Missing (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 2) Page 3
Pretty much his thoughts as well. He walked to the huge map of the Northwest and methodically planted a yellow pushpin at each of the four cities. Since the postmark stamp on the last card was two days ago, it made calculating Shanae’s location impossible. After a second, he selected two more pins—one for home and one—no, not yet. Holding back his gut reaction, he returned to lean on his desk and stared at Trim as he handed back the cards. “She sent these to you, and you used to be able to read each other’s thoughts. She’s been gone for seven years, so why send these now?”
“She knows my role here. I can call in your help without alerting anyone who is monitoring her behavior.” She slid into the chair, her expression guarded.
Deacon glanced over his shoulder at the board. The locations weren’t haphazard. He agreed that Shanae Philmont was likely in trouble. She was following her instincts and running for home, a rule he taught all the young shifters in the clan. If trouble is on your heels, run quiet, run fast, and seek out a defensive position where you have the advantage. Most important—no matter what, you can always come home. That she was headed to Four Star, a name she’d coined for a hideaway she’d scouted during youth training, wasn’t a coincidence. As his best pupil, she’d learned every nook and cranny, providing her with home-field advantage.
“She’s on the run.” Trim stuffed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, slouched farther down, and stared out his window toward the mountains. “If she’d gotten tired of playing with humans, she could just drive home. I think she’s hiding from someone. That leaves her husband.”
What a wild leap of judgment. Deacon raised a brow and received only a harsher frown in return as she turned back.
“If she’s running from him—if he did something to her—I want clan justice.”
Withholding a groan, Deacon spun away from her. “If the facts indicate abuse, I will take appropriate action for any threats or injuries to Shanae.”
“He’s had her for seven years,” she persisted. The scent of her anger permeated the room in a toxic wave. “She wouldn’t be coming home if he weren’t at fault.”
“You don’t know that.” Deacon stepped forward and planted his hands on the arms of her chair. Trim had the good sense to lean back. “We are not a vigilante group. We will find her, and I will talk to her. If her husband harmed her, I will deal with him. If I find that you’ve started recruiting a lynch mob for the man Shanae chose as her partner, then you and I will be having a very unpleasant discussion. He’s her mate. A bond she wanted. You’re smart enough to respect her choice, Trimbal.”
She dipped her head, but between the furrowed eyebrows, her eyes still glittered with anger. She wanted payback for losing her best friend. “I understand.”
“Understand what?”
Her nose twitched. “I’ll wait until we bring her back. Alpha.”
Really? Passive-aggressive from his second in command. He growled, and she dropped her shoulders and cleared her expression.
He didn’t have the patience for this shit. Maybe he was getting too old. Or maybe he wasn’t old enough. “I trained her not only to hunt and defend, but how to blend in with human society.” Something he hadn’t adhered to with Trim and might have to correct. “While I agree it looks like she’s headed home, we’ll find her on my terms.”
She glanced away, arms still crossed over her chest, but she dipped her head in agreement.
“Get Brindy to start the plane. Tell her to be ready in thirty minutes. We keep a low profile. No vehicles. No shifting. We’ll jump near Shanae’s first location and track behind her. We’ll have an advantage. If someone’s following her, they won’t expect a tail. Grab Wharton to join us.”
Trim leaned forward, poised to leave, but waited, alert.
He continued, “After we’re down, Brindy will meet up with Grizz and Breslin on the edge of the stronghold. They’ll approach from this side, and we’ll gather up Shanae somewhere in between. Chisholm can coordinate here for any immediate problems.”
“Wolves aren’t meant to jump out of planes,” she muttered, but rose quickly and jogged to the door, her cell phone out and to her ear.
He clenched his teeth as the door slammed behind her, then strode back to the map and considered their options. Whatever was driving Shanae to the safety of their old training ground in the Kootenai National Forest, he didn’t believe it was her college boyfriend—her human husband.
