The White Werewolf's Love (Interracial Shifter Romance BWWM Paranormal) (2 page)

              “So what do you make of all this?” Detective Steele asked of his partner, tossing a plain folder at him.

             
Detective Mueller tapped his pencil on the desk, mulling over the question and poring over the notes.  “There was nothing at the house, and he has been missing for two weeks.”

             
“The stake outs have brought us nothing so far. There has not been as much as a blade of grass out of place since that day,” pointed out Steele.

             
“Well all we have to go on now is what those big shot lawyers gave us; that the house had been vandalized and some items of jewelery stolen, as well as some cash. The scene pretty much confirmed that, and since we do not have Derek to confirm theft, we do not have anything.”

             
“But don’t you find that odd for someone like him to have gone down like that? And where was his daughter?”

             
“Staying at a friend’s when it happened,” Mueller said after glancing at the notes again.

             
“Something about this doesn’t add up,” Steele chalked up. “As far as I understand, there aren’t many friends to that family, and the daughter is mostly there. How is it that the one day her house is vandalized and her father goes missing she just happens to be staying with friends?”

             
“Fishy indeed,” added Mueller.

             
One of the wealthiest men in the city had gone missing for two weeks and no one was making a fuss about it. Perhaps he was not a well liked man, but there had to be someone who missed him.

             
“Where does it say he was employed?” asked Steele.

             
Mueller flipped some pages and rested his fingertip on a highlighted region of the paper. “Says here he is the owner of an investment firm on Wall Street, Gables Investment” he said with some degree of admiration. “So he was highly connected. The problem with all of this is that there is no body, and no trace of anything else. For all we know he did this and ran off because he didn’t want the responsibility of raising a child, albeit she is grown now.”

             
“Where is the daughter now?” asked an increasingly curious Steele.

             
“Now that is the right question. It doesn’t say so here though,” he ended disappointingly and closed the file. “Maybe his friends over at that firm will have a better idea. You want to go for a ride?”

             
Steele tugged his jacket from the back of the chair and draped it over his shoulder. “Been dying to,” he said.

             
Mueller rose as well, and played with the toothpick he always had in his mouth; everyone wondered where he stashed them for he was always seen with one. He took up his service revolver and securely attached it to his waist and walked off behind Steele. The two had been partners for almost five years and had formed a compatible relationship. Mueller had just joined the force then, fresh from Germany where he had been living with his father since he was a teenager. Every now and again when he either got excited or angry he would break out in German, which always amused Steele. His hair was low cut and spiked, and was more white than black. Many times he was teased and asked if he was sure he was not a Russian; this always caused for a German meltdown, but over the years he had grown to ignore the other guys in the Department who kept using him for their amusement.

             
Steele had been with the force much longer than that, longer than he had planned to. He lived in the suburbs and he had planned on retiring early, but crime chose not to retire, so he got stuck carrying the weight of it. Most recently, he only took low profile cases because they meant less traffic and scrutiny, but this case had landed on his desk and when he saw the name and read the report, he was intrigued.

             
The two had gotten stuck together when they had assigned them on street duty. Mueller had not done much profiling before, but he had been a natural. He had proven his mettle both as an officer of the law and as a partner. For several other minor cases Steele had brought him along with him, until he didn’t feel comfortable anymore working alone-before Mueller, he was pretty much a stand-alone man.

             
They got into the police cruiser and made their way to Wall Street. They hated this side of town where all the wealthy congregated and pervaded the atmosphere with corruption. Mueller glanced at some notes he had to confirm the name and location of the firm, and pointed to a building a few feet away. It was one of the many skyscrapers that towered to heaven, and resembled most of the other structures in the neighborhood. Steele pulled the cruiser over to the curb and exited the vehicle. Mueller walked around to join him and they both went across the street to the glass panel doors.

             
They pushed the heavy doors open and walked in side by side. Momentarily a few persons paused from their tasks to acknowledge them, and then resumed their duties. It would appear as if they were accustomed to uniformed personnel. They walked through the lobby area, and scanned the directory posted on the wall. Derek’s firm was on the tenth floor. They made their way to the elevator and punched the number ten. A small man with horn rimmed glasses rushed in before the doors closed, but then seemed to regret it when he realized who his company were. The music wafting through the speakers didn’t help and made the tenth floor appear much farther than it actually was, so that they were all relieved to escape it.

             
They looked both ways when they emerged from the elevator and discerned the receptionist would be to the right; to the left was a huge glass wall, for that couldn’t rightfully be termed a window. They headed right and soon came upon a mahogany desk with a middle aged woman sitting there. The phone lines were ringing off the hook, so she didn’t get a chance to say anything more than “Gables Investment, please hold.” She held up her index finger to indicate to them that she would be with them in a few seconds; that translated to about five minutes.

             
Finally she motioned to them, but when she heard the nature of their business, she asked them to wait while she contacted one of the partners.

             
“Mr. Brentford will be with you shortly. Would you like something to drink while you wait?” she asked courteously. They politely declined, which seemed to give her some measure of relief. Steele smiled to himself when he read the words ‘thank God’ on her face. He knew most times they were empty gestures so he did not provoke discomfort.

