Chapter Six
There were multiple ways to approach this sensitively and smartly if Cooper thought about it. He didn’t think about it.
“What exactly is your relationship with Jennifer Eagler?”
Park, who had just gotten back into the car, froze and stared at Cooper, his face carefully blank. “Jenny?”
“The waitress from the bar last night. The two of you seemed very friendly.”
“So?” Park’s eyes hardened slightly.
“You stayed in the bar later than Miller and me.”
“You ran out of there like you were afraid I was going to ask to sit with you at the cool kids’ table.”
“You picked up enough food for two people.”
Park’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re not really helping this mean-girl vibe I’m getting—”
“Were you alone last night?”
“Jealous?”
Cooper inhaled so quickly he almost choked on his own tongue. “Why the hell would I be jealous? Was Jennifer Eagler with you last night?” he continued before Park could answer that.
“No, of course not.” Park frowned. “Where is this coming from?”
“Park—” Cooper took a deep breath and shook his head.
The drowsy sun drooped lower in the sky and the right side of Park’s face was suddenly highlighted with orange light so bright it looked like an open flame. Liar, liar, face on fire.
Except Park had been nothing but frank with him from the beginning.
Cooper still couldn’t get his mouth to move.
“Look, I’ll give first.” Park held up his hands, palms out. “You heard that Jenny went to high school with my sister. We’re friendly. Not super close, just friendly. I left Bear’s ten, fifteen minutes after you. I spent the night alone. I had a lot of food with me because...well, I eat a lot.” Park grimaced a little. “And yes, before you ask, that is a werewolf thing. Those are my cards on the table because I trust there’s a reason behind this.” Park waited. Cooper noticed he didn’t say because I trust you. Fair enough. He didn’t trust Park either.
But nor did he believe Park had anything to do with what happened. And not just because Cooper had sat by his motel window watching Park return shortly after him alone. Not that he was going to admit that.
“Jennifer Eagler is missing. The call Harris got this afternoon? That was her. She never made it home last night.”
Park’s expression froze and hardened, like someone had poured resin over him. His eyes became unfocused, staring at something Cooper couldn’t. His hands, large and powerful, curled into fists in his lap, knuckles so white the bones looked to have popped right through the skin. It was frightening and so unlike the usual placid Park he’d gotten used to that Cooper resisted the urge to pull away and cover the suddenly tingling scars on his stomach.
“Park?” Cooper said cautiously.
“Who?” Park said. His voice was stiff and thick.
He could have been asking a number of things, so Cooper answered all of them. “They don’t have any leads. Her boss found the bar had never been closed last night and called it in. Harris hasn’t been able to find a connection to our case yet.”
Park nodded.
“At this point, it doesn’t seem likely that she’s another victim of our unsub.” Whether that was a good or bad thing was unclear. On the one hand, she hadn’t been abducted by a wolf serial killer who held and tortured his victims before ripping them apart. On the other hand, she was a missing woman consistently exposed to any number of drunk assholes. There was more than one sort of evil in the world.
Of course, there was a third possibility. She’d disappeared after talking to them about the case. She was a friend of Park’s. She could have run voluntarily. She could be the unsub.
There was nothing ruling out a female killer. The only requirement was they were looking for a werewolf. Serial killers were overwhelmingly male, so Cooper had assumed, but he had no idea if that dynamic held true amongst wolves. Jenny might be the killer and when she found out Park was in town, she’d made a run for it.
She’d said Gould came into the bar often. Bornestein seemed like the type to knock back some beers there as well.
Or she might know who the killer was. As a local wolf she’d be familiar with the other wolves around town. Knowing Park was with the Trust would have told her the killer they hunted wasn’t human. What if she had figured something out, confronted the unsub last night and been silenced?
Park interrupted Cooper’s thoughts. “Are we going to Bear’s?”
He answered slowly, carefully. “Harris said there’s nothing to see there. I think we’ll do more good today finding Whittaker.” Plus, Cooper didn’t want Park at the crime scene. If Jenny was involved somehow... Well, he was going to sit on that theory for now. “We don’t even know if she was abducted for sure yet. If she was in some kind of trouble she could have staged a struggle herself. What are the chances she just picked up and left?”
“No chance. Not without her kid. She’d have no reason to.”
“Speaking of the kid, what about Dad? Any chance it’s a domestic?”
“No. Out of the picture. Has been for a long time.”
“Were you—what about you and Jenny? Were you ever a couple?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
It didn’t. Cooper just wanted to know. He said, “Well, jealousy’s the oldest motive out there, obviously. The way she was around you last night would make anyone think you had a past.” Cooper had to scramble to make up an excuse, but as he said it something rang true.
