Redeemed (9 page)

He continued anyway. “He’s got some meeting today and then he says he’s coming home for a few days.”

“So? How does this concern me?” She cross her arms and hugged herself tight, suddenly cold.

Josh fingered the afghan on the back of the couch and leaned his hip against the upholstery. “Don’t try that with me, Ash. I mated with Samantha months ago myself. I know you have to be hurting, no matter what you say. I don’t know how you can do it.”

“Do what?” She dipped her head, sorry she’d asked.

“Ignore the calling.”

Deflated, Ashley’s shoulders fell. He was right. Every time she thought about Evan her heart pounded and her body reacted in ways she could barely define. Sure, she’d had sex. Obviously she’d had sex. But she’d never felt half what she felt just thinking about Evan. No encounter with Damon compared to the way her body reacted to Evan’s the one and only time he’d touched her cheek for several brief seconds two months ago.

But then she considered the future. She would be a pain in his ass for life if she dragged him into her mess. It wasn’t fair to him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” She knew good and well what he referred to, but it was so much easier to play ignorant.

“Pretending you don’t care. Faking like you can brush Evan under the rug and move on.”

“Any other choice would be cruel.”

“And you think what you’re doing isn’t? You’re only hurting both of you.” He held up a hand when she stepped back. “Look, I didn’t come here to lecture you. I’m sorry.”

He circled the couch and took a seat. “How are your classes going?”

“Okay.” She was taking two online classes this semester, trying to get her feet back under her. At least they occupied her mind and kept her busy. Her art filled the rest of her time, when she was able to disassociate and really let herself go long enough to concentrate.

“Just okay?”

“Stop acting like Mom and Dad. I get enough of that already.”

Josh chuckled. “All right. Fine. You win. Listen, the reason I came by was to see if you wanted to go for a run.”

Her heart pounded hearing the words. She was already shaking her head before he finished the sentence. “It’s snowing outside. The weather sucks.”

He laughed again. “Ash, you know good and well it’s the perfect weather. No one would come upon us and it’s beautiful. It’s my favorite time to shift. And it’s so rare to get to do so during the day.”

“I have a lot to do.” She ducked her head and stared at her feet, shuffling them on the floor. “I have homework and I’m working on a painting.”

“The one with the snow scene?” He pointed to the easel, half his mouth lifted in a grin when she glanced up.

“Look, Josh. I’m not ready, okay? Stop pestering me. I can’t do it. I don’t want to. And I’m not going to.”

He lifted both hands in surrender. “Okay. I’m just trying to help. I thought maybe if I went with you and we went during the day you might consider leaving the house.”

“Not yet.” She felt bad for raising her voice. It wasn’t his fault she was such a wuss. “I’m working on it.”

“I know you are, Ash.” He leaned back and let his head fall against the back of the couch. He seemed to stare at the ceiling.

She knew he was disappointed, and he meant the best for her, but she couldn’t be what everyone else wanted her to be. Healed. She eased closer and took a seat next to her brother. “It’s so hard, knowing he’s out there somewhere. I keep thinking he’s lying in wait, hiding, waiting for the opportunity to jump out and grab me. I know it’s unreasonable and he probably could care less if he ever saw me again, but that doesn’t erase the fear.”

“I know, Ash.” He reached for her hand and she let him squeeze her fingers. “Have you heard from The Head Council lately? Do they have any leads on either him or the drugs?”

“Nope. Not a word. I’m sure they’re working on it, and I doubt they want me hounding them all the time to follow up.”

“I keep hoping they’ll have a breakthrough soon,” Josh added.

“I’m sure they have more important things to do than to track down a man who is no longer holding someone hostage. I heard there are other women presumed missing now.”

Josh jerked his head up and his gaze to hers. “Where did you hear that?”

“Mom and Dad were discussing it. They didn’t know I was listening.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “You knew it too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Do you think it’s Damon?”

Josh shook his head. “No. I think there are other cases that seem similar and may or may not be definitive leads. Please don’t worry, okay?”

“Who said I was worried?” She smiled. She’d never been more worried in her life. If anyone out there was going through what she went through… She had the urge to vomit.

