Chapter 11

The pack got together, the kids playing computer games while everyone else sat down to discuss the issue with Rowdy and Candice’s problem controlling the shift. Even Owen and the rest of them could have trouble at this time of month.

“I don’t want to share our secrets with some stranger,” Cameron said.

“I agree, but he already seems to know them.” Owen brought cups of coffee over for everyone.

“And if other wolves seem to think he’s all right and if he could help us with this, I’m inclined to think we could use his assistance.” Candice thanked Owen for the coffee and sipped from the snowman mug.

“Like Count Dracula? And his minion, Renfield?” Faith asked, smiling.

They all laughed.

“I’m sure he would love hearing that’s what we would think of him.” But Candice thought it was so true. “Okay, so I’ll call him…and tell him what? That I have an inheritance that is at stake?”

“Maybe he can use his own resources to find dirt on the PI and the girl. He doesn’t have to meet with us. We don’t have to tell him about the problem with your shifting. Or mine either. Just tell him we’re doing all we can to investigate this case of fraud, and if he could help, that would be great. If not, then no problem.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Candice called Rowdy and put him on speaker as soon as he answered. “Hi, this is Candice Mayfair. I wasn’t sure if you could really help us with this or not, but I do have a problem.” She explained to him about how the PI agency was looking into this, but if Rowdy had other resources he could tap, they would be grateful.

Everyone was quiet while they listened to what she said. The kids had even turned down the sound on their laptops when their mom told them to.

“Okay, give me the name of the investigator, and I’ll learn what I can. When are you going down there to sign the paperwork?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow. The signing will be in a few days.”

“Driving though, right? It’s probably too close to the full moon to fly.”

“We’re driving. Do you ever worry that some people might feel threatened by what you think you know?” Candice really didn’t understand this guy. She wasn’t sure what she would have done, had she known werewolves existed, but she didn’t think she would have been contacting them to tell them she knew about them.

“Truthfully? That’s a hazard of my job. The perpetrator usually doesn’t want to be apprehended. That means I’m often facing a lethal foe. I’ve had a number of near-death experiences on the job. I’m good at what I do, having one of the highest success rates in bringing in murderers and procuring their convictions. But what if I had superpowers like all of you have? I could be even better, both in apprehending the criminal and in ensuring I have the right man, and probably in less time than it would normally take. Which can be years sometimes.”

“Superpowers?”

“Yeah, sure. What else would you call your enhanced abilities? Okay, look. Allan’s wife would have died—well, she did, twice—and she would have been permanently dead if Allan and his friends hadn’t stepped in to help out. Allan loves her. He did from the beginning, I believe. I didn’t stand a chance against him in the romance department.”

“Do you think you’ll have enhanced sexual powers too?” Candice asked, getting a kick out of him. Though she realized that was somewhat true because of how the pheromones deepened the experience. At least for her with Owen.

All the adults were smiling.

“Your books say they do. Whether it’s true or not, I’d be willing to test the theory myself. But back to Allan’s wife. If I got shot on the job, I’d stand a lot better chance at recovery. Right?”

“And could be discovered for your faster healing genetics. Plus, you’d more than likely take more risks, thinking you were invincible,” Candice warned.

“Which could help me solve more cases and faster. Witness identifications aren’t that reliable. But what if I could smell the scents of those who were at the scene of the crime?”

“And how would you explain how you knew it was the real perp? Tell them you smelled him there? Even if you could identify the murderer by scent, you’d have a hell of a time proving it,” Owen said.

“Yeah, but at least it would narrow our suspect list, and I could put all available resources on the correct guy.”

“Let’s say, for the sake of argument, you became a part-time wolf. You wouldn’t be able to work your job until you had the shifting under control. What would you do?”

“I’d find a job I could work from home until I could return to the other job. Like you did. Like the private investigators do. Hell, maybe you could use an investigator like me who has prior Special Forces experience, is hard charging, and would never let you down.”

“You don’t even know us.”

“You’re some of the good guys. I know, because I’ve dealt with a lot of bad guys over the years.”

“We’ll think about it,” Candice said as the other adults shook their heads no. They probably figured they already had enough issues—with being turned seven years ago and then adding a pack member more newly turned—without taking a brand-new wolf into the fold. “But if you can help us look into this case of fraud, we’d be grateful.”

“I’d be happy to. And we can meet in Houston. I’ll keep you informed about what I learn.”

“Thanks. We’ll talk later.” She was hopeful someone on the outside with other resources might be a help. Or were they just creating more trouble for themselves by taking him into their confidence?

* * *

At four the next morning, Candice and Owen got up and began loading the car. They took a couple of suitcases and emergency weather gear—blankets, thermal and regular, plus food and water—in case they had any trouble along the way, and both of them brought their laptops.

After a quick breakfast of ham and eggs, Candice climbed into the passenger seat. “I can drive too, possibly today. Just let me know when you need a break.” She opened her laptop to work on her new book—set in Minnesota, of course. She just loved the new setting and had been writing away with her new muse helping her.

A little while later, Owen finally reached more of a highway and started the long drive to Houston. “When you have to shift, do you feel it coming on beforehand so you have a bit of a warning?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.

