Now she knew why.
Douglas.
She squinted her eyes and stared closely at the face. It could easily be Douglas when he was younger. The same blunt, squarish features. The same narrow, almost cruel lips. He was much younger. At least ten to fifteen years younger than he had been when Cassa was married to him. He’d been several years older than her.
The murders during the Valentine’s night massacre had taken place eleven years before the revelation of the Breeds. About twenty-two years, Cassa surmised. Valentine’s night, no more than a few weeks from now, would be the twenty-second anniversary of that massacre.
“God, Douglas, what did you do?” she whispered as she closed out the picture before logging into the Bureau of Breed Affairs History section.
There were no stories on that night, nothing to shed any light on what had happened. The truth of that event would have to come from a local source. And she needed something more than the sheriff had given them.
Danna Lacey had been a part of the Breed freedom movement in Glen Ferris. She had been part of the group that had fought beside the Breeds and attempted to provide some measure of security to those who escaped there.
She hadn’t been a part of the leadership though. She would have been too young. No, whoever had led those Breeds with Patrick Wallace would have to be much older now. Such as Walt.
In this little town there were so many secrets where the Breeds were concerned. The citizens that had been a part of the movement had kept close vigilance on the Breeds, and the Breeds themselves had made certain they stayed hid in those days.
Even now, they stayed in the background.
Tapping her finger against the laptop for a second, Cassa pondered the best way to get the information she needed.
She would love to track Dog down for more questioning, but she had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. Cabal was keeping a close eye on her, and meeting with another Breed would be just about impossible to accomplish.
Maybe.
She pulled her sat phone from the pocket of her jeans, flipped it open and keyed in a number.
“Mordecai.” The Coyote Breed presently affiliated with the Feline Breed compound, Sanctuary, answered on the first ring.
“I’m calling in a favor,” she stated.
Silence filled the line. She could almost feel the intractable Breed mulling over possibilities and wondering which favor she would call.
“You have a surplus,” he finally sighed. “Will it get me killed?”
She almost grinned at that. She couldn’t imagine Mordecai contemplating death, let alone worrying if it would affect him.
“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “You backing out?”
He grunted at that. “Life’s too long sometimes anyway. Who do you want me to kill?”
“No one this week,” she promised.
Actually, she had never wanted him to kill anyone, he just always seemed so enthusiastic to do so.
“Too bad,” he muttered. “Go ahead.”
“I’m in Glen Ferris investigating the Valentine’s night massacre that occurred around twenty-two years ago. A dozen or so Breeds were murdered, along with mates. Do you know anything about that?”
Sometimes Breeds knew things. Information was carried between them, held close to their chests, but there if the right question was asked at the right time.
“Bits and pieces,” he answered. “Nothing that could help you, I’d imagine. A dozen or so as you said, some were mated, there was a rumor that there were unborn children murdered.”
“Dog is here. He knows something.”
Mordecai cursed. “Stay the fuck away from Dog, Cassa. He’s bad news.”
“Which side is he on?”
“His own side,” Mordecai grunted. “That’s where Dog has always been and where he will always be. If he’s in Glen Ferris fuckin’ in Cabal’s and Jonas’s business, then clear out.”
“I need to talk to him, Mordecai.”
And Mordecai owed her. She was the one who had tracked down the location of several Breeds that were taken from the labs where he was held, just before the rescues. She had found his natural brother and told no one but Mordecai of his location.
There were other favors the Coyote owed her for. Information she had given him when needed. Papers she had provided him that were illegal. A few small exchanges among friends.
“Bad news,” Mordecai muttered. “You are in the mood to get me killed this week.”
“You can arrange it,” she told him. “Contact him. He knows I’m here; he tried to talk to me once, but Cabal interrupted us.”
“And he’ll keep interrupting.”
“Not if Dog has my sat phone number. Not if someone gives it to him. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She had two of the pills left that she hadn’t given to Jonas. Just in case she needed them. She would use them if she had to. If Cabal forced her into it.
“Hell,” Mordecai cursed. “Contacting him directly isn’t exactly easy, sweetheart.”
“I have confidence in you.” Cassa moved back to the window and gazed across the river.
She almost smiled at the sight of the small fire on the opposite bank. A fisherman, no doubt, though it was damned cold to be fishing.
She frowned as the blaze flickered in shades of red and gold. It was close to the falls, where the water ran swifter, faster. An odd place, and an odd night, to be fishing the treacherous waters.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mordecai finally sighed. “If he’s going to call, you’ll hear from him soon though. Dog’s not predictable. And you be damned careful.”
“As always, my friend,” she assured him. “When dealing with Breeds, one learns to be real damned careful.”
She almost laughed at his little grunt of acknowledgment. Flipping the phone closed, she slid it back into her jeans pocket and continued to watch the blaze in the distance for long seconds, as she tried to pinpoint why it bothered her.
She was drawn out of her reverie by the muted alarm on her laptop. The email alarm was set for one email address specifically.
That of a killer.
the killing himself, Jonas had attempted to intercept the email he had known she would receive. It hadn’t worked. The email had been delivered, and the program attached to it didn’t allow for remote corruption or deletion.
The rogue wanted her to know about this. He wanted her involved in this. She was a pawn in a very dangerous game, and he was growing sick of it.
“She’s been informed,” Jonas said quietly as Cabal glanced over at the director. “Confirmation just arrived. The email has been read, pictures downloaded. The remote tracker we have on her laptop is working at least.”
“Traced?” Cabal asked, though he knew better.
Jonas shook his head. There was no mockery, no sarcasm this time. This was the second email they’d tried to trace through Cassa’s connection, to no avail.
The director’s expression was somber, brooding and filled with icy fury. Jonas was at his most dangerous in this mood.
“No trace,” he bit out in clipped tones. “The program we installed isn’t going through. The email itself is embedded with a program that doesn’t allow for it. Dane hasn’t been able to crack it yet.”
Dane Vanderale, Jonas’s nemesis and half brother, as well as the heir to the powerful African Vanderale empire, was a natural born Breed and a thorn in all their sides. But he was the best they had at cracking codes and tracing information.
“He’ll crack it.” Cabal shrugged.
Cabal turned his gaze back to the bank then and the body Rule and Lawe had pulled from the water. The fishing line around the victim’s neck had cut into the skin, leaving a slender wound. Tape covered his mouth. Pale eyes bulged in horror; pale features were creased into lines of pain, suffering.