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The tiger in him wanted to ignore every word the detective said, find Ralph, and threaten to rip out his throat if he didn’t tell the truth. It was unnatural to let someone else handle his business, especially when it came to family. But the detective’s hunches hadn’t let them down so far. Wilhelm guessed he could trust the man at least a little longer.
Wilhelm rose and opened the door for him. “Find who did this,” he said as the detective stepped out into the hall.
He turned and gave Wilhelm a half-smile. “I’ll stay in touch.”
As Frasier walked away, the phone in Wilhelm’s pocket buzzed. It was Sven. “Want me to pick up some food or do you want to go out?” he asked.
“We’ll get something on the way to the airport. Have the plane readied to leave as soon as possible, then pack up and meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes.” Wilhelm hung up and called Juliette, who answered after the third ring.
“We’ll be flying out as soon as the plane is ready and a take-off time is cleared.”
Her exhale was audible. “Good.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, better now that I know you’re on your way back. I thought maybe sending Bonnie home would do it, but I’m still on edge.”
He wished he could put his arms around her and set her at ease. “Gunther’s still there, right?”
“He hasn’t left our side,” she said with a little laugh. “Any news on the investigation?”
“Yeah. But I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, okay?”
“Okay.” A tiny squeal came through the phone, and Wilhelm smiled.
“They keeping you busy?”
“They’ve been sleeping a lot, but it looks like they’re waking up and ready to be fed.”
“I’ll let you do that, then. I’m going to pack up here and head to the airport.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Juliette? I love you.”
A pause. “That so sweet of you, Wilhelm. I love you, too.”
That was what he needed. Tension started to melt from his neck and shoulders, so they said goodbye and he gathered his things so he could leave Aspen and get back to Juliette and the twins as fast as possible. Get back to his family.
Sven was sitting on one of the low leather couches in the lobby when Wilhelm arrived. “A car will arrive any minute to take us to the airport,” Sven said as he stood and reached for Wilhelm’s suitcase.
“Thank you.” Wilhelm followed him out of the hotel and took a deep breath of the fresh air once they’d gone through the door. He could still smell smoke, and car exhaust kept the air from being the crisp, clean air he’d find in the woods, but it’d have to do. It might take a few days of hot showers and freshly laundered clothes before the smoke scent in his nostrils faded.
A black, shiny car turned the corner, and Sven stepped forward toward the curb. The car didn’t stop, it merely slowed. The passenger window rolled down, and the driver—
Sven tackled Wilhelm to the ground as a shot fired out, and tires squealed as the car tried to race away. But Wilhelm and Sven bounced to their feet quickly enough that Wilhelm read the license plate, committing it to memory, and traffic on the side street next to the hotel wasn’t prepared for a car to cross at high speed. The black car collided with an airport shuttle, sending them both spinning in opposite directions.
That gave Wilhelm and Sven enough time to catch up with the car, even if they did use supernatural speed. Wilhelm couldn’t have given a damn if anybody noticed. He’d explain it away somehow. The only thing that mattered was catching that car.
They reached it as the driver regained control and tried to race away going the wrong way in the lane. That slowed his escape enough that Wilhelm reached the driver’s door and drove his elbow through the glass, impacting the driver’s face and knocking him over in the seat. The car slowed as Wilhelm wrenched the door open and slammed it into park as Sven opened the passenger door and blocked the driver in.
The driver lifted his gun to shoot Sven, but Wilhelm snapped his wrist, disarming him easily. The driver screamed in pain, trying to cradle his broken wrist as Wilhelm dragged him from the car with a handful of his collar and a handful of hair. He threw the man onto the pavement and pounced on top of him, one hand around his throat and one squeezing the wrist he’d just broken, grinding bones together.
The driver clawed at him with his other hand, but he was in too much pain to struggle much.
“Why did you shoot at us?” Wilhelm ground out.
To his credit, the driver tried to withstand the pain. He clenched his teeth together as if to show that he wasn’t going to say a word. Another squeeze to his battered wrist, and he cried. “Okay, okay! It’s nothing personal, just business.” He screamed as Wilhelm tightened his hold.
“Who paid you?”
“I don’t know his name!” He tried to pry Wilhelm’s hand away from his wrist. “He just pays me to take care of things.”
