Moon Sworn

Chapter 10

I somehow managed not to jump, and twisted around on the stool. He was standing in the doorway, a newspaper in one hand and what smelled like fresh croissants in the other. My stomach rumbled happily at the thought.

“That she’s been helping me with my inquiries,” Harris said smoothly, face as expressionless as they came.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” I added. “Especially given you didn’t want me to get involved in the first place.”

Evin grunted and stepped inside the unit. “I’m pretty sure Harris is more than capable of investigating a murder without your assistance.”

Especially given he still half thought I might be involved. But before I could say anything, Harris said, “She saw the soul. I didn’t.”

Evin walked around the counter and dumped the newspaper and the bagged croissants on the counter. “And you believe her?”

“There are stranger things in this world than the ability to see souls,” Harris said evenly. Which didn’t really answer Evin’s question. He rose and glanced at me. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks.” I watched him walk out, admiring the low-key, animal feel of it and wondering again who the hell he reminded me of.

Evin pushed the bag of freshly baked treats toward me. “I got chocolate chip and blueberry. Take your pick.”

I reached in and grabbed a chocolate chip one, taking a bite and almost melting in pleasure. But my gaze rose to meet my brother’s. “So why don’t you believe I can see souls?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it,” I countered. “So explain.”

He hesitated. “It’s not a gift that runs in the pack. Telepathy, yes, but not this whole soul-seeing thing.”

Clairvoyance runs in the pack, the internal voice said, Soul seeing was just a twisted version of that.

“Telepathy? We’re telepathic as a pack?”

“Mostly. Not everyone gets the skill, of course. Some flip the other way and are mind-blind.” He shrugged.

“Our siblings are mind-blind, and so are you.”

I was? Again, that statement just felt wrong. And yet, I’d been picking up nothing telepathically from anyone in this town, and surely if I was telepathic, I should have been able to. Of course, there was the whole daggers-inthe-brain factor. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to do anything until that eased off.

So why could I see that soul? Why would the pain affect one talent and not the other?

Maybe they didn’t know about the other talents, that perceptive little voice inside me whispered.

Of course, I had no fucking clue just who “they” were. Or whether they were nothing more than an overstressed imagination.

But I was really doubting that imagination had anything to do with all this. It was real, and it was happening, and I needed to find out why.

“Well,” I said lightly, “that sucks big hairy ones, doesn’t it?”

He laughed and dragged a croissant out of the bag. Blueberry, if the color of the juices that oozed out of it were any indication. “So, what are we going to do today?”

I shrugged. I knew what I wanted to do—a little more crime scene investigation—but I wouldn’t be able to if Evin was going to stick like glue to my side. “I don’t know. Maybe a little swimming, a little sunning, and a whole lot of eating.”

“Sounds like a plan. It’s already getting warm out there.”

“Then I’d best go change into a suit.” I grabbed another croissant—this time blueberry—and munched on it happily as I headed into my bedroom to change.

The rest of the morning passed peacefully enough. I swam, I sat on the sand and soaked up the sunshine—or at least I did until my skin began showing signs of severe sunburn again. Why was it suddenly so damn sensitive?

I shifted to the shade of the trees, drank coffee, and read the newspaper. There was no mention of Landsbury’s murder anywhere, although the paper catered to Western Australia as a whole, not just this town. And given the vastness of WA, maybe the murder of a rapist wasn’t considered newsworthy enough.

Or maybe an embargo had been placed on it.

Lunch came and went, and it was midafternoon when Evin decided he was going to have a little siesta. I glanced at my watch and waited fifteen minutes to insure he was well asleep, then wrote him a note telling him I was going to buy some decent coffee. I slathered on some sunscreen, then grabbed my wallet, hat, and sunglasses, and headed out.

The air was unbearably hot and the sun beat down almost relentlessly. I could feel its heat caressing my skin, but this time, it didn’t feel like it was burning as deep. Obviously, sunscreen and I were going to become firm friends while I was in this part of the world.

There were plenty of people out and about in the caravan park, though most of them were sticking to the shade of the big old gum trees. There were a few kids splashing about in the crystal blue water, but most were—like me—slathered with sunscreen and wearing hats. All of them smelled human. It wasn’t until I reached the main town that the scent of wolf became stronger.

