12. Chapter 12
Adrian
For the first time in months, I slept through the night without waking once. Six straight hours of peaceful, restoring rest.
And I know the reason for this is still fast asleep, tucked safely under the blankets.
I’ve been awake for an hour, allowing Julia to stay asleep after sharing mind-bending sex. She needs the rest and I need space to clear my head, to focus on the theft and solve this case.
What we did, what we shared, there was nothing pretend to it. This was a claim, a mating in every sense of the word. My wolf is unusually calm this morning, content in the knowledge that our mate is safe nearby, her scent permeating every corner of my home.
My mate. The thought still shocks me.
Steam rises from the mug of black coffee on my desk as I flip open my laptop.
The first thing I see is an email from my deputy, Maya Lorne.
Oh, good. The last of the background checks came in.
I scan the files, about two dozen of them.
After the first few, I begin to grumble.
None of the vendors or staff shows any obvious red flag.
Sure, here and there, we have a DUI or a misdemeanor dating from a few years, but nothing that would indicate a life of high-profile crime.
I knew it was a long shot. The type of criminal who manages to pull off a theft of this magnitude isn’t likely to be flagged by a background check. It’s still a disappointment.
Then I come to Julia’s. Nothing to see there. She doesn’t even have a speeding ticket to her name.
And that’s when I frown.
Courtney Lambrell. Julia’s young, bubbly, wide-eyed assistant.
Her file starts like the others, no surprise, nothing out of place. But halfway through the second page, something starts to itch at the back of my neck. The kind of itch I’ve learned not to ignore.
No criminal record. Fine. Not unusual, especially for a twenty-something girl fresh out of college.
But no social media, either. Not a single profile, not even a dusty Facebook page or an abandoned Twitter handle.
No photos tagged by friends, no high school swim team roster, no college alum directory.
No mentions in local event write-ups, honor rolls, lease agreements.
Hell, not even a Pinterest board about muffins or wedding bouquets .
That itch at the back of my neck grows until my wolf’s hackles rise.
People leave traces. Even the ones who think they’re careful. Even those who try very hard to clean up their online presence. Something always comes through. But Courtney? She’s squeaky-clean. Like someone poured bleach over her entire digital existence.
That’s not clean. That’s deliberate.
I sit up straighter and start reading slower, line by line.
Her résumé says she graduated from a small liberal arts college in Maine called Briarton Hall. Never heard of it.
I flag it to check later. The agency that placed her before she worked for Julia’s old boss, some forgettable staffing firm out of Boston, did indeed confirm her references. But only over voicemail. One of the numbers goes straight to a Google Voice line. The other’s dead.
It could just be a coincidence. Nothing abnormal in a young woman dealing with a shady placement agency when looking for her first job.
Then I scroll down to the address history. That’s when my gut really starts growling.
Portland. Austin. Cleveland. Burlington. Montpelier.Five cities in five years. Never more than eight months in one spot. No long-term employment, no rental leases that pop in the state systems, no continuity. Just hop, hop, hop, like a stone skipping across a lake.
I’ve seen this before. People who move like that? They’re not chasing opportunity. They’re running from something. Or running ahead of something, catching up.
I exhale through my nose, slow and hard. My wolf’s ears prick up, alert. The beast doesn’t like it either .
I flag the file and type the note for my deputy, Maya Lorne, to dig in deeper.
Possible alias. Background too thin. Tracks wiped clean. Quiet follow-up recommended.
Then I close the file, lean back, and wrap both hands around my mug of coffee. I stare at the glow of early light inching across the windowsill.
I don’t trust people who don’t cast shadows. And I sure as hell don’t trust one lurking around Julia.
I debate about telling her my suspicions but quickly decide otherwise. Courtney is her assistant and Julia trusts her. I don’t need to put her in the awkward position of thinking her employee is a criminal.
I glance at my watch. It’s still early morning. Maya won’t be going to the station for another hour or so. I’ll give her a call then so she can further dig into Courtney.
In the meantime, I’ll go over the evidence gathered so far. One more time.
I begin the tedious work of reviewing patrol logs from private security, reading witness statements from staff I’ve already read, looking at crime scene pictures. It doesn’t matter. I reread and rewatch it all.
My deputies were thorough and precise, but there isn’t much to go on. I don’t have a single solid clue to push my investigation forward.
There has to be something leading up to the moment the security system went dark. It just has to be there.
I rub my eyes, fighting the mix of emotions churning inside me: protective rage that someone locked Julia in that cellar, frustration at the continued mystery, and a bone-deep determination to solve this before anything else can threaten her .
