white wolf.jpg

by White Wolf (lit)

“Yeth, Mommy.”

  Gray's cell phone beeped. He read the text message.

  “Chad and Mike are here. Get her settled and come back right away. Take White with you. Order him to stay and tell him 'Guard.' Activate the intercom in the TV room,” Gray ordered.

  “I'll come with you,” Sorcha interjected. She threw off the blanket and followed Susie and her daughter down the hallway.

  “Leave all the doors open.” Gray threw the words over one shoulder as he headed to the front entrance. He unbarred the door and opened the lock. Chad and Mike, both wearing grim expressions, stood on the front stoop.

  Gray herded the men into the far corner of the cavernous living room. He brought his brothers-in-law current.

  After Susie and Sorcha settled Ariel, they joined the men's huddle.

  Mike hugged his sister-in-law; Chad wrapped his arms around the two of them. “We'll find Joe and Taylor, Susie. It'll be okay.”

  “What happened, babe?” Mike asked.

  “Start at the beginning,” Gray commanded.

  “There's not much to tell.” She rubbed her arms. “We came home last night, put the girls to bed, and went to sleep. Ariel came into our bedroom this morning without Taylor. I went to get her. She wasn't there. I wasn't worried at first.”

  “We have any idea of the time she was taken?” Chad asked.

  “Ariel said it was nighttime.”

  “That just means it was dark,” Susie explained. “We woke up around sixish.”

  A lone tear streamed down her cheek.

  Gray's chest burned; his sister rarely cried. “We'll find her. I promise.”

  “How does Hazard come into this? I can't see him as our black wolf, or the serial killer for that matter.” Mike shook his head.

  “He's not smart enough for either,” Chad stated.

  “Okay, sis—continue. You went to get the girls, and you couldn't find Ariel.”

  “I woke Joe up and we searched the house. He went to the barn to make sure she hadn't sneaked out to see the new kittens, and he didn't come back. That's when I called you.” Her voice wavered on the last few words.

  Maybe she had overlooked something.

  “Let's check the girls' room,” Gray said.

  Not an object in the pink bedroom seemed out of whack. Gray and the other two wolves picked up no strange scents. Taylor's bed had been slept in, the rumpled sheets and tossed blankets evidence she used the whole mattress in her dreams.

  “What's this?” Chad stooped and picked up something. He halted in the act of bringing the object to his nose. “Whew. This stinks. Here, have a whiff. I don't recognize the odor.”

  Chad placed half of a leaf in Gray's palm, and he recognized it immediately as the plant he had dug up and sent to Central for analysis. Quickly, he recounted finding the plant when he went back for Harold's body. “Central faxed a report to my laptop earlier. I know the bone analysis was ready, maybe the report on this was sent too.”

  “Joe's laptop is always up and running,” Chad volunteered. “We need a place to work. Might as well settle in his study.”

  “I'm going to check on Ariel,” Susie said.

  “I'll come with you.” Sorcha flashed Gray a questioning look.

  He gave her a nod, angled his chin at Susie's back, and mouthed, Thank you.

  The two women promptly vanished through the arched entrance to the kitchen.

  Gray, Chad, and Mike went in the opposite direction. The wide corridor leading to the study allowed them to walk side by side.

  “I think the bird knows what happened the night her parents died.”

  “That would explain the killer trying to destroy the two cockatoos,” Mike reasoned.

  Gray settled behind the oversize oak desk. Chad and Mike slumped onto the sofa. Behind their heads, through the long, rectangular picture window, a faint, fogged red ball hovered at the horizon, barely penetrating the thick, darkening cloud blanket veiling the sky.

  “Aren't you guys coming back to the kitchen for coffee?” Susie poked her head past the half-open door.

  “In a sec—we need to get something off Joe's PC first.” Gray hit a few buttons on the keyboard lying on the mahogany desk.

  “Help yourselves. I'll be with Sorcha.”

  Sorcha. Gray's pulse accelerated, and fear and worry climbed a precipice, but he shoved thoughts of her aside and grimly concentrated on the LCD screen. He curled his fingers around the mouse. In no time at all, he found Central's report and printed out three copies.

