Beneath a Darkening Moon (22 page)

“We are a team—”

“No, you and your people are the team. My staff and I are just the convenient lackeys. And it’s working against us, Cade. We need to pool resources and work
together
to catch these people.”

“The IIS has more than enough experience—”

“This
isn’t
your normal case. This is about you and me, and making us pay for Rosehall. These people
know
us—”

“Of course they know us,” he broke in, arguing the point even though he knew she was right. “Nelle James is behind the attacks. She was your best friend, the one you confided in. She knew why I was there.”

“It wasn’t Nelle James in that truck.”

“Are you sure? Or are you still trying to protect her?”

Heat warmed her cheeks. Anger, he sensed, not embarrassment. “Unless Nelle had a face-lift that has taken more than twenty years off her appearance, then yes, I’m sure.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nelle was twenty years older than me, which means she’d be close to fifty right now. The woman in the truck had to be in her twenties. She was also blond underneath the wig.”

His eyebrows rose. “So it was the blonde who was there to contact Denny?”

“No. Different truck, different blonde.” She crossed her arms. “I gave a description to Trista when she
was in earlier. I presume she’ll inform you if she finds a match. In the meantime, I have to go home and change, then go check out that burger joint.”

He flung off the blankets. “I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You are not wandering out there alone!”

“I won’t be alone. Ronan will be with me.”

“No, he won’t.” He forced himself into an upright position, but even such a small movement had him puffing like he’d run a marathon, and his head spun dizzily.

“You lost a lot of blood last night. You need rest.”

“I need to find out who this killer is.” And he needed to be with her as much as possible, while the moon was on his side.

She walked across to the bed, and her steps beat a tattoo that seemed to echo through his head. “Stop the macho act and just be sensible.” She pressed a hand against his shoulder and pushed him back. The ease with which she did it was humbling. “If you rest, you can get out of here tonight.”

He caught her hand and raised it to her lips, kissing her fingers. Desire stirred the air—his and hers. “I intend to be. We have a night to make up for.”

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing light in her eyes. “You’ve been shot, we have no idea who the killers are, and you’re worried about sex? You’re incredible.”

He grinned wolfishly and tugged her toward him. She resisted for a second, and then allowed herself to be pulled onto the bed. Her body pressed into his side, and even the fiercer aches of abused flesh gave way to the quick burn of need for her.

“Oh, I intend to be incredible,” he said softly, the rich scent of flowers filling his nostrils as his lips brushed hers.

She raised her free hand and ran her fingers down his cheek. “You always were.”

“Then why did you keep going to Jontee?” Even as the words left him he realized his stupidity. Yet it was something he needed to know.

She pulled away, her tender expression fading. “Because I made a promise.”

“You made a promise to me, too.”

“Yes, but my promise to Jontee predated the one to you.”

He shifted position, trying to get comfortable, trying to control the anger running through him. Because if he let that anger loose, he’d never get an answer to the one question that had haunted him over the years.

“But if what we shared was so good, why did you even need to fulfill your promise to Jontee?”

“Because I don’t believe in breaking promises.”

“Even at the risk of losing something that could have been special?”

She studied him for a moment. Her expression gave little away, yet he could feel the tension in her, the indecision. “Was it special?” she said eventually. “For you, I mean?”

“It was good,” he said. “Good enough that I didn’t want to share it—or you—with anyone. Yet you made me.” His gaze caught and held hers, demanding that she put to rest the one question he’d asked every night for the last ten years. “I just need to know why!”

She crossed her arms. “Part of the ceremony of becoming
one of the true believers was a promise to share his bed for a year.”

“Was it a magical bond?”

“No, but Jontee was very powerful. Very … hypnotic. You wanted to please him, wanted to do as he asked.”

“So why make a moon promise with me?”

She didn’t answer for several minutes. She just stared at him, as if debating with herself. Then she blinked and looked away. “You have to understand,” she said softly. “I wanted to be with just you, but I was also afraid.”

