Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) (21 page)

I set to work heating the water and getting out a mug for each of us. I didn’t convince Kaitlin to take the rest of the day off, but somehow, with a bit of this and that, I managed to send her to work feeling a little bit better than she had before.

I spent the rest of the morning on the phone. I started with the local sheriff’s department, to find out if they had a positive ID on the bodies.

“Yeah,” Deputy Hank said before I had a chance to ask. “It’s them.”

I shut my eyes, tightly. “How did they do the ID?”

“Dental records. Sent it off to the lab in Little Rock, but they got it back quick because it’s in all the local news.”

At least we knew. That was something.

Armed with that knowledge, I called the camp administration office to ask Nora for the names and phone numbers of every member of her staff. She tried to blow me off, but relented when I threatened to call Vera Goldstein to ask her to get the information.

Neither of us wanted to bother the grieving mother.

Then I started making lists. I wanted to know where everyone was when the girls disappeared, where everyone was when someone kidnapped me, and who owned the black Ford pickup.

The last question took me no time at all to answer, especially since I already had my suspicions – the first few counselors I called confirmed that it was Mackenzie’s. Another piece of evidence against him, but I needed more before I could be certain of his guilt. Plus, I didn’t think he was acting alone.

As for my other questions, that was going to take quite a bit of time. The camp was closing, and now that the manhunt was over, the staff was in the process of packing up and going home. I did hear some rumors that Renee Layne, the girls’ counselor, had been seen fleeing the stable fire, but by eleven o’clock, all I really had to show for my morning’s efforts were dozens of voice-mail messages.

Finally, when all that was done, I decided to check in with the sheriff.

“Cassie,” the sheriff said when he picked up, “it’s about time you called. I did some looking and can’t find any other ghost bank robbers, at least not in Missouri or Arkansas.”

That didn’t surprise me. “If this is an isolated incident, odds are that you’ll never find out who did it.”

“So, what – we’re hoping that the bank robber strikes again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re hoping that happens, but basically, yeah.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a minute. “I’m not sure if this is related or not...”

“What do you have?” I asked.

“Well, over the past couple of weeks we’ve received a few reports of shoplifting from some of the downtown businesses. In one case, about two hundred dollars went missing from the cash register, which might have been an inside job except that the only person working was the store owner, and she swore she heard the cash register open and close while she was helping a customer.”

“But she never saw anyone?”

“No.”

“Did she have a security system?”

“No.” The sheriff sighed. “None of these businesses do. Video surveillance is a bit expensive for a small business, and by the same token, shoplifting can be pretty damaging. The other missing items were jewelry or small but somewhat valuable knick-knacks – at least pricey enough that the stores noticed they were missing. The two pieces of jewelry, diamond earrings and an emerald ring, were in locked display cases. No one saw anything, but of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We all know shoplifting happens, but we don’t usually see a string of it like this.”

“But why would someone who was going to steal fifty thousand dollars from a bank stoop to random grabs from jewelry and antique shops?”

“You’re right. I was just throwing it out there.”

I didn’t want to discount the sheriff’s hunches. He had been in this business for a long time. If he thought to bring up the other robberies, then I wasn’t inclined to dismiss them so easily, but what did that add up to? Someone out to make random trouble?

“You know,” I said slowly, “the bank robbery was a bit sloppy.”

“Oh, how?”

“Well, whoever it was picked up the bags of money and let people see them floating around for a few seconds before he extended the field of invisibility to cover them.”

“So what does that tell us?” the sheriff asked.

“I don’t know yet. But if you get another report of shoplifting, let me know.”

* * *

Near noon, I decided to stretch my legs and grab some lunch at the diner. I hoped to run into Madison there. I hadn’t spoken to her since the day I’d seen her with Evan, and I found my natural curiosity piqued by the encounter. Town gossip hadn’t done much to fill in the possibilities, at least, not when I had asked Kaitlin about it. She would know, too, working at gossip central. Plus, she paid special attention to anything involving Evan, because she didn’t trust him with me. Neither did I, but so far, I hadn’t found a way to tell either her or Madison about the debt.

My new apartment was a good mile from the diner, and the afternoon was hot, but thanks to a few centering techniques, I kept the heat from becoming too oppressive. The same techniques allowed me to deep listen to the world around me, from traffic to birdsong. It all fit into a pattern of sorts, and I could sometimes tell when the pieces didn’t fit.

Minutes after leaving the apartment, the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand on end, the same way they had done the week before when, it turned out, Evan had been following me. Except Evan couldn’t be following me now, because he and his father were hours away, on the trail of a potential killer. Still, the earlier experience made me feel more inclined to listen to my instincts, so I ducked into a shop. I made my way to the back, then left through a door leading to an alley.

I had barely gone three steps before I ran smack into something solid that hadn’t been there a moment before. Reeling, I stepped back to see the werewolf – Scott Lee – blocking my path. I started to back away, but he clamped a hand around my forearm to keep me in place.

“Evan asked me to keep an eye on you while he was gone,” Scott said.

“He did what?” I tried to jerk my arm away, but with no success.

“How did you know I was following you?”

I didn’t hear his question. I was too busy trying to calculate the date of the next full moon.

“Full moon was last week,” he said.

“Um, thanks. Can you let go?”

“Will you run away?”

I weighed my options, and decided it best to stay put. “No.”