             
In two minutes a balding man in a pin striped suit emerged from an office at the far right further along the passage and signaled for them to join him. The detectives walked along what felt like the yellow brick road on their way to Oz. Brentford held the door for them while they entered and then silently closed it behind them.

             
“Please, have a seat gentlemen,” he said and pointed to a row of chairs along the wall.

             
“Thank you, but if you don’t mind, we would rather stand,” countered Steele.

             
“Oh? Very well then,” Brentford said, popping his eyes in the process. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

             
“Are you in charge now?” asked Mueller.

             
“In charge? What do you mean?” he asked somewhat nervously. This did not escape Steele. Unscrupulous persons have been known to make others ‘disappear’ when they got in the way of their ‘ladder climbing’ goal. This could easily be the case now.

             
“Do you have any idea where your boss is right now?” asked Steele. “He has been missing now for two weeks, but things here seem like business as usual.”

             
“We are trained professionals Officers. The world will not stop because one person did not turn up. Furthermore I received a text message a few days ago saying I should hold the reins in the interim. I am the lead partner here, behind Derek. I can show you the text of you like.”

             
Steele walked over and waited while he fished the device from his pocket and scrolled through a few applications until he reproduced the text. It said almost everything he had just said. “Who do you suppose sent this?” he asked.

             
“I am not sure, but this number is registered to the firm.”

             
“Would you mind if I jot that down?” he asked, staring the man cold in the face.

             
“Not at all. I have nothing to hide.”

             
He sounded too defensive. “How about the daughter...would you happen to know where she is now?” asked Mueller.

             
“Chrissie? No, I am not sure. All of this is a shock to me as well detectives. Derek is not known to be the sort of man who just disappears. I hear his house was broken into and he was attacked, but then where is he? Why would they take him with them?”

             
“Those are our very questions Mr. Brentford. We were hoping you could shed some light on them,” said Steele. All the while he kept his eyes trained on the man, but other than perhaps being a bit edgy for other reasons they would not delve into now, he did not seem to be guilty of anything.

             
Steele backed away and opened his left jacket pocket. He slid his fingers inside and took out a business card and handed it to the man. “If anything else comes up that you think is important, or even if you don’t think it is, please, call us. We would like to find Derek and get to the bottom of this.”

             
He took the business card and studied it for a few seconds and then placed it on his desk.

             
“Thank you for your time Mr. Brentford, and enjoy the rest of your day,” said Steele as he tipped his imaginary hat.

             
“No problem detectives.” He seemed relieved that they were leaving and hastened to close the door behind them. After they were gone, he took up the phone and dialed Roger-the other partner. “Something is going on for sure. Two detectives just came to see me.” He hung up the phone then, or Roger did. In a few short beats Roger was standing in the office with him.

             
“So he is really missing? Or dead?” asked Roger.

             
“Well don’t get carried away. I told them I didn’t know where the daughter was, but Derek is my boss after all, and I wouldn’t want to make a mess of things.” He walked off and wiped his hand across his face.

             
“Remember those people I told you she was spotted with? Maybe we need to pay them a visit. Derek may be in trouble, and they may be the key to finding out what the hell is going on here. I recognize the man, but I don’t know of them being friends so Chrissie staying with them is mystery enough,” commented Brentford.

             
“That sounds like a plan. When do you suggest we go?” asked Roger.

             
Brentford checked his wall clock and realized it was early afternoon. “Maybe we should go in the evening when they are likely to be home. By the way, do you know where he lives?”

             
“I believe it is in the penthouse downtown,” answered Roger.

             
“We will start there, but for now, let’s just keep this between us. If anyone asks, he is on an extended trip overseas.”

             
Roger nodded and left the office. Brentford walked over to the glass window and looked out, his hands resting in each other behind him. This whole event had been a mystery to him from the start, and Derek had been more than his business partner-he had always been his friend. He had been to the house a few times just to check, but it was completely sealed off pending investigations. He had not known how to react to Derek’s disappearance, but when the text message came in, he had assumed he may have been keeping a low profile somewhere. Now that detectives were asking questions, maybe it was time he started asking his own. Something was not right about any of this, especially since Derek’s home was not one that was easily broken into. He turned to walk away and paused; he was sure he could make out the low howl of some sort of animal far away. Funny, he thought. No one told him hunting season had opened.

              Wes had only just set his brief case down when he heard a knock on the door. He heaved an exasperated sigh and turned back around to answer it. He did not recognize the faces of the two men who were standing there.

             
“Are you Wes Chamberlain?” asked the one who seemed older than the other.

             
“That depends on who is asking,” Wes replied defensively, folding his arms and leaning against the door.

             
“My apologies. I am Gregory Brentford, and this is my colleague Roger Croswell, and we are partners at Gables Investment. We have come to see you about a personal matter.”

             
“What personal matter could I possibly have with Gables Investment? I don’t recall having a portfolio there.” He stood looking at them and remaining astute.