I headed down the side street again and walked toward the stand of trees. There was a young, bored-looking uniformed officer standing under the shade of one of them, and I smiled. Harris had obviously taken my jibe about protecting the crime scene seriously.

Of course, this also meant that I couldn’t nose around like I wanted to. I gave the young officer another smile as I walked by the trees, and continued on until the grass gave way to the tufted wild grass. I turned around and studied the houses surrounding the paddock. I couldn’t imagine Landsbury living in the immediate area—not with the police station and Harris’s house so close, but he’d have to live somewhere near the paddock because otherwise someone would have noticed him being carried. Although for all I knew, someone had. Harris wasn’t about to tell me stuff like that.

The houses behind Harris’s—the ones closer to the pub—were all pretty, well-looked-after places. Which didn’t seem the sort of place someone like Landsbury would be living in, so that left the area to the left of the park. It was more isolated, more rundown. The perfect area for a criminal wanting to get away from his past.

I spun on my heel and headed left. The cop was still watching me but, even from this distance, it didn’t “feel”

suspicious. More an “I’m bored and there’s a leggy redhead wondering around in a bathing suit” type of feel.

Interested, but not aroused.

It struck me then that since I’d woken up in the desert, nothing remotely resembling desire or lust had hit me. Which was odd, because I was a werewolf and sex was an important part of our makeup. But the urge just wasn’t there.

It couldn’t be just the soul-mate factor. Losing a soul mate might rob a werewolf of happiness and their life companion—and sometimes even their life—but it didn’t erase the need for sex. It couldn’t. That was ingrained in us and, when a soul mate died, the restriction of having sex only with them was lifted.

But maybe they’d stolen that the same time as they’d taken my memories, I thought glumly.

I headed past the last of the houses lining the paddock, then turned left into what was little more than a dusty side track. The houses lining either side of this track were even more decayed than they’d seemed from a distance, with most needing major structural work as well as a good lick of paint. The sea air obviously played havoc with timber surfaces. There were ten houses in all, and I walked past each of them slowly, drawing in the scents and trying to uncover anything that vaguely resembled Landsbury’s stench.

I found it in the last house on the street. I paused and took off a shoe, shaking imaginary sand out of it as I studied the building. It wasn’t much to look at, but the windows were unbroken and the curtains appeared to be newish. There was a dead bolt on the front door and padlocks on the side gate, and both were new.

Awareness surged at that moment—someone was coming toward me. Not Harris; someone else. I put my shoe back on and kept walking. A big, dark-skinned man was approaching, and he didn’t look happy.

“Well, I’m guessing you’d be Hanna London.” His voice was gravelly, and filled with a sense of familiarity that seemed out of place, given he was a stranger.

“That’s what my driver’s license tells me,” I said somewhat flippantly. “Who are you?”

“Mike West, the other cop stationed in this shit hole we call a town. Harris told me that you might wander down this way.”

He stopped, waiting for me to get closer. His scent washed across the air—an odd combination of smoke and dirt.

“I didn’t realize it was illegal to walk around this section of town.”

He turned around and fell in step beside me. “It’s not—except when the person doing the wandering has already been warned away from a crime scene twice and was seen there yet again only a few moments ago.”

So the young officer didn’t only ogle. Good for him. “I didn’t go anywhere near the taped-off area. I just walked through the field.”

“A technicality, as we both know. Consider this a final warning. If we find you near that field again, we’ll arrest you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “On what charge?”

“Obstructing an investigation.” He glanced at me. His eyes were brown—like almost everyone else in the West pack—but his seemed to hold his emotions clear and sharp. What I saw was resentment, unhappiness, and just a touch of anticipation.

And it was that last one that struck me as odd, because while it wasn’t sexual in nature, it did seem to center on me.

“I can hardly obstruct an investigation when there’s not a lot of investigation happening.”

“That’s because we have to wait for the big-city cops to come down and do it. We apparently haven’t got the right expertise or knowledge for that sort of stuff.”

Though there was no edge in his voice or expression, his derision rode the air, bitter and sharp. Mike West wanted more than what his job was offering. But then, was that really surprising? Most folks who became cops did so because they wanted to help others, or they wanted to catch criminals and make a difference.

