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THE SNOW began to fall just before midnight.
storm
“SON OF a bitch,” Chris said, wiping flakes of ice from his face. “This couldn’t have waited?”
“We’re the only tow truck in town,” Rico reminded him, pushing himself up from a crouch. “And because this idiot decided to take the curve faster than he should have means we get to go out in the cold while everyone else is sitting in front of a fire and being warm and comfortable and probably sipping a nice brandy and—”
“We get it,” I muttered, making sure the hook was fixed to the front of the car. We’d been at the Bennett house under lockdown, waiting for something to happen. Michelle’s warning of three days hadn’t yet passed, and Green Creek was buried under a near foot of snow with more coming down. I hated being reactive rather than proactive, but keeping our ears to the ground had revealed nothing. Michelle Hughes and Maine were silent. Philip Pappas was more wolf than man.
I’d gotten a call from Jones—the cop at the motel—telling me some asshole had lost control of his car before smashing into a snowbank, crumpling the front fender into the tire. It’d been abandoned when Jones had come across it in his SUV while on patrol and had called me.
Ox hadn’t been too happy about us leaving the safety of the Bennett house. I’d promised him we’d be careful. The wards were quiet. We’d know if they were breached. Whatever Michelle was planning we’d be ready for it. I thought the storm had come at the right time. Green Creek was essentially isolated now. Nobody could get in.
Mark hadn’t been happy about us leaving either, if the look on his face had meant anything. But he hadn’t said a word, only reached out and touched my shoulder before disappearing farther into the house. The guys had teased me mercilessly about possessive wolves and scent marking.
Assholes.
I hadn’t had the courage to ask him yet what had happened with Dale, though I knew something had. I tried to tell myself it was none of my business. Or that it could wait. Or that it meant nothing.
“Good?” Tanner called from the driver’s seat of the tow truck.
“Yeah!” Chris shouted back. “Looks good.”
The boom on the tow truck creaked as the winch whirred to life. The sedan rose, front end up toward the back of the truck.
“Thanks, Gordo,” Jones said. Red and blue lights spun lazily behind him. “I know it sucks to be out here, but I didn’t want to take the chance of someone else coming around that corner and running into it.”
“It’s fine,” I grunted as the car came to a stop. “We’ll get it to the shop and take care of it once the storm passes. You got a bead on the driver?”
He shook his head. He looked troubled. “No. Couldn’t have been out here long. I passed through a few hours ago and it wasn’t there. Had to happen since then.”
Rico and Chris glanced at each other. “Where’d the driver go?” Rico asked.
“I don’t know,” Jones said. “Hopefully toward town, though everything is closed. It’d be just my luck if whoever it was hit their head at impact, then decided it’d be a good idea to go wandering out into the snow.”
Chris let out a low whistle. “Human popsicle.”
Jones sighed. “I’m supposed to be on vacation in a few days. I can kiss that goodbye if there’s a stiff out there. Just my luck.”
“Run the plates?” I asked.
“That’s the weird thing. Come look.” He jerked his head toward the back of the car.
We followed him and—
“No plates,” Rico said. “Huh. Maybe he… took them with him?”
“He hit his head and then took his plates before he walked out into the storm?” Chris asked. “That’s a little weird.”
“As weird as werewo—”
“Rico,” I snapped.
He coughed. “Right, boss. Sorry.”
Jones looked at us curiously before shaking his head. “I looked for the plates before you got here, thinking maybe they got knocked off in the crash. But there’s nothing, not even any footprints. It’s fine, though. I can stop by the shop after the storm and get the VIN to run that. I’ll find out somehow.”
“Unless that’s been shaved down,” Rico said cheerfully. “Maybe there’s a body in the trunk.”
