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"And, at this point, I don't think it will," Dr. Inglis said. "Cause of death was exsanguination. Fatal loss of blood. The damage to the throat tissue makes it impossible to determine whether it was homicide, misadventure, or predation. For now, I'm going to say it was most likely predation, given the rising number of cougar encounters and the obvious signs of feeding. When we find the young woman's family, if they want to get a second opinion, we can do that."
Everyone agreed this was fair. My dad excused himself to get home and resume tracking the fires. After he left, they continued talking about the murder but only boring stuff like moving the body to cold storage at the medical lab. Daniel agreed we could leave now. Time to check out the Braun place.
We parked down an old logging road, then walked back, sticking to the woods. We got the spare key from the shed and went inside.
The cottage had already been searched. It wasn't a rip-the-place-apart kind of search, just kitchen and dresser drawers opened and stuff inside left piled on top, like Chief Carling had been looking for anything that might help her find Mina Lee's family.
We'd hoped to find a laptop, but there was no sign of one.
While Daniel searched more thoroughly, I checked caller ID on the landline. It said she'd had five calls since yesterday, presumably all after her death. Three came from unlisted numbers. The other two had the same number attached with an area code I didn't recognize. I wrote it down. Then I played her messages. There was only one, and it must have come in after Chief Carling searched the place, because no one had listened to it yet.
"Hey, it's me." The voice was male. "You did get my text messages, right? The Nasts paid me a visit. They're starting to think we're holding out on them, that we found something and we're seeing if the Cortezes will pay more. I told them we aren't stupid enough to try that."
A pause. "We aren't, right? Double-cross a Cabal and we'll be paying the price into the afterlife." Another pause. "You know that, right?"
The man swore. "I can't believe you'd ever be that stupid, but if I don't hear back from you soon, I'm bolting--and taking everything we have so far with me."
Daniel walked in, frowning as the message finished. "When did that come in?"
"Tonight. If anyone else left messages, someone erased them. This one's from the only number on caller ID." I lifted a scrap of paper. "I wrote it down."
"Can you play it again? I missed the beginning. Someone drove by on a dirt bike and drowned it out."
I did. As he listened, his frown grew.
"Could be corporate espionage," he said. "A drug company wants to buy stolen research. Sounds like that guy's really afraid of them, though. I imagine it'd be a shady company, if they're willing to buy that information. Maybe that's what cabal means. Industry slang."
"It doesn't explain what she wanted with us," I said. "How would cozying up to local teens help?"
"I don't know."
He walked over to the desk and started moving stuff around, looking under the phone and the answering machine, searching drawers. I kept thinking about the message.
We'll be paying the price into the afterlife.
It was probably just an exaggerated phrase, like saying "kick our asses into the next century." But put it together with that book on witches and the stuff on skin-walkers and it just ... It bugged me.
"Daniel?" I said.
He bent to run his hand under a drawer. "Hmm?"
When I didn't continue, he straightened. "What's up?"
"I found out something today, and it's going to sound crazy--"
The back door clicked. I waved Daniel to silence and mouthed, "Someone's here."
He opened the folding door to the closet. I hesitated. Even thinking about being in such a small place made my skin crawl. I glanced at the window instead, but he shook his head. No time for that.
The closet was even smaller than it looked. Daniel went in first and I had to back in. To get the door closed, he had to put his arm around my waist and pull me against him.
"Just relax," he said, his breath hot against my ear.
His hand slid to rest against my hip. He stayed bent over my shoulder, as if trying to see through the slats in the door, his breath ruffling my hair. When I shifted, he put his other hand on my other hip. I shifted again.
"Stop squirming," he said. "I didn't wear my steel-toed boots."
I stepped off his foot. "Sorry."
