“Here’s the list of people that have arrived since Wrench started working here, that are still here at the resort. Unless our attempted assassin arrived here off the books, this is who we have to start from.”

Scarlet adjusted the projector, bringing her tidy handwriting into focus on the screen. The projector must have been a product of the time the resort was first built in the 80s. Lydia was sitting next to Wrench in the darkened room. Only the most trusted of the staff was there—and their mates. As she’d assured Wrench, Scarlet was not taking the attempt on Wrench’s life lightly.

The list was frustratingly long; it was the busiest time of the vacation season and people had been steadily moving in and out. Some of the staff had turned over as well, as the isolation of Shifting Sands proved too much for some people to handle long term.

“I do not have record of any snake shifters at all, but people have lied on their applications before. We can eliminate anyone we’ve witnessed shifting into other forms.” She crossed out several of the names herself.

Bastian volunteered, “Dana? That’s the one with glasses who hasn’t put down a book for more than five minutes in a row? I saw her shift into a cat of some sort on the beach.”

Scarlet put a line through her name.

“Those two guys were in the bar when the attack happened,” Tex said helpfully. “Couldn’t have been them.”

Other names were eliminated, but the list was still painfully long.

Graham frowned at the list. “Lars? That the Swedish hockey player?” he asked gruffly.

“Expert!” several of the staff chorused mockingly.

“He’s not a bear like he says.”

“Oh?” Wrench was all attention. “He could be the type. How do you know that?”

“Ate half the shrubbery around his cottage two nights ago,” Graham growled.

“Oh, snap,” Breck said. “He’s lucky he’s still alive.”

“We do try to avoid sending our visitors home in boxes,” Scarlet reminded them firmly.

“No one wants that review on Yelp,” Bastian joked.

“‘Excellent food. Great view. Insane landscaper attacked guests with machete,’” Travis mimicked.

Graham looked more amused than offended.

Scarlet cleared her throat. “At any rate, snakes don’t eat shrubbery, so we can also eliminate him.” She put a neat line through his name.

From the remaining names, they discussed the most likely candidates—the humorless cigarette-smoking man from Lydia’s flight, a bruiser with a Russian accent who professed to be a saber-toothed cat, and a black-haired woman who was built slightly but had a quick slyness that everyone agreed was a little suspicious and snake-like.

“A mink would be,” Scarlet said, consulting her notes, but she left the star by the woman’s name.

“Keep your eyes on these characters in particular,” Scarlet told them as the meeting broke up. “Stay in touch with each other, and be smart. Let’s go get some work done.”

As Wrench went to leave with Lydia beside him, Scarlet paused with them for a moment.

“I will understand if you don’t wish to leave your mate’s side until this is resolved,” she said in a tone that could have been tolerant or just disgusted. “But I do have a request for Lydia alone. Gizelle has been in her gazelle form since the earthquake, and I was hoping that I could have your help trying to get through to her. Jenny’s had no luck.”

“Of course,” Lydia said immediately.

Gizelle had always been shy and skittish. When the Shifting Sands staff had rescued her from a madman’s shifter collection, she had refused to shift to human form for months. She still tended to revert to her gazelle shape whenever she was startled or frightened, which was often. With no memories of anyone or anywhere before her captivity, no one was sure how old she was, or where she’d come from before her imprisonment. She was innocent and childlike at times, but her seriousness and the white that streaked her hair sometimes made her seem ancient.

“I’ll move the meditation class to the lawn outside the event hall,” Lydia suggested. “Gizelle would sometimes join us, and I can stay after class and see if she’ll approach me.”

Scarlet nodded briskly and left them.

“You know I’m comin’ with you,” Wrench growled from her side.

“If you do, I expect you to meditate quietly with the rest of us,” Lydia teased.

Wrench looked stoic. “Fine.”

Lydia almost took his hand, then reconsidered, walking beside him as they went back up to her room to check on Ally. She was startled and delighted when Wrench took her hand of his own volition.

She twined her fingers into his and felt a moment of deep contentment and peace.