Shifters' Storm (12 page)

“Who is it?” she asked from behind the door.

“Me, Songan.” Strange, he hadn’t heard her approaching. Had she tiptoed?

“What are you doing here? I thought—”

“Are you going to let me in?”

The old lock gave a rusty groan, and he found himself looking at her. Seeing her hair down and drifting around her face instead of corralled like usual knocked him off balance. Given what he’d decided to tell her, he’d nearly convinced himself he could concentrate on passing on certain information without sexual attraction getting in the way. Obviously, he was wrong.

She was staring at him as if she didn’t quite recognize him, so he stepped in. The way she backed away instead of reaching for him surprised him, not that he’d say anything. Turning his back to her, he walked into the living room. It smelled of her and the several plants she’d brought with her from wherever she’d been living. Why she wanted growing things inside when there was so much vegetation around was another mystery he might never fathom.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she said. “Figured you’d be otherwise occupied.”

So had he, he acknowledged as he settled himself in his usual chair. A faint male scent lingered in it.

“I was at Wolverine this morning,” he said.

The way she reared back told him he probably shouldn’t have been so direct. Was there no end to the things he needed to be aware of around her? If only sensitivity came easier, or she didn’t matter so much.

“Why?” she asked and sat on the couch across from him.

“It seemed like something I should do.”

“Without me and before the end of rut?”

“It’s close enough to the end.”

She nodded. “What you’re trying to say is you’ve mounted everything that can be mounted.”

“It’s more than that. Rane, I don’t want you going to Wolverine if there’s a possibility of danger.”

Her mouth tightened. “It can’t be any worse than what happened to Mom. I’m sorry.” She ran her ringless hand into her hair. “I didn’t mean—did you see anything?”

“No. There are so many smells, it’s impossible to separate them.”

“Human smells, you mean?”

Now it was his turn to nod. Rane had on jeans and a too-big flannel shirt he concluded had belonged to her mother. Even with the extra fabric, he saw enough of her body that his responded. The bull elk in him might be satiated, the man not at all.

“Nothing fresh,” he told her. “That’s what I wanted you to know, that I’m not sure we’re going to find anything.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You needed to—”

“What I need is the truth.” She leaned back, only to straighten and rest her elbows on her knees. “And to connect with her one last time.”

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly pale, Rane held up a hand as if to ward him off. “Never mind. That’s between Mom and me.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” The word sounded fierce, angry and defensive. Even he got that. “Back to what you just said, between the searchers who found her body and law enforcement, a lot of people have tromped all over the area. And it’s rained. I get that.” Her gaze stayed on him as she gnawed her lower lip. “Oh yes, let’s don’t forget that whoever killed her was also there.”

Still watching him, she began rubbing her knees. “Songan, are you telling me you’ve changed your mind about going there with me? Maybe you think the only way to insure I won’t fall apart is by keeping me here.”

“If I could, I would. There was frost when I got there. If there’s a storm between now and when we reach—”

“What if we go today?” Eyes bright, she stood. “How’d you get here? I didn’t hear a vehicle.”

“I ran.”

Her nod said she understood he hadn’t changed into human form until he’d reached where he kept his clothes.

“We’ll take my rig. It’ll get us within about five miles of the Wolverine cabin. I have enough food here to hold us in case we have to stay overnight. I’m not sure my mother’s sleeping bag is long enough for you. You might—what am I saying, you can switch to elk.”

Watching her, he knew he’d never be able to talk her out of this. The weather had concerned him, not for himself, of course, but a decent storm could blanket Wolverine in snow all winter. This might be her last chance, her one opportunity to make good on her promise to her mother.

The area known as Wolverine had felt of death. That’s what he should be telling her.

“You don’t want to do this,” he said, feeling inadequate.

Walking over to where he sat, she placed her hands on the armrests and stared at him. No matter that his strength far outstripped hers, he’d never doubt her determination. “If you don’t go with me, I know someone who will.”