Josh stood. “I have to go. I’m meeting Nathan and Samantha for that run.”

“They aren’t working today?”

“They are. But we agreed to meet for a long lunch.”

“And you thought it would be a good idea to drag me along as the third…er, fourth wheel? No thanks, bro. That sounds disgusting.”

He kissed her forehead and headed for the stairs. “It wouldn’t have been like that and you know it. I’m perfectly capable of acting respectable whenever necessary.”

“But you’re still relieved I said no on some level. Admit it.”

“Never.” She watched as he disappeared up the stairs. When he shut the door at the top, she turned to look out the window. The world was white, as white as her canvas. She prayed one day she’d be able to go outside again. She’d give anything to simply smell the outdoors without fear of detection.

She hadn’t been born a hermit and she was stir-crazy. But not enough to risk going outside.

Dr. Parman said it was temporary and natural for her to suffer a certain level of agoraphobia after what she’d been through. As long as she didn’t remain trapped in this state of mind forever, it was an acceptable part of her progress.

Evan took a seat at the long conference table. He was the only person on his side of the table, directly across from the five men who made up the elders of the North American Council. He rubbed his hands on his khaki pants, the nicest clothing he had with him on this trip.

He’d spoken to various shifters who worked in this head branch office, but none of the five men sitting across from him now. In fact, he’d never met any of them before. At least not that he could recall. Perhaps as a child, but not in his adult years.

Evan hadn’t been to The Gathering for many years. His parents, Roland and Veronica, had retired and moved to Florida four years ago. They’d hated the Midwest weather. He’d been an only child and hadn’t attended The Gathering even when his parents were still living in St. Louis. School always seemed to have gotten in the way, or so he claimed. He’d been secretly uninterested in finding a mate at the time—and after all, that was one of the main reasons The Gathering occurred.

The council members all attended every year, but young shifters paid them no attention. The only thing the children were interested in was reacquainting with friends they saw once a year.

As the kids grew older, their only concern was flirting with the opposite sex in hopes of finding a match. It was ridiculous since very few wolves actually knew who their mates were before adulthood. Even the ones who crossed paths on occasion before turning eighteen rarely were aware of the plans Fate had for them. Most of the time mates didn’t find each other until their twenties. It was part of Her design.

The man in the center spoke first. He was the oldest, at least seventy. His name was Ralph Jerard. Evan had looked up every member of The Council and studied their profiles before he headed to Seattle. Mr. Jerard wore glasses low on his nose when looking down at the file of papers in front of him. His hair was gray and his skin wrinkled with age, but he was not frail. He was still stocky and fit, not uncommon for wolf shifters. “We understand you’ve been working on the Damon Parkfield case.”

“Yes, sir, I have. Is that a problem?” If the elders had dragged him here from Indiana to reprimand him for something he had no intention of changing, he was going to be pissed.

“No. On the contrary, we’re hoping to combine our efforts since you seem intent on finding this rogue shifter and bringing him to justice.” The elder leaned forward on his elbows and set his glasses on the table. “That is your intent, correct?” He narrowed his gaze.

Evan knew what this game was. Mr. Jerard wanted to ensure Evan didn’t have an ulterior motive, such as murder. “Of course, sir.” He didn’t break eye contact.

“You’re a private investigator, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re the same PI who located Ms. Rice several months ago and returned her to her family?”

“That’s correct. Her brother hired me when he suspected foul play. It took almost a year to track them down. If I’d had any idea at the time how serious the crime was, I never would have walked away that day after rescuing Ashley from the apartment they were living in.”

“And where is Ashley Rice now?” Mr. Jerard asked.

“At her parent’s home. She suffers from PTSD. She doesn’t leave the house often.”

“I see. And where do you believe Damon Parkfield is now?”

“I tracked him to a small town in Indiana last week, but he disappeared before I got there, as usual. It’s very frustrating how fast he catches on to me. Either he has incredible luck and happens to move around at a pace one step ahead of mine, or someone is alerting him to my arrival.” Evan shivered at the verbalization of that thought.

“Is that possible?”

