Beneath a Darkening Moon (36 page)

Though the bathroom door was open, the little bit of light filtering in from the bathroom’s windows failed to lift the gloom in the main room. She let her eyes adjust, smiling a little as she noted the clothes strewn across the bed. Cade, it seemed, was as untidy as she when he wasn’t in his IIS mode. She shoved away the temptation to check out his personal stuff and learn more about the man she loved. Instead, she walked across to the laptop, which sat on the luggage rack.

She moved the mouse to snap the screen back to life and typed in the access code. Several screens popped up. She clicked the one marked Rosehall, pulled up a chair, and started reading.

It was heavy stuff.

She knew some details of the murders via the memories she’d picked up in Jontee’s and Cade’s minds, but she’d never known all the details. Now that she did, she could never think of Jontee as a gentle man again. How could she? A gentle soul would never have been able to do what he did to those people.

She read on through the trial notes, but didn’t find
any mention of Jina or Anni or anyone vaguely connected to the current case. Yet instinct said there had to be something, somewhere.

She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms as she stared at the screen. What had happened to Nelle? Cade had been so certain that she’d been involved, yet there had been no mention of her in the trial. Not by the IIS, and not by Jontee.

She could understand Jontee staying mute to protect Nelle, as the two of them had almost been inseparable, but why hadn’t the IIS followed up on her? Granted, they’d no evidence to suggest she’d been involved in any way, despite Cade’s assertions, but given her closeness to Jontee, they still should have interviewed her. Or had they tried to find her, and simply not been able to? After all, Cade hadn’t found
her
until he’d come here to Ripple Creek.

She looked at the time and saw with some shock that four hours had passed. She glanced at the curtained windows. Even though they were closed, it was obvious dusk was setting in. And Cade hadn’t contacted her. Worry surged anew, but she thrust it firmly away. No one had actually contacted her, which obviously meant there wasn’t a problem. If there was, someone would have called.

After rising and stretching, she used the bathroom and then grabbed a bottle of water and a chocolate bar from the room’s minibar fridge. As she was walking back to the laptop, a yellowed piece of paper sticking out of a small notebook sitting by the bed caught her attention. She walked over and tugged it out. It was a brief newspaper summary about the outcome of the trial, and it was accompanied by a
picture of the crowd waiting outside the court. There weren’t many people—she frowned suddenly and peered a little closer. One of those faces looked awfully familiar, but it was hard to be certain given the size of the image.

She glanced at the date of the article, then went back to the laptop, connected to the Net, and searched for the date of the guilty verdict. She found several small articles, and a larger version of the picture she wanted. She was right—it
was
Anni. Right there in the background, half-hidden in the shadows, looking pale-faced and grim. She’d been at the trial, had heard all the details, and, if Candy was right, had been in constant telepathic contact with Jontee, no doubt right until his death. Hell, she might even have been with him when he died.
That
could have been what tipped her over the edge.

Savannah studied the other faces in the picture, but there was no one else she knew. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes and clicked off the Net. Night was settling in, and she was getting hungry for something more substantial than chocolate. She glanced at her watch again, frowning when she saw it was nearly six. Still no word from Cade or anyone else. Worry returned, and this time it refused to budge.

She rose and took her cell phone from her pocket. No messages. She pressed the call button, but before she could dial the station, someone in the room next door hit something and cursed loudly.

A cold sensation ran through her. The room next door was the one shared by Anton and Trista, but that voice hadn’t belonged to either of them. Nor had it belonged to either of the hotel’s managers or
the woman they employed to clean the rooms, all of whom she knew.

This was someone else.

Someone, she knew instinctively, who was up to no good.

R
ENÉ
S
INCLAIR WASN
’
T
what Cade had expected. As a general rule, Sinclairs were tall and rangy—the athletes of the werewolf world—but René was a lot shorter than most Sinclairs, and built like a boxer, all thick muscle and attitude.

And he had an awful lot to say about Savannah—thankfully, most of it complimentary. Cade would have hated to have to hit the man. He had a feeling he’d do far more damage to his fist than to René himself.

“So what are we hunting up at the old hut?” René asked eventually.

Cade hesitated, but there was something about this wolf’s no-nonsense attitude that he liked. “Ike was kidnapped and taken up there. We’re going to look for possible clues.”

René’s dark gaze was full of a sharp intelligence that matched all the muscle. “And the reason Ike was kidnapped is the same reason Neva’s forced to stay at the mansion?”

Cade nodded. “There’s a killer after Savannah and me.”

“Why?”

“Past deeds.” He shrugged.

“And Ike is not known for his quick thinking. If he escaped, it could be because someone wanted him to.”

“Yes.”

“Meaning we could be walking into a trap.”

“Exactly.”

René rolled his shoulders and grinned. “Fantastic.”

Cade raised an eyebrow. “Do all Sinclairs feel the insane need to live up to the family reputation?”

“The family reputation is merely a lust for life. We can’t help it if the rest of the wolf population is dominated by morals more suited to the Dark Ages.”

Cade grinned. “Wouldn’t happen to be talking about an in-law there, would you?”

“The man is a jackass. His daughters, however, are amazing. Even if one of them
is
a ranger.” René stopped and swept a branch aside. “Here you go.”

