As the patrol car parks alongside Jake's ranger truck, Dane gets to his feet. Freya, Jake, and I rise as well, while Martin, Julian, Kit, and Sasha remain at the table and reassure the kids.
"What's this about, then?" I murmur to Dane, as two officers emerge from the vehicle and walk towards us, picking their way through the tall grass. There's a perfectly good path a few yards to their right, but it seems they prefer the direct route.
"Dunno," Dane mutters, "but it must be important. That's Sheriff Page herself."
As the officers draw near, I see one is a young man, mid-twenties, probably, with his hair shaved in a military style and a swagger that speaks more of bluster and bravado than genuine experience. The other is a woman in her late forties or early fifties, with iron-gray hair and sharp blue eyes in a sun-weathered face. Dressed in a red flannel shirt, sheriff's jacket, jeans, and ankle-high work boots, she carries herself with a natural authority that makes her seem larger than she is.
"Mr. Hunter, Ms. Hunter," she calls once she's close enough not to have to shout, and directs her attention to Freya and Dane. She has a low, scratchy, smoker's voice, the masculine tones of which probably come in handy when giving orders to hotheaded assholes like her young deputy. "And another Hunter, I presume," she adds, looking towards me.
Dane nods. "My brother, Monty."
"Jackie Page," the sheriff says, introducing herself. "And this is Deputy Lawson. We apologize for dropping by so late. Looks like we've interrupted your meal."
"What can we do for you, Sheriff?" Dane asks, cutting to the chase. He hates unnecessary pleasantries.
Page stands with her feet slightly apart but keeps her arms uncrossed, thumbs hooked in her belt, authoritative but nonthreatening. "Well, I got good news, and I got bad news, Mr. Hunter. Some of which needs to be delivered in person."
A cold feeling clutches at my stomach, like icy fingers gripping my guts, and I brace myself for a devastating blow.
"Good news is the chemical analysis you requested came back from the lab already," the sheriff continues. "Seems you got friends in high places, Hunter."
"The right places, maybe," Dane says, straightening with interest. "What did they find?"
"Well, that's where the bad news comes in. I don't understand all the technical, chemical mumbo-jumbo, but the bottom line is you were right, and I was wrong. That fire was no accident."
"Accelerants?" Freya asks.
"Yep—hydrocarbons, and lots of 'em."
"Hydrocarbons are present in most flammable liquids," Dane points out. "Did they pinpoint any specific signatures?"
"Not brand names or anything, but they did provide a list of the products containing these compounds. Hence the house call."
"I'm not sure I follow," Dane says, shifting his stance and folding his arms.
The sheriff rubs the back of her neck, her expression somewhere between stubborn and apologetic. "Look, Hunter... I respect you as a fellow officer, and it's thanks to you and your friend at that chem lab we even know all this, but... Well, this case just escalated from tragic accident to felony arson—possibly homicide."
She beckons to the young deputy, and he steps forward, pulling some folded papers from his back pocket and handing them to Dane. He opens them and scans the contents, then glances back up with raised brows.
"Search warrants? For Sasha and Martin's houses?"
"Money is always a prime motive, and family are always prime suspects in a case like this."
Freya frowns. "Our parents aren't wealthy, though."
Sheriff Page turns sharp eyes on her. "They own over ten-thousand acres of land, Ms. Hunter. That's worth millions."
"But this is our family's terri— our home," Freya argues. "Our parents would never sell even a piece of it, and neither would any of us."
Page shrugs. "Never say never. Besides, the house was insured, as were your parents' lives."
"As are their lives," Dane corrects. "They'd have to be declared dead for anyone to collect, and there's been no evidence of remains. Unless...?"
She casts him a half-pitying, half-understanding look. "No—the lab found no trace of human remains among the ash. However, at this point..."
"That aside, they can't have been insured for much, at their age," I say, speaking up for the first time.
"You in the insurance business, or the NBA?" Page asks, looking me up and down and seeming to take me in for the first time.
"No, ma'am. Personal protection, formerly. I had a few older clients—rich dude types—who insured their lives during periods of escalated threat. It wasn't cheap. The older you get, the more likely you are to die, the less a company is willing to bet against those odds—unless you can match that bet upfront."
