White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul (25 page)

Drake glared at him but scrambled into his clothes and shoes and then followed Mike out the cabin’s window. Frost lay on the ground, and they had to walk on the toes of their boots to not crunch the thick coating.

“Did you send him out last night?” Drake scowled and angled a chin at Gray, barely visible under the branches of a spreading oak still carrying a heavy load of leaves.

Gray wore dark brown, the tree stood near three quarters of a mile away, and he blended almost invisibly into the thick trunk.

“He volunteered and he’s family now, so cut the crap. And I’m not going to say that twice. Gray’s a full white wolf. His tracking skills are excellent. Better than yours. Better even than mine. He and I are going to go to the locations of the bear kills.”

Drake’s fierce frown spoke of an explosion. “You’re taking
him
?”

“Not another word. I need you to stay here and protect my mate.”

His brother’s lips flattened, but he nodded. “What do you mean a
full
white wolf? What skills does he have that we don’t?”

“White wolves can’t shift.”

“Neither can we.” Drake raised a brow.

“He has visions like his grandfather. Don’t mention it, though. For some reason, he’s reluctant to talk about it.”

“How do you know that then?” Drake lowered his voice.

“Just a hunch. He can’t detect a change in body temperature the way you can. I tested it while speaking with him earlier.”

Mike could control his body temperature to the
n
th degree, and Drake could identify each shift. During their days in the desert when Mike first started playing poker, the wolves had discovered a use for this unusual trait. In ninety percent of the poker games Mike won, the body temperature of his opponents dropped when they held a losing hand.

“Can he scent adrenaline in the blood?”

“Not the way you can.” Drake had the unique talent of being able to pick apart the composition of a person’s blood and sweat, but he sucked at animal tracking compared to Mike.

The two capabilities had been the secret to Mike’s success on the poker circuit. That and Mike’s famed lack of the usual body habits. He didn’t fidget, his facial expression remained unchanged no matter the pressure, and even when he won, he showed not a single tell reaction. The reason the media had dubbed him “Mike the Machine.”

“So what’s the big fucking deal about being a white wolf?” Drake jammed his hands into his coat pockets.

“Melanie has this journal about the origins of the white wolves. I read most of it earlier this morning. If I’m interpreting it correctly, the white wolves are charged with keeping the peace between all the different wolf packs and the human population.”

Drake shrugged. “So?”

“According to this journal, way back when, there was a huge gathering of representatives from native populations not just in America, but all over the world, a treaty was signed empowering the white wolves, in particular those who are descendants of the original Ixota Migziwa, the guardians, to act as referees in disputes.”

“Whaaat?” Drake halted on a nickel. “Disputes?”

“Keep moving. The journal’s a little vague on whether it’s disputes between the different wolf tribes or disputes between the wolves and humans.” Mike shook his head. “Gray called me before I could finish the journal.”

“Think she’d let me read it?”

“Don’t see why not. Ask her later.”

By mutual consent the brothers fell silent well before they reached Gray.

“Good morning.” Mike and Drake halted just inside the line of trees.

“Morning.” Gray tipped the hat he wore. “I went to the reservation a couple of hours ago. Shuman
is
dead. The same type of kill as Old Man Balden. There are a few members of the tribe who know about my grandfather, my father, and me. Shuman did and Freddy does. I’m not certain how much Shuman shared with the inner circle, but you can bet that those who know have decided I’m the only one capable of both kills. They know I can cover the twelve miles between the football stadium and where Balden died easily.”

“So can we.” Drake rolled a shoulder.

“No one knows you’re wolves.”

“Half-breeds.” Drake growled the correction.

“Whatever. The fact is no one knows. That gives us the advantage.” Gray’s breath iced as he spoke.

“He’s right. We don’t have the time to argue. Change of plans. With Shuman dead, the inner circle will go into seclusion. That right, Gray?”

An orange rim peeked over the far horizon. White clouds shaped like fuzzy snowflakes came into view. Early morning winds argued with night breezes that refused to retreat, and the querulous gusts whipped one-eighty degree change of direction.

“Yep. The casino will stay open, but security will be at a low level. Tribe members will be gathering. All the inner circle members will be arriving. Mike says you’re a whiz with security systems.”