And if the emotions I was sensing in Mike West were anything to go by, being a cop in a small town in the middle of nowhere wasn’t achieving either of those two aims.

“So the autopsy results haven’t come back yet, either?”

He slanted me a glance. “Like I’m going to tell you that. Harris would have my head.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

Mike snorted. “Harris knows everything. The man has an instinct for it. Makes me wonder why he decided to transfer to a dead-end place like this.”

“Well, he is from the West pack—”

“He had a stellar career as a detective in Sydney, but he suddenly ups and runs back here?” Mike shook his head. “The man is mad.”

“Or he just missed home turf.”

“Yeah, there’s a whole lot to miss in this hellhole.”

I squinted up at him. “If you hate it so much, why not transfer?”

“I’ve applied, trust me.”

“Then why aren’t you getting anywhere?”

“Because it’s hard to fill positions in shit holes, and they’re reluctant to transfer people out of them.”

“So what are you doing about it, besides bitching?”

He laughed. It was a sound as bitter as the emotions that were still swirling around me. “Putting out feelers. Pulling in favors.” He shrugged. “Stuff like that.”

The snarky part of me wondered just how many favors a cop in nowhereville could actually pull in. Not a lot, one would have thought.

We hit the main street and I turned right, heading back to the store to grab the coffee I’d told Evin I was coming out to get. Mike followed.

“You don’t have to baby-sit me,” I commented. “I won’t go back to your precious crime scene.”

Now, going back to the house—that was another matter entirely. And one he hadn’t actually warned me away from. Of course, if I got caught breaking into said house, it could land me in a whole lot more trouble.

So shadow and don’t get caught, that little voice inside whispered.

Which made about as much sense as pigs flying, but even so, my pulse raced at the thought. Vampires shadowed, and I wasn’t a vampire.

Was I?

No, I thought, squinting up at the sun. If I was a vamp, I’d be toast by now. Yet if there was vampire blood in me, it would explain the surprising sensitivity to the sun.

“When you start heading back to the villa, I’ll head back to the station,” Mike commented. “Until then, consider me a thorn in your side.”

“There’s obviously very little to do in this town if you can waste time baby-sitting me.”

“That’s what I’ve been bitching about, remember?” He snorted softly. “The most exciting things to have happened in this town are your appearance and the damn murder.”

I raised my eyebrows as I squinted up at him. “How is my appearance exciting?”

“Well, you got lost, didn’t you? Gave us something to do for a day. It’s a shame Evin had to find you so quickly.”

Had to? That was an odd way of putting it. I climbed the steps and walked into the supermarket. “Well, I’m sorry that we cut your fun short, but I’m damn glad he found me when he did.”

“I guess you would be.”

There wasn’t a whole lot of choice in the coffee department, so I grabbed some Kona and headed for the cash register. Mike followed—a thorn in my side, indeed. As I dragged out my wallet and paid the woman, I squinted up at him and said, “How come he was the only one in the plane?”

“His choice.” Mike shrugged. “The logical search area was fanning out from where your car was crashed, not hundreds of miles south.”

So how did he find me if he wasn’t my twin? Something in my stomach fluttered at that thought, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t catch the tail of it and make it something more. Make it a memory.

The woman gave me my change and a smile, and I headed out the door. “So why did he hire the plane?”

And where did he find the money if we were supposedly so broke we couldn’t afford to go home and therefore waste the money we’d paid for the villa?

“It’s the quickest and easiest way to cover a large amount of ground.” He glanced down at me. “Why does this even matter? You were rescued—that’s the main issue, isn’t it?”

No, it wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to say that. For some odd reason, I trusted Harris, but I didn’t trust his sidekick. There was something about him that tickled my instincts and said wrong.

“I guess it is.” I forced a smile. “Now, I’d better get this coffee home before my rescuer gets too grumpy.”

Mike stopped on the supermarket landing and leaned against one of the veranda supports. “Don’t detour past the crime scene,” he reminded me.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

And I didn’t. But he watched me walk down the long street, his gaze a weight I could feel between the shoulder blades. Mike West didn’t trust me, but that was all right, because I didn’t trust him, either.

Not one little bit.

