Chapter Forty-One
None of them was a hacker, but Connor had given the school large donations throughout the years so they allowed him certain liberties. The principal was the first to be interrogated, a she-wolf happily mated with the chemistry professor at the local university.
Speaking both as a donor and her Alpha, Connor requested the files from the school and inquired about Jon.
“He tends to keep to himself,” she said. “A bit standoffish, even by human standards.”
“Does he have an office?”
“Yes, near the computer lab.”
She led them to it, but it was closed. She had the master key and soon they were entering an office that was only slightly larger than a pantry, with one rickety desk and one chair behind it. Nothing more.
“One would think a teacher would have better accommodations.”
“He just arrived and always said everything he needed was on his laptop.”
“Where is it? The laptop?”
“With him, probably. He always has that thing stuck in his back pack. I’ve seen him with it at the diner on the weekends as well.”
“Where does he live?”
“Let me check.” She returned to her office and Ciaran was the last one to leave the small cubicle. It was nearly deserted and the scent faint. He didn’t spend a lot of time there.
As soon as the principal gave them the address, they bolted. The need to shift was intense, but the guy lived on the outskirts of the city, in a human residential area. There were bound to be problems if anyone spotted several giant wolves or naked men running around.
They knew something was off as soon as they reached the little house. It was a quaint, small house, white paint peeling, used to rent by the year. No one had lived there for a while before his arrival, as this was not the best part of town.
The door hung from its hinges, and they saw a pair of feet sprawled on the ground. Jonathan lay dead, his neck snapped by what appeared to be claws. Freya’s scent was there, strong. She mustn’t have left long ago.
They entered the little house and Brock snarled. Their only clue was dead and the girl was missing again.
Something blinking caught his attention and he looked up. A round black device was attached to the fan ceiling, emitting a red light.
“He has cameras inside his house.”
“Talk about paranoia...”
“Search his laptop.”
It was on the table, but truth be told, Declan had no idea what to search for. He opened it and saw several folders and icons that meant nothing to him.
“Who the hell understands anything about this?”
“Here, give it to me.” Brock pulled the laptop toward him and started typing.
In one of those folders was her name and they saw several pictures of her.
Freya clearly didn’t know she was being photographed, as she was sipping some coffee through the gym’s windows, or eating at the coffee shop with Tanya...
And then there were some videos and their eyes widened when they saw the three of them making love. On the couch, in the bedroom, even on the kitchen island.
“Nice stamina,” said Brock, clearly unimpressed. “These were taken from outside; how come you didn’t smell them?” Ciaran eyed him furiously and closed the image. His mate’s naked body was for their eyes only, not Brock’s.
“We were balls deep inside our mate; we didn’t feel another scent besides her.”
“That’s because he used a scent suppressant. Look.”
Declan had rummaged through the drawers and found a bottle of spray.
“He wasn’t a shifter, why the spray?”
“So that we couldn’t sense him?”
“This guy was a lab rat; he couldn’t keep quiet for the life of him. You would have heard him.”
“Then he wasn’t the one spying on us.” Feeling nauseous, he closed his eyes. How many more would have violated his privacy?
“Whoever it was, he has a wolf and uses suppressant so that we can’t scent him.”
“Shit.”
Brock continued to type on the laptop, searching for information.
“It seems our stiff wasn’t very fond of his partners,” he said after a pause. He showed them a file with copies of conversations, transactions... Jon compiled everything almost obsessively.
“It seems he was searching for her for a long time, maybe years. He was obsessed. Look here.”
There were some photos of a younger version of Freya with an older couple, probably her parents. She had a carefree smile and was clearly at an important function with her parents, as they were well dressed.
“This guy worked with her father.”
“This picture was taken then but look here.”
There were other pictures, taken clearly without her knowledge and through windows. A young Freya was in the living room with her mother, reading, helping her in the kitchen ... a normal life for a normal teenager.
“He was already obsessed with her before her kidnapping.”
There were several files, in which Jon seemed more delusional the more the time passed.
Freya smiled at him during that party at her father’s office, so he’d written notes that “She must love me as much as I love her. We need to play it cool, her father wants her to go to college, and education is important. She needs to study.” He’d gone to her house during her father’s sickness, and she spoke briefly with him before leaving to meet her friends, so clearly he’d thought “She’s playing her part so well, she doesn’t even want her father to suspect us.
But I saw her smile, she loves me, I’m sure. ”
The more time that passed, the more delusional he seemed. And then, that horrible night, when her parents were killed and she was abducted. “Wolves... Men transforming into wolves, they killed everyone and took her, my love. Where is she?”
An intense study of the shifter world, which he previously hadn’t know about. What he’d do, how he would destroy them all as soon as he could ... and here and there, thoughts about her whereabouts, always delusional in style. “Where is she? She must be missing, my poor love...”
And then finally...
“I found her. In a small coastal village. I don’t know if there are wolves there, but I need to be careful, they’re everywhere.”
And then...
“She’s fucking them! How could my sweet, innocent Freya be such a slut? I need to rescue her, or she’ll lose herself.”
More ramblings about shifters, and then...
“This guy hates them as much as I do, but I suspect he’s one of them.
I caught him sniffing the air like one of them, as his eyes glow ...
he doesn’t know I poisoned the drink I gave him with wolfsbane, but he’s not feeling very well.
How could he? But what matters is that he’ll help me get my girl back and then I’ll let the poison do the rest.”
Brock finished reading, breathing heavily.
“This guy was disgusting and creepy ... but he was a highly organized creep; he documented everything. Even...” his eyes glinted and he smiled ferociously. “The whereabouts of his partners in crime. Let’s go.”