Chapter Thirteen
Aspen was only a short flight, but it felt like it took a week. Wilhelm took Sven, his gamma, because he’d left Gunther to keep an eye on Juliette and the twins. He spent the flight listening to Sven hum softly along with whatever music he played on his iPhone. Wilhelm went over everything he knew about the accident, and every question he had for the detective when he arrived. And he couldn’t help thinking of the possibilities—an accident, or a murder. But why? Why kill his brother and Carol? For what?
By the time they reached Aspen, Wilhelm was edgy and wished they’d come at night instead of early morning. He wanted to find a wooded area to strip down and run, pound his paws against the ground until his bones jarred and rattled inside his body. He needed to work out the aggression and stress he felt before having to deal with unpleasant things like the sight of his brother’s car.
Detective Frasier assured him that it wasn’t necessary for him to view his brother’s body. The crash had been high-speed, there’d been a fire after impact, and visual identification was impossible. He didn’t tell the detective he didn’t need to recognize his brother’s face to know who he was. Even if he was burnt almost to nothing, Wilhelm would recognize his scent.
He hadn’t decided whether he’d put himself through such a viewing or not. Juliette had urged him not to unless he couldn’t find closure any other way. She was probably right.
He and Sven met the detective at the impound where the car was still being carefully examined. It was up on a lift with two technicians underneath. The tires were melted, one was even missing, and the car looked like it had been lit on fire and shoved into a trash compactor.
“Mr. Sorenson.” Detective Frasier held out his hand and walked toward him.
“Detective. Please call me Wilhelm.”
“All right. I’d like to show you something.” He led Wilhelm to stand next to the raised car. “Brakes failed. Typically if that happens via sabotage, it’s because the brake line was cut.”
Wilhelm peered up at the undercarriage. “How could you tell?” Everything about the car looked broken and ruined. Surely a single cut could be camouflaged in an accident like this when the crash destroys damn near everything.
“It’s not always easy in a case like this when things are torn apart or melted. They haven’t found anything that looks like it might have been a clean cut. Just accident damage. But they did find residue in the braking system that leads them to believe that the brake fluid was replaced with something else. They haven’t analyzed it fully yet, but it’s not the right fluid. So the brakes failed. Clever, really, because if the car had burned much longer than it did, there’d likely have been no way to discover it.”
Wilhelm clenched his teeth together, opened and closed his fists, the urge to punch someone, hurt someone, for what had happened growing inside him. “So, my brother was murdered.”
“I’m convinced, yes. If it was just funky brake fluid, that could be an incompetent mechanic, a mistake. But they’re finding other signs of tampering, as if someone wanted to make absolutely sure they’d lose control of the car. If the brakes didn’t fail, the steering seems to have been set up to fail. There are ample signs that someone wanted this car to crash. I’m sorry.”
Wilhelm nodded. “How do we find out who did this?”
The detective gave him a sad smile. “I’m looking into a few leads. Business associates, Carol’s friends and family. Not much more to go on right now.” The detective walked to a desk against the wall. Wilhelm followed and was handed a plastic envelope.
“These were recovered from the accident site.” The envelope held his brother’s wedding ring, and Carol’s engagement ring and wedding band. “I’m releasing them from evidence and thought you might like to have them.”
“Thank you.” Wilhelm took the plastic sleeve, numb, wondering if the detective expected an emotional display or whether he might even suspect Wilhelm if he appeared too stoic. “I’ll put these in a safe place for their children when they’re grown.”
The detective bobbed his head and took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to the station and ask some questions, get a statement from you, just technicalities. All things I could have done over the phone, but since you came all this way . . .”
“Of course.” Wilhelm folded the plastic sleeve into a small package and tucked it into the pocket inside his blazer. “And I have some questions for you too.”
Detective Frasier smiled and gestured toward the door of the impound garage. “I expected nothing less.”
* * *
After about an hour at the station, with both his and the detective’s questions answered as thoroughly as possible, Wilhelm decided that the last way he could honor his brother would be to actually go and see his body. Detective Frasier tried to persuade him not to once again, but Wilhelm felt it was something he had to do.
