“No, he isn’t!” I shouted, as Ethan said, “Whoa, how do they know it’s Marc?”
“And how many have gone missing?” Parker asked.
“I don’t know. Three? Four?” Galloway looked to Dan for confirmation, but he just shrugged.
“I wasn’t keeping count.”
I rubbed my forehead, wishing desperately for a painkiller strong enough to work on werecats for more than an hour at a time. “If you haven’t found any bodies, how do you know they’re dead? And what makes you think Marc’s responsible?”
“Because this wasn’t happening before he came here. And if they aren’t dead, where the hell are they?”
“Okay, one fact at a time,” I said, trying to sort it all out in my head. “Have you talked to their employers? Or landlords? Did any of the missing toms quit their jobs, or leave a forwarding address?”
Galloway frowned. “I have no idea. I don’t even know if anyone’s tried any of that. I just know that no one’s seen them in a while.”
And that basically summed up the structure of werecat life in the free zone. There were no Alphas to keep track of everyone, and no enforcers to keep everyone safe. If you were killed, it might be days, or even weeks, before someone noticed—if anyone noticed—because for the most part, strays were loners. They didn’t see each other on a regular basis, and had no obligation to check in or to contribute to the society.
“So, the truth is that you don’t know they’re dead. Or even that they’re actually missing. You just know you haven’t seen them in a while.” I couldn’t quite control the patronizing quality of my voice.
“They’re gone,” Galloway insisted. The firm line of his mouth told me how serious he considered the situation, and the fact that Marc had been attacked twice now told me the other strays were taking it just as seriously.
Figures. It would take disaster to draw strays together.
“How long has this been going on?”
Galloway glanced at Dan again for help. “A month?”
Dan nodded, but I was unconvinced. “Marc’s been here for more than two months,” I snapped. “Your theory’s about as watertight as the Titanic.”
“All I know is this wasn’t going on before he got here.” Galloway shrugged, unbothered by my skepticism.
“So, you guys think Marc’s behind this series of disappearances, so you tried to kill him.” But something was nagging at the back of my mind. “Why do it with all of us around? He’s here alone day after day, but you waited to attack until he had serious backup.”
Galloway huffed in frustration. “Pete said it would make a statement. You and your boys were supposed to be there as witnesses, to go back and tell your dad that we’re not going to be messed with anymore. That if there’s power in numbers, we have it now, too. But that kind of backfired on us.”Damn right.
Ethan sank onto the futon next to me, now that it was clear that Galloway posed no threat. “So, you guys admit to trying to kill Marc. But not to taking him?”
Galloway rolled small, dark eyes. “Because we didn’t take him. If one of us had done this, they’d have left the body. That message, again.”
But I was following Ethan’s logic, even if our unwilling host wasn’t. “Well, I can guarantee you that Marc isn’t behind those other disappearances. So doesn’t it stand to reason that whoever took those other toms probably took Marc, too?”
Dan nodded, and after a second to think it over, even Galloway looked half-convinced, if startled by the possibility. “But why?”
“Good question. And I have an even better one.” I turned to Parker with one hand outstretched. “Let me have the sample.”
Parker pulled the plastic bag from his bulging back pocket and handed it over. I opened the seal and leaned forward to hold the bag in front of our host’s face. “Do you recognize this scent?”
Galloway leaned forward and sniffed dramatically, and recognition showed clearly on his features. For a moment, I thought he might resist answering again. But then he simply met my gaze and nodded. “Adam Eckard. Where did you get this? Is he dead?”
“No, but these two are.” I handed the sample to Parker and leaned back on the futon to dig a scrap of paper from my right hip pocket, then gave it to Galloway, who unfolded it and read with a blank expression. “Did you know them?”
“Not personally,” he said, handing the paper back. “Why?”
“Two hours ago, we dragged their corpses from Marc’s living room floor. That’s his carpet soaked in Eckard’s blood.”
Galloway blinked at me while he processed the new information. “They went after Marc?”
