables and slipped onto the opposite seat.
For long seconds he drank in her essence, wishing he could touch her mind with his. Life to date had not prepared him for this intense yearning to climb inside her and know every crevice, every pore, every thought.
“Coffee?” A waitress in a white shirt and skirt and a red-and-green-checkered apron hovered at the edge of their table.
“Please,” Gray replied. “Tea for you, honey?”
“Nope. I like coffee in the mornings and tea at night.” Sorcha tapped a Splenda packet on her palm as the waitress filled her cup. “Jimmy's positive Kumar's going to make it. He's a little dopey, but he's eating.” She fell silent as she tore open the packet and emptied the powdery contents into the dark liquid.
“That's great news, so why the sad smile?”
“He keeps asking for Harold.” Sorcha stirred the brew.
Gray captured her hand and squeezed her fingers. “It's only to be expected, honey. Those two were together most of their lives. He's bound to miss him.”
“I know. I hope he won't pine away in the end.”
“When we get him home, keep him in the house instead of the cage. Maybe he'll bond with White.” Gray deliberately changed the subject. “Are you starving? I am.”
“Me too.” She checked the place mat. “Ooh, I'm going to have the Sweet Tooth Special—blueberry pancakes, Belgian waffles, and cherry blintzes. My mouth's watering thinking about it.”
“I'm going for the Hungry Man Special.” Her eyes sparkled and shone with happiness, and he vowed to keep her looking like this forever. The wind had tousled her hair, and the sweet disarray framing her heart-shaped face enchanted him; he could have sworn his heart turned over in his chest.
Before they could place their order, Susie and Joe walked in and made their way directly to the booth.
“Sis?” Gray recognized the expression on his sibling's face. “What's wrong?”
“Mind if we join you two?”
“Of course not,” Gray replied. He motioned for Sorcha to shift down, slid onto the opposite bench, and draped an arm around his mate's shoulder.
Joe and his wife exchanged good mornings with Sorcha as they took the seat opposite.
The waitress appeared, poured two more cups of coffee, and then scribbled their orders on a flip notepad.
“What's up?” Gray asked.
“Was there another murder?” Susie shivered, and as if she needed warmth, her fingers curled around the ceramic mug.
“You had another vision?” Gray's stomach contracted, and the coffee he'd consumed threatened to vault into cyberspace. He knew before she nodded.
“Who?”
“You tell me,” he demanded.
“I didn't want to say the words out loud.” Susie's lips quivered. “Miss L.”
Gray nodded. “I'm afraid so, sis.”
Susie's face crumpled.
Joe muttered, “That doesn't make sense.” He threw an arm around his wife's shoulders and hugged her close. “Ah, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.”
Susie buried her face in her husband's chest. She sniffed a few times and then looked directly at her brother. “It wasn't like the others.”
“What's going on?” Sorcha asked, her features pinched, eyebrows inching to her hairline.
“Every time the serial killer's struck, Susie's had a vision,” Gray explained.
“What kind of vision?”
“A very vague impression of blood and limbs.” Susie's voice broke. She swallowed a couple of times, shifted to face Sorcha, and continued, “For the first time wolves appeared, black wolves.”
Fuck.
“Was anything else different about this one?” Gray hesitated to ask the question; he would have preferred to hear Susie out first and then filter what information he gave Sorcha. Wrestling his inherent overprotectiveness into a corner, he balled a fist under the table. Knowledge is power, he reminded himself, and knowledge mirrors safety under these circumstances.
“I felt her surprise at the first blow. She knew she wouldn't survive ri
ght away. She wanted to leave a message.” Susie reached across the table and clutched Gray's hand. “Was there a message?”
A message? Gray's pulse accelerated. Idiot, idiot. All he'd wanted to do was get out of Miss L's cottage, he hadn't wanted to comb through everything, to let the agony of her death sink in. Screw him for being so weak as to leave it to the crime-scene personnel.
“Gray,” Susie snapped. “Was there a message?”
He shook his head. “We haven't found anything yet. But I promise you, sis, I'll go through that cottage with a fine-tooth comb until I find something.”
Two busboys shared meal delivery responsibility. Gray's hunger had evaporated, but he ate everything on his plate, even though the steak went down like tender rubber, the eggs and toast and hash browns like tofu, devoid of any texture or flavor. No one spoke much. Sorcha asked after the kids; Susie replied in abrupt sentences.
When the waitress deposited the bill on the table, the women went to the ladies' together.
As soon as they left, Gray said, “She only had the one vision?”
“One? What d'you mean, one?”
“At this point, I'm almost certain both Hazard boys were murdered.”
“Fricking hell, what is happening to this town?” Joe growled. “Enlarge on the 'almost certain.'”
“We fished Kevin's body out Logan's Point yesterday. Cause of death is multiple stab wounds. A couple of hours ago, Wicks reported finding the other twin dead. Until the coroner's report is in, I can't be certain.”
“Maybe you shouldn't run for reelection. I'd love to see dumb-ass Howie Houndtree inherit this mess.” Joe let out an audible sigh. “Susie wouldn't keep anything from me. 'Sides, she can barely function when she wakes up from one of these visions.”
“I guess that automatically disconnects the boys' deaths from our serial killer.”
“Chad told me you're heading up to Leader Lake to investigate this satanic wolf cult. I'm in. When're you leaving?”
Gray dropped a twenty and a ten on top of the bill tray.
“I have to wait for the coroner's report and the parents to arrive.”
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