Howling Moon (39 page)

Cat pulled the
car slowly into the parking lot of the storage business the following morning. The closer she came to the building, the more tense she became. Her stomach was still roiling from last night. She could still hear Brad’s screams echoing along with Jack’s laughter in her mind.

She shuddered. Closing her eyes, she fought back tears. Brad was dead. Nothing she could do would bring him back. But she could avenge him, him and all of the others. And she could make sure it never happened again. But to do that, she needed the right tools, and that included the right computer.

Inside one of those units, behind one of those bright orange doors, was the Winnebago she and her parents had been camping in when they were attacked. She would have to go in there, face it. She
had
to. Cat forced her breathing to slow. She was starting to hyperventilate. She was suddenly cold, her body trembling.

I
could just buy another laptop,
she thought, but she knew that nothing she could get over the counter would match the quality of the machine in storage. She’d been “making do” with the standard machines at the hotel and Raphael’s, and before that with Violet’s home computer. All of them were solid enough machines for everyday use. None of them had the kind of “upgrades” that had been given to her by her father, upgrades and sample programs that hadn’t even made it all the way through testing, let alone hit the market.

“I can do this,” she told herself as she pulled the CRX into the parking space nearest the office door. Cat closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths. “I
will
do this.”

It was hard getting out of the car. She was trembling so badly it made her clumsy. Cat dropped her purse twice before she’d even managed to push the car door closed. Still, she forced herself to begin walking toward the office. Each step was more difficult than the last. Cat swallowed rapidly, forcing bile back down her throat. She would
not
be sick. Her heart was racing so that all she could hear was the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears.

Cat forced herself to open the glass door to the office, and pushed herself inside by dint of sheer willpower.

“May I help you?” Cat dragged her attention to the man standing behind the counter. Tall, thin, probably only in his late teens, the man had spiked hair that was dyed purple and didn’t seem to go with his starched striped uniform shirt and navy dress pants. His face showed concern, as if he could tell she was in bad shape.

“Hi.” Cat’s voice was weak. She took a deep breath, staring into his warm brown eyes. “I’m Cat Turner. My aunt rented a storage unit for me here.” She put the envelope with the bill on the counter. “I need to pay the bill and get some things out of it.” Her voice sounded a little breathy, and she felt unsteady on her feet, almost lightheaded. She set her purse carefully onto the countertop and rested both hands against its smooth surface to steady herself. Inside her head beat a silent mantra,
I
can do this, I can do this,
over and over. She hoped it was true.

Cat pulled out her checkbook from her purse, making the payment out for the exact amount before pushing the check across the counter to him.

“I’ll need to see some ID.”

Cat pulled her wallet out of her purse, showing her driver’s license. He looked from her to the license, checking carefully before handing the wallet back.

“Unit 45.” He gave her a look that was heavy with concern. “Are you okay?”

“No.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’ve got the flu,” she lied. “I should probably be home in bed, but I
really
need my computer equipment from the closet in the Winnebago.”

“Bummer.”

“I don’t suppose,” Cat asked wistfully, “you could go get it forme?”

“I can’t go into a unit without the renter,” he said with regret that seemed real. “It’s against the rules. I’m sorry.”

“If I come to the door with you?” She wheedled. She opened the wallet, drawing out a twenty-dollar bill and setting it on the counter.

His eyebrows rose, disappearing under his bangs.

“I
really
don’t feel good,” Cat explained.

He looked from the twenty to her pale face. Whatever he saw there made up his mind. He shoved the twenty back across the counter. “Keep the money,” he told her turning to retrieve a set of keys from the desk behind him.

He stepped out from behind the counter, then opened the glass office door and held it for her. He followed her through, stopping only long enough to lock the door behind them.

That done, he turned to Cat. “Unit 45 is just around the corner.” He smiled, and it made him look both younger and more handsome. “By the way, my name is Tom.” He extended his hand for her to shake.

“Catherine, but my friends call me Cat.”

His smile widened, showing teeth that were white enough and straight enough to be the result of a good orthodontist. Cat forced herself to return the smile, and shook the extended hand before following him around the corner of the building.

Number 45 was the third unit. It was huge, with a rolling garage door with latches on either side. The latches were held shut with a matching pair of padlocks that seemed much too small for their duty. Cat wasn’t thrilled with the security, then decided, what the hell. Did she really care if someone stole what was behind those doors? In honesty, it might actually be a relief.

