Lion's Share
Page 25
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
For a moment, there was only stunned silence.
“Why would you—” Lucas asked, but Isaac interrupted him.
“Why would Dad let you do that?”
“It wasn’t up to him.” I gave them another shrug, and all four turned to Jace.
“She’s right,” Luke growled. “Why would you let her do that?”
Jace bristled as if even in human form, his fur was standing on end. “I make the decisions for this Pride, and I don’t owe anyone an explanation.” He cleared his throat, and my brothers shuffled their feet on the grimy concrete, obviously unaccustomed to being reprimanded by their Alpha. At least, in front of an audience. “You four bring in the cleaning supplies and get to work. Teo, I want every photo and scrap of paper filed and catalogued.”
Mateo nodded, then gestured for the others to proceed him up the stairs.
“Abby,” Jace said, loud enough for them all to hear, “you’re on intel duty. Go through every file on Hargrove’s computer. And all his emails. We need to know who the rest of the hunters are and how many of them are left. And where they live, because that may tell us where Hargrove is hiding.”
And if he were smart, he would be hiding.
I nodded, already jogging up the steps after the guys. I would also go through Hargrove’s search history and any online bank statements—we hadn’t found any hard copies. But most of what I was actually looking for, I could never reveal to the others.
Not even to my Alpha, even though it killed me to be lying to Jace.
By the time the sun set three hours later, the guys had cleaned the entire house top to bottom—a skill most toms learned on the job yet rarely used at home. They’d made two trips to the county dump with trunks full of garbage, then had catalogued and packed up everything we would need to keep. Or have to bury. They’d found the desiccated remains of two headless shifters wrapped in tarps behind the shed.
When they came to pack up Hargrove’s computer for further investigation at the lodge, I’d already uncovered the names of ten more members of the sick hunting club.
Six were already dead: Joe Mathews, who’d been killed in Hargrove’s house, the three hunters I’d killed over fall break, and two more who’d been mauled to death in previous attacks, just like Mathews.
“Well?” Jace said as Teo and Isaac packed the cumbersome desktop and its accessories in one of the boxes they’d brought from the lodge.
I swiveled in the rolling chair to face him. “From what I can tell, the other maulings each took place in the victim’s home, which suggests that the killer actually intended to hit Hargrove here, in his own house. Either Hargrove’s guest—Mathews—was here alone when the stray broke in, or Hargrove survived the attack and escaped.”
“One of the blood scents in the basement matches the owner’s scent all over the rest of the house, but we can’t tell how fresh it is, with so many other overlying scents.” Teo shrugged. “He could have been injured in the attack, or he could have cut himself on one of his own tools months ago.”
I blinked, sorting through both information and procedures that were new to me. “Whether he was hurt or not, you think he escaped, right?”
“Or the stray abducted him,” Isaac said. “Maybe Hargrove missed the attack, and he’s the one who hung the pictures afterward. Maybe he killed the stray. Or maybe he was taken and killed by the stray, and another member of their weird-ass safari club hung your pictures up as a threat. Or a warning.”
“Okay.” Jace nodded, obviously thinking it all through. “So, how many hunters are still out there?”
“As far as I can tell, four, counting Hargrove.” I dropped the wireless mouse into the box Isaac held out for me, then spun in the rolling chair to face my Alpha again. “Two of them live down south, near the border of the free zone.” The distance could explain why they hadn’t been killed by the vigilante shifter yet, as well as how they were able to target so many strays, with their operation apparently centered firmly in the Appalachian Territory.
“And the third?”
“His name’s Darren, but that’s all I’ve found on him. They don’t use his last name in any of the emails, and I haven’t found any reference to where he lives or works, or even what he does for a living.”
“That’s not a lot to go on,” Chase said on his way through the living room with another box.
“I know, but we could find more information at the other crime scenes.”
He shrugged, brushing dark hair back from his forehead. “Or beat it out of those other two hunters when we find them.”
“Well, we better hurry if we’re going to get to them before Titus does. Or before they get to him.” I turned to look up at Jace from my chair. “Your friend Titus is mentioned by name in a few of the emails. They seemed to think taking down a leader in the stray community would be a particular coup.”
What I’d left unsaid was that they’d actually been arguing over who would get possession of his stuffed and mounted head.
Although, truth be told, that was only part of what I’d left unsaid…
Hot water ran over my head and down my face in scalding streams. I’d long since rinsed the shampoo from my hair, but the memory of my face on that creepy bulletin board refused to be washed down the drain.
Whoever the photographer was, he’d been watching me for months. He’d seen me eat, and study, and swim in the school’s indoor pool. There’d even been a shot taken through my dorm room window—with some kind of zoom lens?—which had caught me walking behind Robyn and toward my closet wearing nothing from the waist up but my bra.
How could that have been going on for so long without my knowledge? Weren’t cats supposed to have amazing instincts? What good were my super-sensitive sight and hearing without the instinct to know I was in danger?
Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be an enforcer after all.
Frustrated, I turned off the shower and grabbed the towel I’d set on the counter before I got in. It was coarse, because both the bathroom and the cabin around it belonged to the enforcers, and no guy in the history of testosterone had ever taken the time to add fabric softener to a load of laundry.
Most of them would probably still be satisfied with beating dried sweat from their clothes with sticks if Jace’s mother would let them get away with it. But the laundry room was located in the lodge—the main house—and what happened there happened according to her rules.
