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Demi took a deep breath before forcing herself to continue. “She lost the pregnancy. She’s still… really closed off about the exact details, but that was sort of the wake-up call. Cyn returned home and asked for my parents’ help affording rehab. She did the whole program, too. She’s been clean the last several months. One night, just a few weeks ago, we went for a run together. When we got back, she told me that her own family was something she really, really wanted. She wanted to go to the upcoming Moonmate ceremony our pack is hosting — find her fated mate, you know? I’ve explained this to the others, but no one believes me that she wanted to be clean. They’re convinced she’s just gone back to her old ways.”
I nodded, not in the position to argue with her yet. I looked up from my notes, tapping one finger against the pad. “Okay,” I hummed. “So, when did you realize she was missing?”
Demi straightened herself. “It’s been five days now. We were supposed to have lunch together, and she didn’t show up. Didn’t answer my texts. Her phone number goes straight to voicemail. I had to wait forty-eight hours to file anything with the police because she’s nineteen and an adult, but they still didn’t believe me with her history. So I went to the pack elders and called you.” She sighed, shrugging helplessly. “That’s all I have.”
“That’s okay,” I replied, offering her a small smile. After all, if she knew more, she wouldn’t need me — and I did need a job. “That’s plenty to get me going. I’m going to head to my motel room and start right away. I’ll call you as soon as I figure something out, okay?”
Demi finally smiled for the first time since I’d seen her. “Thank you,” she replied, bobbing her head. “Seriously, Iris, thank you. I really appreciate it.”
I checkedin to the Redwood Motel and got my laptop out immediately, plugging the cranky thing in and making myself as comfortable as possible at the cramped table. I dug out my notes and began my first stage of investigation: social media deep dives. I looked for Cyn on every platform, from Facebook to YouTube, checking her Instagram and finding her Snapchat. All of her accounts seemed to have been fairly active up until five days ago, so her radio silence wasn’t limited to Demi — or the rest of their family.
I browsed pictures and took down names of those who seemed to be interacting with her most frequently to check on next. There didn’t seem to be anything terribly alarming about her posts; the same tone seemed to be present in all of them. Her mood hadn’t changed suddenly. Her friends’ comments hadn’t seemed to change, either.
At some point, I needed to stand, my shoulders screaming at me, so I shifted to the next stage when dealing with a missing person. Calling morgues and hospitals within the city. It was tedious, but I’d solved more than one case that way — but this time, no Cyn. Relieved that was not a phone call I’d have to make to Demi, I moved back to my computer, searching local news sources for recent articles about any accidents. There was nothing involving a woman of Cyn’s age, so I started looking a bit further than a week ago.
To my surprise, I found a small article detailing a missing woman from the Austin suburbs, almost exactly Cyn’s age to the month. When I looked at the photo posted in the article, I couldn’t help but notice how similar this Lindy Oliver looked like Cynthia Smith. They were about the same height; both had shoulder-length brown hair — though Lindy’s appeared to be let down where Cyn’s pictures always showed hers pulled up — and hazel eyes. I frowned, changing a few keywords in my Google search.
Several hours later, I’d made a list of about twelve missing people, all in their late teens or earlier twenties. They’d all gone missing over the past several months, and there was no indication they’d been found — dead or alive. I had a strong suspicion that most of them — if not all — were shifters based on their names: Hazelwood, Redstone, Rivers. Those were shifter names. Sometimes shifters changed their names, though — Smith, for example, was very plain and very human, but I’d met families who’d tried to blend further into the human world that way. Most were women, but a few men were hidden amongst the articles. All of these missing people were within a one-hundred-mile radius of Austin.
Though Cyn and my first discovery, Lindy, looked like they could have been sisters, most of the similarities ended there, outside their shared young adulthood. The missing came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, some tall, some short, some pale, some brown, long hair, short hair — the differences went on. The only thing I could string together with these people were the names. Shifter names — or suspected shifter names. Given the locations and the stark contrasts, I strongly suspected they weren’t all from the same pack.
If they were, and it was the local pack, I couldn’t imagine the wolves of the Silverstreak clan would sit around and let their alpha do jack shit about it. The small chair groaned as I leaned backward, tipping the front feet off the floor as I pondered the implications of this.
It could, in all reality, be nothing. I could be grasping at straws.
But it just seems so coincidental for that many shifters to be missing…
I tooka short break to walk down the road to the little bodega at the end of the street. I’d long since scarfed down the rest of the baked goods Demi had sent me back with, and sometimes a little bit of fresh air helped with my process. Picking up a few sports drinks and enough snacks to get me through at least two more days of research, I ambled my way back, trying to take in the city of Austin.
While the street wasn’t particularly inspiring, I felt a bit better, ready to sit back down at my makeshift desk and dive back into my research. I began to type in each missing person’s name, investigating their social media and trying to find addresses. A few of them had phone numbers, but all were just like Cyn’s — straight to voicemail or worse. Disconnected.
When I could, I noted down who seemed to be their family members or friends — my two pages of notes had exploded to well over twenty — to see if I could find any connections between this list of people.
As I continued to surf social media, following contacts and connections, I eventually realized there was going to be a big event hosted by the local pack in the next few days — a quick text to Demi confirmed that her alpha was hosting a Moonmate ceremony. Apparently, he had gotten married a year ago, and he and his mate were celebrating.
Moonmate ceremonies were not my speed, not at all — finding your ‘one true mate’? Yeah, right. I liked Disney movies, but that didn’t mean I believed in real-life happily ever afters, you know? That’s why the classics were animated.
However, my distaste aside, I strongly suspected several of the families would be there. Perhaps not all of them, especially those from packs a bit further away, but if not family, then surely friends. Most of them were at the age they’d likely be attending themselves if they were single and… not missing. I frowned and sent Demi another text.
So,are you going to the ceremony?
No.Cyn and I were planning to go together, but… I can’t stand the thought of going without her. Looking for my mate while she’s still missing seems so heartless.
I looked downat her text, wrinkling my nose. It was a fair reason, but…
Can you get me in?
It tooka few moments to receive a response. Uhm… I guess I could. I don’t think it will be that heavily guarded or anything. Why?
Just chasing some leads,I answered simply, not wanting to tip my hand. I think a few different people I’d like to talk to will be there, which will help speed things up.
The followingtext arrived much more quickly. Oh! That makes sense. I can introduce you as my friend from college or something. Would that work?
Sure,why not!
Doyou mind if I leave once I get you in? I really…
I don’t know. I’m not comfortable. I don’t want people asking me about my sister.
