SEAL Wolf In Too Deep (11 page)

“She'd mention how she'd behave if she were a werewolf. Like she was trying to convince me they could be good, and if it wasn't for the villagers trying to kill her, she wouldn't have to kill them. She really wanted to change the villagers' minds, convince them werewolves were really good guys, not creatures to fear.” Zeta sniffled. “I just laughed it off and told her that wasn't what everyone signed up to play. No one would believe it. It wouldn't be any fun. Someone had to be the villain. She said the hunters were.”

Allan disagreed. Some
lupus garous
were just as evil as humans could be.

Then Zeta sobered. “I can't believe she's dead. And Lloyd too. What happened? A home invasion? His home? I checked at hers, but she was never there, so I figured she was at his place. But I didn't know where it was. The address he gave to play the game was false. It didn't exist at all. I checked when she just disappeared. That had me worried he was a criminal. And Sarah was no longer answering her phone.

“When I told the police, they said they needed more to go on than what I had. Which was nothing. She had gone off with her lover. They thought the game we were playing wasn't important enough to keep her here if the two of them wanted to go off somewhere else. I checked to see about Otis's house, but it was the same way. Bad address. So I told the police. Since it was just for a game, no evidence of any crime, they couldn't do anything about it. She wasn't working at the time, so she hadn't left a job behind.” Zeta took a deep breath. “How did they die?”

“Lloyd was found dead in a stolen vehicle, and Sarah was shot in the forest, both up north,” Debbie said.

Zeta frowned. “Did Otis do it?”

“Why would you think he had anything to do with it?” Allan asked, interested.

“Because he hated Sarah and he was furious that Lloyd had started seeing her. I overheard them in back of the park restrooms where we used to meet to begin our game. We would sit at one of the tables under a pavilion and discuss where we were in the game, trying to figure out who the wolves were. Then armed with whatever evidence we thought we had—or the players had, since I was just the observer—they would go off and hunt werewolves. Anyway, the restrooms were a few hundred feet away, but I heard this argument between the two men.

“Lloyd and Otis were trying to talk softly, but it got really heated and their voices began to rise. Otis said that if Sarah was a wolf, she was dead meat. And if Lloyd got bitten, he was too. I thought they were playing the game a little too seriously again, but they sounded too angry to be playing. The police assumed they were just actors who really got into their roles. But I checked their applications and the places they said they'd acted in theater and couldn't find that they'd been in the plays either.”

She motioned to the walls. “You can see my name on all the playbills. So false addresses and they lied about the plays they were in? And then they all vanish at one time? Something had to be wrong with the two men. Then here comes this private investigator out of the blue.”

“Could we have a look at their applications?” Allan asked.

“Sure. The local police weren't interested.” She pointed to the table. “I got them ready for you just in case.”

“Thanks,” Allan said and took a look at Otis's, while Debbie looked over Lloyd's and then Sarah's. “Can we have the photos? We'll turn them over to the homicide detective in charge of the case.”

“So he's making you do all his legwork and he gets all the credit?” Zeta asked. “Sure, take them. They're duplicates.”

“Were their phone numbers bad too?” Debbie asked.

“They were disconnected once the men left the area. Those are copies for you. I”—Zeta choked on the words—“I thought you might be able to find Sarah. I didn't think she'd be… Well, I worried about it, but I thought she might just be with Lloyd. Not that I really liked it; he wasn't good for her. But I wish she was with him rather than dead.” Zeta wiped away fresh tears. “Otis's unaccounted for, right?”

“He's not dead, as far as we know,” Allan said, although if Otis was responsible for Sarah's death and turned up in Cunningham pack territory again intending to kill, Allan sure wanted to end the man's career as a werewolf hunter.

“You said the car Lloyd was driving was stolen? The blue Impala?” Zeta asked.

“Yeah. Do you know what he was driving before that?”

“A blue Ford pickup. He apparently liked blue vehicles.”

“So what happened to it?” Debbie asked.

Zeta shrugged. “The day before the three of them vanished, he was driving the Impala. I figured he traded in his truck for the car.”

Another stolen vehicle?

“Do you know what Otis was driving?” Allan asked, hoping they'd get another good lead.

“A red Camaro.”

Immediately, Allan thought of Franny. But the guy she knew had a different name. Still, Allan didn't like the coincidence.

“He had this hunter look about him. He wore camo gear a lot, except when it got snowy. Then he was wearing a white parka. So I'm thinking—to fit the look—pickup truck, antlers in the back or a rifle hanging in the window. But a red Camaro?” Zeta shook her head. “It didn't fit the picture.”