She didn’t blame him for worrying about whether she could manage the shift okay. She’d learned early on that driving was out of the question while she was having a lot of trouble controlling the shifts. “Yeah, I can fight it for about a half hour, most of the time. Sometimes longer. Sometimes shorter. Then I have to give in.”

“During the phase of the full moon, I can fight it for a couple of hours. But then I can’t hold off any longer,” Owen said. “I’ve tried to fight shifting completely, to see if I can learn to control it, but I can’t. When the new moon phase is here, I can’t shift, even if I wanted to. I’ve tried, just to see if I could force it. But it won’t happen.”

“Do you find you miss the ability during the new moon?” Candice asked.

“Yeah. It’s like a habit. Or maybe a better word for it would be an ability. And then all of a sudden, you don’t have it. Like you said, you run a couple of times a day, morning and night, great exercise, and it makes you feel good. I do too. I have a lot harder time getting motivated to exercise when I can’t run as a wolf. You don’t have to bundle up in the winter. You just strip and shift and run.”

“I feel the same way. Though I do like to take walks in the woods as a human sometimes.”

“Then we need to do that too when we return.”

Candice pulled up her file on her laptop. “I’m going to work on my book for a while. Just let me know if you become tired of driving.”

“Sounds good.” Though if Candice was happily working on her book and didn’t need to take a break from it, Owen would keep driving. He liked to go on long driving trips, which was a good thing since flying was out of the question when the full moon phase was drawing close.

While he was driving, Candice was typing away, pausing sometimes and then typing again. He drove for several hours, and she seemed to be really adding to her word count, so he was glad. He finally had to pull into a service station travel center where they could grab lunch.

“Do you want hamburgers or something else?” he asked.

“Hamburgers would be great. A cheeseburger. I’m going to run to the little girls’ room.”

“Okay, be inside in just a second.”

David called as soon as Owen started to fill the tank. Owen hoped that meant his partner had good news.

Candice stretched and then headed for the building.

“The PI, Felix Underwood, is legitimate,” David said. “As much as I could discover so far. He’s a lone investigator and has had a Houston office since 2000. He’s been doing this for a while. No brushes with the law that I could find. He owns a car and home, no mortgages. Lives in a nice home out in the country with some acreage, so he has a bit of a commute to his office in downtown Houston. He has a secretary. No dirt on her either.”

“And the woman calling herself Clara Hart that he so fortuitously found?”

“Cameron is trying to run her down. Rowdy said he’s digging deeper on the PI. This guy might be perfectly legit, but the temptation to find a fake Clara was just too enticing not to make an attempt. Not when Strom had gotten suspicious about Candice and confirmed she had a fraudulent book tour. The opportunity to find the real Clara would have been hard to pass up, particularly when there is no other real Clara. And the deadline is quickly approaching. He might believe you’re really a fraud with a great scheme, and he’s copycatting you.”

“You’re saying he’s never done anything wrong in the past, and he wouldn’t have this time if he hadn’t had such a lucrative deal dumped in his lap.”

“On the surface, it looks like it. Of course, he might have done illegal stuff and never gotten caught. Think of it. A multibillionaire tells you he thinks the woman who claims to be Clara is a fraud. Maybe the PI looks a little but can’t find the real one. Then what does he do? He can either fail to find the right woman—and Strom obtains all the money—or he can find someone who fits the bill and take a cut of the proceeds. Maybe retire and leave the area permanently afterward, in case the real Clara ever shows up.”

“Okay, sounds viable.” Owen finished filling the tank and closed up the cap on his car.

“How are things going for you two?” David asked.

Owen knew he didn’t mean the drive, but the issue of shifting. “Good, so far. We just stopped for gas, and we’re going to grab a couple of cheeseburgers.” He headed for the building. “Let me know if you learn anything else. We’ll talk later.”

“Sounds great. And good luck.”

They signed off and Owen entered the travel center, the smell of cheeseburgers catching his attention. He didn’t see Candice in the shopping area, so he went into the hamburger place, but she wasn’t there either. He had to make a pit stop too, so he used the men’s facilities and then went to order their food. After grabbing the tray of cheeseburgers, fries, soda for him and tea for her, he sat at one of the tables and waited.

He’d planned to let her drive for a while if she’d like, though he didn’t mind driving the whole way there. The roads had been clear, so they were making good time.

After a few minutes when Candice still didn’t show up, Owen began to really worry. What if she was feeling sick to her stomach? Worse-case scenario: What if she was stuck in the ladies’ room as a wolf?

She hadn’t indicated she needed to shift, and she’d said she could usually fight it for around half an hour. Or less. Nothing with the business of shifting was set in concrete. He grabbed their sack of food and drinks and left the restaurant, then walked over to the windows and looked out, in case she had returned to the car. But she wasn’t there.

Owen was trying not to panic. He wasn’t sure what to do. He returned to the restaurant and waited. But after another few minutes passed, he figured if she had turned into a wolf, she couldn’t just shift back into her human form right away. It sometimes took a couple of hours or more. There was no figuring it exactly, as far as he could tell. Even if he managed to slip her out of the restroom without creating too much of a circus, he’d have to retrieve her clothes and purse from in there.

He returned to the short hallway where the men’s and women’s restrooms were located and waited. No one came in or out, and he couldn’t hear running water or toilets flushing in either of them. Finally satisfied no one was in the women’s room other than Candice, he opened the door a crack and said, “Candice?”