Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Marcus
The diner sits eleven miles out of town. I don’t know why Adrian wanted so much secrecy, but I’m not going to argue with him. The cup of coffee in my hand has long gone cold.
The bell over the door rattles, and for the umpteenth time, I look over. A balding man enters, nodding to the waitress. Just behind him is Adrian. He crosses the floor and drops into the seat across from me. Reaching into his jacket’s pocket, he pulls out a folder and sets it on the table.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Open it.”
There’s one page inside. My brother’s name sits at the top, the date beneath it, four lines under that.
His death is put down to a rogue attack with no assailants identified and the case marked closed.
No autopsy is attached, no witness is named, nobody has written down the names of the people who entered that house.
Ten years of Daniel in the ground, and this is the paper that stands for him.
“What the hell is this?” I look up at him. “Is this the whole case?”
Adrian doesn’t answer me. The scar through his brow pulls tight, and his knuckles have gone white where his hands lock together.
“That’s all there is.” He keeps his voice under the clatter of plates. “I pulled every scrap with your brother’s name on it, and that came out.”
“This is a receipt. Nobody investigated anything.”
“I know what it is.” He leans in. “Look, I know that your uncle worked this personally with two men. They were very detailed, from what I recall. This can’t be it. But this is all I could find. Maybe someone removed the rest of it.”
I turn the folder over. The card is clean, no crease down the spine, the corners still stiff where a thumb would have worn them soft.
“No.” I set it down between us. “This is all there was. Just look at the state of the file. So either my brother’s death was never investigated at all or somebody swapped the folder out and slid this empty one into its place.”
Adrian goes quiet. “Look at the bottom of the page,” he mutters.
I look. The signature sits there in blue ink, angled exactly as it’s been angled on every birthday card I’ve opened since I was six years old.
It’s my uncle’s, and I let out a hiss.
“There’s no way.” I push the folder an inch away from me. “He didn’t sign this.”
“Signatures get forged.”
“He loved Daniel.” The name scrapes coming out, so I stop and drag in air.
“Better than he loved me, some days. Daniel wasn’t alpha-born.
Neither is he. My uncle took him everywhere from the day he could walk, and he practically raised him as his own son while my father was busy raising an heir.
” My throat closes. “After the murders, he gave me weekly updates.” I try to remember what he told me, but it’s all a blur.
My mind was a mess back then. “Nobody does all that and then signs four lines on a page. Maybe this is an early draft. It isn’t the real one. ”
“Then somebody wants his name on it.” Adrian sits back. “Somebody inside our own pack is going to enormous trouble to bury how Daniel died.” He pauses as a waitress comes to pour him a cup of coffee. “What do you want to do?”
I take out my phone and photograph the folder, then the page, then the signature on its own, near enough to count the strokes in it, before sliding the whole thing back to him. “Put it where you found it. Nobody can know we’ve seen it.” I close my fist on the tabletop.
Adrian studies me. “Are we assuming it’s hunters who came after them?”
I look outside where my car is parked. “If that’s the case, and there’s an inside person as well, we might have somebody working with the hunters. But—” I hesitate for a moment. “The way they were killed, I can’t see hunters using teeth and claws.”
Adrian’s hand, which had been lifting the cup to his mouth, stops in mid-air. “Marcus?”
His voice is cautious.
I meet his gaze. “If Daniel was being poisoned by wolfsbane. If he was killed in an attack that looked like one of us did it, and then his file was swapped, do you really think a hunter would have that much reach?”
Adrian clenches his jaw, slamming his cup down on the table. “Fuck. It’s one of us. You think your uncle knows?”
I shake my head. “My uncle wouldn’t have let Daniel’s death go unavenged if it was one of us. The whole pack would have known if that was the case. I think he bought the rogue story. I think he was also grief-stricken.”
Adrian sighs. “He’s never been a competent alpha.
I really think you need to think about reclaiming your seat, Marcus.
This has gone on for long enough. Your uncle being the alpha isn’t natural.
Only an alpha-born can control a pack. Nobody objected back then because the circumstances were different. But now the pack needs you.”
We settle up and walk out into heat coming off the asphalt. “Adrian, you have two days. Get me the bone fragments. We can’t delay this.”
He nods and walks me to my car. I turn to him before I get in. “Tell me about the couple. Did Ridgeback get anywhere?”