He let go, and I rubbed the place on my arm where he had gripped me a little too tightly.

“I won’t bite,” Scott said, flashing a wolfish smile that made me shudder. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t really count unless I was in wolf form.”

“Good to know. Why are you telling me this, though?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I usually pretty much let people think whatever they want to about me. The truth doesn’t tend to influence people’s opinions much.”

I flinched. “What is the truth? Are you trying to tell me you’re safe?”

“No. But Evan trusts me with you, which should tell you a lot.”

I supposed it did, although it didn’t put me at ease. “Fine. So why don’t you walk with me instead of sneaking around behind me?”

I started walking. Scott fell into step beside me, and for a few minutes, we didn’t speak.

“Where are you going, anyway?” Scott asked after a while.

“To meet Madison for lunch at the diner.”

“Madison?” Something in his voice made me uneasy. “The curvy brunette?”

“Um, yes. Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” He paused for a second before adding, “You should marry him.”

“Why? So he’ll take care of me?”

“You are in danger.”

“I’ve heard.” I sighed, wishing I knew how to handle that part. Moving to Chicago, where I would be anonymous, seemed the safest course, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I changed the subject. “At least you’re not trying to tell me how I feel about him, like Grace Blair did last night.”

He stopped walking, and I turned back to look at him.

“You went to see Grace?” Scott asked.

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“What did she say?” Scott asked.

“Nothing useful.” I shivered. “I did kind of wish I hadn’t gone, though.”

“You should listen to your instincts.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Grace wants you for her grandson,” Scott said.

“Which one?” I tried to make the question seem off-hand and flippant, but after what Evan had said to me the night before, I don’t think I was convincing.

“Does it matter?” Scott asked.

I took a deep breath. “Evan mentioned something yesterday about men around here thinking I’m burned out or repressed. I just can’t believe men would claim a wife like that. This is the twenty-first century.”

“Which means, what? Human nature has changed? Plenty of men still want power. There’s a flourishing slave trade across the world, and in magical circles, selling drained brides happens all the time.”

“In Eagle Rock?”

“Hadn’t you noticed how little intermarrying there is between the families?” Scott said. “We’ve been here for 150 years, but the magical bloodlines have remained strong. How do you suppose that happened?”

I had never given it any thought. But now that he had posed the question, I doubted I would be able to think about anything else.

My cell phone rang, snapping me back to reality. Digging it out of my purse, I saw the sheriff’s number. “Hang on. I have to take this.”

“Hi, Cassie,” Sheriff Adams said. “I just got a call from a woman swearing she saw a ghost steal a gold locket from McClellan’s.”

“McClellan’s?” I stopped, leaning against the wall of an old brick store. Scott stopped, too, and arched an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah, I’ve never been in there – it’s an antique shop not far from The Main Street Cafe.”

“I know where it is,” I said.

“Well, the owner didn’t call to report a theft, but I wanted to check it out anyway. Can you meet me there?”

“Meet you at McClellan’s?” I glanced at Scott, still unable to get our conversation out of my mind.

“I know you said they were practitioners,” Sheriff Adams said. “I always wondered what they sold at that store. You got any ideas?”

“A few,” I said, remembering Evan’s guess that the McClellans could steal souls.

“Well, I need you there. Five minutes, okay?”

“Sure, five minutes.” I hung up and dropped the phone back into my purse.

“David McClellan wouldn’t have called the police if something had been stolen,” Scott said. “He’d find the thief himself. He won’t like interference.”

“You heard, huh?”

“Good hearing.” The werewolf had excellent hearing. I just hadn’t realized that he would also have exceptional hearing in human form.

“I’ve had to confront David McClellan before.” It hadn’t gone well, and that was when I’d had the protection of my family.

“I’ll come with you,” Scott said.

“That works for now, but you know it won’t hold forever. Sooner or later, I have to find a way to take care of myself.”

“That’s easy. Marry Evan.”

I started walking in the direction of McClellan’s store without deigning to respond.

“Do me a favor,” I said when we had nearly reached the store. “Don’t come in with me. Give me a chance to handle him alone, all right? If I’m in there too long, you can barge in and come to my rescue.”

To his credit, he didn’t even hesitate. “All right.”

* * *

Sheriff Adams gave Scott a quizzical look as the two of us strode up to him, just outside of McClellan’s, but he didn’t say anything.

“Have you talked to anyone yet?” I asked.

Sheriff Adams shook his head. “David McClellan keeps giving me suspicious looks, though.”

“All right, let’s go in.”

Scott sank into the shadows and waited while the sheriff and I pushed our way into the store – or tried to. For some reason, the sheriff simply could not cross the threshold.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“He’s not welcome here,” David growled from behind the counter. “Now, you, on the other hand...”

I whirled to face him, a nondescript middle-aged man standing behind a glass counter. He was clearly trying to make me feel uncomfortable, but I refused to let him. Remaining cool and composed, I let my eyes flicker around the store, taking in the details to file away for a later date.

On the surface, it looked like most of the other antique jewelers in town. There were locked display cases lining two walls, playing host to some of the pricier pieces of jewelry. A few racks of trinkets and knock-offs stood in the middle. The only oddity was the lighting. Jewelry stores usually make use of spotlights to maximize the beauty of their pieces, making them sparkle as they never would outside the doors. McClellan’s, however, was nearly dark.