She glanced at her watch and continued, “Listen, I'm so sorry about what happened to Sarah. I wish the police could have saved her. Or that I could have convinced her the two men were bad news. But I'm glad you're looking into this. If you ask me, Otis did it. I've got an audition in half an hour, so I need to get going. If you need to ask me any other questions, feel free. I'll help any way I can to bring him to justice.”

“You've been a great help,” Debbie said.

“Yes, we couldn't have asked for more,” Allan agreed, “although I have one last question. What did the PI drive?”

“A black sedan.”

The investigator had to be a wolf working for Devlyn Greystoke, another wolf from Colorado, leader of the pack, and his cousin. Allan didn't have his number, but Tessa, his SEAL team leader's mate, was distantly related to Devlyn, so she should have the information. Allan would have to call her when Debbie wasn't around. At least he was glad to know that the driver of the black sedan was on their side.

“If you learn Otis did it, will you let me know?” Zeta asked.

“Sure.” Debbie and Allan rose from the couch and said their good-byes, then headed out.

“What do you think?” Allan asked as they got into the hatchback.

“I wonder if Otis ditched that car. It would be easy to spot if he was following anyone. If the one Lloyd was driving was stolen, maybe the red Camaro is too. We're in the area where these guys lived. Can we check out Sarah's place? Even though the men gave false addresses, we know she didn't.”

“It's worth a shot.”

“Okay. Here's Sarah's address. What did you think about this Vaughn Greystoke, PI? Think he is for real?”

“Sounds like it. I'll see if Paul can run him down.”

“You looked like you might know of him.”

“I might know of Devlyn, but I'll have to let Paul check into it. We both would know of him if he's the man I'm thinking of.”

“But you don't know Vaughn?”

“No.”

“Okay, what about the red Camaro? I'm sure it had no bearing on Franny's accident, but still, if Otis was driving it, and he killed Sarah and then ran Franny off the road, that seems like a coincidence we can't ignore.”

“Agreed. Lori can get with Franny on it. I'll ask if she can check with her since they're good friends.” Allan couldn't help but be annoyed with Franny if she knew more than she had been letting on.

When they arrived at the apartment complex, the manager showed them in, complaining the whole while. “I have to steam clean the carpets. It was paid up for two months, so I didn't know Sarah wasn't coming back. Not until the private investigator came and wanted to look her stuff over. Don't you guys talk to each other?”

“With PIs? No. Besides, even if he was with a police force, we each look at the investigations differently and ask different questions,” Debbie said.

“Well, this is a complex that doesn't allow pets. No kids either. It's a no-pet, no-kid place for adult living. Swinging singles, except no loud partying. Mainly young professional couples. Once they have kids, they're out of here. And no pets,” she reminded them, as if pets were the bane of her existence. “But you know what I found? Tons of fur. Shed all over the place. On the furniture, tile floors, and carpet. Probably fleas all over the place. I'm going to have to have the carpet cleaned and a pest exterminator in here. She wasn't going to get her deposit back.” Then the manager swallowed hard. “Well, I mean if she had been alive. So when are the police going to release the place so I can rent it again?”

Debbie and Allan put on gloves and began searching through things, but they didn't find anything that would help them in the investigation. No laptop, cell phone, photos, or notes of any kind. When they left the place, Debbie asked Allan, “Fleas?”

“Luckily, if she had them, they don't bother me. What about you?”

“No, thankfully.”

“Do you want to call Rowdy and let him know we learned who the two murder victims were?” Allan asked as they climbed into his vehicle.

“Sure, I'll do that. But he's not going to be happy.”

“Hell, we practically solved the case for him. He'd better be happy.”

She smiled at Allan, but he knew she dreaded calling Rowdy. He was sure to be mad about it, but Allan had to find out if this case involved pack business. The only way to do that was to learn what he could before the homicide detective arrived. Otis sounded like a werewolf hunter out for blood. Had he killed both Sarah and Lloyd? It was beginning to sound like he had. But they still didn't know if the man who murdered Sarah had been turned.

“Hi, Rowdy. I'm putting this call on speakerphone. It's me, Debbie. We've got some information pertaining to a Sarah Engle and Lloyd Bates. Sarah was the leg-trap murder victim, and Lloyd was the man found in the submerged car in the Van Lake murder.”

“And you know this how?” Rowdy sounded annoyed as hell.

After asking them a million questions, Rowdy told some of his team what to do to look for new evidence in the case. Then he dismissed them and chewed Allan out for investigating this on his own when he should have run it all over to Rowdy and let him handle it. He ended the call. Abruptly.