D arkness was coming. The colorful flags of dusk took forever to fade, as did the last remnants of daylight. We took pizza out of the freezer rather than ordering in and drank the fresh coffee—which tasted a whole lot better than the muck Evin had been giving me beforehand, but it still wasn’t fantastic. But then, Kona was Liander’s favorite, not mine.

Liander.

I waited, but no image or information came to match the name. I flexed my fingers against the mug, knowing frustration wasn’t going to help, then took another sip. It didn’t improve with a second taste, but it was at least drinkable.

Maybe the almost constant, headachy pain in my head wasn’t so much caused by blows to my head but rather withdrawal from decent coffee.

After the dishes were washed, Evin glanced at his watch and said, “Well, I’m off to the pub for a beer. You want to come?”

I hesitated, glancing at the sky. “I think I’ll go for a walk along the beach instead. I need to stretch my legs.”

“Just don’t get lost again. I can’t afford to hire the plane a second time.”

“I wouldn’t have thought we could afford it the first time.”

He hesitated. “We couldn’t. Mom transferred some money to my account. I’ll pay her back once I’m working again.”

I nodded, and didn’t believe a word of it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

“You will.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out.

I waited five minutes, then jumped to my feet, grabbed my purse, and ran out. I didn’t bother locking up. There wasn’t anything in the villa that mattered to me—everything that mattered was locked behind the hazy pain that still resisted any attempt to ease it.

Evin was taking the main road into town. I raced along the beach, keeping to the shadows and out of sight as much as possible.

When the town center came into view, I cut through a back lane, pausing long enough to check that Evin hadn’t actually come onto the main street yet, then dashed across the road to the pub.

It was as crowded and as noisy as the night before. And, like before, it smelled sharply of wolf and humans. This time, though, the scent of desire was more noticeable on the air.

The moon was rising toward fullness—another week and it would be here, so how did a town like this cope with so many humans around? From what I’d seen, it didn’t appear to have the wolf-only clubs that most of the major cities did—clubs that protected wolves as much as they did humans. So were the werewolves of Dunedan more circumspect with their sexual drives, or did they simply retreat for the four or five days necessary to ride out the moon heat and subsequent shape change?

And why was I not feeling the force of it? Why wasn’t the moon heat beginning to stir through my blood? I was a wolf, wasn’t I?

Yes and no, that annoying deep-down voice said. Which was, as usual, no help at all.

I made my way through the crowd, then ducked into the bathroom. It was close enough to the phone that, with any sort of luck, he wouldn’t scent me and I just might be able to hear at least some of his conversation.

He arrived a few minutes later. The toilets were at an angle to the phone, so I had a good view of the number pad. He picked up the handset and dialed 0356—but before I could see the rest of the numbers, some stupid woman stepped between me and the phone and flung out a hand to push open the bathroom door. I jumped back, grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser, and pretended to dry my hands. The woman took forever to pee, so by the time I got back to spying, Evin was already talking.

“Are you all right?” His voice cracked as he said it.

As the person on the other end of the phone answered, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the wall. After a few minutes, he said, “I know, I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it. We do what we have to, love. Hopefully this won’t go on too long.”

He fell silent. Then, “I don’t know what will happen. You’re in contact with him more than me—ask him.”

Several moments of silence, then his hands suddenly clenched against the phone. “Damn you, that wasn’t—”

Whoever was on the other end of the phone must have cut him off, because he didn’t say anything for several minutes. Finally, he all but spat “Fine” and slammed the handset back onto the receiver.

I ducked back as he swung around, listening to the sound of his footsteps retreating and wondering what the hell was going on. Whatever it was, my brother wasn’t happy. Maybe my earlier guess that he was as much trapped in this as I was wasn’t so far off the mark.

But as much as I wanted to go after him and confront him about what I’d overheard, I couldn’t. There were still too many things that I didn’t know—and I doubted he would tell me anything yet. He wasn’t really desperate enough—or, rather, the situation itself wasn’t desperate enough yet.

But that might change as the full moon drew closer. Evin had let slip that he was moon-sworn—and if he was stuck out here with me, then that obviously meant that he and his partner were separated. A wolf who didn’t have sex during the moon heat was heading for trouble—and while the moon bond killed the desire for anyone other than your partner, it didn’t actually kill the need for sex. Both Evin and his partner would be forced to take others if they remained separated.

And that was a terrible situation for a moon-sworn wolf to be forced into.