“Our relationship has never been romantic in nature. Or sexual,” Park added. He tilted his head and smiled a little oddly at Cooper. “She’s not my type.”
O-kay.
“What about—” Cooper broke off as a pickup truck pulled up in front of Whittaker’s place and parked. “One of ours,” he murmured, staring at the familiar green color and insignia on the side.
The driver’s door opened and a long, lean leg stepped out.
“Ranger Christie,” Park said. “Looking for us?” He moved to open the car door, and Cooper put a hand on his arm. Park stilled instantly.
“I didn’t tell anyone we were here. Christie’s not looking for us.”
They watched Christie move quickly to Whittaker’s door, pause, then knock and wait.
“Christie said he didn’t know any of Gould’s friends,” Park said. “Or enemies.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know they knew each other.” Cooper doubted it, but one of them had to maintain a little optimism. In theory.
Christie knocked on the door again.
Cooper started, “Is he—”
“No. Not a werewolf. I told you, I would have told you if he was. That’s part of the whole reason I’m here.”
Cooper thought of Jenny and wondered if that was true. Christie backed away from the door and hurried back into his truck. The engine turned over and the ranger drove away.
“He knows Whittaker for some other reason? Or he’s playing amateur sleuth,” Cooper thought out loud.
“Why?”
“Guilt over Gould?” Cooper shook his head. He felt Park’s arm flex under his hand and, being the professional sleuth that he was, realized he was still holding on to Park’s arm.
He pulled away. His fingers tingled where they’d touched Park’s warm skin. They settled into an awkward silence, waiting for Whittaker as the sun slipped behind the trees and shadows deepened, shrinking the space in the car. Something about the darkness made the sounds of their overlapping breaths louder. Without meaning to, Cooper realized he’d synchronized his breath to Park’s. He held it instead, and then exhaled loudly when he couldn’t hold it anymore. He could feel Park glance at him and he had to stop himself from twitching away. Or worse, twitching toward him. Either way, Cooper was anxious to move, his skin felt too tight.
Cooper was just considering suggesting taking shifts on Whittaker’s house when Park said, “Should we go to the Pumphouse?”
“To get a drink?” Cooper stuttered.
Park gave him an unreadable look. He said slowly, “To see if Whittaker’s there.”
“Right. I meant, you think he’d be there on a Tuesday?”
“Tipsy Tuesday,” Park suggested. “And it’s not just a bar. There’s food. I don’t know about you, but I could murder a burger. Not literally, Agent Dayton.” He winked. Then his face softened and he looked at Cooper thoughtfully, shook his head and said, “It’s also a sort of hangout place for werewolves. If Sam’s not there, perhaps someone else will be able to tell us where he is.”
Cooper swallowed imagining walking into a bar full of wolves from all over the county. He’d be totally vulnerable. He couldn’t help running his hand over the Taser secured in his belt.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you,” Park said. His eyes glinted with suppressed laughter, but his voice was deep and sincere and did something strange and frustrating to Cooper’s pulse.
“I’m not afraid,” Cooper snapped. “In fact, given your potential conflict of interest, I think I should take the lead.”
Park blinked slowly, which Cooper was sure meant he was thinking something unflattering, but he shrugged and didn’t argue.
Which was how he found himself leading Park across a dimly lit parking lot off the highway and toward a low, square brick building. A faded sign read Porter’s Pumphouse. The lights meant to illuminate it had gone out long ago and no one had bothered to replace them.
A peculiar tangle of lines was mounted on the roof above the door. Cooper first thought it was a mangled old-fashioned antenna. But as he approached, the lines seemed to rearrange themselves against the dark sky to reveal a metal sculpture of a wolf’s head. Where the wolf’s eye was supposed to be, an unpolished hunk of yellow quartz caught the moonlight.
Cooper shivered and looked away, a prickle of nerves racing down his spine, and a sharp throbbing started in his belly. Nothing about the building welcomed travelers. You either knew to come to the Pumphouse or you didn’t, Park had explained on the way over. In other words, Cooper’s presence would not go unnoticed.
He took a deep breath and pushed through the door, steeling himself for trouble.
It was...not what he expected. Though he hadn’t really known what to expect. The Pumphouse just looked like an average bar. Nicer on the inside than the outside implied, it had plenty of warm lighting, soft music, a pool table in the corner and a big flat-screen TV tuned to the Red Sox game. Sturdy wooden tables and chairs were populated with a variety of folks. A handful of people watched the game, a middle-aged couple giggled over mozzarella-stick appetizers like they were on a first date, and a group of what looked like college kids home on break lounged around the pool table, calling shots. Other groups were scattered around the edges of the bar. It was pretty crowded and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses.