“Sorry,” Debbie said. “Rowdy seems to think it's entirely your fault we went down there.”

“It is. I had the clue and I was going whether you wanted to join me or not. Besides, he still likes you, so he's not going to hurt his chances with you.”

Debbie had thought the issue of who was dating whom was behind them. She wasn't dating Rowdy. And now it seemed she really wasn't dating Allan either. Somehow she thought that had changed between them last night.

Annoyed, she waffled between wanting Allan to stay the night and letting him know it was time for him to get on his way. Rowdy could help her get her car from the shop.

But halfway to Whitefish, she didn't have a chance to decide either way when Allan got a call. “Ah, yeah, okay. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm an hour and a half out. See you, Mom. Thanks. Give her my love.”

Debbie suspected what it was about right away, and she wished she hadn't been annoyed with him. “Rose?”

“Yeah, she's in labor.”

“Tell her I wish her all the best.”

“I was going to take you to dinner, but—”

Debbie smiled. “No problem. Being with your sister is way more important.”

“Thanks. If you don't mind, we'll do it another night. On the way home, we can stop at a drive-through and grab something to eat.”

She wanted to tell him she'd just fix herself something to eat when she got home, but he would probably have a long night at the hospital with his mom and sister. He needed to eat, so she agreed. “Sure.” She wanted to congratulate him on being a new uncle soon, but multiple births sometimes didn't turn out well, so she reserved comment. “They'll be fine,” she said instead.

But he didn't say anything in response. She understood how he felt. She was feeling anxious about Rose, and she wasn't even related.

When he dropped Debbie off at her duplex, Allan gave her a light kiss on the lips, but she pulled away so quickly that he didn't have a chance for more. After telling her good-bye, he headed to the clinic outside Bigfork. He knew Rose would have good care. If she got into too much trouble, she could shift into a wolf and have her babies as wolf pups, which was sometimes easier for one of their kind. He was still sick with worry though. He wondered how Everett was holding up if Allan felt this bad.

When he arrived at the clinic, at least half the wolf pack was there, which wasn't good if the werewolf hunter was around and knew who some of them were.

Everett was in with Rose, and so was Allan's mom. Allan met up with Lori, who looked anxious, rubbing her own belly.

Emma Greypaw, Lori's grandma, was shaking her head at Lori. “I told you girls you'd both be fine. Quit your fretting.”

Paul took Allan aside. “What did you learn?”

Allan told Paul everything—that the driver of the black sedan was Vaughn Greystoke, a PI supposedly hired by a man named Devlyn to search for Sarah Engle.

“Devlyn? The gray wolf pack leader in Colorado? The one with the mate who was incarcerated in the Oregon Zoo?”

“That's what I suspect.”

“Okay. In other news, the Van Lake murder victim? He was a wolf.” Paul immediately got on his cell, then put it on speakerphone. “Tessa, Paul Cunningham here.”

“How is your mate? Twins coming soon?”

“Yeah. And Allan's sister is having her triplets right now. We're at the clinic, but we're investigating a possible werewolf-hunter murder and Vaughn Greystoke came up in our search.”

“Good luck with hunting him down. I don't know the wolf though.”

“He's a cousin of Devlyn's.”

“Then he's got to be my distant relation. Here's Devlyn and Bella's number. Tell them I said hello.”

“Thanks, will do.”

“Good. Take care of your wife. We'll be talking again, I'm sure.”

“Thanks, Tessa.”

Then they ended the call and Paul contacted Devlyn. “I'm Paul Cunningham and I'm checking into a Vaughn Greystoke, who claims to be a PI investigating the disappearance of a Sarah Engle for you. If you're the right Devlyn.”

“I am, and I've learned she was murdered.”

“Right.”

“Vaughn is my second cousin, and, yes, he was investigating Sarah's disappearance. The woman the hunter killed wasn't part of our pack, but she was looking to join us. Anyway, we just thought she'd changed her mind about joining us. But then she called me and said a werewolf hunter was after her. I contacted Vaughn and asked him to give her protection. Before he could locate her, she called me back and said to never mind. She had taken care of it. So I figured she had killed the hunter. I still sent Vaughn to investigate what was going on anyway. He's been on a merry chase ever since then.”

“He drives a black sedan and has been following some of our investigators and pack members,” Paul said.

“You know how it is when entering a pack's territory. No one knows who's running things. Some packs get really antsy about usurper wolves trying to take over a pack. So he's been trying to learn if there truly is a pack up there and who's running it. I take it you are the pack leader?”

“Yes.”

“A woman named Emma Greypaw was in touch with Sarah before she vanished. Then Vaughn learned Sarah had been murdered. But he didn't learn it right away. He's been following Lloyd and Otis's trails.”

