Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Too close, actually.
In the heart of Ardsley Park—Chatham Crescent, the house seemed just like any of the other homes surrounding it. Never would she dream a werewolf Alpha would live here. It seemed too elegant and posh.
“You sure about this?”
Luke arched a brow as he got out of Delilah.
“Got it. Stupid question.” Of course, he was sure. He knew the address of most scary things in Savannah.
Not to mention, Rory was the one who’d sent the address. The police had notified the victim’s widow last night.
Sorcha paused on the sidewalk. “It looks like a box.”
Luke gestured over his shoulder. “Look across the street.”
Yeah, okay, that white home over there really looked like someone had put it together with stacked shoe boxes. “I stand corrected.”
Luke pulled the tie from his hair, and shook it out in slow motion—or did she just imagine that part? Without another word, he led the short distance to the front door.
An older woman answered.
Luke flashed his badge. “We’re sorry to disturb you at this horrible time, but we need to ask a few follow-up questions. Is Mrs. Osbourne home?”
“She’s in her bedroom. Come in and let me see if she’s up to talking.”
Luke stood back to let Sorcha enter first. Elegant was the only word to describe the inside of the house. While it wasn’t as large as many of the Savannah homes around it, it was still stylish. She’d never seen black wallpaper, but the white trim made it all exceptional.
I would never guess a werewolf lived here. She sent her thoughts to Luke.
Looks like a den to me. He winked at her.
Especially as they passed a room that was filled with a dozen imposing men and women who watched them with a wariness that was tangible. Members of their pack? she asked Luke.
He gave a subtle nod.
The older woman vanished down a hallway and then returned a few minutes later. “She doesn’t want to leave her room, but she will see you. Please follow me.”
Again, Luke stood back for Sorcha to go first. She wasn’t sure what to expect as they walked up the crisp stairs and the woman opened a door to a beautiful bedroom.
Well…sort of beautiful. The whole place reminded her of a hunting lodge.
But that wasn’t the oddest part. Sorcha drew up short as she saw a huge painting over the bed.
It was something she’d seen in the homes of Colonial Williamsburg when she’d visited there.
Almost life-size, the oil painting showed a man in a long dark curly wig that framed a cartoonish face.
He wore a dark blue colonial-style frock coat and even had an oddly drawn cravat.
What the hell was that?
A woman in her thirties sat in a chair by the window, watching Sorcha.
Holding a tissue in her hand, she dabbed at her swollen, red eyes.
“That was my Larry. He considered himself an old country esquire and thought it would be a hoot to be painted as William Byrd. I always hated that painting. But he was obsessed with William, even though William was my ancestor and not his.” She blew her nose loudly.
“Larry had a SCAD student do it as a class project. Now it’s all I have of him! ” She began sobbing.
Uncomfortable with the grief, Sorcha glanced back at Luke.
Killer should have burned that hideous painting first. You know you’re a narcissist when…
She snorted a laugh at those words and disguised it as a cough. Why did he have to be funny when she needed to be serious?
Clearing her throat, she turned back toward his widow. “Ms. Osbourne?”
“Mara, please. Theresa said you had questions for me.”
Sorcha took a deep breath before she spoke. “We wanted to know what happened last time you saw your husband.”
“I already told the police.”
“Yes, ma’am, and I’m sorry to make you go through it again.” Sorcha hated the quivering note in her voice.
Mara caught it, too. “You’ve been through this.” Not a question. A statement.
“I have, and I know how hard it is when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and forget the world exists.”
Sniffing, Mara nodded. “Larry was acting normal. Just like always. Said he wanted to meet up with some friends from that stupid club he was in.”
“Club?”
“Some business thing that met once a month. Everyone in it was so peculiar. I never really liked any of them.”
“Peculiar? How so?” Sorcha asked.
“Just… I don’t know how to describe it. They’re all a bunch of oddballs.”
Werewolves.
Sorcha nodded at Luke’s conclusion. That was exactly what she was thinking. Sort of. No, not even. While she’d known the first one was a werewolf because of Luke, she wouldn’t have thought that about Osbourne.
Do you think she knows what he was?
Luke shrugged before he stepped closer to her. “Was it always the same day of the month that they met?”
“No. It was whenever there was a full moon. Weird, right? I made a joke once that they were a bunch of werewolves and Larry had a fit. Told me I needed to see a shrink over my paranoia.” She drew a ragged breath. “Who would have done this to him?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Luke said. “Do you know the name or phone number for any of his Full Moon buddies?”
Sorcha wanted to elbow him for that. She didn’t know why Larry had hidden the truth from his wife. Or maybe Mara was playing a game with them.
It was possible she knew. After all, she had a parlor full of werewolves below.
“Are any of those members downstairs?”
She shook her head. “Those are old friends of Larry’s.
They stopped by to keep an eye on me, they said, in case the killer wants me, too.
But I’m not in the mood for company.” Mara dabbed at her eyes.
“Carlos Reyes was the one he hung around most. I could probably go through Larry’s phone and find a few more. ”
Luke nodded as he scrolled through his own phone. “Reyes, you said? Would this happen to be your husband’s friend?” He held the phone for Mara to look at it.
“Yeah. That’s him. Are you a friend of his, too?”
“Something like that. Thank you for your time.”
Sorcha started to protest. She still had some questions to ask. But the expression on that gorgeous face said that he knew something she didn’t.
So she pulled her business card out of her purse and handed it to Mara. “If you think of anything else, please let us know. Thank you.”
Mara nodded and put the card in the pocket of her housecoat.
Without another word, Sorcha followed Luke through the house and back to the car. “What’s going on?”
He showed her the picture of a good-looking man at a party. The same photo he’d shown Mara. “Look past Carlos’s shoulder.”
It was an older woman who held herself like a trained police officer. Someone Sorcha knew instantly. “It’s the captain.” Captain Reyes.
“Yeah. Carlos the werewolf is her brother.”