The bar didn’t go silent when they walked in. No one demanded to know what business Cooper had there. No one besides the bartender even glanced their way.
“All clear?” Park asked. His voice full of barely restrained laughter.
Cooper shut his mouth and looked away from the wolf’s teasing eyes. He felt like an idiot. Again. All these people were wolves? He could hardly believe that yesterday on the plane he’d been convinced he could just find a wolf hanging around town and chances were good he, or she, would be the killer.
He knew Florence got more wolves passing through than most towns where he’d had cases but still, Cooper thought of Jefferson’s system of finding the closest wolf to the crime and had to wonder, how did that ever work?
“Got eyes on Whittaker.” Park nodded toward the back corner of the room. Sitting at the end of the bar and chatting with a good-looking man in his forties was Sam Whittaker.
Cooper had to admit he didn’t currently look like a serial killer on a spree. He appeared relaxed, was laughing a lot and, Cooper was startled to realize, appeared to be flirting with the older guy leaning against the bar beside him. But looks could be deceiving, as Jefferson always said. Especially when one could shift those looks as dramatically as wolves could.
Cooper headed toward the back of the room and stopped right between the wolf and the silver fox. He could sense Park lagging behind a bit, giving him a clear lead. Cooper felt a rush of appreciation beneath the buzz of anxiety. Maybe it was foolish, but he needed to feel back in control. He’d been increasingly off-kilter since learning of his partnership with Park. Maybe even longer than that.
“Sam Whittaker?”
The two men stopped talking, and Whittaker looked at him with a polite if somewhat annoyed expression. “Can I help you?”
“I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Okay,” Whittaker said, and cocked his head.
“In private.” He’d prefer not to alert the whole bar of wolves to the presence of a BSI agent in town.
Sam’s expression changed from annoyance to incredulity. “Uh, thanks but no thanks, man. Not that you aren’t hot and all but—”
“Mr. Whittaker, that wasn’t one of the questions,” Cooper interrupted, annoyed to feel heat in his cheeks. Hopefully it came across as flushed with anger. “Come outside with me or you’re going to regret wanting to have this conversation here.”
“Hey, friend. I think you should take a hint. He’s not interested in talking to you,” the older guy said, straightening up so he was in Cooper’s face.
Cooper’s hand went to his belt and tried to ignore the vicious cramping in his belly. He really didn’t want to draw his weapon, but he didn’t want to be blindsided either. “Back away, sir.”
“Or what?” the older man said, leaning in closer, and a flash of gold, so quick Cooper wondered if he’d imagined it, lit up his eyes.
A low growl rumbled from behind Cooper. More vibration than actual sound. He almost would have thought it was a distant passing train except the older guy’s gaze, now a regular hazel, darted over Cooper’s shoulders and then quickly lowered into what even Cooper recognized as a sign of submission.
“Park,” the man murmured. “I apologize. I didn’t scent you there.”
“He said back off,” Park said. Quietly, softly, but leaving no room for argument. An order he had no doubt would be obeyed. Cooper felt a thrill up his spine.
“I didn’t intend any disrespect,” the older guy said nervously, and retreated without a second glance at Whittaker, his head down and eyes averted.
Ouch.
Whittaker’s eyes were also submissively looking in the direction of Park’s knees, but he still managed to exude annoyance that his pickup had been interrupted.
“Let’s take this conversation outside now,” Cooper repeated. Park’s little display of top dog had drawn a couple curious looks from around the room and there was an underlying tension in the murmured conversations.
Whittaker bit his lip but didn’t argue. The three of them left the bar.
“I’m not going farther than this ’til somebody tells me what the fuck is going on,” Whittaker said, stopping a few feet from the door.
The sun had finished setting and the dull light of the bar cast peculiar shadows across the parking lot.
“Mr. Whittaker, my name is Special Agent Dayton with the BSI, and this is—”
“A Park,” Whittaker interrupted. “I know who he is. The one who went rogue. I haven’t seen you around here in a long time. What do you want with me?”
“Kyle Bornestein. What’s your relationship with him?” Park said.
“The dead guy? Uh, nonexistent? I never met him. Or if I did it was in the Florence way and I don’t remember.”
The Florence way. The waitress Jenny had said that, too. Town too small not to run across someone, somehow. It made for a messy investigation.
“You seem pretty defensive, Mr. Whittaker.”
“Yeah? I bet. I don’t like the BSI in my business. What do you care about some yokel—” He cut himself off and looked at Park. “Bornestein was cut?”
Park nodded, face impassive, and then, anticipating Cooper’s question, said, “Yes, he was killed by a werewolf. As was the John Doe he was found with.”
