Dreaming of the Wolf (34 page)

She hoped that from the concerned looks on the staff’s faces, they didn’t think she and the men intended to rob the bank. She and Jake approached the woman in charge of the vault. The woman led the way, then unlocked and pulled the safe-deposit box out for them. After asking Alicia to sign the register, she left them alone.

Alicia lifted the lid of the steel box with trepidation, while Jake looked on as if she were opening a treasure box or a booby-trapped mine. On top of a stack of papers was her mother’s lease agreement to her apartment, but off to one corner, a ring glittered, catching Alicia’s eye. She pulled it out from under the papers and stared at the carat diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds. Had her father given this to her mother? If he’d cared enough to give her this nice of a ring, why had he left her?

Jake watched but didn’t say anything.

She moved aside more papers and found a little black book. Inside were tons of dates and figures and initials, but none of it made any sense.

“Looks like some kind of code,” Jake said.

“But what would my mother be doing with something like this?”

“Maybe it wasn’t hers.”

Alicia looked up at Jake. “Tony’s?”

“Might have been his.”

Alicia glanced back at the ring, wondering about her father, wondering if what her mother had told her had really been true. She opened an official-looking envelope. Inside was her mother’s birth certificate. She slipped it back in the envelope and opened another. Alicia’s birth certificate. She wasn’t going to look at it closely, figuring it was a copy of the one she had at home, until her hand brushed over the embossed seal.

She opened it, wondering why her mother would have had two original embossed copies, and scanned the information. Birth date, time of birth, Alicia’s name, her mother’s… all correct. But when she looked at the father’s name—Antonio Frasero, she realized it wasn’t a name she’d ever seen before. She felt incredibly light-headed all at once.

“Is something wrong?” Jake asked, seeing her distress.

“This isn’t my birth certificate.” She ran her finger over the embossed seal. “Either that, or the one I had at my apartment was forged.”

“Let’s take it with us, and we’ll check it out. What’s different about it?”

“My father’s name.”

Jake looked troubled. “What do you know about your father?”

“Nothing. Just that he left us when I was two. No reason. Just left. That’s what my mother always told me. When I asked her, she didn’t want to talk about him. She would just wave away my question, but she’d become teary eyed, and no matter how long it had been, I could tell she still loved him.”

“But to your knowledge, he never returned?”

She stared at Jake, then closed her gaping mouth and shook her head. She sifted through more of the papers. Nothing. She’d half-expected to find divorce papers, a custody agreement for visitation rights, parental financial support, sole support, something, but no sign of…

She paused when she unfolded the last document and quit breathing.

Her mother’s marriage certificate to one Antonio Frasero.

The same name on Alicia’s birth certificate in the safe-deposit box. Antonio… Tony? The man who’d been her mother’s lover? And subsequently had been murdered near Continental Falls by Danny Massaro? Had Tony been her father? But he had to have had an alias then. Tony Thomas. Not Antonio Frasero. And he’d been murdered. Like her mother.

***

“Alicia!” Jake called as her face turned as white as the tile floor, and she crumpled in his arms. If he hadn’t seen the stricken look on her face, he probably wouldn’t have caught her in time.

Hearing his shout, the bank clerk hurried into the cage, along with Tom and Peter. “What’s wrong with her?” the bank clerk asked horrified.

“Overcome with grief,” Jake said, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, of course.” The clerk’s cheeks grew pink with embarrassment.

“Alicia,” Jake said, “honey…”

That’s when a police officer poked his head into the room. “Can I help… what’s going on?”

“She fainted,” Jake said, exasperated that everyone was crowding him in the small bank vault.

“She’s pregnant,” the police officer said, nodding. “That’s what the 9-1-1 call was about from Cliffside Art Gallery. The chief is on his way. Does she need medical assistance?”

“The chief?” Jake asked. What the hell was
that
all about?

“Yes, the police chief. He’s been wanting to ask the young lady some questions.”

“Bring her to our staff lounge, if you would, sir. We have a couch she can lie down on until she feels better,” the clerk said.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked for Jake’s ears only.

“She’ll be all right,” Jake assured him, not wanting to discuss what was the matter in front of all the others.

But Tom looked as though he didn’t believe Alicia would be all right. And Jake wasn’t sure he believed it, either. Now he wondered if she had actually fainted in the restroom at the art gallery and had only said she’d turned into the wolf.

“Is she pregnant?” Tom asked quietly.

“I think she had some disturbing news.” Jake gave Tom a quelling look as the police officer followed them into the lounge, talking to someone on his phone. Jake didn’t want any of this to become common knowledge until they could sort out the details.

“Yeah, she’s at the bank, just like Suzie said she was. But she’s fainted again,” the police officer said.

Jake lay Alicia down on the couch as she stirred and opened her eyes, her lips parting in surprise. Not only were Jake and his brother and Peter watching her as Jake crouched next to her, pushing her hair from her face, but three clerks, the police officer, and a couple of suited men also were hovering nearby.

Jake squeezed her hand. “Let’s get you home.”

Forget the over-the-counter pregnancy test. As soon as they returned to Silver Town, he was having Doc Weber examine her in the event she was pregnant and that could be what had affected her. He wanted to make sure she was truly all right.

The police chief strode into the room, brows raised to see Alicia sitting up on the sofa, despite Jake wanting her to lie still longer. “I’m fine. Really,” she said, her eyes growing big as she looked beyond him at the police chief and police officer in attendance.

But she didn’t look like she was fine at all. Her face was still deathly pale.

“The Denver police want to speak with you, Miss Greiston,” the police chief said, as he drew closer and peered down at her through silver-rimmed glasses. He looked similar to his son, Detective Hanover, who had questioned her the day before at her apartment, but he was about sixty, with graying hair, and had an aged appearance that made him appear like a kindly grandfather type. At least toward Alicia.

