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Matilda gave me a dismissive look. “Do I look like a wolf shifter to you? I have no sense of time when it comes to the living, only the sorrowful dead. But I can tell you the trail ends here.”
“Thank you, Matilda.”
The crone offered a smile of crooked yellow teeth. “I was helpful then?”
“Very.”
“Now we can stop at the unsavory cocktail lounge?”
“Another time.” One run-in with Kane Sullivan was quite enough for this week.
“Another establishment then?”
“Do you have money? There’s a liquor store that might still be open.” We’d have to leave the hounds and horse at the Castle though.
The crone mounted the mare. “What need do I have of money? I’ll simply hunt down a good bottle of wine and take it.”
“I’ll leave that part to you. I live here now. I can’t be involved in any crimes.”
Matilda cackled again. “Such a waste of power. If only they knew.”
I hauled myself onto the back of the horse, thinking about Ashley. She’d been here recently, which meant she likely hadn’t gone back to town from Monk’s. Somewhere between Monk’s and this oak tree, the young woman vanished.
I needed a werewolf, preferably one who knew the area well. Good thing I knew just where to find one.
CHAPTER9
The Arrowhead wolf pack lived in a horseshoe-shaped trailer park in the wooded outskirts of town. Dirt roads connected the park to the highway to the north and the town to the southeast. There were about three dozen trailers total, which suggested a decent-sized pack for a town as small as Fairhaven.
I parked my truck alongside the dirt road and proceeded on foot. I surveyed the trailers for the biggest one, or any obvious sign of the alpha’s residence. My gaze landed on a trailer with a looped iron symbol affixed to the front door—the Greek symbol for alpha. Easy enough. The unit and outside space were identical in size to the others. Fairness and equality were more important to this alpha; good to know.
I strode toward the front door, noting the silence. Given the number of homes, there should’ve been a smattering of neighborhood noises. It was a warm, sunny day. School was out for summer. Why weren’t the children running around outside?
A voice stopped me in my tracks. “He’s not home.”
I turned to see a buff thirty-something male with dark brown hair and an exaggerated brow standing on the dirt road. “Any idea when he’ll be back?” I asked, walking closer to him.
He eyed me with suspicion. “Nope.”
“It’s so quiet here. Where is everybody?”
“Oh, you’d like to meet everybody?” His mouth split into a crooked smile. “That can be arranged.” His whistle ripped through the eerie silence.
Werewolves emerged from every nook and cranny of the trailer park. It reminded me of the scene fromThe Wizard of Ozwhen the munchkins came out of hiding to greet Dorothy and Glinda. The thought of the werewolves in green overalls and argyle knee socks amused me more than it should have, especially right now when a dozen werewolves were circling me.
“What’s so funny?” the whistling werewolf demanded.
“You’re surrounded by the Arrowhead pack,” another werewolf chimed in. “You should be begging for mercy, not laughing.” He was taller and broader than his friend. His arms looked like they’d chopped an entire national forest in their lifetime.
Someone in the dirty dozen shushed him. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
“The part about the pack or the vague threat of harm?” I asked. “I know you’re werewolves, so he wasn’t giving away any secrets.”
“Told you she wasn’t no human,” a voice hissed behind me.
“I don’t like this,” an older werewolf growled. “Something’s off about her.”
“Is this how you greet all visitors to the neighborhood?” Not that I was one to talk; I had a gate and a moat.