"Well, your parents did just that," Page says. "Each insured for half a million dollars, just a month before their house burns down and they vanish."
Dane gives only the slightest sign of surprise—something anyone who doesn't know him well would miss—and Freya has a pro-level poker face. I, on the other hand, can't hide my shock.
Page locks on target and keeps her eyes on me. "So now I gotta ask. Is there any reason you can think of, Mr. Hunter, for your parents to be in fear for their lives?"
Several thoughts flick through my brain—the Outcasts, the Mortaines—but none of that is something I can easily explain to a human sheriff with no understanding of Wolves.
"No, ma'am," I say, hoping my voice carries only innocent perplexity. "Mom and Dad never mentioned anything like that to me."
Not that they would have. They knew how easily I worry, and how quickly I'd drop everything and come running if I thought someone I loved needed me. I hadn't understood, at first, why they'd gradually distanced themselves over the years, but eventually I got it: they loved me, too, and didn't like to see me hurt myself or my career. It was a hard lesson to learn—that caring too much could push people away—and it still hurt deep inside when I thought about it too much. Because I hadn't really learned that lesson until it was too late.
Page nods, bringing me back to the present. "Well, given their proximity, and the possibility of a direct benefit from your parents' deaths, your brother and sister are prime suspects. Judge Peters granted the warrants on the grounds that time is of the essence when searching for this kind of evidence. I'm sorry, but I'm just doing my job."
"Like you were before Dane showed up and kicked your butt into gear?" Freya asks, arms crossed and a belligerent sparkle in her eyes.
Sheriff Page shrugs, seemingly unoffended. "I do my job the best I can with the resources I have, Ms. Hunter. Scientists who specialize in chemical forensics aren't usually among those resources. I appreciate you calling in that favor, Dane, but that's why this is a surprise visit. As dedicated to justice as you may be, you got a conflict of interest here."
As she speaks, the others approach, drawn by curiosity and the length of time we've been talking.
"What's going on?" Sasha asks, coming to stand by Jake. Likewise, Kit comes to me, slipping his hand discreetly into mine.
In a few words, Dane explains.
Sasha takes the warrant papers with a frown, giving them a cursory glance.
"Well, all right. You're welcome to look around. Not that I have a choice, it seems." She smiles uncertainly and glances up at Page and the deputy. "You won't make a mess of things, though, will you? On TV, the cops always make a mess of things."
"We'll respect your property, Ms. Hunter," Page assures her, "but it's gonna take some time, and once we're done here, we'll be searching your brother's house as well. Might be more comfortable for your guests to clear off for a few hours, though we'd like you and Martin to stick around in case we have questions."
"Oh, all right," Sasha agrees. "I'll get you my keys, too. Been keeping my shop locked, with the little ones here."
I recall the argument she'd had with Freya over the missing supplies, and wonder if the kids are really who she's trying to keep out of there.
We mill about for a bit, cleaning up the remnants of the barbecue while the sheriff and deputy Lawson collect their evidence-gathering supplies from their vehicle.
"What about your place, Jake?" Sasha asks once the cleanup is complete. "It'd be a little cramped, but I'm sure no one would mind for one night."
"Sweetheart, I'm renovating, remember?" Jake says. "The kitchen's a mess and the water's off. It'd be hell."
"Oh, right. Hey, that reminds me—did you pick up that old cast-iron sink I wanted? It'd make a perfect outdoor washstand, once I fix it up."
He slips his arm around her soft waist. "Sure did. It's in my truck. I'll get it out for you tomorrow morning, sugar, once this shitstorm blows over. In the meantime, I'll wait with you here until the cops clear off. Damned waste of time, if you ask me. They oughta be looking at them Outcasts, not dickin' around here, where there's nothing to find."
Dane frowns, and I feel Kit shiver at my side. I give his hand another reassuring squeeze. Ophelia and her mate have the least to gain from our parents' disappearance, as far as I can tell. After what Kit told me about the Mortaines, I've no doubt they've good reason to fear losing the protection of our Pack.