Between each of the large rolling doors on this side of the building were regular, human-size doors, each with a light shining directly above it. Tom walked over to the one marked 45/46 in block black numbers, inserting a key and opening it. He held the door open for Cat who, with growing reluctance, followed him into the dim corridor. It was a cramped hallway between unpainted drywalled walls, only just large enough for two people, the water fountain, and a small wastebasket. A locked door graced each side, opening into each of the two units.

Cat’s stomach roiled. She felt bile rising in the back of her throat. She sank to her knees on the cold concrete floor, her stomach heaving as she threw up into the wastebasket.

“You
really
must need this stuff,” Tom observed.

“You have no idea,” Cat gasped, not bothering to look up.

Still shaking his head, he opened the door. He used his foot to flip the doorstop in place, keeping the door propped open. Cat heard the click as he switched the overhead lights on inside the unit.

“Where did you say this stuff was?” Tom called, his voice echoing in the large open space.

“In the closet of the kitchen,” Cat called back. She didn’t go to the door of the unit. She couldn’t. It was all she could do to kneel here, hugging the waste can, within sight of the doorway. It shamed her, but she couldn’t help it.

She heard the sound of his work boots climbing the metal steps of the motor home, heard the creak of the door opening.

Tom’s voice was faint, but clear. “There’s a ton of stuff in here,” he called. “What all do you need?”

“Just grab it all,” Cat answered. “I’ll sort it later.”

“Right.”

Tom appeared a few minutes later, carrying a box filled to overflowing with electronic equipment. He set the box on the floor next to Cat, who still hadn’t managed to rise.

“There was a half-empty box on the kitchen table,” Tom said. “I just grabbed everything electronic from the closet and put it in with the rest of the stuff.” He looked doubtful. “Is that all right?”

“Wonderful, thank you. More than you know.” Cat took a deep, steadying breath. She accepted the hand he held out to her, let him help her up. She was still very shaky, but she wanted out of here.
Now.

Tom used his arm to steady her for a moment. When she could stand on her own, he stepped away, loosening the doorstop, allowing the door to swing closed. He bent down, picking up the box. “I’ll carry this to your car for you. You still don’t seem too steady.”

“Thanks,” Cat answered.

“Can you get the door?”

It only took a few minutes to carry the box to the CRX and load it in the hatch. When they were done, he closed the hatch. Cat turned to him and asked, “Are you
sure
you don’t want a tip? You’ve been incredibly nice.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, smiling. “But I gotta get back inside. You go home and get to bed.” He ordered, pointing a finger to her chest.

“I’ll do that,” she agreed.

Cat watched his back as he disappeared into the office. Tomorrow she was going to write a complimentary letter to the manager, praising Tom. She could never have done this without his help. He’d been a real sweetheart.

Raphael grabbed his
cell phone and dialed Holly’s number. Something was wrong with Cat. He just didn’t know
what.
The lady in question had slammed down her shields so tight he couldn’t get so much as a wisp of stray thought. She was alive, and not in any physical danger. He knew that much. Other than mat, trying to read her was like beating his head against a brick wall.

It had started sometime yesterday afternoon or evening. Raphael wasn’t sure exactly when. He’d had his hands full and hadn’t noticed at first. When it finally had occurred to him, he hadn’t minded. He’d had more than enough on his plate. Half of his pack hadn’t bothered to show up for the ceremony or the night of his first hunt. Of the ones who had, three different wolves had to be punished for insubordination. He hadn’t wanted her to know, and feel responsible, for the trouble he was going through. She had enough problems of her own without that.

But it was morning, and he was getting seriously worried. He felt like hell, his stomach roiling until he was ready to retch. He couldn’t reach her mentally and she wouldn’t answer her cell.

“Hello?” Holly picked up on the first ring, her voice breathless and raw.

“What in the hell is going on?” Raphael blurted the words out, not bothering with a greeting.

“Oh, thank God!” Holly let out her breath in a sob. “It’s so awful!”

“What’s happened?”
Raphael forced himself not to shout. It wasn’t easy. “Where’s Cat?”

Raphael stood, listening in horror as Holly told him what Jack had done, and how Cat had been forced to witness it. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know! I was cleaning up the mess, and I heard the car take off. I’ve tried calling her, and thinking at her, but she’s completely shut down. Raphael, I’m scared!”

