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Kat shrugged. It was Gwen who answered. “Maybe it needs these children for something more than feeding. Or maybe it simply kills them elsewhere in an effort to throw police off the trail. Which it did, until we came along.”
“If this thing is supposed to be a spirit, how the hell can it have kids?” Mark asked.
“It does have a physical presence. It wasn’t a spirit who seduced and killed those men.” Gwen pushed to her feet. “I feel the need to scry. Kat?”
Kat rose and followed her grandmother into the other cabin. Benton and Mark looked at Ethan.
“She can sometimes see future events,” he explained. “Through a crystal ball.”
Benton snorted. “You really believe that rubbish?”
Until he’d met these two, he hadn’t really believed in anything supernatural—despite the fact that he was a werewolf. He’d been born and raised in a small farming community, and his family had very carefully shielded the townsfolk from the knowledge of what they were. He’d grown up feeling like a freak—a dangerous freak who needed to be locked up one night every month. But the last couple of days had certainly opened his eyes to just what else was out there. “I thought you were willing to use anyone who helps solve this case?”
“Doesn’t mean I have to believe it.”
“Believe in them. They’re the real deal.”
Mark’s blue eyes glimmered with amusement. “You’ve changed your tune over the last few days. Wonder what the reason for that is?”
“I’ve seen things—”
“I just bet you have.”
Benton’s gaze wavered between the both of them. “Am I missing something here?”
“Nothing important,” Ethan muttered, shooting an annoyed look his partner’s way. “Did you come up with any ID matches for the driver that attacked us?”
Mark shook his head. “Not yet. And it’s a long shot, at best.”
Everything about this damn case seemed to be a long shot. Including finding Janie alive. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. He couldn’t think like that. He had to find her. Anything else was simply unacceptable. “The lab boys find anything unusual when examining the second kid?”
Mark frowned. “Maybe. They found some dirt under a couple of his fingernails.”
“Most kids have dirt under their fingernails.”
“Yeah, but this stuff was slightly phosphorous. It didn’t come from that warehouse in Springfield, that?
?s for sure.”
It was a clue. Maybe their first. “Are they trying to place it?”
“It’s going to be a long task, so don’t expect miracles.”
He didn’t expect miracles. He only expected answers. “Nothing else?”
“The kid’s clothing and shoes were still damp. He’d been immersed in water a couple of hours before his death.”
“No telling whether it was bath, river, or sea, I suppose?”
“It wasn’t seawater, but that’s the only thing they are sure of.”
Another possible clue that led them nowhere. He glanced at Benton. “What about the old man? Any clues there?”
“No—” A shrill ring interrupted him. The captain swore and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. “Benton here.”
It was bad news. That was obvious from the captain’s expression. After listening for a few moments, Benton said, “Where?”
He scrawled down an address, then hung up. “Another kid’s gone missing,” he said grimly. “And this time, the mother was killed in the process.”