  Chad, the closest to the printer, handed three pages to Mike and then reached across and threw a bundle onto the desk blotter. Gray didn't even bother to look at it; he fixed his attention on the monitor.

  Mike, a speed-reader, scanned his copy of the report. “This isn't good news. The bones we found belonged to children aged two to five. They're recent too—less than six months in the open.”

  The cult sacrificed children? Hazard was part of this? Gray frowned—the dots didn't connect.

  “We can't let Susie know this. She'll go off the deep end.” Mike shuffled the sheets of paper in his hand. “They did do the plant. It's a species found in the valleys in the Amazon. And it's an ingredient in curare.”

  Chad whistled.

  “No wonder it gave me a rash,” Gray muttered.

  “Curare was used as an anesthetic, and it's a strong muscle relaxant.” Chad turned to Gray. “The tox screens from the earlier murders, did they find anything?”

  “They've gone missing. Miss L was virtually dismembered while still alive and no one heard a peep, she had to have been drugged.” He knew he should be grateful events were coalescing, but the direction they pointed to drove fury and dread through his veins. His temples throbbed.

  “You know enough about this curare to know how much would be needed to put a child out?” Mike asked.

  “No,” Chad replied. “But I can easily find out.”

  Gray's wolf instincts reared and seized control. The thought of Taylor in the power of a child molester or worse, the black wolf, had his insides churning and burning. “The only person in Twisp who would have knowledge of curare would be Doc Harrison.”

  “I can't see him kidnapping or killing,” Mike stated. “Does it have to be restricted to Twisp? All of the county coroners and crime-scene personnel would be privy to that kind of info.”

  A lightbulb went off.

  “Funny you should mention coroners,” Gray said. “Doc Henley didn't handle the McFadden murder case. A Dr. Fowler did, and there is no record of any Fowler ever being employed by the state of Washington.”

  “All the black wolf legends speak of the victim's paralysis before they're killed.” Mike steepled his hands. “This sounds to me like the work of someone wanting to throw suspicion in another direction. A real black wolf wouldn't need curare.”

  “You've got a point,” Chad agreed. “The serial killer?”

  “Table that thought. Let's get back to Taylor and Joe.” Something niggled at the corners of Gray's brain.

  “What?” Chad asked.

  “Problems at the 400,” he answered. “Go ahead and brainstorm while I check on things.”

  He hit his cell's precinct speed dial.

  Edie answered.

  “Hey, boss. What's up?”

  “Not much Edie. Wicks or Henry show up?”

  “Uh-uh. Not that I'm complaining.”

  Although now wasn't the time to delve into office matters, Gray felt compelled to follow through. “Edie, you need to come clean with me. Has Wicks been sexually harassing you?”

  “Ain't an easy question to answer, boss. He hasn't done or said anything wrong. It's the way he looks at you. If I could pinpoint something, I would have filed a complaint a long time ago.”

  “I want to know the minute he steps over the line, you hear me, Edie?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  Ending the call even though he knew he'd missed some relevant fact, something he couldn't pin d
own, Gray turned his thoughts to his mate. “I'm going to check on Sorcha,” he stated. His fingers plowed through his hair. He found Susie and Sorcha in the living room sitting on the sofa. In the act of pouring tea into a flower-patterned china cup, Sorcha looked up and gave him a wan smile.

  A wave of relief crashed over him, and he hurried to his mate's side.

  As he settled next to her, he noticed the stricken expression Susie wore. “What's wrong? What happened?”

  “Kumar. He started talking and cackling,” she replied in a quivery voice. “It was awful. I think he saw who killed Sorcha's parents. It was like he was acting out the whole night.”

  “He did see everything,” Sorcha said, her hands fluttering around her throat.

  Mike and Chad, who had wandered into the living room in time to hear Sorcha's pronouncement, strode to the love seat adjacent to the sofa, sat, and leaned forward, forearms braced on their thighs, hands dangling between their knees.

  “My daughter's been kidnapped, and my husband is missing, Sorcha. Get to the point.”

  Gray glowered at his sister. “Give her a break.”