So was he. More than he dared say. Because last night had been the full moon, and while the human in her would be repulsed beyond tolerance, if the cat smelled the blood… well, it was the kind of thing that could destroy a person’s mind, particularly in light of what Cat had been through with her parents just a few short weeks ago.

Baby, where are you? 1 need to know you’re all right. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cold metal roof of his car. He didn’t want to force her too hard; after last night she might panic. So instead, he deliberately calmed his mind and searched for the mating link that bound them, sending calm and strength through their bond at the same time that he tried to focus on the connection to see where she was and what she was doing.

He got an image in his mind of a plastic wastebasket, and the feel of cold concrete beneath her. He heard a man’s voice call from a distance “Where did you say this stuff was?”

“In the closet of the kitchen,” Cat called back.

When she spoke, the connection strengthened, and he knew where she was.

“Raphael? Are you there?” Holly’s voice brought him back to himself, standing in a cold parking lot, phone clutched in his hand.

“I’m here. I found her.” He started to say, “She’s all right,” but she wasn’t. Not really.

“What should I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, Holly,” Raphael said sadly. “You might as well just head back to the apartment. I’m going to talk to her.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s tougher than she looks.” Raphael spoke the words to reassure himself as much as Holly, but he knew it was true. Cat was tough, otherwise she’d never have made it this far with her mind and body intact. He just hoped she was strong
enough.

He hung up without saying good-bye, climbing into the seat of the Mitsubishi.

Weekday morning traffic was ugly. Despite yet another day of clear weather he was stuck in rush hour, his mind divided between the idiot drivers on the road with him and the woman he loved. Even so, he made it to the apartment in Edgewater before she did, parking on the street next to her house and settling in to wait.

It was almost forty-five minutes later when she pulled the CRX into the carport. She met him halfway across the lawn, but she didn’t reach out to hug him. Nor did she offer him a kiss. Instead, she stood rigidly still, looking weak, her very scent tainted as she stared at him from haunted eyes.

Raphael stopped short, keeping himself from touching her by sheer force of will. “Talk to me.” He knew what had happened from Holly, but he needed to hear it in Cat’s own words.

“You know.” She accused him, her voice tight with tension. “Holly was bound to talk to you when I left the way I did.”

The knot in his stomach tightened. “Cat – “

“He said he’d punish me for choosing you, and he did.”

Her shields crumbled, and a tidal wave of pain and memory slammed into him. He physically staggered from the mental blow, and had to steady himself by grabbing onto the fence.

“I can’t live with this, Raphael,” Cat whispered. “We
have
to stop him. We
have
to! Before he does it again.”

She was on the verge of hysteria and he didn’t blame her a bit. There were professional law-enforcement agents who had collapsed under less strain than she’d been under. Hell, cops working serial killer cases were routinely rotated every few months. But this wasn’t a case. It was her
life,
and there was no stopping point in sight.

He stepped forward, taking her in his arms. She buried her head against his shoulder, her arms tightening around him in a viselike grip.

“We’ll get him.” He whispered the words into her hair.

“Will we? Really? Or will he just go on, killing more and more innocent people? Brad didn’t do
anything…
My parents… It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me… If I hadn’t – “

“Stop it!” Raphael grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her hard. “Stop it now! This is
not your fault?”
He pulled her close, holding her fiercely,
willing
her to believe him.

She shuddered, her body wracked with the force of her sobs, the moisture from her tears wetting the front of his shirt as he held her close.

Eventually the force of her crying subsided. Raphael reached into his pocket, retrieving a clean cloth handkerchief. He handed it to her, watching as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose noisily. She took a shaky step away from him. “Can you unlock the gate for me? I need to get a box from the car.”

“You’re the one with the keys. You unlock the gate. I’ll get the box.”

Raphael strode over to the CRX. He unlatched the hatch, moving aside as it lifted it up. Inside was a white banker’s box filled to overflowing with computer equipment. Raphael stopped abruptly, nostrils flaring. The scents rising from the bottom of the box were old, but unmistakable. Jack’s scent was there, and the trace of a pair of humans. Over it all, the harsh scent of dried blood.

“Cat, what’s in this box?” Raphael tried to keep his voice calm.

She stood on the front porch stoop, her hand on the key she’d slid into the deadbolt. “The computer equipment I needed from the Winnebago, along with some other things. Why?”

“When we get inside, we’re going to make some calls.”

“Why?”

“Call it a hunch, but I want us to have witnesses here when you unpack this box.”