Besides being Trim’s closest friend and protégé, Shanae was one of the youngest shifters he’d ever trained. As a result, he’d done due diligence on Shanae’s behalf, though he’d never told Trim.
He’d checked the young man’s background for any sign of substance abuse or violence. Not that records were perfect. However, the two had been together for three years in college before her decision to marry him. They weren’t strangers. They’d seemed happy during Deacon’s brief investigation. In love, though Deacon hadn’t experienced such a thing. When they both graduated with jobs, Deacon at least felt certain the couple wouldn’t starve. They had a chance at happiness, and he couldn’t keep watch over every married couple in his clan.
What stood out in his recollection was that Shanae, out of all the students even five to ten years her senior, had excelled at evading detection. Even eleven years later, she still held the record for staying hidden from her instructor and alpha longer than any other trainee. She had that in her favor.
At the irritating buzz in his pocket, he withdrew his cell phone and, with a quick glance, turned it on. “How soon before you head out?”
“I’m leaving now,” Grizz responded. “Breslin’s meeting up with me at the edge of the Black Forest Reservation. Brindy will bring us the SUV at Whitefish after your jump.”
“Cover every back trail and designated hiding location we have.” He waited on the silence. Nothing was wrong with his phone. Grizz’s caution was on par with Trim’s heightened sense of suspicion. Relationship problems wouldn’t send one of the clan’s smartest and brightest fleeing through the national forest to get home. Shanae had cherry-picked her path where she could best defend herself. The place where her alpha could find her. Since she’d avoided phone lines and computers, he suspected she fled from a sophisticated predator. A human, perhaps, but her path to the forest pointed more to one of his own kind. Unacceptable. “I also want a briefing in several hours from Breslin on the attempted child abduction cases he was working on.”
“Got it,” Grizz said. “One of the security team should keep an eye on our back door.”
Deacon hated adding someone outside his immediate team for this job, but he wouldn’t discount Grizz’s instincts. “Fine. Pick one of our park volunteers. Tell them not to shift. I want an account of every car, glider, or tracking dog that crosses the mile stretch between our stronghold border and the forest. Caution them to scent for rogue shifters.”
“Right. How are you getting Trim to jump out of the plane?”
“When it’s time, I’ll push her out.”
A cough, maybe a rumble, echoed across the line. “Tell me she’ll have a parachute.”
“Don’t worry. Her self-preservation instincts will have kicked in once we’re on the plane. She’ll be strapped in and ready to go. As always.”
“Bitching the whole time.” Grizz paused. “She might be right, you know—about wolves and planes.”
“Spare me. Rescue dogs jump out of helicopters and into freezing water. My clan members are leagues above a dog any day of the week.”
Another muffled laugh was audible. “Don’t think that’s a selling point for her.”
“She doesn’t need any stroking from me. You handle that.” The pulsing thrum of plane engines vibrated from the small airstrip alongside the building and drowned out his curse. “Leaving now. We’ll meet somewhere in the middle.”
“She’s not even talking to me, but Deacon”—the laughter was gone—“Trim’s got a point. This situation doesn’t feel right. Watch your back.”
He closed his eyes. Vibrations itched beneath his skin with a strength he hadn’t felt in many years. Not since he’d returned home to battle for his alpha title.
Like a storm gathering force, he could feel the pressure from threats encroaching on his territory. New threats. Ones he hadn’t detected earlier. Had his power surges diminished his alpha abilities or distracted him enough he hadn’t noticed?
It didn’t matter. Either way, their presence signaled a challenge of his authority and danger to his people. If he followed the breadcrumbs to Shanae, perhaps he could force the confrontation into the open.
He prayed he reached her before anything escalated.
3
Libby, Montana
Lena raised the paper cup to her lips and blew on her third cup of tea. She eyed the two semis leaving the truck stop and stomped her feet to get the circulation flowing. Three hours of waiting hadn’t revealed anything new or improved her disposition. Not to mention that the closer she got to the mountains, the more people she passed who possessed the familiar glimmer of fur and tails beneath their human personas.