He worried he’d spent the rest of his life regretting the decision not to go, and once his brother and Carol were cremated, per their wishes, it was something he couldn’t undo. He’d had enough regret in his life when it came to his brother.
It might have been a mercy that the body on the table looked nothing like Halgar. It was shaped somewhat like a man, but blackened from the fire, shrunken, appearing more like a prop from a horror movie than the brother he grew up with. And the burnt smoke smell, the bitter char scent, was almost unbearable. Humans couldn’t understand how deeply a scent could work its way into a body. Wilhelm knew he’d be trying to rid himself of the memory of that one for weeks.
Under it all, though, he caught the faint scent of Halgar. There was no denying it. And as hard as it was to face the loss, he felt better prepared to move on from it.
When he got back to the hotel, ready to research online and find a place he could let his tiger run free later that night, the light on his room phone was blinking. He had a message at the desk. As the clerk read it to him, he sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.
Ralph Marcoby. Carol’s brother.
Wilhelm didn’t know him, had only met him once or twice at family functions when he and his brother still spoke. He probably had the same kind of questions Wilhelm had.
But he wasn’t in the mood to answer them. He needed time to process everything, to try to come to grips with all that happened and all he’d seen. And he needed to talk to Juliette. Instinctively, Wilhelm knew that speaking to her would make him feel better than anything else he could do at the moment, including letting his tiger run free.
With a deep sigh, he decided to call Ralph back merely to get that conversation over with. Then it wouldn’t be hanging over his head when he called Juliette.
Ralph answered on the first ring. “Wilhelm. Sorry to hunt you down at the hotel this way, but I didn’t have your number. How are you doing?”
“That’s fine, Ralph. I’m all right. You?”
“About as good as can be expected.”
“Right.”
Ralph took a deep breath, then cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about Carol’s children.”
Carol’s children. It seemed such an impersonal way to talk about your niece and nephew. But Wilhelm realized he might have used that same phrase before his entire world tilted on its axis and they were thrust into his life.
“My wife and I are fully prepared to raise them as our own. We know you’re a bachelor, and you have a certain lifestyle that probably doesn’t allow for two small babies, and we think it’s the least we can do for . . . for my sister.” His voice broke, but it sounded . . . wrong. Forced.
Maybe Wilhelm was just tired.
“Thank you, Ralph, that’s . . . kind of you . . . but it won’t be necessary. I’m managing with the twins just fine.” His hackles rose at the very notion that Ralph thought he’d just take them off Wilhelm’s hands, almost as if it were some sort of favor.
“That’s good. But it’ll be better for them to grow up in a family, rather than raised by nannies while you’re always at work making your fortune. I know you can afford to give them everything they could want, but that’s no substitute for loving parents.” Papers shuffled on the other end of the phone. “My lawyer has drawn up the paperwork for you to sign so that we can petition the court for custody. I’m sure if you think—”
Wilhelm shot to his feet. “No.”
“You have to think of what’s best for—”
“Ralph, I said no. My brother’s children are the only heirs in this family.” In my entire pack. “They’ll take over his business, my father’s business, when they’re old enough, and as such are my responsibility.”
Silence stretched out between them, until Ralph sniffed. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Wilhelm. I’m sure a judge will see things differently. You can’t provide a loving home living a wealthy bachelor lifestyle. Think of what’s best for them.”
Wilhelm had the urge to explain that he wouldn’t be leading a wealthy bachelor lifestyle anymore. He had Juliette. He could provide a loving home. Just the realization warmed him, and made the phone call twice as annoying because it was delaying his call to Juliette.
“If you think you’re taking these babies away from me, you’re sorely mistaken.” Wilhelm had enough money to pay the best cadre of lawyers ever assembled. He didn’t fear losing the babies in a courtroom.
“We’ll see about that. Expect to hear from my lawyer, Sorenson.”
Oh, now he was Sorenson instead of Wilhelm. Fine. He could play that way. He hung up and immediately dialed Sven to arrange for Ralph to be investigated. Anything that could be dug up on the man, Wilhelm wanted to know it. If he took this to court, he’d be sorry.
He let himself calm down for a moment before he called Juliette so he wouldn’t worry her. But he couldn’t wait too long. He needed to hear her voice like he needed air.