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“Is it true about the shutters?” Traeger asked. “That the creatures messed with them?”
Connor’s expression didn’t change, and I gave him credit for that. “Yes. The creatures, or one of them, tried to tear them off and expose Elisa to sunlight.”
Traeger swore, pushed his hands through his hair. “I think I know why this is happening. Or some of it. Maybe who.”
“Start at the beginning,” Connor said as I took the seat beside him.
“Paisley and I, like you said, were dating. We were having fun. Hanging out. Talking. She came back from the woods one night in wolf form; I was going to meet her afterward. And I saw him waiting at the edge of the woods, kind of pacing. Like he was waiting for her, too.”
“Loren,” I guessed. “You’re talking about Loren.”
He looked up at me, nodded. “Yeah. He moved away when he saw me, but I saw him talking to her, waiting for her, things like that, more often. I think he was interested in her.”
Having seen the photo of the young and lovely Paisley, I understood why. But Loren was decades older, and she was involved with Traeger. This didn’t sound like mutual interest.
“She didn’t feel the same,” I offered.
“Not even close,” he said. “He was older than her grandfather, and we had a thing going on. He wasn’t mean or anything. But he kept hinting around, being wherever she was expected to be.”
“He was stalking her.” Connor’s voice was cold, the words leaching furious magic into the air.
“I don’t know if it was like that,” Traeger said. “But he was... I’d say she thought he was harassing her.”
That might explain why Beth and Jae had seemed leery when Loren had approached them.
“Did she tell anyone?” Connor asked.
“She wouldn’t even admit it to me. I asked if he was bothering her, and she said no. Said he was just a harmless old guy, kind of funny. Paisley was chill, and she liked everyone. But you could tell—I could tell—he sometimes made her uncomfortable.” He swallowed hard. “And then she was gone.”
His voice had turned hard, and when he looked up, so had his eyes. “I think Loren killed her.”
Frowning, Connor leaned forward. “You have evidence of that?”
“I know what I know,” Traeger said, but shifting his gaze. “No. I don’t have any damn evidence. I have a feeling. I have what I saw—the look on her face.”
And the fact that Loren was the last person who’d seen her alive. And she’d apparently been angry about whatever they were discussing.
“How could he have killed her?” Connor asked. “They were walking together along the old main road, right?”
“Maybe they’d had a fight, and she told him to stay away from her. He got pissed, and he pushed her in front of a car. Or maybe it was an accident; I don’t know. I just know he made her uncomfortable, and then she was gone. She should have talked about it,” he added. “But she wouldn’t.”
“But you would,” Connor prompted. “You told someone you were angry. That Loren was getting away with something.”
Traeger’s lips pressed together. “I’m supposed to be loyal.”
“To the clan,” Connor said. “To the Pack. Not to the people who put them in danger.”
Traeger’s jaw worked as he considered, as if he were chewing over the words he wasn’t sure he should say. “I told Cash.”
Connor sat back. A quick glance might have made you think he was just getting comfortable, relaxing. But his hand was fisted on the table, knuckles nearly white, and the look in his eyes was nothing near relaxed.
He was angry. And working to hold himself in check.
I understood the feeling.
“And what did Cash say?” Connor asked.
“Same as you. He wanted fucking evidence. Wanted proof that Loren did anything other than be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had nothing. And that was that. No proof of crime, so no punishment.”
