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"While you and I were hunting your prisoners, Denny and his friends kidnapped Evin."
"What?" He glanced sharply at Evin, eyebrow raised in query.
"It's true," Evin said. "I have the bruises and rope and silver burns to prove it."
"And I have the ransom note." I took the piece of plastic out of my pocket and handed it over. He read it silently and shook his head.
"Why would the damn fool do something this stupid?"
It was a rhetorical question, but I answered it anyway. "It was a ploy to get me out to the whaling station alone, where dearest Denny intended to exact his revenge. Except they were expecting me to drive out there and, as it turns out, I have an alternate shape - a seagull. That ability allowed me to get there ahead of time and get the jump on them. I disabled their trucks, rescued Evin, and we both got the hell out of there."
Harris raised an eyebrow. "Did Denny and his friends survive the encounter?"
He didn't actually sound like he'd mind if they hadn't. "Of course they did."
"Good." His tone wasn't convincing. "But I'm not seeing the connection to Mike."
"When we were driving back, we saw West coming in the opposite direction. He was almost at the old whaling station, and the only way he could have gotten there so fast would be by leaving soon after I did."
"Which means someone told him what was happening."
"Or he was watching my place, saw me leave, and maybe even saw one of Denny's friends go in to try to retrieve the ransom note."
He digested this for a moment, then simply said, "No."
"Someone else - someone other than Evin - has been reporting back to the people behind all this. I can think of no better person than a cop who is dissatisfied with where he is and what he is doing."
"Mike is a good cop." It was stubbornly said.
"I'm not saying he isn't. I'm just saying he's a cop who may have taken on a little outside work."
"I can't believe he'd do something like that - "
"You worked your way up through the ranks in Sydney. You know that being a cop isn't always black and white, but mostly shades of gray. I'm not saying Mike's gone bad, I'm just saying he might be providing information in return for something he wants - a transfer out of here."
Hell, he'd all but said that the first time I'd met him. I took a sip of coffee and watched Harris's expression. Or, rather, the lack of it. He was a hard man to read, and I had no idea whether he believed me or not. Even his body language was giving nothing away.
I tried another angle. "Who sent the request for information about me to the Directorate?"
He hesitated fractionally, then said, "Mike."
"And do you know for certain that he sent it?"
"Why the hell wouldn't he send it?"
"Because I'm Directorate. I don't just work there. I'm a guardian."
"What?" His expression was incredulous. "You can't be. You're a werewolf."
"Exactly what I said," Evin murmured.
"I'm a dhampire - werewolf and vampire. I work in the daytime division in Melbourne."
"But how - "
"Long story," I cut in. "And it's really not important right now. The point is, if Directorate staff suddenly disappear, an alert goes out to all divisions."
"And if some cop in a godforsaken town suddenly starts asking for information about someone who matches the description of that missing personnel," Harris said heavily, "all hell should break loose."
