Page 49 of Patrick’s Seduction

“What’s wrong?” Fallon said into the silence, dropping her fork onto the plate, where it made a clanging noise.

“It’s about Cameron,” Patrick started.

He noticed Fallon holding her breath.

“The Marin County Sheriff’s Office told us that he died in a car crash about two months ago.”

A loud gasp tore from Fallon’s throat, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “That can’t be! It’s impossible. I saw him, I spoke to him.”

Patrick put his hand on hers, noticing how it trembled.

“They’re lying,” Fallon insisted. “Why would they lie about that?” Her gaze shifted to Anita.

Anita stepped closer to the table. “We don’t know why.”

“First, we have to confirm that we’re talking about the same person, or whether the man you know is an imposter,” Patrick said, although he didn’t believe it, but he needed to be thorough before they could move on to the next steps. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped on the driver’s license he’d downloaded earlier.

“What do you mean?” Fallon asked.

He turned the display of his cell phone toward her so she could see the photo. “Is that the Cameron Gallagher you were dating?”

Fallon stared at the photo and instantly nodded. “Yes, that’s him.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “What is going on?”

Patrick glanced at his two colleagues, then looked back at Fallon. “We don’t know yet, but according to the sheriff, Cameron died in a car crash about eight weeks ago. His body was so badly burned that the only way he could be identified was by dental records.”

“They must be wrong!” Fallon cried out. “He’s alive. He attacked me in my lab only two nights ago. And you said you saw him.” The more she spoke, the more agitated she sounded.

Patrick took her hand in his. “Fallon, please, take a breath. I saw Cameron, too. Somebody faked his death, either he himself or his family. I don’t know yet.”

“But why? Why would he fake his own death?”

“There could be many reasons. And we’ll find out why.” He exchanged a look with Lydia. “I’ve gotta go back to the office. I need you to stay with Fallon.”

“No problem,” Lydia replied.

“What are you gonna do?” Fallon asked, anxiety visibly wrapping around her.

“We need to figure out what he was trying to hide that made him feel it was necessary to fake his own death.” And he knew it had something to do with the fact that Cameron was a werewolf. But he couldn’t tell Fallon that. She would freak out.

He had his suspicions as to why Cameron saw the need to fake his own death, but he needed to speak to his colleagues to confirm he was on the right track.

“Once we know,” Patrick added, “we can take him down, and you’ll never have to see him again.”

Fallon nodded, her jaw locked, her expression grim.

Patrick reluctantly let go of Fallon’s hand and rose. He wanted to take her into his arms to reassure her that everything would turn out alright, but he couldn’t do it for two reasons: he didn’t want to openly show his feelings for Fallon, and he wasn’t entirely sure that everything would be alright. After all, they were dealing with werewolves. Any number of things could go wrong. And a werewolf like Cameron, who’d most likely killed before, was unpredictable.

“Anita, let’s go. They’re waiting for us at HQ.”

24

The sun was almost down when Fallon felt her skin prickle, just like the night before. Whatever Buffy had given her the previous night, which had alleviated her symptoms, was waning. It felt as if she was coming down with something. The ache in her limbs was back, this time even more pronounced. Her neck itched, and she rubbed it furiously, yet felt no relief. It was as if she was wearing a woolen sweater that scratched her naked skin, even though she wore a soft cotton T-shirt that should have felt good on her skin.

After the news Patrick had shared with her, she’d lost her appetite and threw the rest of her lunch into the garbage. The thought of eating anything made her feel nauseated, yet her stomach grumbled as if she was hungry and needed nourishment.

She’d never felt so many conflicting sensations in her body. In fact, it felt almost foreign to her, as if she’d taken over somebody else’s body, and it didn’t quite fit. Like an ill-fitting costume.

She’d taken a bath, hoping it would make her feel more relaxed, but it had done the opposite. The warm water had made her feel too hot as if she’d jumped into a boiling pot.