Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels Page 7

  Ursula’s shoulders sagged. “How could that be possible? They knew how to control their wolves. They had to have done it on purpose. They’ve admitted that, haven’t they?”

  “Well, neither of them will actually talk about what happened,” said Avery. “But Randall’s reaching. I think he wants to get Gray back down there to talk to her again. He’s making up anything that he thinks will entice her.”

  Ursula spread her hands. “What do you think, Gray? Is he manipulating you?”

  “Probably,” said Dana. “But that doesn’t mean what he says isn’t true.”

  “I got an update from your shrink,” said Ursula. “She says that interacting with him is good for your recovery.”

  “What?” said Avery.

  Ursula turned to him. “You disagree, Brooks?”

  “I think...” He shot a look at Dana. “Guy’s creepy, boss. After what Gray went through, I don’t think she should ever have to see him again.”

  “Chantal says that I won’t get past my issues until I can face him,” said Dana.

  “So, you’re saying that you could handle it, if it meant you had to talk to him again?” said Ursula.

  Could she handle it? Did it matter? She wanted to see him again. Dana nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why should she have to, though?” said Avery. “There’s no reason to dig into these guys. They’re murderers.”

  “I agree with you.” Ursula flipped through a few folders on her desk, thinking. “But maybe we have to play it safe. After all, we lock people up here without a trial, without due process, without lawyers. So, we need to investigate thoroughly any hint that they may not have acted purposefully.”

  Avery sighed. “But what is there to look into? Wolves who know how to control themselves only shift on purpose.”

  “Maybe not,” said Dana. “Maybe there’s something else going on here.”

  “You two look into it,” said Ursula. “But go at it from the angle that you’re looking for evidence that they’re murderers. And the minute you find something compelling, we’re done with this. Got it?”

  * * *

  Dana started her tracker apprenticeship when she was nineteen. She and Cole had both gone into the training after the massacre. Dana hadn’t been able to conceive of the idea of leaving the Sullivan Foundation. Since contracting the lupine virus, they were the only people who’d actually been nice to her.

  The Brockway Massacre had been national news. As the only survivors, she and Cole had gotten a lot of press. Everyone knew they were werewolves. That meant most people were afraid of them. Dana didn’t really see herself fitting back into normal society.

  There was also the matter that her mother had died in the gymnasium that night, and she had nowhere else to turn. Her father was alive, but she’d had very little contact with him. He’d skipped out before she was born. She had only spoken to him a handful of times, exchanged a few letters. He hadn’t been a real father to her, and she didn’t even consider turning to him after it happened.

  She assumed that the SF was as natural a fit for Cole as it was for her. His parents were alive, but Cole said they were terrified of the fact he was a wolf and uncomfortable being around him. His younger sister had been in the gym that night, but he’d been unable to save her. He thought maybe his parents resented the fact he’d saved Dana instead of his sister.

  But one week into the apprenticeship, Dana found out that Cole was quitting the SF.

  She was surprised. She’d been fairly certain that he was as committed to the SF as she was.

  When she found out he planned to leave the SF, she went to see him.

  She’d been crushing on Cole since right after the massacre. Maybe it was because he’d saved her life. Maybe it was because he had an uncanny ability to echo whatever she was thinking, making her feel connected to him.

  But there had never been any time for the crush to develop into anything more. Right after the massacre, they’d spent a lot of time together, but they’d been almost immediately separated to go through the training to control their wolves.

  After that was over, they’d both committed to extra training to become trackers. It was intensive and exhausting, and it took years rather than months. Though she and Cole were in the same place and often struggling to conquer the same obstacles in their training, the process was so introspective and labor-intensive that they were often too tired to spend much time being social.

  By the time he was quitting, Dana wasn’t even sure if her crush on him wasn’t only a memory of a crush. Still, she wanted to know why he was leaving. She was going to miss him, even if she hadn’t seen him that often.

  She found him in his apartment. He hugged her when she came in the door. “Dana! How are you?”

  She liked the hug, but it was over quickly, and she wasn’t sure if she was meant to read anything into it. Maybe it was only friendly. “I heard you were quitting the Sullivan Foundation.”

  He let her into his apartment. There was a six pack of beer sitting on his counter. “I am. Got someone to buy me these to celebrate.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t want a beer, do you?”

  She shook her head. “You know I can’t.” Alcohol was off limits. Control was paramount. “Besides, we’re not even old enough.”

  He laughed, picking himself up a can and popping it open. “Dana, you were always a stickler for rules, weren’t you?”

  “If they’re good rules,” she said. “Is that why you’re leaving? You want to drink beer?”

  He took a long drink. “That’s only part of it, really.” He gestured to his couch. “You want to sit down?”

  She did.

  “You could say that drinking beer is a symptom of a larger problem,” he said.

  “Rules?”

  He considered. “Artificial rules.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “It’s like they force us to keep a whole part of ourselves under control. All the time. And I don’t think it’s just the wolf. I think it’s making me less human too.”

  Dana was confused. She had no idea what he was talking about.

