Raising Wolves

by Preston Walker

  "What else did you take out of the room?"

  "Nothing," Jeffery lied, a little too quickly.

  The lead shot him a steely gaze from his blazing blue eyes, staring silently until Jeffery began to wriggle uncomfortably. He wasn't willing to give up the flash drive, as he knew that she had held onto it until after she'd died. He didn't think that the person who killed her even knew that she had it, or they would have taken it after she'd died. So he deliberately steadied his gaze and waited out the silent treatment.

  "Alright," the lead said, finally. "Stay out of the way."

  Jeffery nodded and grabbed his satchel. He slung it across his chest then opened it, checking that he had everything, especially the flash drive. Then he sat nervously on the cash-out counter while the team gathered up all of his evidence and stored it carefully in zip-lock bags. His fuzzy brown hair was already spiking chaotically out all over his head and, as he pushed his hands through it again, he realized that it was only a matter of time before he started pulling it out. This case had blown up in all directions, and he still didn't have anything to go on except for the kid's name. There had been no records of her in the human database, which told him that she hadn't been to see a doctor since she was born. Unless Vasquez had been treating her off the books, he realized suddenly.

  But it didn't matter. Vasquez, like April and like the medical examiner, was dead. His leads weren't just cold, they were dead. S.H.D. seemed to be under the impression that it wasn't an accident. Jeffery had to wonder if the girl was at the center of everything, or if there was another piece to the puzzle that he hadn't yet uncovered. He turned everything he knew over in his mind as the team meticulously emptied the shop of anything that could even vaguely be considered evidence. Once that was done, the woman began diving into April's personal records to find next of kin and any evidence of a will.

  "Does she have a sister?" Moranis asked suddenly.

  "She does," the woman said, shortly.

  "What's her name?"

  "Shania."

  "Oh."

  Supposing the shifter he'd chased could have known that information, he briefed the lead on what happened and his suspicions, and the lead irritably took notes as he talked.

  "You couldn't have told us this before?" he snapped.

  "I told Bates," Jeffery said, shrugging helplessly. "I figured he would have passed the information on."

  "He didn't," the lead said, his eyes flashing. "Next time, give us everything you have the first time we ask."

  "Yes, sir."

  The sun had risen fully by the time they finished, and they left him with instructions to lock up. They taped all of the doors and windows with police tape before they departed, leaving Jeffery feeling vaguely trapped. He sighed and dug his fingers into his eyes under his glasses, careful not to send them flying again.

  "Well, Moranis," he said to himself. "What the hell do we do now?"

  A brief knock on the door answered the question for him. He slid off the counter, mentally cursing at the S.H.D. for whatever they forgot, and yanked the door open without bothering to glance through the window first. His heart stopped when he saw Alex's ghost on the other side, in the form of a tiny human girl.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Sorry," Jordan told the man. "Didn't mean to startle you. I saw the police tape, but it's really important that we talk to April Sprinkle. Can you tell me where to find her?"

  The man was staring mutely at Darla. Jordan shifted his body so that she was tucked into his arm with his body between her and the man in the doorway. He felt bad for the guy; he'd obviously been awake too long. His brown hair poked out in tufts all over his head, and his gray eyes were bloodshot behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Beneath it all, he was attractive in a way that reminded Jordan of a boy he'd had a crush on when he was young. A touch too thin, brainy and maybe a little obsessive. At the moment, he was certainly in shock. Still, shock was no excuse to stare at a three-year-old like that. Jordan checked her face to make sure that she wasn't shifting behind his back, but she was being a perfect angel. She looked up at him and grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. She'd had a chocolate-covered cereal bar for breakfast, which was more sugar than she usually got without throwing a demonic fit, so she was in a good mood. Which was more than he could say for himself, or the man standing before him.

  "Sir?" he said, after a long moment.

  The man shook himself and blinked hard several times. His gray eyes caught and scattered the light, like a fish jumping in a pond. Jordan was entirely too tired to deal with the fluttering attraction building in his chest. He wished the man would say something incendiary or idiotic so he could focus on the task at hand.