“Shit,” Sam breathed. “Shit, shit.” He was silent for a moment, almost mournful looking, and then his defiant face was back and he sneered at Cooper. “And I suppose you’re trying to pin it on me? Good luck with that, because I had nothing to do with it and I don’t know anyone who did. Or are you not going to bother proving it? Just going to shoot me here?” He threw his arms up martyr-style, nearly yelling by the end.
“I’m not going to shoot you,” Cooper snapped. “Jesus, I said I wanted to ask you a few questions and that’s what I’m trying to do. Keep your voice down. Please.”
“Oh yeah? You always bring that many weapons to ask questions?”
Cooper shifted uncomfortably. A gun and his stun gun modified specifically to take down werewolves did feel pretty extreme right now facing this slim, smart-mouthed kid. But as Jefferson said, wolves were always carrying at least ten deadly knives in their hands alone.
“It’s standard safety procedure,” Cooper muttered.
Whittaker snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure you feel real unsafe with a fucking Park at your side. Pull the other one.”
“What are you ta—”
Park cut him off. “When was the last time you saw Robert Gould?”
“Robbie? What has he got to do with anything?”
“Answer me,” Park said, some gravel in his voice.
Whittaker gritted his teeth and bit out, “I saw him Saturday. Why?”
That was new information. Whittaker had seen Gould the day he disappeared. “Where and what time exactly did you see him?” Cooper asked.
“He came around here. Maybe a little after one. Is there any point in me asking why again?”
“Did Gould come to the Pumphouse often?”
“No. Of course not.” Whittaker looked at Park with an exasperated expression like the two of them were the ones stuck dealing with Cooper. Jerk. “He came here looking for me. He knows I started working the lunch shift here most days. He wanted to talk.”
“You work here?” Park asked, which seemed like the least important part of what had been said in Cooper’s opinion.
“Rudi gave me the job ’til I get my feet,” Sam said defiantly.
“You’re following her now?”
Whittaker stuck his chin out. “I am. You have a problem with that?”
“Just find it interesting,” Park said casually.
Cooper wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but seeing as it didn’t tie in to why Gould was talking to their main suspect the day he disappeared, he didn’t much care. “You know what I find interesting? That Gould came here just to talk after you had fought.”
“How did you know—did Robbie tell you we were fighting? That asshole. It really wasn’t that big a deal.”
Cooper exchanged a confused look with Park. “Mr. Whittaker,” Cooper said slowly. “Robert Gould has been missing since Saturday afternoon.”
Whittaker’s face froze in place, like he’d heard the question and was now waiting for the subtitles to figure out what it meant. “What do you mean missing?” he said softly, and though it lacked all his previous teenage snark and arrogance, he sounded younger than ever.
“Robert Gould disappeared Saturday, we believe, against his will. The last place he was reported being seen was working on the forest trails. Until you.”
Cooper let that implication sink in. A slow-moving car passed on the road and the headlights caught Whittaker’s eyes, which reflected the glare inhumanly. Almost before Cooper registered it, the light cleared and the wolf’s eyes were once again warm, brown and frightened.
“I didn’t know he was missing,” Whittaker said finally.
“Everyone in town knows he’s missing.”
“I’ve been up north, across the border, running pack errands for Rudi. I just got back to town this afternoon.”
“Well, that’s an interesting coincidence. Fleeing the country after a man is attacked,” Cooper said.
“I wasn’t fleeing shit!” Whittaker yelled, and then took a step back, running a hand over his face and breathing heavily. “I asked Rudi to send me. I needed some time away. When I didn’t hear from Robbie, I thought he was still mad at me.”
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Gould?”
“We were both on the wrestling team in high school. We’re friends.”
“Funny, his mother didn’t describe it that way.”
Sam frowned. “Yeah, she wouldn’t. I’m surprised she even remembers who I am, to be honest.”
Cooper didn’t bother explaining that she didn’t. “What makes you say that?”
“She didn’t like me and Robbie being friends in high school. Senior year we fell out. Stopped talking. We didn’t keep in touch all four years I was at college. I moved back last year and we started hanging out again. But I kind of thought Robbie wasn’t telling Mrs. Gould about it.”
“Why didn’t Mrs. Gould approve of your friendship?”
Whittaker’s face turned bitter. “She’d say Robbie was too old to have BFFs—baby fag friends. She thought I was being a bad queer influence on her precious son.”
“And were you?”
“No,” Whittaker snapped, a hint of a snarl in his voice. Cooper willed himself not to step back. “Robbie isn’t—it wasn’t like that. We were just friends.”
“But you wanted something more?” Cooper guessed. “Is that why you fell out?”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “No,” he repeated, though whether he was denying it to them or himself was debatable. “I quit wrestling at the end of junior year. Getting too much attention, you know.” He directed that at Park. “Robbie was mad. He thought I was keeping secrets. He thought I didn’t trust him. Stupid teenage bullshit.”