So far she’d detected a brown bear beneath a trucker’s ruddy complexion. A bobcat shimmered in and out on a young male biker. The convenience clerk took her a while to decipher, but the red-and-white fur finally clicked as fox-like.
With only brief glimpses of the animal traits that flashed like a sublayer of dreamscape imposed over reality, it was hard to make a quick assessment. Having spent the last several years actively avoiding anyone who possessed special dual qualities of human and animal, Lena had lost the edge to her skills. Or maybe she’d gotten better at avoiding contact. Sad but necessary. Luckily, the tug to follow and find a way to interact with them hadn’t overtaken her.
At least, not yet.
If not for her promise to find Shanae and Trevor Philmont, Lena would be hundreds of miles away and safely ensconced in her next urban sprawl. Not on the edge of her beloved wilderness, tempted by visions of the animals some people carried beneath their skins.
She’d been fortunate and scared up a few fresh leads on the case. If the waitress in Sandpoint was correct, the muddy red cab pulling under the lights of diesel pump number eight was her next contact. She needed the trucker to get out so she could confirm him from the waitress’s description.
As she waited for him to finish whatever he was doing in his cab, she sorted through her last discussion with Matthew Philmont. According to his exhaustive search of his house, Shanae had taken a small suitcase and left the only thing that had ever meant much to her inside one of his shoes—a battered penny impressed with Glacier National Park’s symbol. The souvenir wasn’t worth even a penny, though the several-hundred-dollar gold necklace it was strung on made the coin more than a keepsake.
Matthew insisted his wife had worn it everywhere.
A two-hundred-dollar withdrawal the day of Shanae’s disappearance didn’t clarify anything either. Barely enough to pay for gas, a few meals, and a couple of nights in a cheap hotel, the cash wouldn’t fund a new life. Odd, given the Philmonts kept fifty thousand dollars in their checking account along with several other liquid assets. However, Shanae’s small withdrawal wouldn’t raise any alerts with the bank.
Healthy people needed money to survive. Dead people didn’t. Lena would have felt better if Shanae had other funds or at least had hit another ATM over the last several days.
Shanae paid all their bills online. She’d kept receipts for every major transaction along with detailed business plans for her husband’s job as well as her own. There was even a file with notes and prototype drawings of a house they planned to build in a few years. Lena had learned more than a few ways to search for hidden trails.
If Shanae had planned an escape, she hadn’t funded it. She’d also spent more time than one would expect focused on her future with Matthew.
All points in Matthew’s favor for not being a villainous husband Shanae had plotted to escape.
The Philmont accounts revealed no secret stashes of cash. Sadly, that same evidence boded poorly for Shanae and Trevor Philmont’s survival.
Slipping out her phone, Lena glanced again at her notes from the waitress, then back at the driver.
The ruddy chest-length beard and Minnesota Twins’ baseball cap hid his features as the semi driver dropped down from his cab. Hubbard Morten didn’t quite match the vivid red-haired, former high school football player with a wicked smile from the waitress’s photo, but fierce overhead lighting at the pump islands and a dozen years would wash out anyone’s features.
However, the antler insignia on the cab matched the description, and the St. Nicholas paunch and red plaid jacket matched her notes perfectly.
Lena pitched her cup into a trash can, wiped her hands, then dug into her pocket, retrieving Shanae’s college picture. She’d hoped the older photo would imply she and Shanae had an amicable past history together. Regardless, she needed to quickly convince Mr. Morten that she intended Shanae no harm before he pulled out.
He eyed her as she approached, casting a less than subtle glance toward the Shop-n-Go over her shoulder.
“Mr. Morten? My name is Lena Juarez. I could use your help.”
“I’m only here long enough to refill and head on, miss.”
She stopped beside him. “It’s not help for me. I’m looking for my friend and her son.”
