Belinda Blake and the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by Heather Day Gilbert

  My landline rang, and I jumped. No one ever called me at my home phone. The caller ID read “Jacob Hardy.”

  “Hello?” My greeting was a question.

  “Belinda. Sergeant Hardy here. We need to take your statement about finding Rich O’Brien. I know you were with me at the time, but obviously we have to get each witness’s account recorded, and I have to turn those in today.”

  “Sure. Do I need to come to the police station?” I didn’t mention that I’d visited the station this past winter. I had even made a detective friend in the police department—Hugh Watson. I wondered if he would be assigned to this case.

  “We can meet wherever it’s convenient for you. I won’t be in the office today, but I’ll need to stop for lunch. I think it’s going to be nice out, so would you want to meet at Byram Park?”

  It was a bit out of the way, and I didn’t want to cut into my break time due to my self-scheduled recon mission in Dahlia’s house. Also, I had no desire to be alone with Sergeant Hardy in a more secluded area like the park.

  I threw out another suggestion. “How about the library? That’s closer to me…although, come to think of it, you couldn’t eat your lunch inside.”

  “That’d be fine—they have some benches outside. What time works for you?”

  We agreed to meet at noon, and I hoped it wouldn’t take long to rehash the events of that tragic morning. I would rather use my free time to find Rich’s killer, not to talk about things that couldn’t be changed.

  Both Katrina and Jonas would be livid that I had decided to go on the prowl for a murderer. But someone had to get serious about this investigation, and I was not at all convinced that Sergeant Jacob Hardy was.

  * * * *

  When I walked into the visitors’ center, Evie sat behind the front desk, deep in conversation on her cell phone. Her British accent was pronounced, and her clipped tone said she was all business. I acted like I wasn’t listening, but it was clear she was considering a move…back to Britain. She appeared to be pricing flats near her parents.

  By the time I deposited my lunch in the fridge and pulled on my green vest, Evie had fallen silent. I went out to say hello, and was surprised to find her patting her eyes with a tissue.

  I closed the distance between us. “Evie? Are you okay?”

  The striking woman turned her reddened eyes my way. “I thought I was, but then I couldn’t sleep last night, even though I know I’m safe enough with the Fentons. And this morning when I parked my car, I saw movement in the woods. The officer on duty was sitting in his car the entire time, and he said he didn’t see a thing. I feel like I’m going crazy. I can’t live like this, Belinda. I simply can’t.”

  All the comforting words I came up with just didn’t ring true, because Evie was right. If I were in her position, I would either track my ex down using less-than-aboveboard methods, or I would leave without a trace.

  I was about to murmur something sympathetic when Marco strode into the gift shop. Evie ducked behind the counter, probably trying to hide her state of dismay.

  I rushed to cover for her. “Hi, Marco. Are you here to feed the wolves already? It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

  He trudged toward the kitchen, his thick-soled boots leaving dirt clods behind. “It is, but I have to tie up a few loose ends before my trip next week, so I’ll only be here for the next few mornings.”

  I followed him into the kitchen to help him load up. “But I’ll be leaving around the same time,” I said. “Who’s going to feed the animals then?”

  He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Dahlia said she was going to ask Veronica, but she would need someone stronger to help her load the meats.”

  “Maybe Carson?” I suggested.

  Marco sneered. “That boy’s lucky to drag his sorry carcass out of bed in the mornings.”

  “He wasn’t here yesterday,” I mused aloud. “I know his grandpa was looking for someone to fill in at his company. Maybe Carson took him up on the job.”

  Marco tilted his head and gave me a long look. “You’re quite a kindhearted little thing, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve heard anyone give Carson the benefit of the doubt before, with the exception of his mother. But sure, maybe he took the job with Dennis. We can only hope.”

  “Do you know if Dahlia was out yesterday, as well?”

  He turned to look in the meat fridge. “I don’t know.”