“Did Vaughn kill Lloyd?”

“And leave evidence behind? No. We suspect Lloyd's partner Otis did. Here's Vaughn's number. I'll give him a call and let him know you'll be calling him. He'll work with you to help in any way that he can.”

“Thanks. We appreciate the assistance,” Paul said.

“If we had werewolf hunters in our neck of the woods, we'd feel the same way. Good luck.”

When they finished the call, they heard a baby cry. Allan's heart nearly stopped. Lori was on her feet in an instant, wringing her hands. Paul walked over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Five minutes passed, and another baby began to cry. But they were all on pins and needles until they heard the third baby. When it cried, they all smiled and everyone there took turns hugging Allan and congratulating him for being a brand-new uncle. And now he had his work cut out for him.

He was surrounded by love and family. Yet all he could think of was Debbie sitting home on this wintry night—all alone. And wishing he could be there.

* * *

After having another meeting with Franny, her husband, Lori, Paul, and Allan about her stalker trouble and putting the whole pack on alert, Allan went to see to his mother's needs while she was seeing to the babies' and Rose's. Three days later, Everett looked bushed as Lori and Emma prepared a meal for the whole family to show their support.

“How's Debbie?” Lori suddenly asked Allan in the living room, while everyone was busy putting food away in the kitchen, fussing over the babies, or taking care of Rose.

He thought he was alone and hadn't heard Lori come up behind him.

“She's fine.” He didn't know why Lori was asking. Debbie hadn't had a major upheaval in her life. And as far as he knew, the department hadn't had any emergency calls requiring divers. They'd get a team that was ready to go anyway, and since he was going to be here for another day or so to help out, they'd call on another team.

“You've talked with her?”

Allan frowned down at Lori. “Yes. I called her and told her that Rose was doing fine and all three babies were healthy boys.”

“What is she investigating while you're here and not doing any dive work?”

“Lori…” He tried not to sound exasperated. He suspected her intuition was picking up something about the way he felt about Debbie, no matter how much he tried not to show it. But he wasn't about to discuss it with her, even though she was a good friend and a pack leader.

She frowned up at him. “Didn't she tell you she's been doing some investigating on her own?”

“What? Not on this werewolf case.” All of a sudden, his heart was racing, and he had no control over it.

“She called Rose to congratulate her on the babies and sent a present for each of them. She said she'd come by later, when they were a little older and Rose was more rested. She knew Rose would be too worn out for company. Debbie said she was busy working a case, but as soon as she could, she'd drop by.”

Allan was already pulling out his phone and calling Debbie.

“Oh, Allan. I was just going to call you,” Debbie said, “but I didn't want to bother you if you were needed there. Someone's been shooting down near the lake. It's probably nothing, but I'm in the vicinity and investigating it.”

“Where are you? Wait for backup.”

“A quarter mile south of Polly Meyer's cottage. I can't wait. If he's shooting something illegally or he's our murderer, I can't let him get away.”

Allan told Lori he had to go and where he was going, then sprinted outside Rose's house to the car. “I'm twenty minutes from there. Wait for me. I'm on my way,” he told Debbie. It could just be a hunter, but after Sarah and the two wolves were shot in the same vicinity, he didn't want to risk not investigating. But he wondered why Debbie would jump to that conclusion. “What else, Debbie?”

“I saw a red Camaro up on the logging trail. I'm having Rowdy run the plates now.”

Hell, if the shooter was a werewolf now, they couldn't get Rowdy involved. They had to take care of the shooter on their own, though Debbie would be clueless as to why.

He'd kept his phone open on the drive to the lake road to reach the area. “Talk to me, Debbie. Tell me you're waiting for me.”

“He's shooting something. I'm in the trees and getting closer to where I can see the beach. What if it's… Ohmigod, he's shot a wolf.”

Allan's heart nearly stopped. It was probably a genuine wolf, not one of their kind. But what if it wasn't? What if it was one of their own people?

Debbie shouted, “Police officer! Drop the weapon!”

“It's not what you think it is!” the man shouted back.

Hell, Debbie. Allan couldn't drive any faster on the narrow, winding, snow-covered gravel road. If the shooter was Otis, he most likely wouldn't obey her. But Allan couldn't talk to her now. He couldn't distract her. He wanted to call for backup, but he couldn't disconnect the line. Not when he was listening to her heavy breathing, her life pounding through her veins, and his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

“Drop the weapon!” she hollered again.

“Hell, I know you're not one of 'em, but if you're going to protect 'em, you're just as bad as them.”