"Elena's going to kill me," Martin groans, eyeing his kids. Having lost interest in the sheriff once the flashing lights stopped, they'd returned to their game of tag.
"Why? You can't help it they got a warrant," Freya says. "What you gonna do? Eat the sheriff?"
Martin laughs humorlessly. "Elena might prefer that, actually. There's nothing to find, of course, but she'd hate the idea of strangers—humans—going through her things."
Freya frowns. "She remembers her brother-in-law is a former homicide detective, right? I mean, she's not one of those Wolves who thinks we're above human law or something, is she?"
Martin rubs his arm absently and shrugs. "I'm not sure I know anymore," he mumbles.
Freya drops her jesting tone and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, are you two doin' okay? I mean... even wolf-mates hit a rough patch, time to time."
A bleak look crosses Martin's face—the look of a man stranded on an island who sees a ship in the distance, but too far away to signal for help. Then he smiles and shakes his head. "She's just busy. She loves her work, but I think the stress gets to her, sometimes. I wish she'd... Anyway, at least she won't be home until late tomorrow. Now I just gotta worry about keeping this lot entertained." He nods at his kids.
"Hey, Auntie Frey to the rescue! I'll keep an eye on 'em for the night. We'll have fun."
Martin smiles gratefully, then winces again. "Just have 'em back by mid-morning," he says. "Elena doesn't like it when their schedule's interrupted."
"Damn, she a hard-ass bitch, huh?" Freya jokes.
"She's my Mate," Martin answers in mild rebuff, and goes to join Sasha where she stands with Jake, watching as the sheriff begins her search.
Freya sighs once he's out of earshot. "Damn, but sometimes the man seems more like a dog with a mean owner than a Wolf. Just goes to show not all Matings are matches made in heaven, I guess."
Once again, I feel Kit's hand tighten on mine as he shivers, though this time I'm not sure why.
~ ☾ ~
After Martin and Sasha reassure us once again that they don't need us to stay and wait out the search with them, Freya, Julian, and Dane take the kids and head into town to get rooms for the night. I have other plans.
"There's a place I'd like to show you," I say to Kit, once the others have gone. It's full dark, and we've wandered some ways from the house, back into the old orchard. It looks different at night—mysterious and secluded, with the canopy of thick old boughs low overhead, blocking out most of the stars. "It'll be much faster to get there on four feet, though. Are you okay to Shift?"
He ducks his head, his golden curls turned silver by the filtered luminance of the moon. "Yes. I'm alright."
Detecting a shiver in his voice, I tuck my fingers beneath his chin and gently lift his face. His black eyes shine with little pinprick stars.
"Hey, remember our promise. Tell me the truth."
"I want to go where you go, Monty," he whispers.
"But you don't wanna Shift to get there, do you?"
He turns his head aside, lowering his gaze again. "I'm sorry. Sometimes at night... I don't like to lose my human form."
I frown, thinking it probably has to do with the terror of the 'practice hunts' he was subjected to, the memories coming out stronger after dark.
"Well... you're not scared of my Wolf, are you?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Of course I'm not scared of you, Monty."
"Think you can hold on tight?"
He glances up, blinking with surprise. "Hold... on?"
I go behind a tree, strip out of my clothes, and emerge as a wolf. I shake my long brown fur to settle it, then look at Kit expectantly. Hesitantly, he steps towards me, reaching with thin fingers to touch my face. I lick his cheek playfully, and to my relief he laughs with shy delight, pushing me away. Then I dip my front legs in invitation, and after one more slight hesitation, he climbs up on my back. I am the size of a pony, after all.
Taking a few steps, I make sure he's got good balance and a good grip, and then gradually increase my pace, trying to keep my gait smooth. Once I'm confident he won't fall off, I relax into an easy lope, with Kit lying forward, legs tucked against my sides and his arms wrapped about my neck. Somehow, his warm weight feels like nothing at all, and filled with a light, simple joy, I could run like this all night.
I don't have to, though, and twenty minutes later we arrive at the place I want to share with him. It's tucked away at the base of a low ridge, at the end of a long, open vale. Several springs originate here, and one of them is hot.
