“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.