  “No. Susie's right. We need to focus on Taylor and Joe,” Sorcha countered. “I never saw his face, but I heard him. When Kumar spoke in his voice tonight, something seemed familiar and it just clicked.” She shifted on the sofa and reached across to grip Gray's hand between both of hers. “It's Henry.”

  Henry?

  Gray's mind couldn't wrap around her words.

  Henry?

  Henry Wells.

  The letters on Miss L's cake.

  No wonder there were never any footprints. He'd give any odds Henry had been the first one on the scene at each murder. Everyone would expect his footprints to be present.

  “Are you positive?” Chad asked.

  Henry.

  All at once, images that had bothered him for no reason he could pinpoint flash forwarded through Gray's mind. The way Henry'd deliberately flaunted the serial killer theory, his “discovery” of the one thousand, three hundred and sixty-eight days between the killings. Henry had been the first uniform on the scene for the Mark Springs murder. Gray closed his eyes and ground his teeth as the vision of Henry whittling a slab of teak outside Miss L's cottage stained his pupils.

  Gray's insides boiled and bubbled, rage battled humiliation and shame, and every other emotion on the planet drew his body and mind so taut, so tense, so rigid, he wondered why he hadn't imploded.

  “How can you be certain from only a voice ID?” Mike asked.

  The question brought him into the present, the now, the tightrope balance needed for the coming hours.

  “Don't even go there,” Gray snapped. “She knows.” He shook his head and voiced his thoughts. “He's been rubbing my face in it for years. I can't begin to tell you how many red herrings I've chased. Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stanch a pending headache.

  “From what I've read, serial killers crave recognition and acknowledgment. He must have enjoyed tweaking you, pointing you in the wrong direction.” Chad stretched his legs. “Let's get back to the issue. How's he involved in this? We know Hazard's the one who took Taylor.”

  “It doesn't make any sense. I know Henry killed my parents and tried to kill me. Why would Bruce Hazard kidnap Taylor?”

  Dread rolled off her flesh, infusing his nostrils. Gray brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “That's what we're trying to figure out, honey.”

  “Abyss.” Mike sprang to his feet. “Your grandfather's maps!” He snapped his fingers. “Wasn't that clearing we searched at Leader Lake called the Abyss on the old maps?”

  He could win the universe's most-thickheaded contest.

  Of course.

  The Abyss.

  How often had he gone over the old maps? Gray loved the workmanship of the scrolls, relished the fact he was the keeper of the heritage. Sorcha's next words flip-sided his self-flagellation.

  “Gray, didn't you mention all the authorities were investigating Bruce?” Sorcha asked. “Maybe they know something we don't. Do you have access to their files?”

  Wicks's reputation as a computer whiz had prompted Gray to accept his request for a transfer. If anyone could get into Homeland Security's files on Hazard, he could. Too bad he had a stomach flu. Gray choked back a snort.

  “Maybe. I'll make a few calls. We need to get going. Chad, Mike, organize the weapons and the tools. Susie, Sorcha, stay within sight of each other and Ariel. We won't have cell access from Leader Lake, but the walkie-talkie functions will work. Buzz us if anything, anything at all happens. I want you to contact us if you feel the slightest unease. Go with that squirmy-back-of-the-neck intuition.”

  “It's better if we have everyone under one roof. I'll call Mel and Lizzie and have them come over with the kids,” Mike stated as he flipped open his cell.

  Gray barked commands, “I'll call the precinct and have Edie arrange an armed escort for Mel and Lizzie. You two get dressed—boots, long sleeves.” He remembered the curare and added, “Rain gear.”

  “I'll get the rain stuff and three of Joe's waterproof hunting shirts.” Susie almost ran out of the room.

  “I'll check curare on Wikipedia,” Chad said as he strode out of the room.

  “I'll get blankets and medical supplies.” Mike disappeared into the kitchen.

  Gray met Sorcha's intense stare.

  “If Bruce is the black wolf, you'll need me as bait,” she whispered. “He's after me, you said so yourself.”

  He so wished she wasn't so fucking right. “Until we determine he is one and the same, you stay here. Sorcha, honey, I won't be able to concentrate on Taylor if I have to worry about you. And I need you here. Susie's not thinking straight—she's on the verge of panic. Lizzie's no good under pressure, and Mel's more likely to try and talk Bruce home than to shoot him. I need you to pull the trigger the minute you see him. Got that?”