The hut stood in a small clearing just beyond the aspens and pines that lined the walking trail. It was made with logs that looked far older than the trees around them. It had a rusting iron roof and no windows on the two sides he could see. It did, however, have a stone chimney. He raised his nose, scenting the icy wind, searching for any sign of someone being near. The air smelled of snow and pine and little else.

“I can’t hear anything,” René commented.

“No. But these people were responsible for bombing the diner. If this is a trap, then that’s certainly a possibility.”

René studied him for a moment, then nodded toward the hut. “There’s a small window around the back. The last time I was here, it had been boarded over, but I know there was talk of restoring the place for the ski season.”

“Let’s skirt the trees, and see if there are any surprises waiting there for us first.”

René nodded and led the way through the trees. The hut looked much the same from the other side of the clearing, with the exception of a door and a window. Neither was boarded up, and there didn’t seem to be anything out of place.

Cade drew his gun anyway. “Wait here while I check it out.”

René snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. If things go bad, I’m of more use to you there than here.”

Cade’s cop half was inclined to argue, but instinct suggested that René had it right. If things did go bad, he
was
going to need help. He might be up against two women, but those women were currently running rings around them, and every single step had been meticulously planned—with the sole exception of Candy, who’d obviously let her bloodlust get in the way of what she was supposed to do. But one mistake that played to their advantage didn’t mean there would be more.

“Keep watch, then, while I check the window.”

René nodded. Crouching to present less of a target, Cade ran for the back of the hut. René followed him over, but stopped at the opposite end of the back wall.

Clear here
, René said, after peering cautiously around the corner.

Cade edged around the side of the hut and carefully made his way to the window. There was no sound, other than the distant rumble of thunder, and no unusual smells riding the air. Yet his instincts burned with the sensation that something was off, that something was about to happen.

He peered through the grimy glass. The hut was small, with little more than a cot, several chairs, and a table. The fireplace across the far side of the room had been recently used, with the wood in the hearth still glowing—though the heat was obviously fading.

Why would the women who’d so ruthlessly castrated two men light a fire to keep Ike warm?

They wouldn’t. They’d only do it for themselves, which meant someone had to have been close when Ike escaped. Which meant they’d let him escape. Tension rode across his muscles, and it was all he could do not to swing around and scan the tree line.

He’d been in far worse situations than this, so why was he so jumpy now?

Because for the first time, it was personal. And for the first time, he actually had something to lose other than just his life.

He glanced over his shoulder. René was crouched near the corner and studying the tree line intently.

Anything?

Startled bird to our right
. René’s sharp gaze met his.
Could be nothing
.

And yet it likely was not.
You armed?

René’s sudden grin was answer enough. Definitely insane, these Sinclairs.

Be careful. I’m going in
.

René nodded and returned his gaze to the forest. Cade rose and turned the door handle. After ensuring there were no wires attached anywhere, he pushed the door wide open. The smell of smoke and wood rushed out to greet him, along with a staleness that suggested the cabin had been unused for long periods of time. If Jina or Anni, or whatever her damn name
was, was staying here, she obviously didn’t believe in airing the place out.

He stepped inside, keeping his back to the wall and his gun at the ready as he scanned the small room. Nothing. Not even the ropes Ike was supposedly bound in.

Frowning and feeling more and more like things were very wrong, he walked across to the small cot. The blankets were stacked in a neat pile at the end of the bed. Ike certainly wouldn’t have bothered, and it was doubtful his captors would have cleaned up after him. Nor was there any sign of blood on the mattress itself. There would have been if Ike had lain there.

He looked around the room. No blood spots anywhere else, either.

Ike hadn’t woken up here. He hadn’t
been
here.

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. Christ, why hadn’t he checked the kid for signs of psychic intrusion? If Candy had shields strong enough to keep him out, it was a fair bet that either she, or the others in this game, had strong psychic skills. Strong enough to imprint false memories into the kid’s mind, anyway.

René?
he said softly.

Yeah?

It’s a trap
.

Fantastic
.

Cade wasn’t entirely sure whether that was meant sarcastically.
See anything?

Nope
.

He walked to the side of the door and peered out. The forest around the clearing was still. Perhaps a little too still.

What’s the quickest way out of here?

Run like hell for the main trail. Harder to hit running targets
.

But not impossible
. He had hit running targets. He suspected their hunters might be able to, too. And why let them walk into the hut and discover the lie if they weren’t sure of the outcome? Or the fact that they could bring their quarry down?

Are we to be wolf targets or human targets?
René continued.

He hesitated. As wolves they would be faster, but in human form they could use their weapons.
Human. You watch left; I’ll watch right
. He paused, scanning the tree line a second time.
Still nothing. You ready?

As ready as I’ll ever be
.

Then let’s go
.

He ducked out the doorway and ran for the trail and the trees, keeping low to present less of a target. René was one step ahead of him, his head turned slightly left, watching the trees as directed.

Neither of them saw their attackers.

All Cade felt was a sharp sting in his side. He looked down to see the dart embedded through his sweater, into his skin, then heard René’s curse and knew he’d been hit as well. They both kept running, ducking and weaving to make hitting them harder. It did little good. Another sting, another dart. He saw René stumble, as if his legs had gone out from beneath him.

Cade grabbed his arm and tried to force him on, to run them both out of there. A third dart hit him, and the strength drained from his legs as his vision began to spin. The only place either of them went was straight to the ground.