Harvest Hunting (22 page)

Chase answered. “Johnson here. What’s up?”

“Delilah. We’ve got a problem, Chase. Besides Amber, we’ve got at least one other—potentially three more—missing werewolves. And we know this one didn’t go without a fight. We found blood on the carpet.” I gave him the address and then turned to Vanzir. “Dude, can you go out and bring in the mail? There might be some clue in there.”

He nodded, then sprang out of the house.

Menolly shook her head. “So, two down, one to go. Want to make a bet Saz Star Walker isn’t going to be home, either?”

We waited, sitting on the porch steps, until Chase and his team pulled up. He frowned as he saw the open door and the lights on in the house. As they came up the steps, I held up my hand.

“Save the lectures. We got word he was missing, and I was asked to look in on him. With that Wolf Briar crap around, we weren’t taking any chances. It looks like Doug’s been gone awhile.” I pointed to the stack of mail. “We just pulled that out of the mailbox, in hopes there might be some clue. And he’s not the only one. Franco Paulo, another werewolf, has been gone too long for comfort. His fiancée is freaking. And we need to check on a Saz Star Walker tonight.”

Chase and his team spread out through the house, taking fingerprints, looking for evidence, tagging and bagging things. He handed me a pair of gloves. “Now you can help. Check in the desk. Look for an address book. Something to give us next of kin, so we can find out if this is just a robbery.”

“Robbery? With blood spatters?” I cocked my head, and he shrugged.

As I nosed through Doug’s desk drawers, I thought about the Were’s life. The house was fairly sparse. The kitchen showed a place setting for one. No photos on the walls, nothing to show friendship or family. It all seemed rather sad, actually.

Stopping short, I held up a clothbound volume.
What have we here?

Yep, I thought as I flipped through it, an address book. I sat down and riffled through the pages. First place to look: under the letter
S
. Surely his parents or siblings would be there. But nobody by the name of Smith was listed. However, I did see Saz Star Walker’s name. I showed Chase, then went back to
F
and sure enough, Paulo Franco was listed. And Katrina was in the book, too. There were a few other scattered names, including one for the Loco Lobo Lounge—a hangout for members of the Loco Lobo tribe. Exo Reed’s Pack. Had Doug been a part of the LLs? Only one way to find out.

I put in a call to the number and, even though it was late, someone answered on the first ring.

“Loco Lobo Lounge. Jimmy Trent here. What can I do you for?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m wondering if Doug Smith is there? Can you page him, please?”

“I could, but I guarantee you he ain’t here tonight. I haven’t seen him in two weeks.” Jimmy sounded distracted, and the music in the background blasted out of the phone so loud it was a wonder he could hear me.

“When was the last time you saw him? My name is Delilah D’Artigo, and I’m on the board of the Supe Community. We need to contact him.” If anything, that might pull an answer out of him. And I was right.

“D’Artigo?
The
Delilah D’Artigo?”

“One and the same.”

“Doug was in about two weeks ago. Last I saw of him and his buddies.”

His buddies?
I frowned. “You talking about Paulo Franco and Saz Star Walker by any chance?”

“Yeah. How’d you know? Hey, the guys aren’t charged with causing trouble, are they?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

I sighed. “Not that I know of, no. Thank you.” As I hung up, all I could think about was that they might not be causing trouble but that they were
in trouble
was beyond doubt. Unless they’d suddenly dropped everything, bled a few drops on Doug’s floor, and taken off on a road trip without telling anybody.

Chase tapped me on the knee. I stared at his fingers for a moment, remembering other places his hands had been. Places that had welcomed him in. But now . . .
Oh fuck it
. Best to stop that line of thought.

“What?”

“The mail dates back to three weeks ago.” He held up a letter. “This is postmarked the earliest. By the time stamp and city of origin, I’d say . . . yeah, three weeks to the day.” He riffled through the envelopes. “Looks mostly like bills. No personal letters. Some ads. A
Penthouse
magazine.”

“Three weeks. That coincides pretty much with what Katrina was saying about not seeing her buddies. Tomorrow I’ll talk to Paulo’s fiancée. What about Saz? Should we stop over at his place tonight?”

Chase began gathering up his gear. “Yeah. I’ll tell my crew to stay here, finish, and then be prepared to head out in case Star Walker is missing, too.” He followed me outside with the others behind us.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Oh, I’m just peachy. I lose my boyfriend, we’ve got missing werewolves up the yin-yang, and my sister just got disowned by our father all in twenty-four hours. I’m dandy, Chase. Just
dandy
.”

“Disowned? Who? Not Camille.”

“Yes, Camille. Not only that, she’s banned from Y’Elestrial. Don’t worry yourself over it. It’s our problem, not yours.” I knew I sounded bitchy, but I couldn’t help it; I was feeling bitchy.

Chase stopped and turned, taking me by the shoulders. He ignored the others as they delicately passed by us.

“Listen, Delilah. This is hard on me, too.” He ducked his head. “Don’t think it isn’t. But I have to figure out what the hell is going to happen in my life now, and I can’t do that if I’m worrying about a girlfriend, a lover, or anybody in that capacity. What if I decide I don’t like this? What if the Nectar of Life fucks me up for good? I
didn’t
have the chance to go through the proper rituals, and I’m having a hard time. Yes, I’m very grateful to still be alive, but this seriously has fucked with my head. Good god, woman, you really don’t think I just woke up and thought,
Wow, time to ruin Delilah’s life
?”

I caught my breath, shivering. Not only was it getting cold, but his words slapped me like a wet blanket. “No,” I said softly. “No. I don’t think that. You’re right. I’m just . . . things are so weird right now that I don’t know what to think. All our foundations are being shaken.”