Shots rang out.

Stricken and numb, Allan barreled the vehicle in her direction and then saw her car. He slammed on the brakes, bringing his hatchback to a sharp stop on the packed, crusty snow. Then he threw open the door, having enough presence of mind to grab the medical pack, and ran toward the sound of gunshots fired in the distance. “Damn it to hell,” Allan said, running full-out.

As soon as he reached the location, he found Debbie alone on the shore of the lake, getting ready to shoot a wolf lying nearby on its side.

“No!” he shouted, racing to save the
lupus garou
. From here, he knew the tan-colored wolf was Tara Baxter, Everett's sister. Allan had to save her. Besides it being a devastating loss, if Tara died before he could rescue her, she'd turn into her human form in front of Debbie.

“It's wounded, wild, and a predator. We need to put it out of its misery,” Debbie warned him, weapon still readied.

“No, don't shoot the wolf!” His heart drumming, he raced to the location, but he didn't see any sign of the hunter. “Where's the shooter?” Making sure the place was secure was a priority, but Tara looked to be in bad shape, so he didn't have any choice but to take care of her and hope no one would shoot them out in the open like this.

“I wounded him. He fired back at me, then ran off,” Debbie said, sounding a little winded.

“Hell.” Allan got on his knees in front of Tara. “Hope you hit him somewhere that's going to slow him down and force him to seek medical attention.” Better yet, that would kill him. Tara's heart was beating way too slowly, and she was bleeding from three bullet wounds. All the wounds had evidence of burning. Silver rounds. He yanked out his cell phone and said to Debbie, “Get a blanket for her, will you?”

He called Paul and told him the emergency. “One of our wolves is wounded. Shooter's gone but could still be in the area. Debbie says she thinks she shot him.” Allan gave him the location.

“Lori told us you might be in trouble. We're already on our way. Where's Debbie?” Paul asked, his voice dark with concern.

Allan knew what he was worried about—the wolf dying and turning human in front of her.

When Allan didn't hear Debbie leaving to get the blanket out of his vehicle, he glanced back at her. She was sitting on the snowy beach now, blood soaking her pant leg and dripping onto the pristine snow.

“Hell, Debbie.” Allan realized then she was in shock. “Debbie's been shot. Leg wound, it appears. She saw the red Camaro up on the logging road and called it in to Rowdy's office.” Allan pulled out his knife. “No telling who's going to be up here and when.”

“Okay, we're on our way. We'll have to salvage the situation the best we can. Out here.” Paul ended the call and Allan knew he'd get hold of their EMTs and doctor, and the alert roster would be notified. They had to get Tara out of here ASAP.

He was afraid he was losing her. He had to remove the rounds quickly and ensure she wouldn't die. She was so sweet and innocent. He'd never heard her say anything bad about anyone. She was meek and mild mannered, a real beta wolf. He couldn't imagine anyone shooting her. He quickly cut out the rounds digging into Tara side, then bandaged her. But then she quit breathing.

Damn it to hell.

“Where exactly are you injured?” he asked Debbie again, not liking that she had taken a bullet, but hoping she hadn't been hit more than once and it wasn't critical enough that he had to take care of it immediately. He had to revive Tara before he could see to his partner.

“Leg,” she said, sounding so weak, not being able to take care of her too was killing him. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and she was leaning over like she was about to collapse. She knew first aid, but she appeared to be too injured to do anything for herself.

Even so, Tara was worse off at the moment.

He started CPR. Tara still wasn't breathing. He prepared to give the wolf mouth-to-nose resuscitation, cleared her airway, placed his mouth over her nostrils, and blew four quick breaths.

He did this again after two to three seconds, allowing the air to exhale, then continued breathing into her nostrils until normal breathing finally returned.

As soon as she was breathing and seemed to be stable, he turned to see to Debbie and heard vehicles parking back at the road. Thanking God that he'd have help and the shooter hadn't returned to finish them off, he began working on Debbie. She was on her side now. From the way she was lying, her gaze was turned in Tara's direction.

He found where Debbie's wound was bleeding and tore open her pants so he could bandage the wound. He should have turned her away from seeing Tara. But Tara was still a wolf, and he was too busy trying to stem the bleeding from Debbie's wound to move her. Her skin was cold and clammy, her pulse weak. Her gaze seemed unfocused.

But then her heart went into cardiac arrest and Allan had to begin CPR. This would go down as one of the worst days of his life.

He was sweating up a storm despite the frigid air. Suddenly, the EMTs were taking over, stabilizing Debbie and placing her in the ambulance. They also had to take Tara—but not as a wolf. She'd already turned.