  "Sorry," he said. "What was your name?"

  "Does it matter?" Jordan asked.

  He wasn't about to reveal anything he didn't have to, being painfully aware of the fact that he was on the run from someone or some entity. He would talk to April Sprinkle (ridiculous name, anyway, he thought to himself) or nobody.

  "It does," the man said. "I can't give you any information unless you're authorized."

  Jordan gritted his teeth, making his jaw bulge, and narrowed his eyes at the man.

  "This is her place of business, isn't it?" he asked, with a warning in his voice.

  "It was," the man said, vaguely.

  "Then you know where she is."

  "I do."

  "So where is she?"

  "I can't tell you that unless you give me your name."

  Jordan sighed.

  "Bob Smith," he said.

  "Daddy! No it not!"

  "Hush, sweetie," he said, exasperated.

  "What's her name, then?" the man asked.

  "Darla May Steel-Hacker!" she said, happily.

  Jordan watched the man's face change colors, white to crimson and back again. Nobody should know enough about Darla to have that reaction. The man suddenly seemed less adorable and more unstable, and Jordan wasn't going to stick around to see what action came after that emotional reaction. He turned on his heel and stepped down the stairs, making tracks for his truck which was illegally parked in front of the store.

  "Wait, stop!" the man called.

  Nope, Jordan thought. He yanked her door open and tried to put her back into her car seat.

  "No!" she screamed. "Want to play!"

  "I'll take you to a park," he promised her, struggling to contain her superhuman strength. "But you have to go in your seat right now."

  "No!" she wailed again, her eyes flashing yellow.

  "Darla!" he shouted, loud enough to make her jump.

  Her face crumbled and she began to cry. He felt like shit, but she let him strap her in. Her wails broke his heart and shattered his eardrums, but it was better than whatever would happen if he didn't get out of there. A hand slapped down hard on his shoulder, and he whirled fist-first, connecting with the man's nose. Blood sprayed and the man stumbled backward a step as his glasses fell off, split down the middle.

  "God damn it!" the man shouted, holding his nose. "Will you relax?"

  "No can do," Jordan said, slamming her door and sprinting around the car. "Sorry about the glasses."

  He started the car and stepped hard on the gas, burning rubber on the road as he took off. Great, he thought. One more person on their trail. What the hell were they all after? He glanced in his rearview mirror at his daughter, who was watching the world whip by with tears drying on her face.

  "Hey baby," he said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

  "Daddy mean," she said, pushing her lower lip out.

  "I love you," he said, feeling helpless.

  "Love you," she murmured.

  He assumed it was out of habit, but it made him feel a little better, which in turn made him feel guilty. He shouldn't be relying on his kid to sooth his conscience, but he couldn't really explain to her why he'd yelled (which was a big no-no for her), or why he'd hit that man (which was a level of violence she had never been exposed to).
Hoping it wouldn't scar her for life, he mentally cursed whoever had started the witch hunt for them in the first place. His life had been chaotic since Darla had been born, but the last couple of days had seen whole new levels of chaos, and he had no idea how to handle it. The first thing he needed to do, he knew, was get himself and Darla all the way out of town. Hell, he needed to get out of the state. Maybe even the country, if he could manage it.

  He didn't know if even that would be far enough. Wherever he went, people seemed to be out to get Darla. But why Darla? Why would one little stray werewolf be important to anybody but him? She was his world but, to anyone else, she was just another kid. Even to werewolves she would just be a random pup, wouldn't she?

  "Park?" she asked.

  "That's where we're going," he told her.

  Maybe a park in Mexico, but a park, he amended mentally. Not that he could actually get into Mexico; he and Darla didn't have passports. He'd never actually left the country, though it had always been on his bucket list. He supposed he could hop the border illegally, but if he did that he would never be able to get back in. He chewed on the problem long enough to take the north-bound on ramp on autopilot. Shrugging, he decided to go with it. Now he just needed to decide if he'd travel up the coast or take a right at the next interstate exchange and head east.