The natural, shallow pools have been widened and deepened over the years, and with no vegetation growing nearby, they stay relatively clean. I mount the low granite ledges leading up to the pools in a few quick bounds, Kit clinging tight to my back, and then stop and let him slide off to the ground.
Trotting away behind some large rocks, I Shift back to my human form, emerging to find him gazing about in wonder. The pools give off little wisps of steam, even on a relatively warm summer night.
"This might be the best kept secret on this land," I say, smiling. "Like the sheriff said, this place is worth millions, and not just for cattle grazing. If my parents had a mind, they could open a resort here. What do you think?"
"It's... wonderful," Kit breathes, gazing up at the Milky Way splashed overhead, lighting the summer sky.
I check one of the pools with my hand. The temperature stays roughly the same, year round, but it's always wise to check before jumping in. It's perfect as usual, and I step in and sit on a low, smooth ledge.
"Aren't you coming in?" I call, when Kit remains where he is.
He turns and sees me, and his eyes go wide.
"We are... night swimming?"
I laugh, realizing he doesn't understand. "Come here." I beckon. "You ever had a hot bath outside?"
He finches, and I remember what he told me—first about how he hadn't been allowed to use hot water, and second, how his brothers had tortured him in the stream.
"Hey—come here," I say, more gently. "It's a treat. I promise."
Trustingly, he comes and kneels at the edge of the pool, and I take his hand and dip his fingers in the water.
He gasps. "It's hot!"
"Yeah," I laugh. "It's a natural hot spring. Heated by the earth herself. Come on—it's good for you."
He hesitates a moment; then he sheds his clothes, placing them in a neatly folded pile, and joins me, slipping in to sit at my side. His obedience is touching, but troubling, too, and I remind myself not to take it for granted. He wants to please me, but maybe not for the reasons I'd like.
After a moment, though, he relaxes, and I can tell he understands: it's not because I want something from him, but because I want to give something to him, that I brought him to this place.
"It's beautiful," he whispers, his eyes once more on the star-strewn sky overhead. "Beautiful, Monty. And so... so much. Like you."
Unsure what he means, I frown, but then he leans his head on my shoulder and sighs.
He feels safe, I realize—with me—and that's something precious; something worth cherishing.
We sit for a long time, until I know my fingers and toes will be all gross and wrinkly, and my muscles feel all loose and noodly. Then we get out, and let our skin cool and dry in the summer night air. Finally, as the moon sets, I Shift again, and lie down beneath a low overhang of stone, like my wild cousins in a natural den. Kit comes and tucks himself against me, so fragile and lovely in his human form. He falls asleep like that, his face half buried in my fur.
With my Wolf's mind, my thoughts are less distinct—more a series of scents and impressions than coherent ideas—but a few things make it through. Like the feeling that, more than Kit belonging to me, I belong to him; that I'd do anything to make him happy, and that he is my one true...
He sighs in his sleep and curls a little closer against me, and my heart constricts with new pain. I whine and tuck myself into a crescent around him, snout to tail.
It's okay, I remind myself. It's just like any other job. I'd die to keep him safe; but isn't that what I'd do for all my clients? Isn't that what they'd paid me for?
Another voice speaks in my mind.
No, this is different, it says.
This is...
~ ☾ ~
In the morning, I wake up hungry.
Kit laughs at the growl emanating from my stomach and pats my wolf head.
"O fearsome beast," he laughs. "You won't eat me, will you?"
I'd like to, but not in the way he thinks.
With a whine, I dip my front half in a dog's bow, inviting him to climb on my back again. He obliges, and I set off at a quick lope, keeping to the trees, this time. With modern technology—drones and satellites—there's a chance someone might get a picture of a gigantic wolf with a man on its back, and that's not the distraction the world needs right now.
Back in the orchard, I Shift once more and don my clothes, and then notice that my phone has over ten missed calls. Opening it, I see they're all from Dane.
I call him back, and he answers on the first ring.
"Monty—where the fuck have you been?" he snaps, letting a bit of his alpha slip through with his displeasure.
"I—I was showing Kit the hot spring. What... What's happened?"
"Sasha's been arrested, that's what. Now get your ass over here."