“Of what? Of me?” He couldn’t help the incredulity in his voice. “While you and I might never agree as to what happened the night I read your mind, you surely had to know I’d never hurt you. Not physically. And not even mentally—not intentionally, anyway.”

And he would have killed any man who did.

Her gaze returned to him. “I wasn’t so much afraid of you but of what I was feeling.”

“And yet you claimed to love me. That’s a strange sort of love, Savannah.”

Something flickered in her eyes—something he couldn’t identify. “I didn’t think you heard me say that.”

“Oh, I heard it. I just didn’t believe it.”

Her eyes widened. “Why not?”

“Because how can you love one man when you continue to fuck another?”

It was a harsh thing to say, yet he didn’t regret it, even when he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. Because it was the truth. Love wasn’t just words, it was actions—and her actions hadn’t matched what she’d
said. If he ever said he loved a woman, it would be because he was utterly and totally sure. It would be forever.

“That’s unfair,” she said softly, the hurt he’d seen in her eyes leaking into her voice. “You’re six years older than me. You’d already done all your exploring when you came to Rosehall. You cannot expect the same degree of maturity from someone who has only just begun to experiment.”

“Love doesn’t change according to a person’s age, Vannah. It just is.”

“So I was supposed to give my heart, my soul, and my body to a man who was only there to catch a killer, even though he never once admitted to any feeling other than desire?” She shook her head. “I may have been young, and I may have been emotionally immature, but I wasn’t a fool.”

“So why did you say you loved me when you weren’t even sure?”

She didn’t answer, just glanced at her watch and cursed. “I have to go meet Ronan to interview the diner’s owner.” She hesitated, then added, “Steve’s on guard outside your door. He’ll keep all but your team and the assigned nurse and doctor out.”

“And me in?”

“Most definitely,” she said. “And we
will
continue this conversation, Cade. It’s important for both of us.” Then she walked out before he could reply.

He blew out a breath, and wondered why he felt more drained than he ever had chasing after criminals.

“Jeez, I wouldn’t mind a bit of that action,” Anton said, walking through the doorway while looking
over his shoulder. Cade had no doubt as to who he was looking at.

“Don’t even try it,” he warned.

Anton’s grin flashed. “Looks like Trista’s won the bet.”

Cade bit down on his annoyance. “What bet?”

“I said our ranger wasn’t your type. Trista said it was obvious the two of you were at it like wolves in moon heat. It looks like she was right.”

And here he’d thought he’d been discreet. “I do not appreciate my love life being the focus of attention when we have a murderer to chase down.”

“Hey, if you play on work time, then it’s fair game. Your rules, not mine.”

Damned by his own words—though he’d never actually thought they’d ever apply to him. For ten years he’d managed to keep his sex life and his work life separate. Until now. Until he’d again encountered the one woman who’d always blurred the lines between what he had to do and what he wanted to do.

“What’s happened while I’ve been out?”

“The tests came back on the arrow.” Anton’s voice was deceptively mild. Meaning, Cade knew, he was amused. But then, Anton had a warped sense of humor. “You’ll be pleased to know the tip wasn’t poisoned.”

Considering he was still here and not dead, that was pretty obvious. “What else?”

“We got no prints from the arrow, but we did pull several from the crossbow. And we found a match.” Anton held out a file.

Cade opened it up. This blonde wasn’t the one who’d walked into the nightclub, though there were
certain similarities. Her name was Lonny Jackson, and she was a member of the cream pack from the Merron reservation in Wyoming. Later addresses included Laramie, Wyoming, and Colorado Springs, and each of those cities had outstanding warrants against her for failing to pay minor fines. He glanced up at Anton. “Have the rangers seen this yet?”

“I just downloaded it, so no.”

“Show them. They can do the footwork again. Ranger Grant is checking the diner where the other blonde was apparently working.”

Anton’s eyebrows rose. “So we
do
have two? I thought Trista might have heard our ranger wrong.”

“She didn’t. Although the woman who bribed the kid to leave the note looks enough like Lonny Jackson to be her sister.”

“According to the file, Lonny Jackson doesn’t have a sister.”