Jake suspected the chief’s demeanor had to do with his worry that Alicia was pregnant and was sick because of it. Chief Hanover looked like he could be as tough as granite if he wanted to be.

“The police,” she parroted wearily.

At this rate, she was going to be talking to police all over the state of Colorado.

“Yes, Miss Greiston. My son told me you were at the scene of Ferdinand Massaro’s murder. The Denver police will want the details. But I have a couple of questions for you also. Since you’re looking a little peaked, if you don’t mind, I’ll just ask you here. If everyone will clear out.” He directed the comment to the bank staff.

The men and women agreeably and quickly filed out of the staff lounge.

The chief glanced at Tom and Peter, but Alicia said, “I’d prefer to have Jake and his brother, Tom, and Peter, our sheriff at Silver Town, stay, if it’s all right with you.”

“Certainly.” The chief sat down in a chair and said, “My son tells me he talked to you about the shooting at Spruce Creek Trail. Can you tell me what happened exactly?”

“I really don’t have anything else to say. I left a wreath of flowers for my mother like I do once a week. I assumed the two men who approached me were Mario’s men, and they asked me to go with them. I refused. Then they left.”

“They left,” the chief said, “after you shot one of the men.”

She said nothing, her jaw and fingers clenching, but waited for him to speak further.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Witnesses said they heard gunfire and saw one of the men with a bloody leg limping back to his car, cursing up a storm.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, and Jake was glad she didn’t offer any other explanation for what might have occurred. Finally she said, “Did the man seek medical attention?”

“No, not that we could learn of. But if they were who we think they were, they would have seen someone who would doctor him without reporting the shooting incident to the police.”

She didn’t say anything further, but her unspoken expression said volumes as she lifted her eyebrows slightly in a way that meant the chief could prove nothing.

“We’re on your side in this,” the chief finally said, sounding resigned. “If I could put Mario away for life, I’d do it. But I don’t want you getting yourself killed in the process, young lady. Nor do I want you to get into trouble for doing something illegal.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor as if he were trying to decide whether to say anything further, but he hesitated.

He finally let out his breath, fixed her with his gaze, and said, “I shouldn’t be saying this, but the police in Denver have evidence you were in Massaro’s apartment. Just a heads-up, when you speak with them.”

Her lower lip dropped, then she quickly clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard.

Hell.

“What evidence?” she finally asked, sounding more timid than Jake liked to hear.

“Your driver’s license was found inside Massaro’s apartment.”

Her lips parted.

Jake stifled a curse. He was dying to know where they had found her driver’s license. He wondered if Detective Hanover, the chief’s son, had known this when he had asked her for her driver’s license, testing her to see if she knew it was missing. If so, what had he concluded? She wasn’t guilty of a crime? Massaro had stolen it from her? Or she’d left it there by accident when she was fleeing the crime scene?

But then Jake was certain the detective would have been asking himself why Massaro would have taken her driver’s license and nothing else. However, just because her driver’s license was found in the condo, that didn’t confirm she’d been there. He could have stolen it. Although why that and nothing else?

“When did he get it from you, Miss Greiston?” the chief asked.

So that was the crux of the matter. If she hadn’t actually seen him, hadn’t been able to enter the condo to speak with him because he was already dead, how did he manage to get hold of her driver’s license?

“Where did the police find it?” she asked, her voice dry.

The chief tapped one boot on the tile floor. “The Denver police wouldn’t say.”

“If you’re done with Alicia…” Jake let his words trail off, not wanting her to be subjected to any more of an interrogation when the chief had no business asking her questions concerning the crime scene in Denver.

The chief straightened a bit and looked sympathetic. “They found blood on the sheets, Miss Greiston. And in a couple of other unspecified locations. I’m sure the Denver police will want to take a sample of your blood. Did he hurt you?”

Alicia had to have bled when the bastard Massaro bit her, Jake suspected. Hell. The only good thing in the whole matter was that forensics couldn’t determine her werewolf changes. But poor Alicia. Her face took on a whole new shade of white.

“Do you mind?” Jake asked the chief, as he leaned in to help Alicia up from the couch. “We’ll be headed back to Silver Town. If you have any further questions…”

“They found your fingerprints on the inside front doorknob, so they know you’d been in the condo,” the chief said to Alicia and added with a nod to Jake, “My son gave me the information of where she’ll be staying. Thanks. And good luck, Miss Greiston. We want to solve your mother’s murder as quickly as you do. Let us know if you learn anything further, won’t you?”

She halfheartedly nodded.

“Good. Then we’ll be seeing you.”

Jake wrapped his arm around Alicia’s waist and helped her out of the bank and to the vehicle while Tom and Peter followed, and their guard detail reloaded into the SUVs.

“Drive, will you, Tom?” Jake asked, his voice terse as he pondered what they were going to do about the Denver police.

Jake helped Alicia into the backseat and went around the vehicle to join her while Tom settled into the driver’s seat and Peter rode in the passenger’s seat. Their guard force led the way again. Jake hoped to assuage her concerns at once. Although the problem of her connection to Massaro’s murder wasn’t going to be easy to explain to the police.

“Oh, Jake,” Alicia said on a moan, as soon as he shut his door, “the Denver police will learn what I am as soon as they analyze the bloodstains.”

“No, don’t concern yourself.” He took her in his arms as Tom drove back to Silver Town. “Our werewolf genetics are such that as humans we have only human DNA. As wolves, only wolf DNA. Now, if they found both, blood from when you were a wolf and from when you were human, it’d make them believe a wolf and a human were in the room.”