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“Thank you,” I said. “And, yes. We’ve had several people confirm it.”
“There are some packs out there who’d do terrible things for just one alpha heir. Two, that’s pretty much unthinkable these days. Under other circumstances, I’d say you two were very lucky.” He sighed as he stared down at the boys’ faces. “South of the border, we’ve had a few cases pretty similar to yours, even. Every pack needs an alpha, and the birthrates get lower every year, no matter where you go.”
My stomach churned in horror. That suggested we weren’t the only parents going through this—just the most recent, or maybe the first here in the States. I wanted to ask him more, like how often those trafficked babies were found, but Dennis spoke before I could.
“It surprised me when I got your call,” he admitted as he continued to thumb through the file.
“Did it?” Xander asked.
“Quincy Houghton, I figured I’d have to chase down someday. His father… well. If Doris gave my name to you, you probably know all about that.”
Dennis’s gaze lingered on Quincy’s photo for a moment. We still lacked the evidence to connect Quincy to the kidnapping, but over the phone, Dennis had assured us that he wanted to know about any and all enemies we might have. Quincy more than qualified. He had a vendetta against Xander, and he’d attacked me before. Helping his daughter kidnap our babies wouldn’t exactly be out of character for him.
Dennis sighed as he flipped the photo over, revealing Melony’s picture in the file.
“The daughter’s no surprise either. These things tend to run in families.”
“You think they could be cursed?” Xander asked. “If going feral is in their blood…”
“Could be. I’ve heard of stranger things happening.” Dennis flipped Melony’s picture over as well. Now, Xander’s grandfather stared up at us. “Samuel Morrow, though? His type’s usually above my pay grade. You sure he’s involved?”
“We’re not sure about anything right now,” Xander admitted. “But he and Quincy have, ah, worked together before, and he’s the boys’ grandfather. We wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with it. We just don’t have any intel on him right now, or any proof.”
“I see. I’m willing to look into it, but normally, when people are trying to hunt down a shifter with such a pedigree, they want a team a little more high-tech than mine.”
My heart sank. Even if Dennis could find Melony, even if he could track Quincy, and even if he could get the boys back, it only fixed half our problems. Because as long as Samuel Morrow was out there alive, I couldn’t be sure we’d ever be safe.
“You don’t think you can find him?” Xander asked.
“Didn’t say that. Usually, people looking for old-blood shifters are willing to pay top dollar and expect a top-dollar operation in return. Satellite images. State-of-the-art surveillance. I can’t give you that.”
Xander crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there a reason? If it’s just a matter of technology, we’d be willing to buy you any equipment you need.”
Dennis shook his head. “If I needed it, I’d already have it. The reason these shifters can vanish off the grid isbecausethey’re off the grid. When they shift, they can travel through places where there are no cameras, no cell towers. They hunt for their food instead of buying it. No credit card transactions to check. No paper trail to follow. No digital footprint, either. They’re wolves. They act like wolves. So, we do, too. My team and I handle our business the old-fashioned way.”
“And you think that’ll give us the results we’re looking for?” Xander asked.
“I’ve got one of the best noses in the business. Sniffing out people who don’t wanna be found is my forte.” He tapped the side of his nose with a finger. “And I’ve been doing this for forty years. Haven’t failed a mission yet. If I didn’t think I could bring your boys back to you, I wouldn’t be here.” Dennis closed the file and glanced over at the table, where the coffee and cookies were still untouched. “Are those Caramel deLites?”
“They are,” I said quickly, rushing over to bring the platter. “Would you like one?”
“If you’re offering.” He tossed the file down on the table and gathered up five cookies in the broad palm of his hand. Calluses rose in thick ridges beneath each of his fingers. He held a sixth cookie up in his free hand, inspecting it with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “These were always my favorite.”
I almost smiled. “Mine, too.”
Over the next hour, Xander and Dennis discussed possibilities, solutions, and terms. Dennis had trusted agents across the United States that he could deploy at will, including, thankfully, two in Texas. He and Xander agreed that the address Doris had provided us was a good place to start our broader search.
The last photo in the file we gave Denny was Lizbeth’s.
“I recognize her,” he said, pulling her picture from the file. “Not a good thing. She stirred up a whole lot of shit down in Florida about, I dunno, twenty years ago, give or take.”
“In Florida?” That state mostly brought forth memories of Disney World, orange groves, and men in news stories committing irrational and absurd crimes. “What was she doing there?”
“Performing illegal sterilizations of humans in shifter relationships. It was part of some kind of cult thing,” Dennis revealed. He said it so casually, but it made me shudder. She’d been my doctor for a time. That could easily have been me. “I wasn’t on the case, but I know people who were. She’s bad news, so let’s hope she’s not involved in this. And then, there’s Sammy here.” He tapped Samuel’s picture. “Like I said, he’ll be the biggest of the fish to fry. I’d keep my fingers crossed that he’s staying out of it as well.”
“We have people in Maine already trying to track him down,” Xander said. “My uncle—Samuel’s son—is using their connections to the old families there—”
“And getting nothing, right?” Dennis guessed. He shrugged. “These old packs, they’ve got a strong sense ofusandthem. Sam Morrow is one of their own. Anyone who stands against him is an outsider, and therefore, an enemy. They’ll be protecting him to the teeth. If the FBI hasn’t been able to nab him yet, I’d be mighty surprised if diplomacy was having any effect.” He lifted the sheet of paper that Doris had given Xander, the one with the Texas address. “We start here. If we’re lucky, Melony Houghton is as delusional as her grandma says she is and is working alone. Best-case scenario, she took both boys down South and thinks they’re hers.”