“Were you keeping secrets?”
“Dude.” Whittaker curled his upper lip and Cooper watched his canines lengthen into fangs. “Duh.” His voice came out a little raspy, and his fangs quickly retracted to normal, if slightly pointy, teeth before Cooper’s pulse even had time to quicken.
“Fuckin’ BSI,” Whittaker added, pointedly eyeing Cooper’s belt. Cooper realized his hand had flown to his gun and was resting there. He quickly crossed his arms.
“Gould wasn’t aware?” Park spoke up. “Informed about wolves,” he added for Cooper’s benefit.
“No, never.”
“Is that what you were fighting about last week?”
“No. Not exactly. Robbie sometimes did odd jobs for extra cash. Landscaping. Farm work. Moving furniture. That kind of shit. Sometimes I helped him because—whatever, sometimes I helped. Anyway, he came by last week to say he’d gotten this new job and he needed my help. I said no. He got pissed about it.”
“What was the job?”
“I didn’t know the details. Robbie said something about how he was supposed to keep it on the down low because of union shit or something, I don’t know. As soon as I heard it was out by Crazy Baker’s, I told him I couldn’t do it. He wanted to know why. I couldn’t come up with a good reason. We...got into it.” Whittaker grimaced. “I guess teenage bullshit is chronic.”
“There’s nothing out by Crazy Baker’s. What would he be doing out there?”
“I said I don’t know, man. Robbie just said it was off Shadepoint Road. That’s too close to Baker’s land for me, so I said nah.”
“Crazy Baker?” Cooper asked.
Whittaker looked at Park to answer. “Geoffrey Baker, single white male, in his early forties, maybe. Born and raised here. Inherited property in south Florence bordering the forest. He’s a lone werewolf. Never been part of a pack. Never wanted to be. He’s kind of got a reputation for having...territorial issues.”
“A wolf with territorial issues,” Cooper repeated. “Property bordering the forest. Crazy Baker. You didn’t think this might be relevant?”
For the first time since meeting him Park looked annoyed, and maybe a little embarrassed. “I didn’t think of it. ‘Crazy’ is sort of a joke. It’s not like he’s actually a threat. Just a weird loner guy who keeps to himself and doesn’t like kids trespassing on his property. We used to make it a game, who could get closest to Crazy Baker’s house before he came storming out and chased us off. Extra points if you could make him mad enough to shift.”
“Yeah, I did the same thing with my friends growing up,” Whittaker said. “We’d be pissing ourselves while he was tearing after us howling his head off, but it was all just fun and games, no real danger. You know, kid stuff.”
“Sure,” Cooper said dryly. “Sounds like a barrel of laughs. If there was no real danger, why didn’t you want to go there for this job?”
“That was when we were pups. I’m a grown-ass man now. Going there may have come across as a threat to someone like Baker. He can be...defensive. I didn’t want to risk getting into it with him. But I couldn’t exactly explain that to Robbie.”
“But you didn’t warn him to stay away. Your good friend.”
“There was nothing to warn about. Baker wouldn’t feel threatened by a human in his territory. He gets trespassing hunters and hikers all the time. Pissed him off for sure, but it’s not like he’d hurt them or whatever. I did tell Robbie the job sounded sketchy as hell, though. Don’t tell anyone, minimal details and it’s out in the middle of nowhere?”
“How do you know it wasn’t Baker who hired him?”
Whittaker snorted. “That doesn’t sound like Baker.”
“But Gould didn’t say it wasn’t Baker.”
“No, I guess he didn’t.”
“You said Gould came by the Pumphouse Saturday afternoon looking for you. Why?”
“He said he was on his way to the job and tried again to convince me to tag along. I said no, again. He left.”
“And where were you for the rest of the day? Starting with 1 p.m.”
Whittaker glared. “I was here. Working. I picked up the dinner shift and helped close. Didn’t get out of here till 1:30 a.m. I left town the next morning around eight.”
“Can anyone confirm that?” Cooper asked.
“Rudi, my—my boss. Any number of customers. We were swamped that day. A bunch of the Massachusetts packs were moving through to cross the border. Rowdy assholes.”
“All wolves, I’m assuming.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“So I don’t necessarily trust your boss-slash-alpha not to cover for you.”
Whittaker snorted. “Rudi would never. But fine, do you trust Chief Brown? Because she saw me here Saturday. Or do you think the chief of police is covering for me, too?”
“What was Brown doing here?” Park asked.
“I don’t know. She’s here a lot. But she saw me here busting my ass, so I’m not going to complain about it.”