             
“If you don’t mind, could we come in?”

             
“As a matter of fact I do mind. I am not so comfortable...”

             
Just then the elevator bell dinged and they all three looked in the direction, almost involuntarily. Lucy stepped out and was a bit puzzled as three pairs of eyes greeted her. She walked gingerly towards them. “What is going on here?” she asked.

             
“These lovely men would like to come in for a ‘personal’ discussion, but I don’t know what sort of business I could possibly have with Gables Investment.”

             
“Ma’am, if it alright with you, this discussion concerns Chrissie.”

             
Wes’ eyes popped instantly. “Come in then,” led Lucy.

             
Wes was not altogether sure that was a sound idea but if she insisted. He could smell trouble on these men, and call it wolf instinct or otherwise, sometimes it is good to follow your instincts-if not always.

             
“Please, have a seat,” Lucy offered as she attempted to rid herself of her heels and shoulder bag. Wes stood by the counter, aloof for the entire time.

             
“Like I was saying to Mr. Chamberlain here, we are from Gables Investment and partners to Derek. It has come to our attention that he has gone missing and that you have his daughter staying here. We were hoping you could shed some light on what has happened to him.”

             
At the sound of Derek’s name Wes perked up.

             
“If you don’t mind, could you tell us what relationship you bear to Derek? I don’t believe that we have met,” continued Brentford.

             
“Distant cousins,” answered Wes. “Now if that is all, you are free to go.”

             
“Don’t be rude Wes. Let’s hear them out and accommodate them as best as possible.” She now turned her attention to her guests. “Chrissie came to find us after she heard about her father’s demise, and we took her in on a temporary basis until something more permanent can be worked out.”

             
“Where is she now?” asked Roger, looking around the penthouse now.

             
“She should be on her way home now. She has an appointment after school that should be just about over,” Wes said and confirmed the time on his watch as he spoke.

             
There was a deadly silence in the room now and it was obvious that the partners figured there were some missing pieces. It would not bode well for them if they could be accused of kidnapping a minor.

             
“You would not believe...” began Luke as he entered the penthouse, with Chrissie on his arms, but instantly came to a stop when he realized they had company.

             
Chrissie recognized the men seated there as her father’s business associates; she had seen them at the house a few times-the few times that she had seen her father as well. Her father. There was no love lost between them but she couldn’t help feeling a bit sad that he no longer existed. It was only now that she had begun to miss him being gone, and that disturbed her somewhat.

             
“Chrissie, remember me?” asked Brentford, now rising to his feet.

             
“Um, yes I do. What are you doing here?” she asked timidly.

             
“It concerns your father. I am sure you know he has gone missing, but we have no idea where to find answers, so we came here.”

             
“Have you checked the Police? I think they are the ones who do the investigating,” she said and walked off.

             
“Chrissie, this is your father. Doesn’t this concern you at all?”

             
“Not really. He had never been much of a father to me. He was never there so there is nothing to miss now.”

             
Wes could hardly keep from smiling, but deep down he knew these men would use this information for their own benefit.

             
“Look, under the circumstances we figured this would have been the better solution thus far. It had only been a little over two weeks. We will work something out, but for now she stays here,” said Wes.

             
“And you say you know nothing of her father?” Brentford repeated his question.

             
“If you do not believe, then that is your grudge. Take it up with the police,” intervened Lucy, now taking offense to Brentford’s insinuations.

             
“Now gentlemen, if that is all...”

             
Roger stood up now and they both walked to the door, sensing that they had outworn their welcome. They were barely through when Wes closed the door behind them. He walked over to Lucy. “I don’t trust them. I wonder if they know about my kind, or what else they do know. My instincts tell me they are up to no good.”

             
“I know what you mean. How did they even know she was staying here?” pondered Lucy. “Chrissie, how well do you know these men?”

             
“Not very. I have only seen them a few times when they would come to the house to see my dad, but if you can recall, I didn’t see my dad much.”

             
“Maybe with your dad gone it will leave implications for Gables Investment-maybe you would inherit stocks they do not want you to be in control of,” surmised Wes. “I just cannot see what other reason could lead them to come here. If Derek is missing, then we are not the first persons to run to.”

             
“I wonder if they will stir up trouble,” said Lucy.

             
“I hope not. The more people dig, the greater the chances of them finding things out we would rather kept hidden. I hope it never comes to that.” They all exchanged worried glances.

             
Meanwhile, on the other side of the door...

             
“I don’t like the looks of that just now. There seems to be something missing from the picture. Chrissie doesn’t seem the least bit interested in what happened with her father. She is just staying there totally unconcerned. To me, she either has an idea of what happened to him, or nothing has happened to him. In which case they would all know what happened to Derek,” said Brentford.

             
“I concur,” replied Roger. “They are all hiding something.”

             
“Think I should give Detective Steele a call.” He fished inside his pocket for the card, only to remember that he had left it on his desk. “It will have to wait until I get back to the office.”

             
The two walked into the elevator as it opened and turned around simultaneously. Whatever this group was hiding would not stay hidden for long.