The dawn was just beginning to appear, the darkness fading as the sun rose. Ryan was again reading through the files on Miller’s computer, which Ryan had brought back to Doc Weber’s house. Ryan’s cell phone rang, and he yanked it off his belt.
“Yeah, Tom?” He glanced at Carol. She assumed it might be good news, but Ryan’s expression was noncommittal as he stalked out of the kitchen to the living room to speak to Tom.
Carol started boiling the roots of the wolf’s bane in a small stainless-steel pot. When Ryan walked back into the kitchen, she knew he was going on another fact-finding mission. Unfortunately, he’d done so at least once a day, sometimes more, and nothing had ever come of it.
She’d quit asking, and he hadn’t offered explanations. The disappointment at not getting any closer to a solution was too much to deal with.
“I’ll be back shortly.” He leaned down and kissed Carol’s cheek, but a new look of worry reflected in his eyes. She rose from her chair and took his hand.
“What’s the matter, Ryan?”
“Nothing. Just another lead, as usual. I’ll be back soon.” He pulled her close and hugged her tight.
It didn’t seem like “nothing.” Knowing him, he was probably afraid to make her more anxious than she already was.
“You’re not going into another wolf fight, are you? Without my help?”
He chuckled, kissed her generously on the mouth, and embraced her warmly.
“No more wolf fights for now. And I wouldn’t think of not taking you with me to get me out of hot water if I needed it.”
“Liar,” she said affectionately.
He smiled. “Truly, no wolf fights. Just another lead.”
She let out her breath, squeezed him back, and said, “All right. Bring me the vaccine, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
He laughed and cupped a breast. “You will anyway.” He rubbed her back, said his usual, “Good luck,” and headed out of the house.
If he said he wasn’t going into a wolf fight, she believed him. Only sometimes, the unexpected happened. Something was bothering him, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to know what it was. But she suspected—he was fighting the shift, just like she’d been doing for days now.
Ryan had been surprised as hell when he discovered that Miller had a bank account and safe deposit box at the Silver Town Bank. That seemed to confirm that Miller was plotting to take over the town. Ryan had wasted no time in getting a court order from the local judge that allowed him access to the safe deposit box. He hoped something in the box would reveal whether a cure of vaccine existed, although it was a long shot, and he didn’t want to give Carol any more false hopes.
She was aware that something more than usual was bothering him. The real dilemma was his need to shape-shift, which had been growing since the night before. He’d never worried about shifting, but as more of Darien’s people were affected, his own concern had grown.
Not only that, but he’d noticed that Carol’s body temperature had been warmer the previous night, and he thought she’d been running a low-grade fever. Although she hadn’t mentioned anything to him about it. Even he had a sore throat this morning. He wondered if the virus was geared to push their wolf half into taking over once they were at some stage of being sick.
Thankfully, humans in the area were no longer shooting wolves. Darien’s stiff policy of jail sentences, hefty fines, and rescinded hunting licenses had been enough of a deterrent. Also, those who had shape-shifted into wolves were trying to stay close to their homes in the woods. Those who lived in town had been taken in by families living out of town to try to reduce the problem of human-wolf contact.
Ryan drove to the bank, parked, and stalked inside where Mason, the bank owner, quickly greeted him. Mason took him to the bank vault, where the safety deposit boxes were located behind a cage door.
Wearing one of his expensive gray suits, the gray-bearded banker led Ryan inside the vault. “I’d wring Miller’s thick neck if you hadn’t already killed him,” the banker told Ryan.
“I wish we could have kept him alive, at least until we learned if he had a vaccine or not,” Ryan replied.
“From what I’ve heard, it couldn’t have been helped.” Mason unlocked the metal box with its two keys and let Ryan open it. He scoured over the documents, receipts for medical supplies, rubber-banded bundles of one-thousand-dollar bills, and…
Ryan pulled a deed for a house in Silver Town out of the box. “Hell, apparently Miller had set up housekeeping here only a month after the big fight between Darien’s people and the reds.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. No one ever thought to see if he’d purchased real estate here. Now what?” Mason asked, stroking his beard.
“Time to pay a call at his house at 150 Oak Drive. Thanks, Mason. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
As Ryan headed out of the bank to his truck, he called Tom with a heads-up and then drove over to Miller’s home. It was a modest place with black shutters framing two large windows and massive oaks shading the grass. The lawn was a little shaggy, probably because Miller had been dead for ten days and a warming trend and spring rain had encouraged the growth.
Sheriff Peter Jorgenson drove into the drive, and Ryan gave him a silent nod of greeting. He’d planned to use his lock picks, although he supposed that some of the neighbors might be human and having a police officer on hand would be better. The sheriff was better yet.
“Peter,” Ryan said as the sheriff climbed out of his vehicle.
“Ryan. Tom called and said to meet you here. Think this is where the gold is?”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
Peter stifled a cough.
“You, too, eh?”
“Hell, yeah. I don’t think any of us are going to escape it.”
Deputy Trevor drove up, lights flashing. He waved and joined them as Peter unlocked the door.
“Can you believe the bastard was living among us?” Trevor said, punching his fist into the palm of his hand.
“The guy had balls. I’ll give him that,” Ryan said.
When they entered the house, the smell of fresh paint assaulted them. New carpeting covered the floors, but the place was empty. No drapes over windows covered in mini-blinds. No furniture.
“Not moved in yet, looks like,” Trevor said, sounding thankful, as though just the knowledge that Miller hadn’t been living under their noses all along was a relief.
But the knowledge that Miller hadn’t moved in ratcheted up Ryan’s anxiety a notch. If Miller hadn’t been here, he most likely wouldn’t have left anything here. Still, they had to make sure.
While Trevor checked the bedrooms and bathroom down the hall, Ryan and Peter stalked toward the kitchen.
Everything looked brand new—appliances, cabinets, black granite countertop—despite the home being an older model.
“He was getting ready to move in, I suspect,” Peter said, searching through the drawers and cabinets.
“Yeah, probably just waiting for us all to be infected and unable to shift back. Wonder what he would have done about the wolf half of us. Not many of us would have let him live if he’d ventured out of his house.”
Ryan noticed that the fridge was running. He pulled open the fridge door. Through the glass top of one of the drawers, he spied several vials of liquid and packages of powder in a manila envelope.
“Might not be what we’re looking for,” Ryan said, pulling out a vial and looking at it like it was the most volatile thing in the world, “…but then again it might be.”
“Hot damn,” Peter said.