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Once again, Luke had offered his vehicle, telling me where he’d stashed the keys not far from the parking lot. So I stepped out of the trees with metal dangling out of my lupine mouth like a gangster’s cigarette...then hesitated as my own scent wafted toward me from a different side of the lot.
Slim’s car. I padded closer, hesitating when the streetlight directly above his old clunker created a circle of illumination on the pavement. No one was here—the crime scene still held everyone’s attention—but something told me not to step into the light.
Instead, I backpedaled until I could come at his car from a different direction. A police van was pressed up close against the driver’s side and I slunk amidst shadows to wedge myself into the gap between. There, I rose onto my hind legs, pressing forepaws against the rim of the window. Only then did I peer inside.
My clothes. My guns. The dagger from my uncle. All sitting on the passenger seat as if I’d left them there rather than under a bush in a suburban neighborhood. Was it coincidence that the passenger-side window but no other was cracked? That my underwear sat on top of the stack where its scent trail would be most likely to waft out the gap between window and frame?
My snout had smudged a wet spot on the glass by the time I noticed the other half of the trap. A tiny camera affixed to the pole of the streetlight. Angled just right to catch me if I took the bait and attempted to regain my gear.
Slim was clever. He knew from Bastion’s stories—and likely from his own experience—that breaking into a car with a slitted window was child’s play for an experienced bounty hunter. Did he also know how naked I felt without my weapons, never mind the actual nakedness that I’d soon cover with the jogging pants and t-shirt stashed in Luke’s trunk?
And, yes, I could rip the camera off the pole. But I’d played with cameras like that one. They sent data wirelessly to an external backup. It might take me all night to hunt down the storage system if I started tearing Slim’s car apart.
I breathed out through my nose, teeth clinging to keys so I wouldn’t lose them. I could handle a little nakedness. When it came down to it, Slim’s trap was insultingly basic.
Only then did I notice the envelope curled into the cupholder. Grace’s lipstick on the exterior. My confession inside it.
A threat and a promise. I shivered.
But those future problems were personal. Bastion and the rest of my family were more important.
Without another glance at the envelope, I retreated to the too-large clothes waiting for me in the seclusion of Luke’s car.
***
I’D DONE THE RIGHT thing in the parking lot, but it was as if seeing that letter had knocked my entire plan off kilter. Because my attempt to scout the Smythewhite house in wolf form was thrown out the window by the lights and bustle evident even from the road.
“It’s 4 AM. What’s everyone doing here?” I asked the air inside Luke’s vehicle. Outside, car after car turned in through the open front gate.
A rap on glass proved that tiredness was throwing me off my game. Clipboard lady raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to roll down the window. Reluctantly, I obeyed.
I’d never caught this woman’s name, but I’d come to understand her role in the household. She made things happen safely, with an emphasis on the final word. Something that was really only necessary when strangers entered the premises in groups.
Which suggested.... “Is there going to be a party today?”
Clipboard lady eyed me, considering why I wouldn’t know what I likely should have been debriefed about the previous evening. I could see the moment when annoyance at my ineptitude overcame her caution. She shrugged and answered. “DAR brunch.”
I kept my head partially turned away to shield my eyes, but my confusion must have been obvious anyway. Whatever the reason, she elaborated. “Daughters of the American Revolution. Ladies in white gloves. Clarence will not be expected to attend.”
And, just like that, I was dismissed from her presence and her interest. Sent to park around back where Luke’s car wouldn’t block attendees.
There, I hesitated once again, wanting to check for scent trails in wolf form but knowing I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I strode through the kitchen door as if I owned the place, making my way through the press of temporary staff to the now-familiar servant stairs.
Silence fell the instant I closed the downstairs door behind me. There might be a party brewing, but the owners of the house intended to sleep in regardless.
They likely needed the rest, too, after a night spent on philandery and murder. I climbed the stairs slowly, flaring my nostrils but finding it impossible to catch any incriminating scent in human form.
At the top, I eased the door open. Found the hallway dark and quiet with only the stairwell bulb providing illumination. Every door was closed.
I took a single step...then froze as a cold hand settled across the nape of my neck.
***
“IT’S NOT THERE.”
I relaxed as my twin’s voice informed me of her identity. But her expression as I swiveled to face her suggested I’d let down my guard too soon.
“Your necklace,” Grace elaborated, jerking her hand away as if it was sweater season and an electric charge had built up on my skin to zap her. “You tossed it.”
“I didn’t!” The accusation was so outlandish I was tempted to place my hand on her forehead to check for a fever. Had someone started using her stolen pelt?
“Then how did it end up around the neck of a dead kid?” Grace waved her phone at me so furiously I was barely able to catch the title of the local newspaper. Still, I flinched, knowing what would be in that timely article.
A dead kid in the forest. Either an image or a description of the necklace around her neck.
What the reporter wouldn’t know was how that jewelry came to be in the kid’s possession. Luckily, I could fill in those blanks.
“She stole it while I was....” I swallowed. Grace hated it when I mentioned my lupine half.
Rather than responding immediately, my twin’s features smoothed. With anyone else, that would have been a good sign. But I knew my sister. She was preparing to say something so scathing it would cut the legs right out from under me.
I tensed...and was saved by the voice of a murderer.
“Do I need to remind you that some of us are sleeping?” The hall light flared on above us, revealing Mrs. Smythewhite in a high-necked dressing gown. Her cheek was imprinted with the fabric print of a lace-edged pillow, as if she’d gone directly to bed after killing that child. But her eyes weren’t the least bit sleepy as she took us in.
For our parts, Grace and I acted in tandem. We might have been in the middle of a relationship-destroying argument, but we were still twins.
Both of us were fully aware that my eyes glowed amber while a lupine run had left my hair mussed. From the feel of it, I had a scratch across one side of my face.
I was far from suitable employee material at the moment. Plus, we were identical twins pretending to be one person....
Grace stepped in front of me while I turned my head sideways. Unfortunately, our employer wasn’t an idiot.
“Honor?” Her gaze flitted back and forth. “Or is it Grace? I thought you looked familiar from the party....”
“We’re twins,” Grace answered easily. She was supposed to be me, and she ran with that. “Grace was just dropping by....”
I swallowed, knowing this plan would turn my twin even further against me. But I interrupted her anyway.
“I’m here to help Honor look for her missing wolf pelt.” I pulled my fur away from my neck and held it out between us. “It looks just like this. Have you seen it?”
As if I’d needed confirmation of her recent activities, recognition flared in Mrs. Smythewhite’s ice-blue eyes.