“I’m still here for you—as your friend, as a brother . . . as someone who cares. I just can’t take a chance on loving you. I could end up hurting you again, worse. And that would be very bad.” He pulled me into his arms, and I leaned against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I mumbled against his shoulder. “I feel so convoluted right now. And there’s so much at stake.” He held me tight, patting my back, calming me, and finally I eased away from him, staring into his eyes.

Chase gazed back at me. There were sparkles in his eyes that I’d never seen before—magic, a hint of it, crackling back there, waiting to break out. And when it did . . .

“You’re right,” I said, inhaling a long, slow breath. “You need to concentrate on the changes you’re going through. I’m not a weak-willed person. I just miss having you around. But Chase, I’m not begging you to come back, and my life won’t end because we’re no longer dating. I’m a big girl. I can handle change.” Giving him a soft smile, I headed down the sidewalk to my Jeep, where Menolly and Vanzir were waiting.

Chase followed, catching up to me before I opened the driver’s door. “Delilah—you know there’s nobody else, right? I’m not looking for any other pussycat.”

The gentle grin on his face made me laugh.

“There’s the smile I know and love. I’ll meet you over at Star Walker’s. Drive the speed limit, you hear?”

“Aye, aye, sir!” I jumped in the driver’s seat, fastened my seat belt, and without a word, took off for Saz’s house. Somehow, Chase’s humor had managed to break through the gloom, and even though I felt on the verge of tears, I was smiling.

 

 

Saz lived in the dregs of town, along junkie row, hooker hangout, whatever you wanted to call it. The back streets that we were navigating were definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. The address Yugi had dug up was a four-plex town house. If Doug’s house had seen better days, this dump had seen better centuries. The carport looked two shakes and a nasty gust of wind away from crashing down, and I made certain not to park beneath it. It seemed the other tenants had the same idea—none of the slots were filled, though I saw lights shining in two of the units.

Chase didn’t park there either. As he got out of the car, he motioned to me, and I jogged over. “We ran the license plates of the cars in front of Doug’s house. Sure enough, one of them was his car. And we found his keys on the desk. No wallet, but that was likely in his pocket. Looks like your buddy got himself abducted, though that’s off the record and not an official statement.”

Ouch. I didn’t want to think about who abducted him . . . or why, though in the back of my mind the words
Wolf Briar
kept repeating themselves over and over again. And the essential ingredient in Wolf Briar . . .

Shaking my head to clear away unwanted thoughts, I motioned to the others, and we headed up the walk after Chase. He motioned for us to stay back—he had the badge, after all—and then knocked at the door. Nothing. He rang the bell. Nothing. After a few minutes, he ordered one of his men to bust it open, and they broke in, Chase holding a special revolver that I recognized as bearing silver bullets—the only kind that worked all too well against werewolves.

After a moment, a light went on, and Yugi motioned for us to enter. We trooped through and stopped in the middle of the foyer. The dingy little apartment would be nondescript except that a struggle had obviously taken place.

Books were scattered on the floor, chairs knocked over, an end table smashed. Blood had dried against one wall and was splattered on the floor. The room was thoroughly trashed, and I blinked as a sudden wash of scent rolled over me. Immediately, I turned tail and raced outside.

“What’s wrong?” Chase poked his head through the door.

“You can’t smell it?” I winced, my head hurting. “Wolf Briar. The place reeks with it. Whoever took Saz, used Wolf Briar. And I don’t think it’s been two full weeks—because that crap would have dissipated by now.”

As I stared at the open door, a sick feeling raced through my stomach. Someone was picking off beta wolves in the area, and all the evidence pointed toward murder. Before I could react, the stress of the day flattened me like a steamroller, and I turned to the side and vomited over the edge of the landing.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. The FH-CSI team made an excruciatingly thorough pass through Saz’s house, but this time they hit pay dirt, discovering a number and address for his sister. I waited on the periphery, watching them comb the carpets for evidence, take blood scrapings, dust for fingerprints, and do whatever magical procedures it was they did. I knew they were working on a method for tracing magical signatures, but it hadn’t been fully developed yet.

Menolly and I leaned against one of the walls, while Vanzir took a turn outside, looking for anything he might be able to find. Two of the officers were conducting a door-to-door, questioning residents for any information they could glean.

“What do you think is going on?” Menolly asked me.

I shook my head. “Want to make a bet somebody’s making Wolf Briar and needs beta wolves to pump up on steroids? I have a bad feeing we aren’t going to find Saz or Paulo or Doug. At least not alive and in one piece.”

“Delilah?” Chase came over, holding a piece of paper. “I was wondering if you would go with me to talk to his sister. It would probably help to have another woman along, and you’ll get your info right now instead of relying on what my men and I bring in.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but we’ll all come. Menolly and Vanzir can stay in the car.” I didn’t want to ride in his car, alone with him. Not right now.

He nodded. “Here’s the address. Let’s go. My men can finish up here.”

Saz’s sister lived in a slightly better section of the city. The lights in her house were on, though we were pushing nine P.M. by now. As I slipped out of the car and joined Chase on the sidewalk, I thought this had to be one of the worst parts of his job.

“You ready?” He straightened his tie and cleared his throat, popping a Listerine strip into his mouth. He handed me one. “When delivering bad news, have good breath. It’s bad enough to be associated with bad news. Hygiene counts.”

I popped the strip in my mouth, wincing. The taste was too strong, though I liked it, and after a moment as it melted on my tongue, I asked for another. He snorted and handed me the pack.

We headed up the path, climbing the steps to the cottage house, where Chase pressed the doorbell. A moment later, a woman in a pair of sweats answered the door. She had a baby propped on one hip, and in the background, we could hear the sound of shrieking children. They were either having a lot of fun or were pissed as hell.