“They’ve placed them both at the hotel.” He squints against the light. “Camera puts the girl through the front doors at ten past eleven, the boy through the back an hour after. Neither of them comes out again.”
“You’re sure?”
“The recording runs clean, Marc. There’s no cut, and no gap where the timestamp skips.
” He scratches his jaw. “One thing stood out. A delivery truck reversed into the back alley at four in the morning and parked across from the rear camera for twenty minutes. I’ve got the plates, so give me a few days.
Those two didn’t walk out of that hotel on their own feet, and their alpha is investigating it now. ”
I stand with my hands in my pockets, looking down the road toward town.
“They’re getting bold. Poison goes into a festival crowd.
Two kids get lifted out of a hotel with a camera watching.
What are they trying to do? They can’t wipe us out.
We’re in the courts, the councils, the departments. We sit at every table they sit at.”
“Pull that thread hard enough, and human society comes down with us.” Adrian shrugs. “Maybe that’s the point.”
“I don’t know. I find it hard to believe.” I clap his shoulder. “Keep digging.”
He nods, and I get into my car. I check the time. Jessa will be on her way to pick up the girls.
Ten minutes down the road, my phone lights up with a missed call from her. A voicemail follows, so I put it on speaker. It plays seamlessly, and I frown. She’s going to the apartment. My wolf stretches inside me, a little anxious.
It’s silly, but the idea of her going to her own home makes me uneasy.
I still haven’t managed to tie her to me.
She has another place that she can easily call home.
I want to get rid of it. When it comes to her, I want all roads to lead back to me.
The thought is dark, and I shake it off as soon as it pops up in my head.
We sorted a lot of things out this morning, but I still feel like she’s out of reach.
My wolf whines. My teeth sharpen at the thought of her under me.
The urge to mark her has not faded. My animal’s desire to claim this woman confuses me.
It’s acting as if she is our fated mate when I know that’s not true.
Its reaction is confusing me. Our night together has made it even more desperate, and controlling myself is taking more of an effort than usual.
I shake my head, clearing it enough to focus on her message.
Rachel. The name’s familiar. Isn’t she the same woman whose sister-in-law came to cause a scene at the academy a while back?
Frowning, I recall the information I had gathered about Rachel.
She’s married to a firefighter in town, Jared something.
I dial my assistant, Laurie, and when she picks up, I ask, “I told you to look into a mother called Rachel. She’s married to a firefighter. ”
“Rachel Nowak?” she says. “Yeah, I put the file on your desk two weeks ago.”
“I didn’t get around to it. What’s the situation there?” I demand.
Laurie shuffles some papers and then says after a moment, “Her marriage is on the rocks. She’s currently married to a Jared Nowak.
He’s popular, a decorated firefighter, and he made the front page for hauling three children out of a house fire on Bellamy Street last year.
He’s also got a bit of a temper. Rachel has apparently filed for a divorce, and the lawyer taking her money is the brother of the man Jared drinks with every Thursday. I doubt she has any idea.”
The woman’s at a shelter. The only reason she would be there is if she was scared of her husband. And she just sent Jessa to her apartment.
Fuck.
I swing the wheel and turn for town. The wolf won’t settle. It’s clawing at me to drive faster.
Six blocks out, the fear hits me.
It comes through the middle of my chest as a cold spike that isn’t mine.
My foot moves toward the brake before I catch myself.
Nothing on this road warrants it, only a delivery van and a woman walking a spaniel.
The terror comes again anyway, fainter, from somewhere deep inside.
It’s not mine. It can’t be mine. I’m not scared.
My wolf throws itself at the inside of my chest so hard that for one breath I can’t tell which of us has the wheel.
There are no words in the panic, only a pull toward Jessa and my girl.
I put my foot down.
Her car sits nose-in behind the building, still ticking as I pass it. Out front at the curb, a truck waits with a fire department decal in the rear window.
The elevator can wait for somebody else. I take the stairwell three steps at a time, letting my hearing open wide as I climb. Somebody’s kettle is climbing toward the boil, and a baby is crying two doors off it. Above the noise, cutting clean through, I find her.
“Mia, run! Get out of the apartment!”
I hit the landing. Four doors down, a door stands open, and I’m through it before her voice stops.