  "Hey Darla," he said. "What sounds better to you, Oregon or Nevada?"

  "Park!"

  "Yeah, but do you want to go to a wet, green park or a dry, brown park?"

  "Magic park!"

  "Desert or no desert?"

  "Dessert?"

  Jordan sighed. It had been worth a try, anyway, he decided. If he headed to Oregon or Washington, it would be easier to disappear. Plenty of forests to hide in. Bigger population though. Nevada had the benefit of lots of wide, empty spaces; but what good were they if he couldn't feed and clothe her without taking a road trip? Oregon it was, he decided. They would live in their fairy house in the woods, and he'd fix the wall on Darla's side of the house with whatever wood happened to litter the forest floor. Confident in his decision, he drifted carefully over to the left lane and relaxed. He had a nearly full tank and hundreds of miles to go so he might as well enjoy himself.

  "Hungry!" Darla said.

  "You want another cereal bar?" he asked her.

  "No! Cheeseburger!"

  "Cheeseburger what?"

  "Cheeseburger please?"

  "Good job. We'll stop for burgers in a little bit, okay?"

  "Toy?"

  "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. If you behave between now and the restaurant, I'll get you a burger with a toy. Okay?"

  "Okay!"

  "Good job. Music?"

  She nodded happily, bouncing in her seat. He turned the radio on and checked the time. They had two hours before the place would even start serving lunch. If he could keep her distracted that long, he would be well out of town before they slowed down. He'd fill the tank at the same time, and hit the bathroom. She'd be needing it by then. The presets on his radio were already getting fuzzy, and he scanned through stations until one came in clear.

  "Dig out your safety pins and dust off your Chuck's! You're listening to KRST, your throwback to grunge!"

  He chuckled, and moved to turn the dial. For as much as he loved to relive his youth, the music would likely be too noisy for Darla. Before he touched it, the little hatchback in front of him suddenly slammed on its brakes, and he had to do the same and turn his wheels toward the shoulder to avoid smashing into it. He swore, over-correcting slightly due to the still unfamiliar weight of the house, and barely managed to stay in his lane. Traffic began to move again, and he let out a sigh. He settled back into a cruising speed, glanced in his rearview mirror out of habit, and started laughing.

  "You like it, baby?" he asked.

  Darla was head-banging and arm-dancing to Audioslave.

  "Like it!" she squealed.

  "That's my girl," he laughed.

  The two of them partied in the car for the next two hours. The image of the exhausted, attractive man splayed out on the sidewalk tugged at his guilty gut, but he pushed it away. He was only doing what he needed to do to protect his daughter, he told himself. The karma would work itself out. Traffic behaved itself well enough, and serendipitous timing saw to it that a billboard for her favorite fast food joint popped up at the side of the road just as the clock rolled over to ten. He made a risky lane change, and made a mental note to replace the mirror before he tried to go any farther.

  Luck was on their side, and they made it off the freeway uneventfully and pulled in to the restaurant. He would feel better if they just took the drive-thru and kept moving, but she was getting restless. She'd been in her car seat way longer than she'd ever been before, and her patience was wearing thin. The last thing he needed was a feral wolf chewing through her straps in the backseat. So he parked, and was relieved to see a massive play area inside the restaurant. Darla noticed it too, and immediately began telling him all the things she was going to do. Most of what she said weren't actual words, and he replied with "mm-hmm" and "that sounds awesome!" several times as he pulled her out of her car seat.

  She bolted for the door across the parking lot, and he had to run and catch up.

  "Darla! You hold my hand in the parking lot!"

  "Play!" she argued.

  "You hold my hand, you understand."

  "I am, see?"

  Jordan sighed.

  "Yes, I see. Next time you touch the car until I grab your hand, got it?"

  "Got it!"

  "Thank you."