“Why would you—” Lucas asked, but Isaac interrupted him.
“Why would Dad let you do that?”
“It wasn’t up to him.” I gave them another shrug, and all four turned to Jace.
“She’s right,” Luke growled. “Why would you let her do that?”
Jace bristled as if even in human form, his fur was standing on end. “I make the decisions for this Pride, and I don’t owe anyone an explanation.” He cleared his throat, and my brothers shuffled their feet on the grimy concrete, obviously unaccustomed to being reprimanded by their Alpha. At least, in front of an audience. “You four bring in the cleaning supplies and get to work. Teo, I want every photo and scrap of paper filed and catalogued.”
Mateo nodded, then gestured for the others to proceed him up the stairs.
“Abby,” Jace said, loud enough for them all to hear, “you’re on intel duty. Go through every file on Hargrove’s computer. And all his emails. We need to know who the rest of the hunters are and how many of them are left. And where they live, because that may tell us where Hargrove is hiding.”
And if he were smart, he would be hiding.
I nodded, already jogging up the steps after the guys. I would also go through Hargrove’s search history and any online bank statements—we hadn’t found any hard copies. But most of what I was actually looking for, I could never reveal to the others.
Not even to my Alpha, even though it killed me to be lying to Jace.
By the time the sun set three hours later, the guys had cleaned the entire house top to bottom—a skill most toms learned on the job yet rarely used at home. They’d made two trips to the county dump with trunks full of garbage, then had catalogued and packed up everything we would need to keep. Or have to bury. They’d found the desiccated remains of two headless shifters wrapped in tarps behind the shed.
When they came to pack up Hargrove’s computer for further investigation at the lodge, I’d already uncovered the names of ten more members of the sick hunting club.
Six were already dead: Joe Mathews, who’d been killed in Hargrove’s house, the three hunters I’d killed over fall break, and two more who’d been mauled to death in previous attacks, just like Mathews.
“Well?” Jace said as Teo and Isaac packed the cumbersome desktop and its accessories in one of the boxes they’d brought from the lodge.
I swiveled in the rolling chair to face him. “From what I can tell, the other maulings each took place in the victim’s home, which suggests that the killer actually intended to hit Hargrove here, in his own house. Either Hargrove’s guest—Mathews—was here alone when the stray broke in, or Hargrove survived the attack and escaped.”
“One of the blood scents in the basement matches the owner’s scent all over the rest of the house, but we can’t tell how fresh it is, with so many other overlying scents.” Teo shrugged. “He could have been injured in the attack, or he could have cut himself on one of his own tools months ago.”
I blinked, sorting through both information and procedures that were new to me. “Whether he was hurt or not, you think he escaped, right?”
“Or the stray abducted him,” Isaac said. “Maybe Hargrove missed the attack, and he’s the one who hung the pictures afterward. Maybe he killed the stray. Or maybe he was taken and killed by the stray, and another member of their weird-ass safari club hung your pictures up as a threat. Or a warning.”
“Okay.” Jace nodded, obviously thinking it all through. “So, how many hunters are still out there?”
“As far as I can tell, four, counting Hargrove.” I dropped the wireless mouse into the box Isaac held out for me, then spun in the rolling chair to face my Alpha again. “Two of them live down south, near the border of the free zone.” The distance could explain why they hadn’t been killed by the vigilante shifter yet, as well as how they were able to target so many strays, with their operation apparently centered firmly in the Appalachian Territory.
“And the third?”
“His name’s Darren, but that’s all I’ve found on him. They don’t use his last name in any of the emails, and I haven’t found any reference to where he lives or works, or even what he does for a living.”
“That’s not a lot to go on,” Chase said on his way through the living room with another box.
“I know, but we could find more information at the other crime scenes.”
He shrugged, brushing dark hair back from his forehead. “Or beat it out of those other two hunters when we find them.”
“Well, we better hurry if we’re going to get to them before Titus does. Or before they get to him.” I turned to look up at Jace from my chair. “Your friend Titus is mentioned by name in a few of the emails. They seemed to think taking down a leader in the stray community would be a particular coup.”
What I’d left unsaid was that they’d actually been arguing over who would get possession of his stuffed and mounted head.
Although, truth be told, that was only part of what I’d left unsaid…
Hot water ran over my head and down my face in scalding streams. I’d long since rinsed the shampoo from my hair, but the memory of my face on that creepy bulletin board refused to be washed down the drain.
Whoever the photographer was, he’d been watching me for months. He’d seen me eat, and study, and swim in the school’s indoor pool. There’d even been a shot taken through my dorm room window—with some kind of zoom lens?—which had caught me walking behind Robyn and toward my closet wearing nothing from the waist up but my bra.
How could that have been going on for so long without my knowledge? Weren’t cats supposed to have amazing instincts? What good were my super-sensitive sight and hearing without the instinct to know I was in danger?
Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be an enforcer after all.
Frustrated, I turned off the shower and grabbed the towel I’d set on the counter before I got in. It was coarse, because both the bathroom and the cabin around it belonged to the enforcers, and no guy in the history of testosterone had ever taken the time to add fabric softener to a load of laundry.
Most of them would probably still be satisfied with beating dried sweat from their clothes with sticks if Jace’s mother would let them get away with it. But the laundry room was located in the lodge—the main house—and what happened there happened according to her rules.