Anger momentarily rendered him mute. He couldn’t remember when he’d last experienced the emotion and didn’t know how to handle it. “Who? The other man to sit in this chair?”

Disbelief followed by acceptance transformed her expression. “I should have known you’d sense—”

“Not sense
—
smell.” Taking hold of her wrists, he pulled her onto his lap.

“Let me go!” She tried to slap him. “I hate being manhandled.”

“No, you don’t.”

“This time I do. I mean it, let me go.”

The bull elk who’d spent the summer bulking up pressed against Songan’s skin. If he wasn’t careful, the animal would break through. That, more than Rane’s insistence, made him release her. The moment he did, she scrambled to her feet, but instead of running out of the room or ordering him to leave, she stared at him while rubbing her arms.

“What?” he asked at length.

“I’m trying to make sense of something. A lot of somethings.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Never mind. What’s it going to be? Will you go with me, or do I ask him?”

Him
had a name, not that he wanted to know it. “I’ll go.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, when of course it did. Watching her rub her arms with her eyes big and vulnerable, he vowed to do whatever it took to keep her alive. To make a lie of the aura of death deep in the mountains.

“I appreciate you telling me,” Deputy Gannon told Rane when she called him after deciding to take both her pistol and her mother’s rifle. Eager as she was to start what she’d been wanting to do for too long, she also needed to get out of the house. To put distance between herself and the nightly erotic Ber-filled dreams. “And I understand what’s driving you, but I wish I could stop you.”

“If you’re thinking about the weather, why do you think I’m in a hurry? For the record, Songan is going with me.”

Gannon didn’t immediately respond, making her wonder if he disapproved. “I guess better a shifter than some of Forestville’s residents. I just don’t want you forgetting he’s half animal.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Are you?”

Sometimes, she decided, two words had more impact than an entire speech. “Songan and I have known each other for years,” she said unnecessarily. “I understand him as well as any human can.”

“Yeah, maybe. Look, those shifters never lose all the elk in them. He’s a male in his prime. Instinct drives a lot of what he does.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. Better to be honest.

“That’s your business, but no matter how devoted to you you might think he is, he and his kind don’t value life in the same way you and I do. They’re wired different.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just that I don’t see him risking his life for yours if it comes to that.”

Now it was her turn to wait a beat before responding. “You think that’s a possibility?”

Gannon sighed. “Rane, there’s something you need to know. Hell, maybe you already do. Did your mom talk to you about what she’d been up to near the end?”

A too-familiar stab of grief had her slumping into the nearest chair. Was she going to spend the rest of her life regretting putting her mother on the back burner while she did everything possible to put her isolated and limiting Forestville upbringing behind her? “Such as?” she asked.

“Are you alone?”

“Songan’s here.”

“Hmm. Rane, your mother and I suspected illegal activity was going on in the woods. She was trying to convince her superior to assign someone to work with her so the bulk of the investigation didn’t fall on her shoulders, but you know how it is with a federal agency. Everything moves slow, and there are other priorities.”

“Wait. I don’t—what investigation?”

“You don’t know? I’m sorry. Maybe she didn’t want you worrying.”

Teeth clenched, she said, “It’s too late for worry. Gannon, please.”

“This isn’t for the public to know, but I feel safe telling you. I’m sure you’ve come across the same thing in your work.”

Chilled, she waited Gannon out.

“It started this spring. A couple of hikers following the Chinook River came across a bear carcass with bullet holes in it.”

“Spring. It wasn’t hunting season then.”

“No, it wasn’t. I’m not sure who the hikers called initially, but things were routed to your mom, who immediately went out. Only one organ had been taken. The rest of the bear was left to rot.”

“The gall bladder, right?”

“Then your mom told—”

“We’ve talked about this insanity, of course.” No matter how much evidence there was to the contrary, some people, traditional Chinese in particular, believed bear gall bladders were effective in treating heart disease, diabetes, liver disease, even obesity. A single gall could net a bear poacher several thousand dollars.

