Chapter 41
Forty-One
IZZY
We park the car on the edge of the road then trek through the woods, where we’re supposed to meet up with the others.
Hale and Gerry are uncharacteristically silent, and a strange, acrimonious tension saturates the air. I’m not used to this, especially with my foster fathers.
I leap over a fallen log and then clear my throat.
“So…” I begin awkwardly, tightening my grip on the straps of my backpack.
It has a sweatshirt, a water bottle, and some granola bars in case we end up out in the forest longer than intended.
“Ask what you want to ask, kid,” Gerry tells me gruffly though not unkindly. He flicks his gaze to me, and there’s nothing but grim understanding in his eyes. “I can tell it’s eating you up inside.”
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling unbearably dry. “When you were gone doing work for the Council…” I debate how to phrase my question. “That had something to do with me, right?”
Hale and Gerry exchange an eloquent glance, and I watch the former nod subtly. Gerry blows out a breath.
“Yeah. It had something to do with you,” he confesses.
My heart races in my chest, even as anger rushes through me, white-hot and blistering.
Another secret kept from me.
Another lie.
“You’re going to ask us next why we kept it from you,” Hale correctly assumes. “And to be honest, we didn’t really have a reason.”
“We just didn’t have any new information to give you. Nothing you didn’t already know, I mean,” Gerry adds.
I take a deep breath, ensuring I have my temper on a short leash, and then ask, “What, exactly, were you doing?”
Gerry doesn’t focus on me as he answers.
Instead, he swivels his head continually from side to side, searching for any sign of Christian—though Hale and Gerry believe he’s farther in the woods.
“As we said before, I’m one of the best trackers out there.
I work for the Council, yes, but I also accept jobs from other shifters. ”
We reach another log in the forest, and Hale extends a hand to help me over. Once we’re all on the other side, Gerry continues his story.
“When you were found in the foster care system by Amanda, I was hired to investigate both your disappearance and Helena’s death.
” Something akin to sympathy washes over his face, though he still doesn’t glance towards me.
“There were a million red flags. If Helena committed suicide, then how did you end up adopted by a different family? Why didn’t the authorities contact Helena’s relatives about you?
Did your original adoptive family have something to do with Helena’s death? Nothing made sense.”
He finally glances in my direction, and I nod to tell him I understand.
I have to admit that he’s right. I always thought that. If my birth mom truly killed herself, then how did I end up adopted by humans? I always assumed my adoptive parents died in an accident, but now…
“So you think Helena was murdered?” My pulse thrums, and sickly fear sluices through my bloodstream like poison.
“There’s no evidence to suggest she was,” Gerry says, his frown deepening. “I looked over the police reports extensively. Canvassed the area. Asked questions. For all intents and purposes, Helena Craft committed suicide.”
“Then how did I end up where I was?” I ask softly.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Gerry confesses, slowing to a stop. He swallows heavily. “I swear to you, Izzy, that I didn’t keep this from you to hurt you. I honestly just didn’t have any new information to share. But I promise I won’t stop looking for answers.”
I nod slowly, turning his words over and over in my head and gauging the sincerity in them. I find that I believe him. He told me everything he knew, and I already suspected some of the shifters were looking into Helena’s death.
“Who hired you?” I ask, that question niggling at my brain. When Gerry turns towards me, confused, I elaborate. “Who hired you in the first place? To investigate Helena’s death?”
My first thought is one of my birth fathers.
But Gerry’s answer takes me completely by surprise. “Delaney Craft. Your…aunt.”
“Delaney?” I blink up at him, stunned, and he nods.
“When Amanda told her about you, she reached out to me. Asked me to do some digging.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say. “If Delaney killed my mother, then why would she hire someone to investigate the death in the first place?”
Hale’s eyes widen in alarm. “You think Delaney killed your mother?”
“She has the motive.” My throat suddenly feels tight, and a strange prickling erupts behind my eyes. “She wanted what my mother had.”
Hale and Gerry exchange another one of those looks—the type that makes me feel as if I missed an entire conversation.
“Delaney is a lot of things, but I know she loved your mom,” Hale says, his tone gentle.
“But—” Gerry begins.
He never finishes his sentence.
The three of us step into a clearing, where the others are waiting for us.
Jake, chatting with Silas.
Kyle and Travan.
Ethan, Emery, and Reid.
And standing slightly apart from the others, his arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his face, is Ashton.
The very last man I want to see.
Fuck. My. Life.