“No.” Evan shook his head. “Because no one knows I’m working on this case. Not a soul.” He paused. “With the exception of you, of course. He usually rents a run-down furnished apartment and flees quickly. I don’t know what tips him off or if he just likes to move around often. He doesn’t strike me as being someone who could accomplish all this on his own. Someone must be funding him. He never holds a job very long and hasn’t worked anywhere that would pay the rent for ages.”

“Do you believe he’s traveling alone?” Mr. Jerard asked.

“I do. Every time I enter his latest location I rummage around looking for clues. I have seen no evidence he has anyone with him at this time. So, if you’re asking me if I think he has another woman with him, the answer is no.” Evan had meticulously gone through the man’s trash at every location. He’d seen nothing to indicate Damon had taken another woman.

“Well, that’s good.”

“Unless of course you take a long look at the list of parents who have very little or similar contact with their young daughters as Ashley Rice’s family did—and I’m sure you all have done that. In which case you have no choice to but assume this problem extends way beyond Damon Parkfield and could in fact be a conspiracy of huge proportions.”

“We wondered if that had occurred to you.” Mr. Jerard looked back and forth at the other men with him. He lifted his papers and tapped them on the table to straighten the stack.

“Gentleman, you can stop ignoring the elephant in the room. I’m painfully aware there is undoubtedly a black market of some sort distributing a new drug concoction whose purpose is to keep its victim docile and controllable. The question is why? Who is making the drugs? And how widespread is the distribution?” Evan saw no reason to skirt this issue another moment. If these men had called him to Seattle to meet with them—all five of them—then they had an agenda and he intended to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

The man to the left of Mr. Jerard leaned to the side to whisper something in the older man’s ear.

Evan had excellent hearing, but then so did every other shifter in the room. It made whispering at a lower decibel necessary for them all. He couldn’t make out a single word.

Evan glanced at the other men at the table. The elderly man to the right of Mr. Jerard was Melvin Cunningham. His narrowed gaze made Evan nervous. Mr. Cunningham leaned back in his chair and tapped his cheek with two fingers, never removing his gaze from Evan. The two men flanking the group on both ends were Earl Johnson and Lucas Sheffield. Both were middle aged.

Finally, the taller, skinnier man on the left, who Evan knew was Steven Wightman, cleared his throat and sat straight. “Who has been paying you for your work so far, sir?”

“No one.” That was the truth. Evan hadn’t received a dime for his efforts. The only way he’d stayed afloat financially was by expanding his company and hiring others to work for him. Somehow he’d managed to stay in the black. But he knew he couldn’t keep it up much longer. It was expensive traveling all around the country chasing his tail.

“Why?” Mr. Wightman asked.

“Sir?”

“What reason do you have to follow a convict from state to state for no financial gain?” Mr. Wightman held Evan’s gaze.

In fact, Evan could feel all eyes piercing him. Though the other three men hadn’t said a word during this meeting, they were paying close attention. There was no reason to lie. He’d eventually be found out anyway. “Ms. Rice is my mate.”

No one flinched. He hadn’t shocked them.

Mr. Jerard spoke again. “And you believe you can remain impartial in this case with the victim as your mate?”

Evan shook his head. “I never said I was impartial. I intend to find Damon Parkfield and bring him to justice. If you’re asking me if I’m planning to shoot the man in the skull and ask questions later, the answer is no. I want him alive as much as you do. It’s the only way to get information from him about who his supplier is and catch the real bad guy.

“Until Mr. Parkfield is apprehended, Ashley Rice’s life is on hold. She’s frozen with fear. Yes, she’s my mate. However, you need to know she has not allowed me to claim her. No action has been taken to make her mine. In fact, I’ve only met with her on two short occasions since her rescue, both of those recent. She’s in no position to be claimed. Nor does she have any interest.”

“And you believe if you can find Damon Parkfield and get him off the streets, Ms. Rice will accept you?” Mr. Wightman asked.

Evan shook his head. “Not at all. There are no guarantees she will ever be able to move on with her life. However, it’s a step in the right direction, and it gives me something useful to do rather than sit around pining and waiting.”