  Given his evasive body language and vague answer, I didn’t believe him. Maybe he was lying to hide his relationship with Dahlia. Or maybe he was covering for her for some other reason…

  I shook my head, focusing on the job at hand. As I tossed meat into the buckets, I knew one thing for sure—I wasn’t the kindhearted little thing Marco assumed I was.

  At this stage in the game, I had begun to suspect everyone. And if Evie’s ex was killing people, I wanted him to be exposed before Evie had to uproot her life and run, yet again.

  Since I was a brand-new employee at the preserve, I had a little more wiggle room if someone caught me exploring in places I shouldn’t.

  And I planned to do just that.

  22

  As I poured the water in Thor’s enclosure, I noticed the pack seemed disinterested in their food. I hoped this didn’t mean they were sick, since I doubted Dahlia would know how to care for them. I looked closer. The wolves actually looked sleepy. Maybe they weren’t morning animals.

  Freya seemed content to lie near my feet, but when I turned off the spigot, she roused and gave a howl.

  Immediately, the other wolves started howling, which completely freaked me out. “What’s wrong?”

  Marco pulled off his gloves. “If I’m not mistaken, Freya is just saying she likes you. And the rest of the pack is responding to her.”

  “You mean they’re agreeing with her?”

  Marco cocked his head, listening. “I don’t speak wolf as well as Rich did, but I think they’re just happy she’s feeling good.”

  Made sense to me. I leaned down and rubbed Freya’s back, thankful for what felt like the only genuine camaraderie I’d had at the preserve, saving Rich and Shaun.

  Njord was quick to welcome us to his enclosure with friendly nose nudges, and the sibling wolves were full of themselves, tumbling around in the grass. I chuckled, comparing this pack’s alert morning state with Thor’s pack, which must be night owls.

  Marco fed them so quickly, I had to linger a bit to finish filling the watering trough. I noticed that Marco wasn’t nearly as friendly with Njord as Rich had been. Surely he wasn’t a little afraid of the wolves? He didn’t rub the wolves in this enclosure much—simply patted their heads like they were a distraction. I supposed it was possible that if Marco had been the one to transport the abused wolves to the preserve, they might associate him with memories of the dismal place they’d come from. Maybe he triggered them, so to speak.

  But I also remembered what Jonas had said, that if the person who’d killed Rich hadn’t understood pack dynamics, they might have assumed Njord and his pack would have chomped right into Rich. In fact, they would have been counting on it. When the wolves didn’t touch Rich’s body, their plan backfired. In that case, it wasn’t a psychopath who’d carefully set the stage…it was someone trying to cover their tracks, someone who was basically thwarted by the wolves.

  I turned off the water and looked at Marco, who was lounging by the open gate. It was far-fetched to think he would kill two people just to get Dahlia to live with him. I returned to the idea of some kind of illegal transaction. What if the wolves had been slated to be eliminated due to dangerous behavior and he’d snagged them and presented them to Dahlia as if they were on the up and up? And maybe now he had to clean up his trail by making sure the wolves had to be put down?

  Njord looked at me expectantly, like he was either wishing I’d brought my friend Jonas or like he was re
ading my thoughts. Did he sense my unease over Marco? The way he trotted alongside me as I walked to the gate, I almost believed he did.

  * * * *

  Marco went home soon after we returned to the visitors’ center. Evie was in the kitchen, talking on the phone as she nibbled dainty bites of some kind of blue cheese salad. Since I couldn’t get her attention, I scrawled a note on a napkin saying I’d be back in an hour, and she nodded. I grabbed my lunch bag and walked out to Bluebell.

  The day was beautiful, just as Sergeant Hardy had said it would be. As I drove past gated homes with trimmed hedgerows and private pools, I wondered for the hundredth time what it would be like to be a landowner in this town. Mom hadn’t raised me to fixate on money—quite the opposite, in fact—but I’d seen how the other side lived in Greenwich, and it did have its allure.