  Her throat worked, but she nodded. “Thank God you took me to the target range yesterday. I can do it.”

  She'd bought it.

  Gray bottled a huge sigh of relief. He knew the surefire way to distract his mate—put someone else in her care. God, she was going to make one terrific mom.

  “I've already gotten away with it.” The deep male baritone came from the bird on the grandfather clock.

  Henry's voice.

  Sorcha stumbled, and her face paled.

  He caught her before she fell.

  “I'm okay,” Sorcha said as she struggled out of his embrace. She whistled the beginning stanza of “The Blue Danube,” and Kumar glided to her shoulder as he finished the song.

  Once again her scent had changed. She wore a mask that chilled his bones.

  “I should help Susie,” she muttered. “You won't leave without saying good-bye?”

  “Promise.” His gaze followed her out of the room.

  What did his mate have up her sleeve? Why had she erected a shield?

  Chad returned carrying a sheet of paper with Mike in tow.

  Once she'd left the room, Mike faced him. “I didn't want to raise this in front of Susie or Sorcha. I haven't heard from Joe. Have any of you?”

  “No,” Chad replied.

  Gray shook his head. “Me either.”

  “He must be unconscious,” Chad mused. “Does Henry being the black wolf make any sense to either of you?”

  “He's not,” Mike stated, the tone of his voice ringing with certainty. “My gut says neither Henry nor Bruce is the black wolf. Fellas, we have another party in this mix, and that's the frigging rub. We need to prepare ourselves for a surprise. The black wolf will have the advantage in this battle.”

  “Sorcha knows who he is,” Gray said as recognition dawned. “She's going to try and go after him herself. We can't let that happen.”

  “I figured she was up to something,” Mike said. “Her energy is barely in check.”

  “She's carrying my cub.”

  “That's
a decided disadvantage. What are you going to do?”

  “Become her crazy glue.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I guess we can safely say the drought's been broken,” Chad commented as they swerved into the turnoff for Leader Lake thirty minutes later. He had to shout to be heard over the sheets of driving rain pelting the SUV's exterior.

  The change in the weather was nothing short of dramatic. Midnight clouds shrouded the heavens above, merging horizons into forests as far as the eye could see. Even Gray's wolf vision couldn't penetrate nature's shroud of rain and fog.

  “It's getting thicker,” Mike said. “I can't see more than five feet ahead.”

  Gray grunted.

  When he'd embraced Sorcha before leaving the farmhouse, her scent had emanated her warring emotions—fear and worry amid a sea of tranquility. Wave after wave had assaulted his nostrils, making his breath shorten and his pulse gallop out of white wolf control.

  What was she hiding from him?

  What did she plan to do?

  She carried his cub.

  Fuck.

  Fighting the urge to batter his head against a hard surface, Gray squinted at the dirt road and realized they'd reached the tribal lodge. The stench he'd first encountered at Goose Point attacked his nose the minute he exited the vehicle.

  “I made a couple of calls before we left the house,” Mike murmured as they strode in double file along the path leading to the forest. “The Canadian Mounties have Hazard in their sights for human trafficking. He specializes in children, specifically supplying pedophiles with young boys and girls. Runs them across the border from Penticton.”

  “We knew about the Thailand connection, but we suspected drugs, not human trafficking,” Gray muttered.

  “We heading in the same direction as before?” Chad asked as he, Gray, and Mike divvied up the contents of the Durango's tool kit.

  “Let's do a flank formation,” Gray said. “We'll have three possible targets and two hostages to concentrate on. Taylor is our prime, Joe second. Agreed?”

  “I'll circle to the right.” Chad grabbed the nylon netting. A part-time rodeo competitor, he worked magic with any type of rope.

  “The way I figure it is this.” Mike kept his voice low as he trudged through the muddied trail. “Henry's the serial killer. Bruce supplies children to the black wolf for sacrifices. I've been reading your grandfather's diary. The humans used for the ceremonies in his generation had one common characteristic—there was something odd about their appearance.”