Eye of the Hurricane ▸ Scott McCall (2)

xxii. MORE HARM THAN GOOD

        Stiles reached out for the small, blue jacket lying in the den, lifting it up and holding it for Scott to see. "You see this? This is Malia's. It's the same one that she was wearing in the photo."

        The three teenagers found themselves crouched around it, Foster beginning to wonder if maybe Malia Tate was the werecoyote that they were all in pursuit of. Scott's attention ripped away from the jacket, the alpha grabbing a teddy bear that was set on a rock, looking upon the plush animal. 

        And soon enough, realization dawned in on him. "We shouldn't be in here."

        Stiles' brows furrowed together, Foster growing slightly confused as well. She was quick to speak her thoughts, though. "What do you mean?"

        "She's not going to come back now," Scott explained, his eyes widening. "We just invaded her home." Glancing back toward his friends, he added on, "Our scent's going to be everywhere."

        From beside the blonde, Stiles inquired, "Well, if she's not going to come back here, then where's she gonna go?"

        Scott shrugged, letting out a sigh. "I don't know."

        Now actually being inside of Malia's den, though, the wheels inside of Stiles' brain were beginning to turn, realizing that her scent must be flooding the den as of right now. "Can you track her now? Do you think you've got her scent?"

        Scott shook his head slowly, wishing he would be able to help the girl trapped within the animal form. "I'm better at this when I'm a full wolf, and I'm also still worried that if I do it, I won't be able to turn back."

        Stiles let out a frustrated sigh, Foster finding Scott's hand and lacing her fingers along with his. She felt his hand wrap around hers tightly, Foster knowing full well the fear he holds toward becoming anything like Peter Hale. He doesn't want to lose control, or to tap too far into his animal side that he won't be able to come back from it.

        "The door's still open," Stiles muttered, all of them knowing that they are unable to do anything or live their lives freely until they finally shut it completely.

        "If I can't get to Derek, then we're going to have to find someone else to help," Scott explained, Foster wracking her brain in an attempt to find some other alpha werewolf who could help track a scent.

        Raising a brow at her boyfriend, she inquired, "Yeah, like who?"

        Scott smirked at her, beginning to explain, "This is basically a crime scene, right? I think it might be a little bit out of my boss' league, but. . . "

        "And more of my Dad's," Stiles finished in realization, knowing that at least he can get this place taped off and such. Maybe finding prints within the trails, anything to help them get a lock on Malia's location.

        And in all honesty, so far it was the only plan they had.

✢ ✢ ✢

        By now, red and blue lights flashed all around the three teenagers waiting off in the distance, watching as Sheriff Stilinski began to examine the coyote den in question. Various deputies were roaming around with walkie talkies, everyone trying to solve the case of the enigmatic murder of almost the entire Tate family. 

        In the Sheriff's hand was a blanket, breaking away from the den and his deputies before making his way over toward Stiles, Foster, and Scott. Once he made his way over, Stiles was rubbing his palms together in anticipation, Foster and Scott both being a bit nervous about this. Foster couldn't stop thinking about the fact that now even more people have invaded Malia's home, she may not have a place to live any longer. And seeing that she was one of the two people who found it, she couldn't help but feel an immense wave of guilt.