Amanda's Wolves(70)
Seconds ticked by, and then the door swung open. “Can I help you?”
“Hi. Yes. I’m Logan Masters. And this is Sawyer Hamilton and Amanda Williams. Are you Jackson?”
Jackson nodded. “What’s this about?”
“We got your address from your sister. You weren’t answering your phone.”
He looked behind him and then back toward the three of them on the porch. “Yeah. Phone died. It’s charging.”
“My sister Laurie called you earlier about concerns at the logging site near the edge of the reservation.”
“She did,” he confirmed. “Wait. Laurie’s your sister?” He glanced up and down Sawyer’s body with a grin. “You look nothing alike.”
Sawyer returned the smile. “Nope. We get that a lot. She’s red and pale. I’m dark and tan. No idea how that gene pool worked out, but we have one Native parent and one Caucasian.”
Jackson stood back a step. “Come in. I know this isn’t a social call. What happened?”
Logan breathed a sigh of relief. The man was reasonable. And not aggravated with their arrival. He was one of the good guys. Logan didn’t have any of the sensitivities the Bartel-Hamiltons had, but he was at least able to read posture, body language, and pitch of speech. Jackson was relatively receptive and calm. “I’ve gotten some threatening notes. They may be related to the logging site.”
“Seriously?” Jackson fidgeted, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets and rocking forward onto the balls of his feet.
“Yeah. Can’t prove it yet, but I suspect something about that crew isn’t on the up and up.” Logan knew it was just as possible the spirits were warning about something totally different, but his gut told him something illegal was happening at the logging site anyway.
“Shit. How do you know this?”
“I was hiking, and I came to the edge of the site. Maybe someone saw me and thinks I know something.” That wasn’t entirely true. Logan knew no one saw him. He hadn’t been in human form. But he couldn’t very well tell Jackson that.
Jackson tugged one hand from his pocket and swiped at the imaginary perspiration on his brow. “Have you called the sheriff’s office?”
Logan nodded. “Both in Sojourn and Cambridge.” That was also a bit of a white lie. They had spoken to Corbin, who was a deputy in Sojourn, and Trace Masters, a deputy in Cambridge. Both sheriffs at each office were also shifters, thank God. But flat out filing a report when they all suspected foul play and the involvement of supernatural spirit guides was a pain in the ass. “My brother Trace is a deputy in Cambridge. He’s looking into it.”
Corbin and Trace were speaking to their bosses already. They hoped to keep the specifics a bit hushed from the humans on the force for now.
Logan in particular wanted to handle things under the radar, and in fact had insisted when he’d spoken to Trace. If whoever was threatening them thought he went to the cops, Amanda’s life would be in even more danger.
As it was, Logan wasn’t about to take any chances. No matter who was sending the notes, they were pissed about something. They could decide to take it out on Amanda.
“What can I do?”
“Not show up tomorrow,” Logan suggested.
Jackson cringed. “I can do that. At least tomorrow. I can’t put it off forever, but I can stall the visit a few days.”
Logan blew out a breath.
Jackson grinned. “Hey, I value my life too. Do you think you saw something you weren’t supposed to?”
“Maybe. Though I’m confused about what. I wouldn’t have the foggiest notion if they were complying with regulations. So, I’m not sure what I saw. But I’m erring on the side of caution and assuming someone thinks I know something.”
“What a mess.” Jackson ran a hand through his hair and then stated the obvious. “If they’re hiding something and worried enough you might report them, who knows what they might do if an inspector shows up. It’s my job. And I sometimes have to face serious allegations, but I can wait a few more days.”
“Exactly. That’s why we came. To head you off.” Logan winced.
“Is a deputy going out there in the morning, then?”
Logan nodded. Also a white lie. Both deputies would make an appearance, but not in human form. Not yet anyway. “Is there anything you can tell us about logging sites? What could they be doing that’s illegal?”
“Oh, God. Any number of things. The most obvious would be over-logging, which means they’re taking more trees than the perimeter of land they were allotted. And if they’re still there working, I’d say that’s your best bet, because they were supposed to be gone by now. Though that’s not always foolproof. Any number of factors can slow a crew down.”