While Jonas wasn’t thrilled with my wolf preserve updates, I could tell his interest was piqued as I elaborated on what Veronica had told me.
He swallowed a bite of asparagus, which he’d raved about. “So you’re telling me that Sergeant Hardy is anti-wolf since his sister died of a dog attack? That’s a strong motivation—if you’re vengeful enough—to try to get the preserve shut down. Did he have any opportunity to kill Shaun or Rich?”
It was an outrageous idea—that a police officer would mastermind these killings—but it wasn’t an impossibility, I supposed. Anyone could have snuck onto the preserve the morning Shaun died. Maybe Shaun had showed up way too early so he could meet with someone in private. Although Evie also tended to arrive early, she rarely left the visitors’ center, so it was unlikely she would have noticed if someone was creeping around the paths to the wolf enclosures.
On the day Rich had died, Sergeant Hardy had gone to Njord’s enclosure on his own, so there had been a brief window of opportunity when he could have attacked and killed Rich. He might have dragged Rich’s body into the enclosure before hustling out the gates to pretend he was nearly as fresh to the scene as I was. It was also possible that in his hurry, he had left the gates unlocked, so he might have decided to shoot the opened locks off to cover his tracks.
I shared my half-baked theory with Jonas, and he furrowed his dark eyebrows. “It might be a long shot, but it does seem to explain a few things.” He frowned. “If he’s responsible for the deaths, then you aren’t safe at all, Belinda. He could easily drop in to ‘check on’ something and do the same thing to you, if he wanted.”
“But that’s the question, isn’t it? I mean, how many people would he need to kill to be sure he’s ruined Dahlia’s wolf preserve? She’s already been hit with all kinds of bad press, so she’s had to shut down tours. Honestly, I don’t see how the preserve can recover.” I chewed a bite of chicken, pleased with its tenderness, then washed it down with cider. “Come to think of it, Sergeant Hardy is the lead detective. Logically, if he killed Shaun and Rich, he’s going to be busy trying to pin the murders on someone else.”
Jonas looked thoughtful. “But if he was the murderer and he’s controlling the investigation, why draw attention to the fact that Rich was murdered? Wouldn’t he want to make sure it looked like the wolves did it?”
My mind whirred along, picking up possibilities and tossing them aside, until I came up with an explanation that worked. “Maybe he didn’t get as much time as he thought he’d have for Rich. Let’s say he dragged Rich into the enclosure, hoping the wolves would gnaw on him like they did on Shaun. He had instructed his other officer to check the first enclosure during this time, so that got him out of the way. He figured he’d have plenty of time, but then I came along and threw a wrench in his plans.”
Jonas nodded. “It’s possible. And because the wolves didn’t have time to chew on Rich, the coroner discovered it wasn’t a wolf attack, and he started looking into other methods of death. I wonder if they’ve determined if he was poisoned yet—you said toxicology was checking on things, right?”
“Right. Maybe there will be some more conclusive report tomorrow. I would hope that Sergeant Hardy would update Dahlia, but if he’s the killer, he’d likely sit on that information as long as possible.” I stood and walked into the kitchen. “Do you want decaf?”
Jonas grabbed the dirty dishes and utensils and joined me. “I’d love some.”
I placed my favorite mug under the spout and dropped a decaf coffee pod in. As I retrieved the creamer from the fridge, I said, “One thing that’s been niggling at me is that the killer would have to be comfortable enough with the wolves to go into their enclosure. So that would indicate it’s most likely someone on the preserve.”
“Good point,” he said. He was scoping out the lemon pound cake, which I’d artfully placed on a crystal dish. “All the more reason to be extra cautious if you stay there.”
“Help yourself,” I said. “I met a new friend and she gave me that cake—it’s delicious. Actually, I think she gave me the cake first and then I made a new friend, in that order.”
Jonas smiled. “Don’t mind if I do. I’ll cut a piece for you, too.”
Once he’d offered me the largest slice, I gathered my coffee and cake and led him to the couch. He politely stood while I positioned my food on the coffee table and settled into the couch, then he sat down—so distractingly close, our legs were nearly touching. He scanned my larger TV and my game systems. “Still gaming, I see?”