“Only one bear has been wasted?” she asked.

“No, unfortunately. Four other carcasses have shown up since then, and who knows how many others might be out there.”

An image of an enraged Ber standing over a slaughtered bear momentarily came between her and the ability to speak. “Are you saying Mom was working on this alone?”

“Essentially yes, unfortunately. Several environmental groups were up in arms, and at least two politicians are trying to get funds earmarked to bring Forest Service investigators to the area. Your mother and I had reservations about how effective that would be. Having some strangers show up around here would tip our hands and maybe drive the poachers elsewhere.”

I wish she’d told me.
“What happens now?” she made herself ask. “With Mom dead, is whoever’s responsible free to…”

“You don’t want to talk about this. I understand.” Even with the distance between them, she heard Gannon’s compassion. “The Service hasn’t yet chosen someone to replace your mother. Once that person has been selected, I intend to meet with the new guy and press to make apprehending the poachers a priority.”

“They’re more than that.” Her throat burned, forcing her to swallow repeatedly. “The bastards murdered my mother.”

“We don’t know for sure. It could be—”

“What does your gut reaction say?”

“You don’t dance around, do you?”

“Jacki was my mother.”
I owe her this.

“Yes, she was. Rane, my gut says that when or if we determine who’s selling black market bear galls, we’ll know who to look at for her killing.”

Thinking Gannon couldn’t have anything more to say, she looked at but didn’t really see her mother’s living room. Songan had come inside and was watching her with his wary animal eyes. If only life was simple and ruled by sex.

“Rane,” Gannon said, “your mom and I were pretty convinced the poacher is a local. Someone we maybe see every day, a neighbor even.”

Suddenly numb, she shivered. “Because of how many area bears have been taken?”

“Exactly.” Gannon sighed. “The poacher—I’m thinking it’s one person, because there’s less chance of loose lips talking—knows these mountains as well as the bears themselves.”

“A neighbor,” Rane repeated. “A so-called friend.”

“Maybe someone your mother’s known for years.”

“She arrested several locals for illegal hunting. Andy, Aaron and Albert Jones blamed her for their convictions.”

“Now there’s siblings without a spare brain cell for the bunch. They’ve caused me trouble for years.”

She struggled to think of something to say. Given Songan’s keen hearing, she had no doubt he’d heard the deputy’s side of the conversation. Compassion and concern weren’t Songan’s strong suits, and yet she took comfort from his unwavering gaze.

“Gannon, I was in the Sawmill the other night. I talked to their cousins Clifford and Chip. I’m not—not pointing fingers at them in particular, just thinking they’re probably barely holding it together financially.”

“You’re asking me if they’re on my suspect list, aren’t you. I haven’t eliminated them, but they aren’t as high as the A brothers.”

“Why’s that?”

“Clifford and Chip’s logging operation won one of the few harvesting contracts to come around in recent years. They’re busy and making money for a change.”

“I went to school with Andy and Aaron. Albert’s younger. Like you said, they aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer. What are they up to these days?”

“Don’t go there, Rane. You aren’t a detective.”

“What are they up to?”

“Not working for Chip and Clifford and that’s caused some tension in the bunch. From what I hear, the A brothers figure their cousins should have put them on the payroll because they’re blood.”

“I’m trying to remember whether I’ve seen them since I got back.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve already told you more than I wish I had. Let it go. Let me do my job.”

She said something about him already saying that. He asked whether she’d changed her mind about going to Wolverine. Telling him no, she hung up.

Chapter Eleven

“Let Gannon and the rest of the sheriff’s department do their job,” Songan said. Pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against, he started toward her. “You can’t bring her back.”

But maybe her spirit will find me once I’m where she died.
“I know.”

Songan stood leaning down a little as if trying to blanket her body with his. Every night since she’d met Ber, his spirit or something had laid claim to her mind and body in what was unlike any dream she’d ever had. Now Songan was here, and even with her thoughts on the conversation with the deputy, she gave silent thanks to Songan’s strength.