My wolf stirs at the thought of Julia in danger, but I push it down. I need a clear head to solve this crime.
The thief not only had intimate knowledge of the manor’s security system but was on-site both on the day of the theft and yesterday. But it doesn't make sense. Why would a thief stay at the crime scene after stealing something so valuable?
Unless they had no choice. Unless they had to maintain appearances.
I adjust in my chair, pulling up archived security footage from the manor. All my deputies and I have scoured the endless footage for hours without finding anything worth looking for.
It’s a waste of time. Still, I settle down to watch the time-stamped footage. Again.
I cycle through the feeds, looking for the window of time just before the theft, just before the system was compromised. I know there is something there that will give me a clue.
I just have to find it.
The manor is so vast and every corner of it is covered by camera footage.
It’s like looking for a teardrop in the ocean.
Most of the footage shows nothing unusual, just staff moving efficiently through the halls, wedding vendors setting up displays, the occasional guest wandering where they shouldn't be.
Then I see it.
In the final segment before the camera feed goes dark, a tall figure walks purposefully down the corridor toward Silverine’s office. His movements are confident, unhurried, as if he belongs there. He glances up once, directly at the camera, and I freeze the frame .
Kraxon Ashbane’s golden gaze looks back at me, in all its dragon glory.
A stone settles in my gut as I stare at the dragon’s face, frozen on the screen. I lean forward, studying the timestamp. Kraxon was in the hallway exactly three minutes before the system went offline.
What are you doing there, Kraxon?
The floorboards creak and I turn around to see Julia walking up to me, her hair in disarray and her cheek marked by a pillow crease.
In her hands, she carries another mug of coffee, softened with a dash or two of milk.
My wolf surges at the sight of our mate, a wave of possessive affection making my chest rumble with a deep purr.
“Now, that’s quite a greeting, Sheriff Wolfsbane.” Her lips lift into a sassy smile and I’m stricken by the cheer perfection of her face. “I didn’t know wolves could purr.”
“There’s a lot you still don’t know about wolves.” I gently guide her onto my lap and she sits there as my wolf drinks in her presence, the beast content like never before. “And I look forward to teaching you all of it.”
She turns to me and leans in, her lips closing on mine.
I close my eyes as she kisses me with a heart-wrenching confidence, her soft lips massaging mine.
Her tongue pokes out and I eagerly open my mouth to her exploration, allowing her to take the lead.
She tastes like coffee and milk, like sweet, lazy mornings.
All the sweet and slow mornings I want to share with her. Every single morning for the rest of my life if she will let me.
When she pulls back, her face is flushed and her eyes shining.
“Is that Percy’s brother?” Julia says as she turns to my laptop. “When was this? ”
“On the day of the theft,” I answer as she nods.
“Yes, I saw him in the hallway on my way to Silverine’s office.” Julia nods as she turns to me. “It’s all in the statement I gave to Deputy Chemko.”
I frown as I lock my gaze with hers. Something nags at me from that place where my best instincts are and I turn to my laptop, Julia still on my lap.
“What is it?” Julia asked, her face suddenly serious.
“Just a hunch.”
I pull up Deputy Chemko's interview with Kraxon, conducted the day the tiara went missing. According to his statement, Kraxon was on a brief business trip to Portland at the time of the initial theft. Julia reads it in silence, her face pinched and serious.
Unless Kraxon is able to be in two places at once, he’s lying.
“This makes no sense.” Julia pulls back, shaking her head. “Why is he lying?”
Why, indeed?
The coffee turns bitter on my tongue as suspicion crystallizes. Because I might know why Kraxon could do such a hateful act.
“He’s in a heap of financial trouble,” I say, my mood turning somber. “His law firm was tangled up in some scandal involving an elven royal and he could lose just about everything he built. Everything he owns.”
Julia blinks and bites her lip as she still stares at Kraxon’s frozen image on the screen.
“But would he ruin his own brother’s wedding?” She doesn’t look convinced. “Clan is everything for dragons. ”
“Desperate people do desperate things.” I take a deep breath. “That tiara is worth millions. That kind of a money can go a long way.”
It doesn’t seem possible. Dragons are loyal and honorable. Ruthless in business and with hair-trigger tempers, but they would never betray their own clans.
Or so I always thought.
Julia shakes her head.
"But why stay on-site? Why not just take the tiara and run?"
"Because he’s the best man at his brother’s wedding. He’s above suspicion in all their minds." I clench my jaw. "It's almost perfect."
Another piece of the puzzle slots into place. I don’t know what this all means yet, but my instincts tell me we’re on the right path.