“We’re going to check that,” Cooper threatened.
“Good. Do it.”
Cooper searched his face for any hesitation but didn’t see it. “Do you know Jennifer Eagler?”
Whittaker frowned. “Yeah. Robbie had a big thing for her. Why?”
Cooper’s eyebrow twitched. Nothing more dangerous than a love triangle.
“What about Ranger Christie? Do you know him?” Park said.
Whittaker hesitated. “He’s Robbie’s boss.”
“Yes,” Cooper said impatiently. “What else?”
“What else what? I’ve only met the guy a couple of times.” Whittaker sounded defensive. But then he’d sounded defensive for ninety-nine percent of the conversation.
“What reason would he have to come looking for you this afternoon?”
Whittaker sneered. “How the hell should I know? He knows Robbie and I are friends. One of the only people who does. Maybe he wanted to tell me Robbie was—about Robbie before an asshole like you did.” Whittaker turned to Park. “Can I go now?”
Park observed him for a moment. “Stick around town,” he said finally. “And tell Rudi no more runs for you for now.”
Whittaker nodded and backed quickly away. He paused by the door to the Pumphouse. “Could it—it’s still possible that Robbie’s...okay, right?”
“Two torn-up bodies in the morgue indicate otherwise,” Cooper said. Whittaker looked ashen. He hurried inside.
“That was harsh,” Park remarked.
Cooper felt a twinge of regret and quickly dismissed it. You had to be tough. Whittaker was a suspect, not a family member. If Park didn’t like it, maybe he wasn’t cut out for it. “It was true.”
They got into the car and drove back to the motel. With the way things had gone, no burgers had been murdered during the questioning at the Pumphouse and Cooper needed to eat. His guts had not stopped cramping the whole time they’d been talking to Whittaker. This schedule was not doing good things to his body.
Should he invite Park to dinner? Did the whole “be nice and make this experiment work smoothly” thing extend to dinner dates?
Cooper checked his phone. He had never gotten back to Jefferson last night and his partner had texted a second time to complain. He’d already heard about Eagler’s disappearance and wanted an update on that as well. Cooper didn’t know if he should feel supported or micromanaged. Jefferson was a patient partner who had never given any sign that he resented guiding Cooper through this brave new world of wolves, but as much as this was an experiment to see how partnering with wolves might work for the BSI, Cooper felt it was also an opportunity for him to prove he was ready to take the lead on a case himself.
Not that he was doing so well thus far. For one, he’d just walked away from a prime suspect. Jefferson would have brought Whittaker in on the spot. He was a wolf who admitted to fighting with the victim less than an hour before he disappeared. What else was there to know?
But the Crazy Baker story had thrown Cooper off. There were too many wolves in this town to just nab the first one he crossed paths with. Nor would it win them any allies in the department to drag Whittaker into the station without a smidgen of proof. He didn’t want another Ben Pultz situation. He finally had the opportunity to really investigate.
He became aware of Park watching him out of the corner of his eye. “What’s up?” Cooper said brusquely.
“You okay over there?”
“‘Course. Just thinking.”
“Well, you have the angriest thinking face I’ve ever seen.” Park laughed softly. “Want to share with the class?”
Yeah, will you get dinner with me? He said, “Funny. You don’t strike me as a big show-and-tell type.”
Park raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary, Agent Dayton, there are lots of things I want to show and tell you.”
Cooper geared up, ready to snap back, but Park didn’t sound threatening. If anything he sounded almost...flirtatious. Which was ridiculous. Cooper was probably projecting, or Park was teasing him. Reminding him of their encounter at the metro and what an idiot he had been.
Cooper shook his head and changed the subject. “We should get an early start tomorrow. I’d like to head to Baker’s as soon as possible.”
“An early start sounds good to me.”
“Right. And I want to check with Brown on that alibi.”
“All right. You really think Whittaker’s good for it?” Park said doubtfully. “He seemed genuinely surprised and upset to hear he was missing. He obviously...cared about Gould.”
“He could easily have been upset we linked them. He was surprised Mrs. Gould knew about him. And as for the caring, there’s your motive right there. Maybe he couldn’t handle his unrequited love anymore. Or maybe it wasn’t unrequited after all. All the more likely something went wrong,” Cooper muttered.
“What a romantic you are. What about Bornestein and our John Doe? You’re saying he was involved with them, too?”
“No. But Gould could be his ideal victim and the others just substitutes for his rage until he got the real deal. It’s pretty common with serial killers. I saw it when I was with the FBI.”
Park frowned but didn’t argue. Cooper wondered what his background was. Had he had any experience profiling and hunting killers before joining the Trust? For that matter, did he have any experience with it while working for the Trust?