He would get more desperate as the full moon drew closer—and maybe then I could get the information I needed out of him. Especially if his nightly phone calls continued to go as badly as tonight’s apparently had.

Of course, I was also in the same boat. I might not feel any real desire at the moment, but if I didn’t indulge, then the blood lust would hit me just as surely as it would hit Evin. And I’d been down that path once before—

The bathroom door slammed open and I barely jumped out of the way. “Oh, sorry,” a young woman said, giving me a wide and friendly smile.

“No problem,” I replied, as I slipped out the door. I grabbed the chair I’d used as a vantage point the previous night and stood up on it. Evin was at the bar, staring down at the pint of beer he was nursing. If his dark and gloomy expression was anything to go by, he was intending to stay there for quite a while.

Which gave me the opportunity for a little house-breaking.

I made my way through the crowded bar, keeping to the back of the room as much as possible. Once out on the street, I headed for the beach rather than walking down the main street, not wanting to risk running into either Harris or Mike. They’d be looking out for me—I’d bet on it.

When I neared the beginning of the caravan park, I stepped over the little rope fence and loped through the shadows, keeping my footsteps light.

As I neared the road on the far side I slowed, senses alert, listening to the sounds riding the air and searching for any indication that someone was near.

Aside from a couple trying to calm a screaming kid in the nearest caravan, the night was reasonably still.

I raced across the road, jumped the fence, and ducked into the trees. I kept to their cover as I made my way toward the older part of town. When it was no longer possible to stay within their comforting shadows, I paused, my gaze scanning the houses. I couldn’t see Harris, or anyone else for that matter. There were people in the house next to the victim’s—I could hear the rattle of dishes and the occasional snatch of conversation. But other than that, the area could have been abandoned.

I blew out a breath, then shoved my hands into my pockets and strolled forward. No one jumped out from the cover of the nearby houses to confront me. The place really was as deserted as it appeared.

I jumped over the front gate rather than risking it squeaking, then padded around to the back of the house. The yard held little more than bare earth. Apparently, Landsbury hadn’t been big on gardening.

I reached the back door and discovered crime scene tape across it. Obviously, Harris wasn’t waiting for the boys in the big city, no matter what his sidekick might think. I carefully plucked one edge of the tape free so I could restick it later, then studied the lock. It wasn’t a dead bolt—just an ordinary key lock. I punched the sweet spot and the door sprang open.

The house was hot and smelled stale. Stale and rotten. Although given the heat over the last couple of days, if Landsbury had left a bag of garbage sitting out, it’d probably be fermenting by now.

The first room was a small laundry. I stepped inside cautiously, senses alert for any sign of movement. Tiny claws skittered across wooden floors in the room beyond the laundry—mice rather than rats. I shut the back door, then moved into what turned out to be the kitchen. The rotten smell was more intense here, reminding me of meat left out of the fridge for too long. I tried breathing through my mouth rather than my nose, but it didn’t seem to help. I could still taste the decay at the back of my mouth.

The kitchen wasn’t large, consisting of little more than a basic cooking area and a small two-seater table. There were empty beer bottles on the table and scattered around the counter, but the sink was clear and there were clean dishes draining in the rack. The meat I could smell was still sitting in a pack on the stove. Maybe Landsbury had taken it out of the freezer in preparation for the night’s meal. Almost every surface had fingerprint dust over it.

There wasn’t much in the way of drawers, but I went through them anyway, using the clean tea towel sitting next to the dish drainer to open each one. I ran the risk of wiping off the fingerprint dust, but whoever was being sent from Perth to investigate the killing would probably do a complete reprint of the house anyway. The last thing I needed with Harris so suspicious of me was my prints being found in the victim’s house.

I didn’t find anything more useful than a stack of unpaid utility bills, so I headed into the hallway. Four doors led off it—one a bathroom, two bedrooms, and the third a living room. I headed into the living room and found it surprisingly clean. There was dust, but then, there was dust in my apartment back home, too …

The thought had me stopping in surprise, but once again it didn’t lead anywhere. I cursed softly and continued looking around.