  They walked into the restaurant hand-in-hand, and then she was off. She knew the drill. She kicked off her shoes and immediately climbed up a tube, knowing she would come back down when he had food and so he didn't worry about it too much. Darla treasured the rare occasions when she was allowed to play in these places; he was always terrified that she would attack someone's kid. She never had, but it was one of the many gruesome possibilities which kept him on his toes whenever he took her out in public. He ordered and stepped aside, peering through the glass wall into the play place, keeping his eyes locked on her pink-clad little form as she climbed over the plastic structure. She started talking to a boy bigger than she was, and Jordan's belly clenched nervously. If that boy upset her even a little bit, there's no telling what she...

  "Order five-thirty-eight?"

  Jordan thanked the man and grabbed his tray, hurrying into the playroom to distract his daughter with food. He cast a glance out the window to his truck, which hadn't seemed to capture anyone's attention, then turned his focus wholly on his daughter.

  "Darla! Burger!"

  She squealed and tumbled down the slide, running over to him with a massive grin. He smiled back at her and brushed her fine brown hair off of her sweaty brow, then spent the next hour so wrapped up in watching her and keeping her calm that he didn't notice when the door of his trailer began to open, inch by careful inch.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jeffery was glad that he had been wearing his satchel. It would have been a pain in the ass to get in touch with someone to secure his things. As it was, he'd had to find the nearest operative to check the front door of the business and lock it with a skeleton key if need be. He hadn't had a chance to follow protocol, but he hadn't been willing to let the girl get away. His nose still ached and he decided that, if he had to get hit on this mission, he couldn't have chosen a better person to do it than a stud protecting the princess. Jeffery had wrestled with guilt-riddled fantasies about the man for... he didn't know how long. Checking his watch, he found he'd been hunkered down in the back of the trailer for three hours, and it had been parked for the last forty-five minutes. Heart pounding, he decided to check out the situation. Pushing the door open excruciatingly slowly, he looked around.

  The normalcy of his location was jarring to him. He saw the pair of them through the glass, the little girl running around and playing with kids and her guardian watching her
like a hawk, standing by the window with his hands on his hips. Just a normal, human, dad and daughter, out for lunch. A wrenching sadness twisted in his chest. That was Alex's daughter. He wondered if the man with her was her father and watched them both closely for a long moment, subtracting Alex's looks and expressions from the little girl and comparing what was left with the man watching over her. The resemblance was certainly there. Her eyes crinkled when she laughed, and his did the same. She was certainly his, and he was... stunning. Jeffery had secretly hoped that whoever Alex had run off with would be ugly or stupid or cruel; this man didn't seem to fit the bill. He doted on the princess the way Jeffery himself always imagined he would have.

  Jeffery was consumed for a moment by what-ifs; what if Alex had stayed, what if they had started the family they had always talked about. That would be him in there, watching their baby play. It broke his heart to see this handsome stranger scoop up the product of Alex's love and squeeze her, blow razz-berries on her belly and nuzzle her cheek. That intimate playfulness born of the purest kind of love was something that he would never experience, not without some kind of miracle. He'd sworn off love four years ago. He couldn't risk his heart like that, not again. Something about the way this man moved though, made him wish he could.

  He closed the door on the scene, mentally licking his wounds. His heart was still raw from seeing her face for the first time. She looked just like Alex, with her big intelligent brown eyes, her thick reddish-brown hair, those high cheekbones and perfectly bowed mouth; she looked exactly like he thought she would. Exactly like he'd always imagined his own children looking. Tiny little duplicates of Alex. His phone vibrated in his pocket, making him yelp with surprise, and he answered it.

  "Moranis," he said, clearing the surprise from his throat.

  "Moranis! What the hell is going on, we've been trying to reach you for two hours?"

  "Sorry sir, I wasn't in a position to answer. I am on the trail of Alex's daughter; I'm biding my time until I have an opening. S.H.D. swept the Oasis and took all of the records except for the ones on the flash drive."