If anyone else had said that, I would think they were speaking condescendingly, like I was some frivolous entertainment junkie. But Jonas said it with a gravitas that implied that my gaming should be taken seriously.
“I am. I’m still doing articles and blog posts, that kind of thing. Trifling stuff, really.”
He shook his head. “There’s a guy in our book club and he was asking if you were the Belinda Blake. He said you needed to be on Switch.”
“The Nintendo Switch? I have one.”
“No, not that. It’s some kind of gamer channel online. I don’t know—”
“You mean Twitch. Yes, I’m working on getting set up for that.”
Jonas’s jeans-clad leg now rested against mine, just the tiniest bit, but enough to let me know he didn’t mind leaving it there. I had to fight the urge to place my hand on his knee, which seemed the natural response.
He took another bite of cake, then turned to face me. I had forgotten how impenetrable his gaze could be…it always enthralled me and made me want to plumb its depths. But his words were far from enigmatic.
“I’m telling you, this cake is amazing.” He licked the last crumbs from his lips and cocked his head. “Belinda, have you thought about building your gaming business, just like you did your pet-sitting business? It would be far less hassle than the pet-sitting jobs you’ve landed recently.”
I propped my feet up on the coffee table, confident that Jonas would never chastise me for a lack of decorum. Besides, I needed to separate my leg from his so I could have a little more breathing room—something I desperately needed for the full-on sensory overload Jonas had stirred up.
“Yes, I’ve thought about that. But right now, I like the pet-sitting gig, too. I enjoy staying somewhat plugged into Manhattan, and I have several loyal clients there. Also, you know how I love being outdoors. Kind of weird for a gamer girl, I suppose.”
His face softened. “I like that about you. You’re perfectly comfortable inside or out—there’s never a boring moment with you.”
We fell into an amiable silence as we finished our dessert. Finally, Jonas placed his plate on the coffee table. I figured he was going to say good night and head back to his bed-and-breakfast. He’d had a long day, too.
Instead, he asked, “What’s your take on Jordan Baker? Was she really on Gatsby’s side?” The way he looked at me, you’d think everything in the universe hinged on my opinion of the book.
Jonas’s question launched an impassioned discussion on side characters’ roles in The Great Gatsby that continued well into the night. I wanted to go on talking, but Jonas pointed out that my eyes were hardly staying open. He said he needed to get back to the bed-and-breakfast before the owner called to see if he was returning at all.
He helped me to my feet, and the way he clung to my hand, I wondered if he was going to lean in for a good-night kiss. But Jonas wasn’t the type of guy who would take advantage of my solitary living situation. He gave my hand a quick but thrilling squeeze and released it. “Thank you for tonight,” he said.
“When do you have to leave tomorrow?” I wanted to eke out every last minute I could with him. “Maybe you could head out this way and we could meet somewhere for breakfast.” An even better idea hit me, and I bounced up on my toes. “Or you could drop by the preserve! That way you could meet some of the people I’ve been talking about. I’d really value your opinion on things.”
He took a moment to consider. “I think I could do it, as long as I got out of there kind of early. Mom’s expecting me around noon.”
I grinned. “Sounds great. I go in around seven-thirty in the morning. You want to meet me then? It should be fairly easy for you to find—just look up directions for the White Pine Wolf Preserve online.”
“I’ll do that.” He met my gaze and held it. “I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”
After flipping on the porch light, I watched as he climbed into his truck and drove off. I probably should have told the security guard, Val, that I’d have a late-night visitor, but I was sure Jonas was perfectly capable of explaining why he was making a delayed exit.
It was only as I was crawling into bed that I realized I had been humming nonstop since I’d locked the front door.
For the first time, I was actually looking forward to going to work in the morning.
* * * *
I woke to the pleasant sounds of birds twittering just outside my open window and someone mowing the Carringtons’ already-pristine lawn. I stretched in the sunlight, taking a deep breath of the ocean-salt air that wafted in on a light breeze. It was shaping into a beautiful day to show Jonas around the preserve.
Jonas had seemed intrigued to see the lay of the land where I worked, and I was looking forward to introducing him to all the key players at my strange job. An outside opinion might help me see them through different eyes and bring to light any possible threats.