Two chairs and a TV dominated the room. In between the chairs stood a coffee table, and on it were several days’ worth of newspapers. The top paper was a racing form for Belmont Park in Western Australia, and several screwed-up tickets were sitting nearby. Landsbury obviously liked to bet. There was little else of interest in the room, so I moved into the bedroom. His bed was unmade, but the sheets looked clean and the room was tidy. I’m not entirely sure why I expected Landsbury to be untidy or dirty—maybe it was just the foulness of his crime.

A small beside table sat to the left of the bed, so I walked around and, using the tea towel once again, opened the drawers. The first drawer held nothing but underwear and socks, but in the second I found gold—a notebook.

I lifted it out and carefully began to flick through. My stomach turned as I read—each page was headed by the name of a girl and various details about her: approximate age, description, habits.

Landsbury had been building up to another crime spree, if this was anything to go by.

Which meant the bastard had certainly gotten what he deserved.

There were ten girls in all, and it made me wonder if the one of their fathers had uncovered Landsbury’s unhealthy little obsession. It would certainly explain the method of his murder.

Yet that didn’t explain the whole red-horned devil. That wasn’t a coincidence, and I doubted it was a copycat. Besides the fact that it didn’t feel right, if Harris hadn’t known about the other murders, why would anyone else?

I flicked through the remainder of the notebook, but there was nothing else in it. I put it back, slid the drawer closed, and stood up.

As I swung around to head out, I heard the footstep. It was whisper soft, barely stirring the air, but it was there. I flared my nostrils, trying to smell who it was, but the air was rich with the scent of decay and it overrode everything else.

I moved quickly but quietly to the side of the dresser, squeezing in between it and the wall and squatting down in an effort to be less noticeable. Even though the bedroom curtains were open, the moon hadn’t risen fully yet and the darkness lay fairly thick in the room. I had to hope it would be enough to conceal me.

There were no more footsteps, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose with the awareness of another. I still couldn’t smell him—or her—but he was close.

A shadow appeared in the doorway and I recognized his outline immediately. Harris.

The damn man was a bloodhound. For an instant, he looked straight at me, but there was no sign of recognition, no indication he actually realized I was there, and I frowned. Maybe the darkness and shadows were deeper than I figured.

I stayed where I was, watching him, hoping against hope he’d continue to not see me, not smell me, and would just give up and walk away.

I really should have known fate had other plans.

“I know you’re here somewhere, Hanna. Come out.”

I didn’t move. He could have been bluffing.

“Come out, and we’ll discuss your reasons for being here. If you don’t, I will throw your ass in jail and bury the key.”

If it had been Mike making that offer, I would have stayed where I was. But it was Harris and, for some reason, I trusted him.

I rose to my feet and stepped out of the shadows. His gaze swung around and I saw the barest flicker of surprise.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

I frowned. “Do what?”

“You weren’t there. There was nothing but shadow in that corner.” He stared at me. “Only vampires do stuff like that.”

“I’m not a vampire.” But again that ripple of doubt ran through me. I might not be a vampire, but did that blood run through me?

Yes, that inner voice said. Yes.

It was coming back. Slowly but surely, it was coming back.

“I know that.” There was a sharpness in his voice that suggested annoyance, even if it didn’t show in his expression. “And yet you obviously just shadowed.”

“Look, I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I don’t know who and what I am. I don’t know what I can and can’t do. I’m trying to uncover all that and, the minute I do, I’ll let you in on the secret.” I paused, my gaze searching his and once again seeing little. “How come you keep tracking me down? Have you got some sort of weird ability to sense trouble before it starts?”

“Something like that,” he said, voice short. “So tell me, just how is breaking into a crime scene going to help you recover your memories?”

I gave him a thin smile. “As I’ve repeatedly said, Landsbury’s murder reminds me of another. If I uncover his killer, maybe I’ll shake loose some more clues as to how and why I was involved in investigating that other murder. And that, in turn, just might lead to a revelation about identity.”

He stared at me for a minute, then said, “Did you find anything?”

I hesitated but decided I’d better be honest. If he did have some sort of psychic gift, lying would only get me in deeper trouble. And right now, I needed someone on my side.

An odd thought, given that Evin was supposedly my brother.

“There’s a notebook in the bottom drawer that lists some rather chilling details about ten local girls.”

The only reaction Harris had was a slight flaring of the nostrils. Yet I could feel his anger—a rush of heat that briefly seared the air.

