Maybe this was why he couldn't remember much about last night. He'd blocked out the fact that it damn well hurt to shapeshift.
It was a good ten minutes before he felt strong enough to move. He climbed slowly to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face. Despite the morning's late hour, the small park was quiet. From beyond the line of trees came the steady sound of traffic—it had to be the freeway that bypassed most of Taurin Bay.
The traffic was too steady to be anything else. His destination lay to the left—Taurin Bay's quiet heart.
He brushed the dirt from his hands and jeans, then walked through the cedars. Shops came into view, and outside one, a phone booth. It reminded him that he'd yet to call his boss. He dug several coins out of his pocket and crossed the road, heading towards it.
The phone was answered on the second ring. "About time you checked in, cowboy."
The edge in her usually gentle voice told him she'd been worried. "Sorry Seline. Someone in this town knew why I was here—they tried to get rid of me."
"I did warn that they might," she replied, almost crossly.
So she had. He just hadn't expected the attack to come within the first two hours of his arrival. "I need you to do some checking for me."
"What?"
He heard the soft rustle of paper and could imagine her ferreting through the huge mound of documents on her desk, searching for a pencil to make notes—which she really didn't need. Despite her years, Seline had an incredible memory.
"The Hank Stewart we have on file is not the same man that's currently working at the inn. Might be worth checking whether any unidentified bodies have been found in the area recently. You might also check to see if he's purchased any other properties in the area."
"You think this Hank is responsible for the attack on you?"
"Bit of a coincidence, otherwise. I never actually met him the day I checked in, so how he knew I was here for anything more than a vacation is beyond me. He's not the brains behind the operation, I know that much."
"Old magic is the key, cowboy. And old magic has ways and means of finding out information."
"Gee, doesn't that make everything so much clearer," he said sarcastically.
"If you're not careful, boy, I'll come down there and slap that smartness from your mouth."
He grinned. Seline was half his height, and twig-slender, but she could be a fearsome old bird when she wanted. And he had no doubt that she'd do as she threatened.
"Anything else?" she continued.
"Shapeshifters. I need to know if there are any known to be in this area. I've seen one, at least, but I need to know her human identity."
"Will do." She hesitated, then added, "You okay? I had this feeling you were in trouble."
"I was, but I found help." Help he didn't really want. He glanced at his watch. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late for his meeting with her.
"Well, be careful, cowboy. You could lose more than you bargained for on this one."
Alarms rang in his mind. He had an odd feeling Seline wasn't talking about the job, but something more personal. "I'm always careful, Seline."
Her laugh was a high-sounding cackle. "I know. That's what will make your fall all the more delicious. I'll be in touch."
She hung up before he could question her further. He swore and slammed the receiver back into place.
Sometimes the old witch's tendency to speak in riddles was more than a little annoying.
It took him ten minutes to walk up to where he'd left his truck, only to discover it had indeed been towed away. He wasted nearly another hour finding the police station, filling in forms and paying the fine.
He glanced at his watch as he climbed into the driver's seat and swore again. He still had to buy a jacket and some other clothes, and it was already well past the time he'd said he'd meet Maddie.
He just had to hope she didn't get sick of waiting and go off alone. There was a lot of strength in Maddie, despite her fears.
When he finally pulled into the café's small parking lot, he was relieved to see her truck was still parked there. But sitting right next to it, in an unfamiliar dark blue Ford, was a man he recognized. Terry Mackerel.
He'd known the FBI agent was involved with the investigation into the sixteen disappearances, but he was the last person Jon had expected or wanted to see in Taurin Bay.
He slowed, but at that instant the man looked up. Jon smiled grimly. Some days you just couldn't win.
He parked the truck and climbed out, approaching the car cautiously. While Jon had worked on several of the same cases as the agent over the last ten years, their relationship was neither professional nor personal. Jon trusted the man with his life, but not his secrets.
The car door opened, and the big man levered himself out with an awkwardness Jon knew was highly deceptive. Mack might look overweight, but he was fast when it mattered.
"Well, well." The big man's hard gray eyes watched him carefully, as if ready to pounce given the slightest provocation. "Fancy meeting you here."
"About to say the same thing myself." Jon crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the outside wall of the restaurant. He knew there was nothing casual about this meeting. Never was with Mack.
Mack unhurriedly opened a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. "Weren't you in Atlanta last week?"
He nodded. Another missing child had turned up. Another murder yet to be solved. "Met your partner there."
"So I heard." Mack lit his cigarette and puffed on it thoughtfully. "Find any clues yourself?"
"No." As usual, the only sign of injury had been the small wound on the kid's wrist—a cut so small it might have been missed. Only there wasn't a drop of blood left in the child's veins. But Mack knew that—he would have seen the same coroner's reports that Jon had.
"Then why are you here?"
Why was Mack here? There was no such thing as a coincidence where the FBI agent was concerned "Maybe I'm just taking a break."
Mack exhaled a long plume of smoke. "Yeah. And I just might sprout wings and fly."
His gaze narrowed. Had Mack been digging around? Though where he would look for such information, Jon couldn't even begin to guess. It wasn't the sort of thing kept in any official records he knew of.
"What can I do for you, Mack?"
"You know another kid went missing a week ago."
Jon nodded. He wasn't about to tell the big man about Maddie's nephew. He had a feeling she didn't want to get involved with cops—of any variety.
"Well, this time they've taken two." Mack reached inside his jacket and pulled out a photo. "Seen this woman around?"
It was Maddie standing beside a lanky kid who could have easily been her son. Evan, obviously. She looked different, he thought, staring at the photo. It was Maddie as she should be. Happy and laughing.
He studied it a moment longer then handed the photo back to Mack. "Why do you expect me to know every pretty lady in the district?"
Mack smiled. A shark with a dental problem, Jon thought.
"The woman went missing several hours after her nephew disappeared. The kid's father is the local detective, and he's raising a hell of a stink. Seems to think she knows more than she was telling. It just might be the break we're looking for."
Maddie was only a few steps away from being in deep trouble. And though it would have been easy to let Mack grab her and haul her in for questioning, it wasn't fair. Not when she'd saved his life. He owed her more respect than that.
"What has all this got to do with me?" he asked casually.
Mack took a final puff on the cigarette, then threw it on the ground and crushed it under his heel. "I want to know what you know, Barnett." His cold gaze fixed onto Jon's. "We know you're working on this case for the parents of several missing kids. We know you work for the Damask Circle, a supposedly charitable, worldwide organization. Yet you, and others, curiously turn up to investigate the more bizarre police cases—and often get there before the police do. I want to know why you're in Taurin Bay, and what you know about the kids that have gone missing."