As I pulled up the wolf preserve driveway, I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was free of reporters, and although the gate was closed, it wasn’t locked. I pushed it open, drove through, then pulled it shut behind me. Jonas’s black truck was already parked outside the visitors’ center. He arrived everywhere a little early—he would definitely get along well with Red.
I got out and walked into the visitors’ center. Evie rushed over to greet me. I was pleased to see she looked well-rested.
“Once again, I have to thank you for suggesting the Fentons,” she said. “I had a wonderful evening talking with them. They’re actually familiar with the village in Britain where I grew up.”
“I know they travel frequently. I’m so glad you had a good night.” I glanced around, anxious to find Jonas. “Have you seen a man with a shaved head hanging around, by any chance?”
“I certainly did. I rather fancied he was looking for you, but Veronica came in, all distraught about the chickens, so he went to help her. Said he was a farmer or something.”
Definitely Jonas. I grabbed my green vest, then hurtled out the side door toward the chicken coop.
As I drew closer, it became clear that something was very amiss. Veronica was standing outside the chicken fence, her mouth agape. She silently pointed toward the chickens.
Inside the fence, Jonas held a large stick, which he wielded in an attempt to shoo off a raccoon that was bristling in the corner. There was a sizeable hole torn in the fence directly behind the predator, indicating how it had managed to get in.
Veronica grabbed my arm. In a breathless tone, she said, “Oh, Belinda, can you believe it? I came in and these chickens were squawking and there was this huge raccoon, prowling inside the fence! It was trying to eat them!”
That much was obvious, but I patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Jonas has dealt with these kinds of things before.” I didn’t add that he usually carried a gun when he did so. “I’ll go see if I can help him.”
Jonas turned toward me and motioned to a chicken with an apparent death wish—it kept pecking its way toward the raccoon instead of away from it. I grabbed the wayward bird while Jonas extended his stick and firmly bopped the raccoon on the head. “They can be so stubborn, especially when there’s food involved,” he said.
Sure enough, the raccoon didn’t budge.
Veronica screeched, and I turned. She was pointing to another chicken that was making its way up the roosting ladder, which was right next to the raccoon. “Don’t let it kill it!” she shouted.
I didn’t know which was worse—the oblivious chickens or Veronica’s hysterics. “Shh!” I hissed, as the chicken under my arm launched into a fresh burst of squirming. “We’ll deal with it!”
Jonas jabbed at the raccoon, and I nearly died when the animal charged his leg in return. Undaunted, Jonas swept the sturdy stick into the raccoon’s side, almost like he was hitting a golf ball. The raccoon was thrown backward, landing by the hole in the fence. Jonas moved in menacingly, his stick outstretched. The raccoon hissed and snapped, but appeared to realize it had been beaten. It retreated backward through the hole, ending its brief reign of terror.
I gave a sigh of relief and dropped the unruly chicken, which promptly raced into the henhouse.
Veronica was nowhere in sight. She must have made a run for it when the raccoon emerged on her side of the fence.
“We’ll need to repair that,” Jonas said, his voice calm as ever, although his shoes and jeans were covered in dust. “Do you know where any chicken wire is?”
I assumed it was in the shed, so we temporarily blocked the hole with the chicken ladder board and I led him to the red building. While he retrieved the supplies, I ducked into the visitors’ center and found Veronica huddled in the kitchen. I assured her that everything was under control, then Jonas and I went out to repair the fence.
He chuckled. “That Veronica’s quite the city girl, isn’t she?”
“Apparently. I don’t know why she went ahead and started feeding the chickens without me. I told her I’d train her.”
“Don’t stress it. A raccoon in the henhouse is no laughing matter. If you ever see it again, call animal control.”
I put my hand on my hip as he twisted the wire together. “In other words, do as I say, not as I do.”
He gave me a wry look and continued his repairs. Once he was finished, we made our way back to the visitors’ center. Evie and Marco didn’t seem to be around, and Veronica had vanished as well, so I decided to give Jonas a quick tour in the woods before he had to head home. I grabbed the key to the first enclosure, ignoring the new key clearly marked Njord’s Pack in Evie’s careful handwriting.