“You placed it back exactly as you found it.”

“Of course, but why—” I stopped, studying him. “You’re using it as bait.”

“Yes. We don’t know whether his partner is in town under an alias, but if he is, then it’s possible he’ll know about the notebook and attempt to recover it.”

“Good plan, except that I doubt the partner had anything to do with Landsbury’s murder.”

“No, but if we can flush him out, we can get him out of harm’s way.”

Meaning Harris did think it was a revenge killing. “So you think someone in this town might have realized what Landsbury was up to?”

His expression was noncommittal. “If someone had, they would have gone to Remy.”

I frowned. “Why not you? You’re the cop, not the pack leader.”

“I’m here for the benefit of the tourists. State law dictates we have fully trained police officers in charge when a pack town is open to humans.”

“Then you have no control over the wolf population? How does that work?”

“In town, I have the say and the power to control pack members when necessary. Beyond town, it falls to pack rule.”

Which was the basic setup of most packs. “But this murder happened in Dunedan itself, so why would they go to Remy rather than you?”

His smile was slightly bitter. “Because I am not well liked in this town.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But they respect you. I saw that in the pub the other night.”

He snorted softly. “They respect my previous achievements. They respect my fairness. They do not respect me.”

“Because you’re not a full-blood West-pack wolf.”

“Yes. Packs tend to be very insular, and outsiders are not welcomed easily.”

“That must have made your mother’s life hell.”

“It did. But my father was pack second, so no one said anything openly. My peers, however, showed no such restraint.”

“Then why did you come back here?”

“Because I could no longer stay in Sydney.”

“Why not?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this up front?”

“I think so. And if people refuse to answer, I find out other ways.”

He grunted. “Why does that not surprise me?”

I restrained my grin. “Look, you’re obviously a damn good cop with amazing instincts, and Mike said you had a stellar career in Sydney. So why come back here?”

He considered me for a moment, then said, “Two reasons. The first being the fact that my soul mate—who was also a cop—was killed in the line of duty.”

And coming here was one hell of a good way to get away from every reminder of her. Part of me understood that, but at the same time, I didn’t. Running from a situation never solved anything.

I didn’t offer Harris the usual lines of sympathy, nor did I tell him that I was in the same position. His expression suggested neither comment would be welcome. And that I could totally understand. There was nothing—certainly no words—that could ever ease such a pain. It had to come from inside. From the desire to move on.

Do you want to move on? that voice whispered. Are you ready?

Yes. But again, the vision of the black car rolling over and over hit. But only if there’s something—someone—to move on with.

I swallowed heavily and said, “And the second?”

“My mom was dying and had no one to look after her.”

“What about your dad?”

“He died several years before. Heart attack.”

Which was damn unusual for a wolf. He couldn’t have been very fit.

He made a sharp sweeping movement with his hand. “Did you find anything else here?”

Meaning, obviously, that that line of questioning was over. “No.”

“And I’m gathering you’ve left no fingerprints behind?” He didn’t wait for my answer, simply added, “We’ve been ordered to preserve the scene, not investigate. The murder boys are due in tomorrow.”

If his expression was anything to go by, he was hoping Landsbury’s partner would make his appearance sooner rather than later. Which meant he’d been watching the house, even if I hadn’t seen him.

“They’re going to be less than happy about the print dust everywhere.”

And it was odd that Homicide was taking over. Usually they worked with the local detectives, not above them. But maybe it was simply a case of the local boys being seen as not having the expertise—despite Harris’s time in Sydney.

“That happened before we were ordered away.” He shrugged, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Harris wasn’t about to give up his case for anyone, and that was something I could totally understand. And respect.

“What about the coroner’s report? Was there anything interesting in the toxicology report?”

“Yeah. A drug known as DH208. Apparently it’s a military-only drug that’s designed to almost instantly freeze the central nervous system of humans and nonhumans alike.” His gaze met mine again. “You were right.”

“Which doesn’t mean I applied the stuff.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t actually thinking that.”

“So you no longer think I murdered him?”

“I never did. But it’s a cop’s job to be suspicious of everyone and everything. Especially when coincidences keep pointing a particular way.”

“Which just goes to prove you can’t trust coincidences.”

