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“It is. A long-distance race, then.”
“Yeah, I think that’s it. It was her long-run day, and she liked to run on the main road. Open, good visibility, good surface, but not much traffic. She was upset about something that day. I mentioned that to Cash, but there’s no evidence her death had anything to do with that.”
“And you don’t know what she was upset about?”
He shook his head.
“Would she have told Loren?”
Dante opened his mouth, closed it again. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He considered, nodded, seemed relieved by the possibility. “Yeah. Maybe that’s what they were talking about. She was going to him about some trouble. Something that concerned her.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at the floor. “Maybe something to do with the clan, with politics. She was interested in that kind of thing—how the clan was run.”
Or, I thought, she was talking to him about something he’d done that concerned her. Confronting him about that. But I didn’t need to mention that to him now.
“Was she seeing anyone?”
“Oh, sure. She was dating Traeger. One of the younger shifters. They’d been dating for about two or three months.”
It was the first time I’d heard them linked. Why had that taken so long? And given that Traeger didn’t seem to be one of Loren’s biggest fans, what did that mean?
“I miss her,” Dante said, and I looked up at him, recognized the fresh grief in his eyes. And felt bad that I’d stirred that up.
“She sounds like a wonderful person. And it sounds like you had a great relationship.”
“We did,” he said. “We did. I’m sorry she’s gone. I think the clan’s less because of it.”
***
I asked Dante for directions to Traeger’s cabin, then walked outside, breathed the fresh air, and tried to clear my mind.
On the walk, I considered the possibility Traeger was behind Loren’s murder. Maybe the fact that he and Paisley were dating hadn’t been common knowledge, but that seemed odd in a community this small. On the other hand, the clan did seem to have an obliviousness problem.
I crossed a lawn with a sandpit for horseshoes, a handful of rusting chaise lounges, and a swing set for children. And then they stepped in front of me.
“Well, well, well,” Miranda said. “Looks like we found her.”
Maeve and Jae—the women who’d helped Beth after she’d been attacked—stood behind her. All three wore their anger like battle armor. All three looked ready for a fight.
And what kind of fight? I wondered, and gently tested the magic in the air. Not as strong as Connor’s, I gauged, but healthy and whole. No broken magic among them.
“Hello, Miranda.”
“What are you doing out here, vamp?” Miranda asked. “Sneaking around our compound? Poking into things that aren’t your business?”
My blood fired, began to heat. Miranda had picked the wrong night to bait me. And I wasn’t the only one irritated. The monster shifted, stirred, offered almost lazily to join in, take care of the problem. Reminded me of the promise I’d made. The release I’d promised.
Not yet your turn,I told it.
“It’s not your compound,” I said. “And as you’re well aware, I’m here with permission, so I don’t need to sneak around.”
“What were you doing at Dante’s house?” Jae asked, and I shifted my gaze to her.
I wanted to throw out a sarcastic answer, but realized that wasn’t the wisest course of action. And at least one of us needed to think through our decisions. “He agreed to talk to me about Paisley’s death.”
“What about it?” Miranda asked.
I considered what Connor had said about evidence, keeping information close to the vest. “Figure it out,” I said darkly.
Her gaze narrowed, and she tacked, shifted. “That was quite a show you put on in the lodge. Quite a little performance.”