Drake straightened, dug his heels into the undergrowth. “I’m not bad. I haven’t been able to breach the casino’s security. I need a log-in.”

“My mother can give you that.”

“Will she?”

“She will. I spoke with her before I left last night.”

Mike nudged Drake, whose only response was a glower.

“Getting cozy, are we?” Drake’s glower morphed into an out-and-out ten-year-old scowl.

Mike blew out a long sigh. Frosty air drew a wiggled circle under the oak’s fading last blast of fall glory. “Let’s set the pissing line. I’m the alpha; you two are the pack. I know you’ll ultimately be the White alpha, Gray, but in this case, I’m in charge.”

Drake and Gray both scuffed their boots in the leaves before deigning to answer.

Gray spoke first. “Case like with a capital C?”

“I’ve been taking on a few investigative cases over the last couple of years. Kind of became a hobby after I started looking into our backgrounds.”

“Gotcha. Interesting hobby, but to get back to the here and now—what’s the plan?”

“Drake, you’ll take Mrs. White to work. She’ll let you into the tribe’s conference room, which is located adjacent to the casino. The casino’s server is also located there.” Melanie had outlined the casino’s floor plans for Mike in between their lovemaking sessions.

“Am I looking for anything in particular?” Drake scratched his chin.

“Yeah. I have a hunch. I want everything you can find on Shuman. And I want anything you can drag up about his son, Sam Millar, aka Waquini. When he started at the mill. Why he went to work at the mill. And I want you to find out if Boyd ever went to the casino or visited anyone on the reservation.” Mike met his brother’s gaze. “Take Melanie and Susie with you. Mrs. White’s going to watch over her daughters while you’re breaking into the casino’s system.”

“It’s only six thirty.” Drake glanced at the half-ball now visible over a line of dense pines. “When are you two leaving?”

“Now.” Mike fist-bumped his brother. “Later.”

Mike and Gray traveled in silence. The younger wolf wasn’t a talker like Drake, but Mike could tell he had a lot on his mind. The morning had dawned with the promise of winter. Fall had yielded any semblance of mild weather to the dominance of ice. The moisture in the dense air laying low on the ground waged a desperate battle with blizzard gusts. The scents wafting from one fierce swipe to another spoke of nature, not man. No black wolf stench, no blood, no kill aromas.

They arrived at the first site not thirty minutes later. But the first site didn’t reveal any more than the second, third, fourth, or fifth. At the last kill clearing, both Gray and Mike surveyed the scene with puzzled frowns.

“What do you think?” Mike didn’t really expect a definitive response. Each site had garnered more questions than answers.

Gray had picked up the black wolf stench at all sites, even those Mike couldn’t smell. “Except for Shuman’s kill, all the other sites form a wide circle around the Balden stables. Even with where Old Man Balden was killed, they’re all about five miles from the stables. And there’s been another alpha at each site.”

Mike pictured the maps he’d studied before leaving the cabin that morning. “I hadn’t picked up on the pattern. You’re not surprised about either point. Why?”

“After Eddie was killed, I knew something was up. I wanted to see if I could pick up something useful. I’ve been over these sites three times.”

“The Balden site too?”

“Yep.”

“We didn’t pick up your scent at all. Why?” Mike shrugged off a niggle of irritation at the time they had wasted.

“Saran Wrap. Head to toe.”

Mike shook his head. “Never thought of that. I’ll have to remember that for the future. What about the site of Boyd’s death?”

“That too. But another look can’t hurt.”

Mike had studied Gray’s methodical approach to each of the sites. The White alpha had strong instincts. It was nearing ten when they reached the location where Boyd had met his end.

“Boyd’s death doesn’t fit the pattern. It’s outside the circle by a good twenty miles.”

Both men inspected the meadow before them. Like the other murder sites, the ring devoid of trees was clearly definable even after all the years.

“What does your gut say?”

“I know this makes no sense. But I’d bet my bottom dollar that these are two different sets of killings.” Gray tucked his thumbs into his jean pockets. “The five black bear killings and Balden’s are all related and very contrived. Staged. Shuman’s and Boyd’s have a rage attached to them.”