“I don’t. But here you are, the biggest of them all.” He tilted his head a little, studying me through slightly narrowed eyes. “Why is that, do you think?”

“What? Why am I here, or why are these murders happening while I’m here?”

“Both.”

“I think the murder thing is simply bad timing, but I guess whoever is behind the mess surrounding me wasn’t to know that I was investigating the very same crime or that it would actually happen here. As to the other … to be honest, I don’t know. Evin said we’d only be here for a week. After that, he wasn’t sure.”

“If he was a part of the scheme, wouldn’t he be aware of whatever plans there are?”

“Only if he’s a willing participant. I have a feeling he’s not.” I hesitated. “Which reminds me—I have another favor to ask.”

He simply raised his eyebrows, so I continued.

“As you’ve already mentioned, Evin goes to the pub to make a phone call every night. I caught part of the number last night—the first four digits are 0356. Is there any chance of getting a printout of the calls made on that phone and tracking down the full number?”

“You don’t want a lot, do you?” He frowned and rubbed a hand across his stubbly chin. “I know someone who might be able to do it on the sly.”

I frowned. “Why not request it officially?”

“What reason would I give? If there is a bigger plot behind your memory loss and sudden appearance here, don’t you think they’d have set up checks? A request for information on that particular phone might just send an alert to the very people you’re trying to uncover.”

My heart warmed at his statement. He believed me. He might have emphasized the “is,” but the belief was there in his eyes, if not his words.

“That might be a good thing. It might just lead to them making a mistake and exposing their identity.”

“Or killing you outright. There’d have to be someone else other than Evin on watch here.”

“I guess.” I might be able to defend myself, but there was no defense against a long-range bullet. And while I kept hearing that voice telling me he didn’t want me dead just yet, that he wanted me to suffer, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t end up dead if things started going wrong before my seven days were up. After all, I was a long way from home.

Home.

God, I ached for it—ached for the people who I couldn’t remember but who I was suddenly certain made home home—so badly the word stuck in my throat and made breathing suddenly difficult. I might not remember where home was exactly, but I so wanted to see Rhoan and Liander and …

Someone else, someone who was my heart if not my soul.

Someone who was in that battered, bloody, black car. Someone I’d already been told was dead.

No, something inside me screamed. No!

I rubbed my forehead wearily and battled to keep that scream inside. At least some information was slowly leaking back. I had two more names now: Rhoan and Liander. They were a part of me—not just a part of my life. I felt that with every fiber.

Which meant one of them, at least, was my brother.

Rhoan, that little voice whispered. My brother, my twin.

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath and released it slowly. I was tempted to ask Harris to do a search for him, but instinct said not to. Harris was right—whoever was behind this plot had planned it thoroughly. If Rhoan was my brother, then any official search for him might just raise alarms. Hell, even if I found his phone number, just ringing him might lead to more drastic action. Like his death.

That voice had said that he wanted me to suffer. And what better way was there to achieve that than to wipe my memories, take me away from everything and everyone I loved, then slowly allow those memories to come back—only to have each and every one I cared about murdered the moment I contacted them?

It would be his style. Whoever “he” was.

But first things first. I needed to find my brother’s location, either through Google or the old-fashioned way, via the White Pages—and at least looking through a phone book would leave nothing to trace.

I could decide what my next step should be once I’d found him.

“You’re looking rather lost in your thoughts,” Harris commented, and the sudden sound of his voice made me jump. I’d totally forgotten he was there for a moment. “Care to share?”

“Just remembering some names.” I shrugged. “Their relationship to me, however, remains tantalizingly lost in the fog.”

He grunted, and I wasn’t entirely sure he believed me. “You ready to leave?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I have a choice?”

Again a slight smile tugged his lips. “No, you do not.” He waved a hand toward the doorway. “After you, Hanna London.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that wasn’t my name, then snapped it closed. My name was there, I could feel it, but it just wouldn’t reveal itself.

Patience, I reminded myself.

Only I had a suspicion patience was the one thing I didn’t have a lot of.

I made my way through the house and out the back. Harris closed and locked the door behind us, then turned around and said, “I won’t find you inside again, will I?”

I smiled, but my reply was cut off by the sudden sound of screaming.

Screaming that was male and filled with fear.

Screaming that was cut off almost as quickly as it had begun.