As we walked up the dirt path, I gave Jonas’s side a playful jab. “Veronica was quite a convincing damsel in distress. I think she was checking you out.”
He replied swiftly, his eyes fixed on the trees ahead. “Was she? I didn’t notice. She’s really not my type.”
I had a burning desire to ask what on earth his type was, but I didn’t give in to it. Instead, I started overexplaining, which I tended to do when my emotions swam to the surface. “So, I think we’ll go into the first wolf enclosure—I’m sure those wolves are harmless enough. There’s this female wolf named Freya and she seems to like me. Then we can drop by the second enclosure, but we won’t go in.”
“Still worried they’re killers?” Jonas asked.
I slowed. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure. I know Rich wasn’t killed by Njord’s pack, and Shaun might not have been, but the fact remains that the wolves must have chewed on Shaun, just like they chewed Carson’s hand.”
“And they didn’t lay a tooth on Rich. But you said he was like the alpha of Njord’s pack, right? The one who’d raised Njord from a pup? It makes sense he wouldn’t dare hurt his alpha—in fact, didn’t you say Njord was standing sentry over him?”
“He was, but he was that way with Shaun, too.” I picked up the pace, leading us to the first gate, which I unlocked quickly. Although I wasn’t overly excited to go into Thor’s enclosure, I did think his pack was trustworthy enough and wouldn’t try anything, especially with two of us. Besides, Jonas could read animal behavior better than most, and he would easily pick up any wolfish vibes I didn’t.
I decided to go ahead and water the wolves, since that was the routine they expected from me. As Jonas followed me to the spigot, Thor was the first to come to my side. He seemed restless, but not aggressively so. He trotted between us, angling for a head rub, I suspected.
Jonas gave him a light pet while I poured the water, but Thor meandered off into the woods. It had grown quite warm out, and he probably needed some shade.
Freya loped our way, a frisky bounce in her step. She ignored Jonas and made a beeline for me, rolling around on the ground by my feet.
“I’d say she likes you,” Jonas said.
I gave in and stroked her stomach, telling Jonas the sad story of how she came to the preserve.
“Seems like Dahlia’s doing some important work here.” Jonas shut the water off for me, then scanned the enclosure. “She’s done a good job with the fencing, too.”
I gave a short laugh. “I guess she had to, after one of her wolves escaped.”
Jonas was still serious. “That’s right, you’d mentioned that. But there’s a learning curve to everything, and what one farm—or preserve—does one way, another will do a different way. Totally depends on the animals, and sometimes you don’t know until you try.”
Jonas’s observations made sense, and I felt somewhat guilty for bad-mouthing Dahlia’s efforts.
“Things seem pretty clean, too,” he added. “The animals aren’t overcrowded, like they were at the preserve I visited out West.”
“I hadn’t realized you’d been to a wolf preserve before.” Actually, I wasn’t even aware that he’d been out West. Maybe he had traveled there during one of the years I was in the Peace Corps. Although we’d grown up near each other and our relationship felt quite transparent, it seemed there were still some things I didn’t know about Jonas.
I gave Freya a final pat and motioned toward the gate. “Let me show you Njord’s enclosure, then I know you need to get on home, since your mom’s expecting you by noon.”
He glanced at the time on his phone. “Sounds good. I don’t stop a lot, so I should be able to make it in around three hours.”
As I locked the first gate, I broached the topic I knew he’d been avoiding. “What’s going on with your mom, Jonas? Are they going to try more treatments?” I avoided meeting his eyes, giving him space as he answered.
“Not right now. Her body’s too weak and it’s spread to so many lymph nodes, they’re saying the double mastectomy must not have gotten everything.” He leaned against the second gate. “They’re also saying the cancer is inoperable at this point.”
I finally dragged my gaze to his face, and his defeated, helpless look almost made me plummet into tears. I took a deep breath as I led the way out the last gate. Slowly turning the lock behind me, I wished I could lock up all the pain of Naomi Hawthorne’s cancer just as effortlessly.
I managed to keep my voice steady. “Thank you for telling me. I hadn’t planned to visit at Easter, but I think I’ll come up. Do you think your mom would mind if I dropped in one day?”
Jonas gave me a stoic smile that further wrecked my emotions. “She’d love that.”