I nodded. “These two died in the fight.” I held up the scrap of paper. “And Eckard dragged Marc across his own lawn and shoved him into a car, then drove off with him. That surprises you?”
“Yeah.” Galloway nodded, and his forehead furrowed with confusion. “They were all three with me in the second group on Friday night. We were stationed farther down the road, because we weren’t sure where the car would actually break down. But we were supposed to kill Marc in front of you. Not take him. I haven’t heard anything more about any of it since then. And I have no idea why they’d take those other toms.” Which we all now seemed to believe was the case. “They’re strays, just like the rest of us.”
I believed him. I didn’t want to, but he was too tired, too stressed and too bad an actor to lie his way out of this one.
“You have a pen?” I asked Ethan. My brother pulled a wallet-size pen from his pocket and handed it to me, along with a mini-notepad. I gave them both to Galloway. “I need the names of the other missing toms.”
Galloway took the pen and paper without argument. “You guys took down fifteen or so of us on Friday night, and rumor has it Marc got off with little more than a scratch from the whole thing.” He met my eyes, his own dulled by bleak fear. “So if they can get Marc, what’s to stop them from getting any one of the rest of us?”
I gave him a grim smile as he sat with his pen poised over the paper. “We are.”
Eleven
I called my dad on the drive back to Marc’s house, both to give him the requested update, and because Galloway hadn’t known Adam Eckard’s address.
“Hello?” my father croaked into my ear, as Parker turned left onto a small country highway.
“It’s me. Did I wake you up?”
“I was just dozing.” Leather creaked, and I pictured my father sitting up on the sofa in his office. “You have a report?”
“Yeah. We just spoke to Hooper Galloway, at the address you gave us.”
“Good.” He sounded more awake now, and his socked feet brushed softly against the floor. “Injuries?”
I grinned, though only Ethan could see my face in the passing glow from a streetlight. “Nothing but Galloway’s pride.”
“Collateral damage?”
“One storm door.” Ethan returned my grin.
My father sighed, and springs groaned over the line as he sank into his desk chair. “I guess it could have been worse. What did you find out?”
“We took a sample of blood from the stray who got away with Marc, and Galloway says it belongs to a tom named Adam Eckard. He’s not on our list, so we need whatever you can find out about him. Specifically, his address and anything you can get on his car. Same for the two dead toms, if you can. We’re not sure who was driving, and neither of the corpses was in possession of a set of keys.”
“I’ll put Owen on it as soon as I hang up,” my father promised. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” I braced myself with one hand on the back of Dan’s seat as Parker took a sharp turn. “We misunderstood the motive for the ambush. Manx and I weren’t the target. Marc was. Galloway says they were supposed to kill him in front of us, to send a message.”
My father growled softly into my ear. “Sounds like they’re trying to pick a fight.”
“They think they’re trying to end one. Several strays have gone missing in the area over the past month. They’re presumed dead, and Marc is presumed responsible. But it looks to us like Eckard and the dead toms are to blame. Though I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’re working with or for someone else.”
“You have names for the missing strays?” A drawer squealed open over the line, and something smacked lightly onto the surface of my dad’s desk. Probably a legal pad.
“Yeah.” I read him the list of three names Galloway had given me, along with the question mark at the bottom of the list—Galloway was sure there had been a fourth, but couldn’t remember his name.
“I’ll call you in the morning with whatever we can dig up. Though Michael could probably dig a lot faster.” But Michael was in Georgia and couldn’t be spared until Manx’s trial was over. My dad’s palm scratched against the receiver, stifling his yawn. “I want you all to get some sleep. There’s nothing more you can do tonight, without an address.”
I thought about arguing—I wasn’t sure I could sleep with Marc missing in action—but for once I was too tired to bicker. So I changed the subject. “How’s Kaci?”“Exhausted.” Concern echoed in his voice and probably in his posture. “She’s going to be seriously ill soon if she doesn’t Shift.”