“Dig deeper, because I’m sure there’s a connection between them. It’s just too much of a coincidence, otherwise. And while you’re digging, do a background check on Lonny Jackson’s mother. Get me a picture, if you can.”

Anton grinned. “Another itch, huh?”

“Just a suspicion.” In truth, the only thing he
was
sure of was the fact that Nelle James was somehow involved. She might not have shown herself yet, but he could feel her presence. It was like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. There’d always been something malevolent about the woman—something not quite right. Whether she was the force behind both the original murders and the current ones was open to conjecture but, regardless, he still believed there was more to
Nelle James than the motherly front she’d presented to the world.

“Did you find the truck last night?”

“Half this town drives a blue truck. And none of the ones I found was being driven by a nearly naked blonde, unfortunately.”

“It was worth a shot.” He glanced down at the file again and frowned. Then he picked up the photo, shifting it a little closer to the light. “You know, Jontee McGuire also came from the Merron pack.”

“Or at least his mom did. Jontee left when he was quite young.”

“Fifteen isn’t that young.” Not when it came to someone like Jontee, who was far more mature than his years. Of course, much of that was due to his upbringing. It seemed the cream pack weren’t all that tolerant of half-breeds—even if the wolf in question was the result of force rather than choice. Jontee had no choice but to grow up fast. And, according to the psych guys, he didn’t really know the meaning of reality—though that hadn’t saved him in court. Nor had the innate charm that Savannah had talked about. “Maybe it’s my imagination, but there is something in this woman’s face that reminds me of Jontee.”

“Jontee never had kids, as far as we know.”

“There were none at Rosehall, that’s for sure.” Rosehall had been all about dreams and freedom, and children represented a reality that most there didn’t want to face. “But that doesn’t mean Jontee couldn’t have had kids before. He was close to forty by the time we caught him, so he was certainly old enough.”

And revenge for a father was certainly a good motive for murder.

“If he did have kids, why weren’t they listed as next of kin?”

“Who knows? Maybe he didn’t want his choices impacting his kids’ lives.”

Anton’s expression suggested he wasn’t buying that. “Well, I’ll contact the ranger in Merron and see if he can add anything to what we have.”

Cade nodded. “Any word from Hart yet?”

“He’s due to arrive in a couple of hours.”

“Get him to set up the van at the ranger’s station. It’ll be more secure there.”

“You don’t think this pair will go as far as destroying evidence?”

“Who knows, but I’m not taking any chances. I want everyone to pair up—with the rangers, if you have to—whenever you’re on the street.”

Anton nodded. “You realize that’ll mean letting them in on the investigation?”

“This case is somewhat different than our usual case. Actually, call a general meeting of both teams for eight tonight. It’s time we started cooperating fully.”

“I can hear the IIS upper management having apoplexies at the mere thought.”

Cade smiled. “Have you done the cross-check on Oliver?”

“Yes. Nothing out of the ordinary so far.” He hesitated. “I did find one interesting snippet though. Oliver James is apparently good friends with Levon Grant, which may just explain why there was no background information on Vannah Harvey.”

It certainly would—and it also meant that Savannah hadn’t hidden herself from her father’s prying
eyes as well as she’d thought. Though if Levon had realized exactly what his daughter was up to at Rosehall, he would have gone down there and dragged her back by the scruff of the neck. From everything he’d heard, he was that sort of man.

“Keep checking—it might be interesting to see if he has any connection to the other women we can’t find.”

“You don’t think he’s involved in the murders, do you?”

“No, but someone else was. I’m sure of it.”

“But you never saw this other person?”

“Never. Not even in Jontee’s memories.”

Anton frowned. “So were his memories faulty, or erased?”

“Knowing what I know now, I’d say deliberately smudged. Erasing them totally would have been too obvious.”

“So who do you think was involved?”

“The one woman we could never track down.” He took out a photo and handed Anton the rest of the file. “Nelle James.”

“The great unknown.” Anton tucked the folder under his arm. “Have you talked to Ranger Grant yet?”