  My reading of The Great Gatsby had further fueled my delusions of grandeur. Adam and Ada had taken me in like one of their own, and they were planning several summer parties they wanted me to attend so I could mingle with their upper-crust friends. Even though I was an introvert, I knew these would be the type of small-scale, fully catered parties I’d enjoy.

  I mentally shook myself. Greenwich wasn’t who I was, no matter how friendly the Fentons, Dietrich, and the Carringtons were to me. I would always be an outsider…a poser. Like Gatsby.

  I pulled into the library parking lot, glancing around for a police vehicle. When I didn’t see one, I dug around in my lunch bag and withdrew a squashed turkey and Swiss sandwich and a bag of barbecue chips. Living the life of luxury, I was not.

  I was halfway through my sandwich when a black car pulled up next to mine. Sergeant Hardy rolled down his window. “Sorry I was late. The drive-through took forever. Want to sit down somewhere?”

  I agreed, grabbed my water bottle, and followed him to a shady bench. It felt strange sitting next to an officer in uniform, and we received more than a few stares.

  “I feel like I’m with a celebrity,” I joked.

  Sergeant Hardy smiled, and I had to admit it went a long way toward softening his appearance. “I’ve learned to ignore the looks,” he said.

  I glanced around. The bench was visible to anyone walking by, and the library was busy today. I took my confidence in both hands and said, “Veronica told me you two are dating. Don’t you think that might compromise the homicide investigation?”

  His pen remained clenched in his large hand, but his expression was calm. “I don’t, because I’m actually working under someone else now. A detective,” he added.

  “It wouldn’t be Detective Watson, would it?” I always smiled when I said that name, because it reminded me of Sherlock Holmes’s crime-solving partner.

  Sergeant Hardy gave me a disbelieving look. “You know him?”

  I took a long drink of water to slow my dramatic reveal. “I sure do.”

  He looked at me with fresh respect. “Detective Watson’s the cream of the crop. He’s determined to find out what’s going on at the White Pine preserve.”

  I felt more comfortable knowing Detective Watson was on the case. The West Virginia native brought a down-home sensibility to his police work, and he liked to get his man.

  After pushing the record button on his phone, Sergeant Hardy took notes as I walked him through what I’d seen the day we found Rich. He injected a couple of pointed questions about where Dahlia had been that morning, which I thought was strange. Did he seriously suspect the wolf preserve owner? And why?

  I glanced at my phone. “I’ve got to get going,” I said, not sharing that I intended to use the rest of my lunch break to snoop around in Dahlia’s house. I was pretty sure she wasn’t around today, which in itself was strange for someone whose entire business had just been turned upside down by a murder.

  Or was it two murders? “Did you find out for certain if Rich or Shaun were poisoned?” I asked.

  Sergeant Hardy looked off into the distance. “Now, you know I can’t tell you that, Miss Blake. What would Detective Watson say if he knew I was sharing privileged information with a civilian?”

  “But if someone’s killing people at the preserve, don’t you think the employees should know? Especially your girlfriend?” I pressed.

  His dark brows lowered. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve been telling Veronica to get out of there, but she’s so devoted to writing a killer thesis, she won’t listen. I can’t answer you directly, but I’ll reiterate that it’s not safe, and I’d suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

  So he had to be saying that one or both men were poisoned. Poisoned, dragged into the wolf enclosure, and discarded like bags of trash.

  I muttered a strained good-bye to the sergeant, then walked back to my car, filled with a noble fury. Shaun had been a jovial, harmless guy. It made no sense that someone might have ruthlessly poisoned him.

  And how had the poisoner gotten to his victims in the first place? Slipped something in a cup of coffee? Offered a spiked water bottle? Shot them with a poisoned blow dart?

  By the time I pulled into the driveway at White Pine, I was more determined than ever to find out all I could about Dahlia. If the police were looking in that direction, well, so could I.

  23

  Evie was sitting next to the front window in the gift shop. Her back was stiff, like she was on high alert. She must have spent half her day in that watchful position. The patrol officer was no longer on duty, so she was basically on her own if someone burst into the visitors’ center.