Obviously, the BSI’s impression of the wolf representatives as politicians, pamphlet pushers and PR management wasn’t the whole story. Park knew his way around a criminal investigation and it wasn’t all due to wolfy instincts.
“If he’s our unsub, if,” Park said, “this whole mystery-job thing is a pretty risky lie.”
“Yeah. But he could just be buying time by casting our suspicion on an even more suspicious person so he can hop back across the border. I’ll ask Chief Brown to put a watch on him.”
Part of Cooper wanted to turn around and bring Whittaker in right now. Stick his ass in jail overnight while they checked up on Baker. Just in case. But that would be hard to explain to the locals. They wouldn’t protest too hard if they knew what he really was. What Park was, too, Cooper thought.
He glanced at Park, who was looking innocently confused and nibbling on his full lower lip. Cooper swallowed and looked quickly away.
“Why would you want to put a watch on Whittaker?” Park said.
“In case he tries to split.”
“He’s not going to run.”
“Why not? If he’s our killer, he knows we’re close. It won’t take long to talk to Brown and Baker. And even if he’s not our killer, he might still be skittish. Whittaker doesn’t strike me as an idiot. He knows he just admitted to motive and opportunity and we all know he’s got the means.”
“He won’t run,” Park repeated with a conviction that aggravated Cooper.
“If I was Whittaker, I would run.”
“If Whittaker was you, he would run. But not if you were Whittaker.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Park shook his head in an appeasing way. But something about the glint of his eyes and quiver in his shoulders told Cooper the wolf was riling him up intentionally and getting a kick out of it. Dinner was so fucking not happening.
“I’m saying if he was you, as in human, I could see him running. But he’s a werewolf, so he won’t, because I told him not to.”
Cooper digested that. “You think Whittaker won’t split because you told him to sit, stay and roll over.”
Park’s lips twitched. “Essentially.”
“Wow. I can’t decide which is bigger, your head or your balls,” Cooper muttered, and Park full-on laughed. Cooper found himself smiling a little in response. His black cloud of temper had passed as quickly as it had come. Something about Park could settle him in a heartbeat. Maybe the same thing about him that could rile him up from zero to sixty so fucking fast.
“What is that about, anyway?” Cooper asked.
“What?”
“You know. The Park effect. The way that guy in the Pumphouse reacted to you. And the whole Whittaker thing. What makes you so sure he’d listen to you?”
Park tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. “I have a large, close-knit family,” he said finally. “That carries a lot of weight around here, amongst certain people.”
Cooper snapped his fingers rhythmically. “‘When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way...’”
Park chuckled. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s not? So you’re not telling me that wolves don’t want to mess with you because your family’s the biggest pack around?”
Park shook his head, stopped, then nodded and said, “All right. That is part of what I’m saying.” Cooper snorted. “But that’s not all of it. Sure, there are a lot of us, and god knows more are popping out every year, but that’s not that unusual. What’s different is most big families split off into smaller packs to avoid...” He trailed off.
“Multiple alphas?” Cooper guessed. Pack politics was another thing the Trust didn’t like to acknowledge, but you only had to run into a couple wolves to figure out they followed some kind of strict status shit.
“Too many cooks in the kitchen,” Park countered. It was a less animalistic terminology, but not a disagreement. “Anyway, mine didn’t split off. They all still run together, despite there being more than one dominating personality. Against the odds they’ve made it work. After losing my parents, my grandparents only got more old-fashioned. Closer. They raised us to always put the family first. Always stick together. That kind of loyalty made the Park name powerful in certain circles.”
“Loyalty from everyone except you,” Cooper mused aloud, and the look of pain that flashed across Park’s face made him wish he could suck the words back into his mouth.
Park’s light condemnation from earlier drifted through his head. That was harsh.
“I love my family,” Park said quietly. “We have no bad blood between us. I just wanted different things.”
“Sure,” Cooper said. There was definitely more to that story but he’d be damned if he was going to dig for it. Not while exhibiting serious signs of foot-in-mouth syndrome. “I get that. People think that because I work for the bureau I followed in my dad’s footsteps. But he doesn’t see it that way. The minute I went away to get my degree, he saw it as a betrayal.” He was surprised to still be talking, and about himself no less.
“The black sheep,” Park said.
“You too.”
“Eh, black sheep in wolf’s clothing,” Park said, and winked at him. Cooper gave a startled laugh.
Ask him to dinner. Cooper’s laughter ended abruptly. He fiddled with his jeans as they drove in silence. He searched for something to say to keep the conversation going, wanting to glimpse more of the unguarded Park, but everything he came up with seemed stupid. Trite.
