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“It’s my life, Danny boy—”
“Yeah, and it’s mine, too,” the man snapped. “You’re my fucking doctor. I need you even if I’m a hopeless case, and so does C.P. You want to deal with your misplaced guilt over something you couldn’t control? Do it by sticking around and helping us the way only you can. You’re more useful to us alive than dead.”
Gus felt his eyes start to water. “This is all my—”
“Fault? Because you volunteered to get kidnapped and tortured? Explain to me that math.” Daniel jabbed a finger across the cold air. “You stick with us—and you’ll get a chance to make your amends by helping us in the grim homestretch we’re both facing. That’s the way you deal with the self-blame. Not running off and getting yourself killed—unless you think twenty minutes out here is going to turn you into a sure-shot? Because I guarantee it won’t.”
The fantasy of being all vigilante and drilling that bastard with the accent in the center of the forehead began to fray. Especially as Gus measured the exhaustion that had crept up on him courtesy of their little stroll.
And he thought he had the energy for a gunfight?
“They’re coming after me, though,” he said.
Daniel glanced down at the footprints and then looked at the wolf beside him. After a moment, he shook his head.
“No, I don’t think so. I think… there’s a bigger picture, but I just can’t see it. Yet.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
CLOSE ENOUGH TOnoon,” Lydia said as she hit the brakes. “?‘Come back in two days.’ For God’s sake. It’s just stupid games, anyway.”
As she punched the P button on the Suburban’s dash, she looked out at Eastwind’s house and wondered why she was bothering to turn off the engine. The sheriff was toying with her, and besides, now they had Gus back and alive, right?
She thought of the footfalls she’d seen in the forest when she’d been in her wolven form.
“We need to play this out,” Daniel said as he opened his door.
“So he should pick up a phone and just call us,” she groused. “He’s a sheriff, not a king. What’s with the royal visit bullcrap.”
“In small towns, that’s the way it goes.”
Cursing under her breath, she got out and waited for Daniel to come around the hood of the SUV. Even after the tromp through the forest, he’d still left the cane behind, and she was relieved to seehe was walking so much better. His color had improved, too—and not just because he was flushed from the chill in the gray morning.
“This won’t take long,” he said.
“It better not.”
As she faced the house, she was distracted by all her rank pissed-off—so it wasn’t until she was almost to the front door that an eerie tingle went through her spine. Stopping, she tilted to the side so she could look through the windows on the first floor. Everything was dark inside.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t… know.” Backing up, she leaned away so she could see upstairs. “There’s something off.”
Heading up to the entry, she had been prepared to pound with her fists—instead, she used the lion’s head knocker.
Bang, bang… bang.
Shaking her head, she murmured, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this—”
Right on cue, a white car made a quick jog onto the long drive and came racing down, dust kicking up behind its rear tires. As the sedan skidded to a halt, the driver’s side door, which was marked with a decal that read “Hanson & Honeywell Realtors,” was thrown open.
“I am so sorry I’m late.” The young woman tripped over an untied sneaker as she launched herself out from behind the wheel. “I’mSarah—Gary Honeywell’s my dad? Oh, wait, the message said you’re not from around here so that doesn’t matter. I was about to teach a spin class when you texted. I do it downstairs at the church? Noon today. Peg’s taking over—”
She stopped. “I’m rambling. Sorry. I do that. But here, I’ll show you the house right now.”
As she hipped the car door closed, she patted at the messy brunette bun on top of her head. She was wearing blinding yellow Lululemon tights on the bottom, and for a split second, all Lydia could do was wonder what the top half was like. Fortunately, things were covered with a ski jacket.
Then she snapped back to attention. “See the house? We’re not here to—”
