Moon Sworn (20 page)

Harris was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and eating toast.

“Nice to see you’ve made yourself at home,” I said, looking around for Evin but not seeing him. I did see another coffee cup and two bits of buttered toast waiting on the counter, so I sat down on the stool next to Harris and slid the coffee toward me. “Where’s my brother gone?”

“Into town to grab the paper.” Harris looked at me, amusement touching the corners of his blue eyes. It changed his features from merely handsome to extraordinary. “He did mutter something about needing the break from baby-sitting.”

I was tempted to snort, but it would have hurt my head. I took a sip of coffee, wished it wasn’t so damn bitter, and said, somewhat gingerly, “So why are you here? Not to give my brother a break from the baby-sitting duties, I take it.”

“No.” The amusement fell away from his face. “I made a few inquiries, and it appears you are indeed Hanna London, a border guard and troublemaker from the Cona Creek London pack.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“It isn’t often my instincts are wrong.” He shrugged. “I spoke to Tyson London and he backed up everything Evin has said.”

Tyson
. Something within me shivered at the sound of that name, so obviously it had once meant something to me. Something unpleasant.

“Did you run any other checks?”

He raised his eyebrows. “The word of a pack leader isn’t enough?”

“Pack leaders aren’t infallible, you know. They lie and scheme as much as the rest of us.”

“You really haven’t got a very high opinion of pack alphas, have you?”

“Apparently not.” I pulled the toast toward me and picked up a piece. “Does this mean I’m no longer a suspect in the crime?”

“No, it simply means you’re not lying about who you are. The whole crime thing is another issue entirely.”

And if he was drinking our coffee and eating toast, then I very much doubted he was here in any official capacity. He seemed the type to be a stickler for rules—written
and
unwritten—and regular cops didn’t usually sit at a suspect’s kitchen counter eating their toast and drinking their coffee, because any evidence gathered that way would be inadmissible in court.

Which didn’t mean he wasn’t fishing.

“Has the autopsy happened yet?”

He took another drink then shook his head. “These things take a time in this part of the world. I did, however, read about similar crimes in Sydney and Brisbane.”

I nodded. “They’re revenge crimes, just like this one. Which suggests there’s a fairly big organization behind it. There has to be, given they’ve hit people in four places now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Four?”

“I Googled the murders last night. None of them matched the information my—admittedly faulty—memory is providing.”

“Then how would you even know about it if you didn’t read about it, either online or in the newspapers?”

“I don’t know.” I finished the rest of the toast, then wiped the crumbs off my hands. “Have you sent an information request to the Directorate? This would be their sort of gig.”

“Marcus Landsbury was human, and he was killed by someone wearing a devil mask. That isn’t Directorate territory.”

“It is when the person wearing the mask isn’t human.”

The last hint of friendliness dropped from his gaze. “What makes you say that? There was no scent other than Landsbury’s at the crime scene.”

“And you didn’t find that odd? You’re a wolf. You should have been able to smell the killer given how fresh the kill was.”

He didn’t say anything to that, so I continued. “Besides, Landsbury said his killer was small but he moved him easily. That in itself signals nonhuman involvement, because most humans simply couldn’t have lifted a man his size with any sort of ease.”

“But neither of those is the reason you think there’s nonhuman involvement, is it?”

“No.” I hesitated. “I really do have no idea where half this stuff is coming from, but I didn’t kill Landsbury.”

“If I was accusing you of anything, we’d be down at the police station, not sitting here drinking coffee.”

Which didn’t mean he thought I was innocent. “Look, I keep getting this feeling that I was involved in investigating a similar case. Whether that was as someone who has a talent for talking to souls, or in a more official capacity, I can’t say.”

“If this other crime exists, then there’d at least be a record of it somewhere in the system—”

“Not if it’s a Directorate case.”

“True. But if it
was
a Directorate case, my sending in an official query about a possible copycat would have prompted a response. So far, it hasn’t.”

“The query would be red-flagged. How fast they get back to you depends on what other cases they have ongoing.” I hesitated. “It also might depend on which Directorate office picks it up.”

“It’ll go direct to Perth. That’s our closest main office.”

“Meaning if an Australia-wide alert hasn’t yet gone out, then it’ll be classed as low priority. You may not hear anything back for a few days.”

Curiosity stirred through his expression. “You seem to know a lot about the Directorate for someone who works as a pack border guard.”

“That’s the thing,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the countertop. “I really don’t think I’m a border guard.”

“Meaning your brother is lying?”

“No.” I blew out a breath. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“
If
Evin is lying, that means your pack leader is, also. And that’s one pretty big fabrication.” His gaze slid down my body then rose to meet mine again. I had absolutely no idea what was going on behind those blue eyes. “I’d have to ask, why would they bother?”

His words stung, though I don’t think he meant them to. “That’s what I need to find out. If this is all part of a fabrication, then why me, and why here?”

“Well, Dunedan
is
the middle of nowhere. If you wanted to get someone away from everything and everyone, then this is a pretty good start.”

I took another sip of coffee and briefly wondered if they sold other brands in the local store. This one, whatever it was, sucked. Although Harris didn’t seem to mind it.

“Dunedan is also wolf owned. For some reason, that strikes me as odd. If my memory loss is due to the machinations of others rather than an accident, then why not erase the memory of being a wolf?”

“Because you may erase the memory, but you can never erase the fact. A wolf—regardless of whether they remember what they are or not—will be affected on the onset of the full moon and will still change shape on the actual night.”

“True.” I took another drink, then winced and shoved the disgusting stuff from me. It was making my headache worse, not better. “But what if the whole object of the fabrication was to destroy and terrify? What if it was an act of vengeance designed solely for that purpose?”

“Then I’d have to say, that person has some pretty powerful enemies.” He studied me intently. “Do you have enemies that powerful?”

I snorted softly. “Are you really expecting an answer to that given the state of my memory?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I guess not.”

“Good.” My own smile faded. “It makes the whole situation even more frustrating, though. And there’s no guarantee I’ll
ever
remember everything.”

“I doubt it’s possible to erase someone’s memory so completely. At least, not when that someone is as strongminded as you seem to be.”

I smiled at the jibe. “I think I’ve been called strong-minded—and worse—a few times in my life.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

I laughed. “The thing is, it
is
possible to erase someone’s memory. It is possible to give that person a completely new identity and life.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve witnessed this?”

“No.” I hesitated. “Yes.” I threw up my hands in confusion.

“Either way,” he said, “if all this
is
planned, then it means that either the erasing wasn’t entirely successful, or it was meant to be half-assed, to add to your frustration.”

I hope you enjoy the week you have remaining
, that arrogant voice had said,
but I very much doubt you will
.

“You could be right,” I said gloomily.

“I usually am.” He finished his coffee and pushed the cup away. “Tell you what—I’ll do a more general search on your identity. I’ll search police, tax, and government records, and see if I can find anything untoward that will help clear up this situation one way or another.”

“That would be great.” At least then I might know whether this was a plot or merely the imaginations of a very sick mind. Mine, specifically. “But do me a favor?”

“That depends on the favor.”

“Don’t tell my brother.”

“Don’t tell your brother what?” Evin said behind us.

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.