  At least I assumed she was on her own.

  “Evie, do you have any idea where Dahlia and Carson are today?”

  She gave a long sigh. “To tell the truth, that’s something that has always frustrated me about this job. Dahlia is prone to leaving the preserve without a moment’s notice. In fact, the only reason she called you before she left to fly to Arizona was because Rich was pushing for help and I looked you up. She treats this preserve like it can run itself.”

  As I’d begun to realize, Rich had been spot-on when he said Dahlia wasn’t involved with her wolves. She rescued them and got them to the preserve, yes—but not much more.

  “So you don’t know where she is?”

  “The last time I saw her was yesterday evening, when she was talking with Marco.” She fell strangely silent.

  “I know they’re together,” I said.

  She arched an eyebrow. “You’re terribly observant, aren’t you? I’m impressed, because they’ve kept it quite secret. You are right about them, but last night it sounded as if they had a bit of a row.”

  “Do you think she took off somewhere?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was exactly the same answer Marco had given me, but I actually believed Evie. She was obviously irritated.

  “I’ve tried calling her mobile so many times,” Evie continued. “I’ve gone over to the house, and she wasn’t there. I need to get her approval on some paperwork.”

  “But what about Carson? Where’s he?”

  “That’s another good question. I know for certain he was here last night, because he had nearly every light in the house blazing. It’s his habit—he seems to have no concept of electric bills,” she complained. “Anyway, this morning, when you were out with Marco, someone did drop by, looking for Carson. He was the same man I’d seen here a couple of months ago.”

  “A return tourist?” I guessed.

  She shook her head. “No, and quite frankly, I was surprised to see him again. The last time he was here, he drove some large piece of equipment out into the woods—it looked like it had a drill on it. I think Carson said he’d gone up by some caves. Afterward, when he met up with Carson in the visitors’ center, I overheard the man saying he’d hit dirt. I assumed that meant whatever he was drilling for was a bust.”

  Had Carson or Dahlia paid someone to drill for something? Natural gas?
Surely not oil, in this area? Regardless, it sounded like the driller didn’t hit anything of importance.

  “What did the man want today?” I asked.

  “He headed over to Dahlia’s house, so I don’t know what he wanted. He refused to leave a number.” Evie’s voice was growing more testy by the minute. “I can’t continue running this place on my own. Do you know who keeps the meat and vitamins ordered for the wolves and the barnyard animals? I do. Do you know who cuts all the paychecks? I do.”

  I knew Evie was overwhelmed with worry over her ex, and Dahlia was only adding to it with her daily desertions. “Thanks so much, Evie—I know it must be frustrating. Do you want me to check next door again and see if anyone’s home?”

  Evie dropped into her chair, pulling a key from her pocket and offering it to me. “Would you? That would be so helpful. Here’s the house key—ring the bell, but if no one answers, go in and call for Dahlia. These papers are coming due soon.”

  “Will do,” I said, trying not to smile. Evie had just given me the perfect excuse for rummaging around in Dahlia’s house. As I turned to leave, I realized there was one final obstacle to my well-laid plans.

  “By the way, where’s Veronica today?” I asked, as casually as I could.

  “She called in with a bad cold,” Evie said. “She said she hopes to be back tomorrow, although she does sound horrible.”

  That meant I’d be feeding the smaller animals myself, but I’d gotten the routine down pretty smoothly, as long as there wasn’t another raccoon rampage.

  “That’s too bad. I’ll see you in a bit.” I shut the wooden door behind me and walked up the path to Dahlia’s house. I kept a steady stride, as if I were just a normal employee looking for her employer. Nothing to see here, folks.

  I held my breath and rang her doorbell. If she was home, I’d simply deliver Evie’s message, then beat a hasty retreat. If Dahlia was the killer, she’d definitely get suspicious if I started asking if she’d met with Rich at The Apricot Macaron.