Gray only voiced what Mike had been too tentative to say aloud. “Agreed. Your grandfather was killed by Shuman. We know that. I’d bet house odds that he also killed your father and Boyd. The question is why would he kill Boyd? There has to be some sort of connection.”

“But did he kill him? And if he did, who killed Shuman?” Gray swiped his hat off his head. Tapped the worn leather against his knee. “Maybe Drake will find something on the casino’s computers. There’s something else I’ve always wondered about. I’ve gone over the report about the car accident dozens of times. Both our fathers had blood alcohol levels above the normal limit. Yet everything I’ve read about your dad said he rarely drank. Is that right?”

“He was a very regimented man. Liked order and routine. We had wine every Sunday. And he had a glass of scotch every Friday night at the country club. I never saw him drunk. Not once.”

Gray adjusted his hat on his head. “Why didn’t your uncle live in Chabegawn?”

Mike’s opinion of his future brother-in-law notched up with each pointed question. “There was some sort of quarrel between my grandfather and Boyd. I don’t know what it was about.”

“I reckon if we can figure out what the quarrel was about, we might be able to piece everything together. You need to talk to your mother. She’s the only one who may have the answer. Left alive, that is.”

Fuck a duck, he’d known that all along. “I know. It’s something I’ve been avoiding.”

“Shall we head back?” Gray tipped the brim of his hat.

“Yeah.”

Because they had made two unplanned trips, they didn’t make it back to the resort until near noon. Both cabins were deserted, and housekeeping hadn’t made the beds.

“Flip on the TV. Maybe there’s news.” Mike had set up his laptop on the desk after Melanie’d fallen asleep last night. He jiggled his mouse and checked e-mail. Read the first one from Drake, then the second, then the third. Sat down. Read the e-mails through again.

“What’s up? You don’t look thrilled.” Gray lowered the volume as a commercial jingle blasted through the room.

“Come here.” Mike swiveled the screen. “Take a read.”

Gray walked to stand behind Mike. “Someone’s trying to frame me.”

“How the hell did your DNA get to be on Old Man Balden’s walking stick?”

“No clue.” Gray plucked an apple from the basket of a very definitely organic grown and harvested fruit with several brown spots. He polished the two ruby sections on one side and bit.

“It’d be easy to get ahold of your DNA. Football practice, changing and showering in the locker rooms. But that Hail Mary pass. Whoever’s doing this had to know you’d be on the football field.”

“Not necessarily. I wasn’t supposed to play. Coach put me in when the second string quarterback injured his ankle.” Gray talked around the fruit he chewed.

“Well, that changes things.” Mike stared at the e-mail from Drake.

Mike tried not to show his surprise when Gray explained he’d be quitting the AFL and the Mackinac Warriors and moving into the business world. He stifled the urge to question the White alpha further.

“There’s something that I’ve wanted to say for a while.”

Mike sensed the slight shift in the way Gray distributed his weight. “What?”

“I think you and Drake were the catalyst for all of this.” Gray shot Mike a remorseful grin. “Sorry. But your return to Chabegawn started a whole lotta crap. You gotta admit it.”

“Four murders since Drake and I moved back. Yeah, I agree that’s a possibility. Problem is, why? What threat do we pose?” Mike shook his head.

“It’s always about the money. Isn’t that what they say? Who stands to gain? And what are they gaining?” Gray polished off the rest of the apple and threw the core into the wastebasket next to the desk.

“We never found out what happened to the insurance money from the mill. After Boyd cashed it, that is.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Three million give or take a few thousand.” Mike briefly glanced through his other e-mail. Nothing worth noting.

“That was a ton of money back then.” Gray’s surprise was obvious. “Why wasn’t this news?”

“I figured the old sheriff and Boyd had kept a lid on things. To spare the family. The situation was very volatile. After that the bank shut down the mill. I assumed the insurance money went to pay off debts.” Mike recounted the details that Gray hadn’t heard about and his theory about them being the only thing standing between Boyd and the mill being the Dorland brothers, and his uneasiness after Shuman refused him and Drake sanctuary. “We skipped town two days later.”

Gray set his hat on the side table. “What if it didn’t? Far as I can figure, only two people stood to gain anything from all of this. Boyd, if the insurance money went to him. Jim Balden because he inherits the farm.”