  “I feel fake all the time,” he said. “I feel like there’s something inside me that’s bursting to get out, and by pushing it down, I’m strangling part of who I am. It’s like living in prison.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t relate to anything he was saying. Controlling the wolf was freedom to her. As long as it couldn’t come out, she knew she was herself. She thought of the animal as an interloper that had crept into her body without her permission.

  He looked at her. “You don’t relate at all, do you?”

  “No.”

  He drank more beer. “I thought maybe you would. Sometimes it seems like we think the same things. Sometimes you say things out loud that I’ve thought for years.”

  “You too,” she said.

  “But not this time.”

  She studied her hands. “Not this time.”

  He shrugged. “Oh well.”

  “I don’t even think I understand what you’re saying.”

  He leaned forward, grinning at her. “Well, maybe I’m making it more complicated than it actually is. The truth is, Dana, it’s disgusting. I don’t like looking at all the mutilated bodies. I lost my breakfast once.”

  “My trainer says everyone throws up at first.”

  “Did you?”

  “Not yet.” She felt a little proud of her iron-clad stomach.

  He laughed. “And, yeah, I want to drink beer. I want to go to college. I want to live my life. I’m not cut out to be a tracker.”

  That made more sense to her. She wondered if he’d only said all that strange other stuff because he was embarrassed. It wasn’t a very macho thing to admit that gore disgusted him. She appreciated that he’d been honest with her. “I’m going to miss you. I thought maybe we’d even end up as partners someday.”

  “I thought...” He bit his lip, gazing into her eyes. Then he looked away, bl
ushing. “Dammit, Dana, can you come back when I’ve had enough alcohol to be braver?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant again, but his blush had somehow traveled to her, like it was contagious. She could feel heat in her cheeks. “We should, um, we should keep in touch.”

  He smiled at her. “Definitely.”

  But they didn’t really. Their lives went in opposite directions. She sometimes thought about writing to him, but she didn’t. And he didn’t write either. Or call. Or text.

  If he hadn’t started killing people, she might never have seen him again.

  * * *

  Dana closed the door on the conference room where she’d been meeting with Beverly Martin, the second of the deliberate rogue werewolves. She and Avery had decided that the best place to start with Ursula’s order to look into the possibility that it wasn’t murder was to talk to each of the rogues. Hoping that gender solidarity might count for something, she’d taken Beverly, and Avery had spoken to Arnold.

  Actually, near as she could tell, Avery was still speaking to Arnold, because he wasn’t out in the hallway waiting for her.

  She took a deep breath, looking up and down the wing of the maximum security floor.

  Cole was down here. He was further down the hallway. Up front, there was a cluster of conference rooms. Cells were further down.

  She felt a crawling itch of desire make its way down her spine. She wanted to go find Cole.

  Of course, she had no reason to see him, no excuse to talk to him again. She just wanted to.

  Before she could stop herself, she’d peeled back enough of her layer of control to let out her wolf sense of smell. She caught Cole’s scent immediately.

  She stood still for a few moments, just breathing it in. He was so close. Her longing surged inside her, like a live thing.

  Couldn’t she make up some reason to see him? Certainly, she’d think of something plausible. She started down the hall, following the scent until she came to a closed door.

  He was inside there. That was his cell.

  She gazed at it, her heart speeding up.

  “Miss Gray?” said the guard who was making his rounds up and down the hallway. “Did you want me to open that cell?”

  She put her hand against the door. She should tell him no.

  The voice came from within, behind the door. It was surprised but pleased. Deep and seductive. “Dana, is that you?”

  She recoiled from the door as if it had suddenly burned her. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Could you open the door?”

  “Absolutely,” said the guard. “If you need me to.”

  “I...” She hesitated.

  And the sound of a door closing came from down the hall.

  “Gray, what are you doing all the way down there?” said Avery as he came out of the conference room.

  “Nothing,” she said, scurrying down to meet him.

  He took her by the arm and led her to the elevator. Once the door was closed, and the guards couldn’t hear, he said, “You were going to see him, weren’t you?”

  “No,” she said.

  Avery rolled his eyes. “The guy tried to kill you. I’m not sure what the appeal is.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “You look like some junior high student who got caught making out in the boiler room.”

  “I do not.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Can we not talk about this?”

  He shrugged. “You find out anything from Beverly?”

  “No. She barely said a word, no matter what I asked. She kept saying she didn’t want to talk about it. You have better luck with Arnold?”

  He shook his head. “He doesn’t know anything either.”

  “Do you think that means something? That they’re both clueless?”

  “I don’t think it means anything,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a connection. But I guess we’re going to have to do some more digging.”

  “Right.” The elevator had reached their floor. They walked out. “So, should we check out Beverly or Arnold first?”

  “Beverly’s actually got a family,” said Avery. “Arnold seems to only have dogs. We’d probably have better luck finding people to talk to there.”

  “New York it is,” she said. “I call iPod control on the way up.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “No fair. We hadn’t officially decided to go anywhere.”