His strong steady gaze took her in from head to toe with a look that said he wasn’t buying her line. “Definitely can’t help you. I spend a lot of my time in my cab. No time for looking at women and children.”
“Long hours too, I’m sure.”
“You got it.”
“I also get that if you felt someone was in trouble, you’d help.” She lifted the picture, cupping it so it caught the lights over the pumps. “I also don’t think Shanae would have asked you for a ride in Sandpoint if she didn’t need help pretty badly.”
“Nice-looking girl.” He barely glanced at the photo. “No resemblance between the two of you. Good thing you didn’t claim her as family. I can smell bullshit a mile away.”
“That would be a stretch. With a father from Chile and a mother who was half Chickasaw, very few people look like me. Look, I’ll be frank. I’m a private investigator. I’m concerned some bad people are after her. I have every intention of making sure they don’t find her.”
His stare lasted an eternity. “Daisy from the diner called me. I know she told you I gave the mother and son a lift.”
In an exaggerated move, Lena extracted her wallet. Her PI badge flashed on one side, a picture of her in her park ranger uniform with a training buddy showed on the other. She hated using her credentials and her past to sway him, but at least it was honest. Slowly, she slid Shanae’s photo into her wallet and met his gaze. “You know I’ve told you the truth.”
“You a park ranger?”
She didn’t blame him for pressing the point. “Not anymore.”
“How long? I mean, were you in the service?”
“Eight years for the National Park Service.”
He nodded in the direction of Glacier National Park. “So you know how to take care of yourself—out there. Scout, shoot, and survival stuff, right?”
“Along with climbing and tracking. I’ve extricated a number of people from problems after they’d done really stupid things.” She waited for his reply. When he had none, she added, “My only goal is to ensure her safety. And Trevor’s.”
Not quite sold, he waited for several seconds. “But somebody hired you.”
She nodded. “However, my allegiance is to her, not a paycheck, or I would be taking much more lucrative cases.”
He planted his fist on one hip and whipped off his hat before wiping his brow. “I’m usually good with figuring out people, and I’m not hearing bullshit from you—aside from the friend thing. To be honest, I didn’t feel quite r
ight leaving a young woman and a kid at the edge of nowhere. So I’m holding you to your promise. The way news gets around, I’ll know if you sell her out.”
Not the rousing vote of support she’d hoped for, but she’d take what she could get. Lena reached back into her wallet. “Here’s my card. There are numbers on the back for the Spokane police department. They’ll verify my license and my past participation with them.”
“Okay, Ms. Juarez.” He stuffed the card in his pocket and gestured with his chin toward the north. “I brought them from Sandpoint and dropped them inside the Kootenai National Forest border. Strange place to get out, but she insisted they would be fine.”
“Were she and the boy in good condition?” Lena bit her lip, not sure how to ask the delicate question without voicing her fears.
He shrugged. “She was desperate, focused, but didn’t look battered. No marks on her or the kid. They moved easily, so I don’t think—well, you know.”
Yep, no hidden injuries. A small relief. “Thank you, Mr. Morten.”
He turned away, then glanced back. “I imagine you know how to find me, since you’ve done it once. Or you can leave a word with Daisy. Let me know when she gets where she’s going. Safe and all?”
“I’ll follow up.” Lena left him and headed through the busy gas station toward her motel beyond the adjoining lot. She’d have time to grab a quick sandwich and a nap before getting up at dawn and making her way to the ranger station.
First, she’d check carefully through her supplies. It had been years since she’d officially done search and rescue work, but some habits didn’t stop even when you left the job behind. The love of working outdoors still owned every bone in her body.
Hence, the reason her backpack sat fully stocked in the back of her vehicle.
Lena shut her hotel room door, eyed the blinds to confirm the slats were as tight as she’d left them, and then tossed her pack onto the bed. She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced around the sparse room. Worn but clean, it had one double bed, a bureau with a mirror, and a nook with a closet rod. No hiding places.