  She laughed.

  * * *

  Karl Martin had gray in his beard. He clutched a coffee cup that read, “World’s Greatest Dad,” as he sat on his couch in his living room. The room was messy. Takeout containers cluttered every available surface. He’d apologized about the state of the room at least four times. “Is this regular? I thought the SF would be giving Bev help now. Why do you need to talk to me?”

  “It’s not exactly regular, Mr. Martin,” said Avery.

  “Call me Karl,” said Karl. “What do you mean?”

  “Your wife knew how to control her wolf,” said Dana. “Generally speaking, that means that she did what she did on purpose.”

  “On purpose?” Karl held the coffee cup even tighter. “Is that what she said she did?”

  “She’s not saying anything,” said Dana.

  “That’s why we need to talk to you,” said Avery.

  “We need to determine if her actions were intentional or not,” said Dana.

  “But if she did it on purpose,” said Karl, “then that’s...”

  “Murder. Yes, sir. You can see why this is serious,” said Avery.

  Karl turned white behind his beard. “Murder.”

  Dana wished she could comfort the poor man. He was clearly having a rough time of it. “We need to know more about your wife. In your opinion, is she capable of such a thing?”

  “Of course not,” said Karl. “Beverly could never... hurt anyone.”

  “How long have the two of you been married?” asked Avery.

  “Um, about six years,” said Karl. “We waited until we could afford a nice wedding and for Beverly to lose the baby fat so she’d look nice in her dress.” He pointed at a picture amongst the clutter. It showed two girls with long hair. They were smiling identical smiles. “That’s why we have eight-year-old twins, and we’ve been married two years less than that.”

  Dana felt bad for the man again. They weren’t here to judge his morals. “You aren’t a werewolf, correct?”

  “That’s right,” said Karl.

  “The two of you managed to reproduce without your catching the disease?” said Avery.

  Karl toyed with his coffee cup. “I didn’t know at first. She was already pregnant with the twins by the time she told me. Afterwards, I was more... careful.”

  That was a little strange. “She didn’t tell you?” said Dana.

  “Not at first,” said Karl. “I think she was ashamed, honestly. It happened when she was a teenager, you know. She was a victim of an attack. She told me she’d only gone through the change once, and that was in the Sullivan Foundation. I don’t think she realized that she could be contagious.”

  “She realized,” said Dana. “It’s part of the training at the SF to make sure that wolves understand how the disease spreads.”

  “You didn’t think it was irresponsible of Beverly not to tell you she was a werewolf?” asked Avery.

  Karl tried to set down his coffee cup, but there was too much clutter. “Maybe at the time. I don’t know. It was such a long time ago.”

  Avery shrugged. “Personally, if that had been me, I would have been furious. Not only did she put you in danger, but there’s a chance that your daughters are going to be wolves as well. The disease can be passed down from mother to child. I’m sure you know that.”

  Karl moved aside some paper bags, clearing a little space for his cup. “Did I ask the two of you if you wanted any coffee?”

  “You did, and we’re fine,” said Dana.

  “Are there any other instances in Beverly’s life in which she was carel
ess about the fact she was a werewolf?” asked Avery.

  “Careless?” said Karl. “I don’t know that she was careless exactly. She was young.”

  “She was intimate with you without telling you she was a wolf,” said Avery. “Sounds careless to me.”

  Karl rubbed his forehead. “I’m not trying to get Beverly into any trouble.”

  “You’re not,” said Dana. “She’s done that to herself. It’s quite likely she will never be released from the Sullivan Foundation.”

  “Never?” said Karl. He looked directly at Dana.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Unless you can tell us something that would prove she didn’t do what she did deliberately, we’ll have to rule the case murder.”

  Avery glared at her. She wasn’t going with Ursula’s directive, was she? She was leading Karl in the opposite direction. She couldn’t help it, however. Maybe she wanted to keep the case ambiguous so that she’d have to go back and see Cole. Maybe she thought there might actually be something to what Cole had said. At any rate, she couldn’t undo it now.

  “Well.” Karl leaned back on the couch, his posture relaxing. Was that a smile on his face? “To be honest, we’d been having problems for a while. I was angry with her. I felt like she’d trapped me in this marriage with her lies. A loveless marriage, considering I didn’t feel comfortable being intimate with her, given her disease. She and I lived together, but I can’t say we interacted much. I planned to stick it out until the twins had graduated from high school and then file for divorce.”

  Dana was stunned. She hadn’t expected that.

  “You’re sure she won’t get out?” Karl said, looking pleased at the prospect.

  “Not sure,” said Dana.

  “Fairly sure,” said Avery. “Did she ever indicate to you that she could be capable of doing something like what happened?”

  “Not really,” said Karl. “But she could be... manipulative. And a little frightening. She’d let out a little part of the wolf sometimes in arguments. I didn’t like to cross her. I was never sure what she might be capable of. It’s probably safer for everyone if she is locked up. I’ll rest safer.”

  “Do you think it’s possible she shifted on purpose?”