They pulled into the motel parking lot and Park cut the engine. Instead of getting out, he turned to Cooper. It was dark except for the nearby glowing motel sign, which cast a strange blue-tinged light across the car. Park’s face was in shadow and made it hard to determine his expression. Cooper knew Park could see him perfectly well despite the darkness, and that feeling of being watched and not being able to look back made his heartbeat quicken.
He concentrated on arranging his features into a professional expression and quickly licked his dry lips.
The shadow that was Park’s head tilted to one side. “You’re nervous. Why?”
“No I’m not,” Cooper said quickly. He amended, “Being in the dark isn’t a natural state for me.”
“Isn’t it?” Park said, and Cooper could hear the teasing smile in his voice. Park reached up and flicked on the car’s interior light.
Did that mean they were going to be sitting here for a while?
“Hey. I’m, uh, sorry. About your friend. Jenny.”
Park’s eyes widened slightly. He was surprised by that. Then his usual neutral façade was back in place. Cooper wasn’t sure if Park was letting his mask slip more or if Cooper was just getting better at picking up on the little clues.
“I’ve been thinking... Whittaker said Robbie had a thing for Eagler,” Cooper said. “And Whittaker was into Robbie. That could be your motive. He avoided saying if he knew her himself or not. Did she know Baker?”
“Now you think she might be another victim of our unsub?”
“It’s unlikely, but maybe.” He decided not to bring up his alternate theory that Jenny herself was the unsub.
“I’m not sure if she knew them. Jenny knew a lot of people. She might have known Whittaker. He’s a friendly guy.” Cooper snorted. “Tonight excepted,” Park continued with a wry smile. “I don’t know if anyone really knew Baker.”
“Baker’s a lone wolf,” Cooper said, repeating what Park had said earlier. “And Sam Whittaker doesn’t just work for Rudi? He’s...part of her pack?” Cooper guessed based on the tangents the conversation had taken. Park nodded. “Why did that surprise you?”
“Sam’s family is already part of a pretty solid pack. I would have assumed if he was sticking around town he’d have stayed with them.”
“Is it unusual to leave a pack?”
“I wouldn’t say that. But it never happens without a reason.”
“What about Jenny? Whose pack is she part of?”
Park looked puzzled. “Jenny isn’t a werewolf.”
“What? Oh. I—oh.”
“Why did you think she was?”
Yes, why had he? Because she and Park were friends? That seemed so absurd now. So...rude? So stupid. And Cooper would have rather broken into song than admit it as the reason. He cast around for something else to say. “Is that what you meant before? When you said she wasn’t your type?”
Oy. As conversation points went, that wasn’t a hell of a lot better.
Fortunately, Park seemed more bemused than offended. “Do you disapprove of human-werewolf relationships, Agent Dayton?”
“No. Of course not. I—that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t understand...” Cooper trailed off, thoroughly uncomfortable, and Park took pity on him.
“She’s not my type because I’m gay.”
The silence was sharp. Vaguely Cooper was aware his mouth was hanging open. He shut it quickly. Then opened it again to say, “Oh, that’s nice.”
That’s nice? Good job, Dayton. Christ, so much for getting better at picking up on the little clues. Did that mean... Could Park actually have been interested in him back at the metro?
Cooper couldn’t think of what else to say and went with the next thing that popped into his head. “Me, too.”
“Is that so,” Park said, though he didn’t look surprised. If anything he seemed to be holding back laughter. But of course he’d probably already figured that out from the way Cooper had been licking his lips in his direction and just generally acting like a flustered idiot at the station.
He felt a flush threatening his cheeks. Gay or not, Park had given him the brush-off as soon as he learned his name. Cooper shouldn’t forget that. He quickly said, “So is that why you aren’t part of your family’s pack anymore?”
Park’s face went blank, laughter gone. “No. Certainly not.”
“You said no one leaves their pack without a good reason.”
“My sexuality is of no concern in that matter,” he said, clearly closing the subject.
Park had slipped into a stilted, refined way of talking. It could have been because he resented having his life pried into, but Cooper had noticed the same thing happening the last time he spoke of his family. He’d suddenly sounded like a private school kid.
Money, thought Cooper. Old money and lots of it, probably. Which was another reason people around here reacted to the Park name the way they did.
Money had that effect no matter who you were, or what you could or couldn’t turn into.
If Park was out of the pack, was he out of the money as well? It didn’t have an effect on this case, but it did make Cooper curious where the lines were between pack and family. Was there one without the other?
There was a new tension in the air and Cooper fumbled around for a change in subject. “Speaking of outcasts, what’s our play tomorrow at Baker’s?”
“Our play?” Park repeated doubtfully. “I thought we were just going there to question him. Whittaker said the job was by Baker’s land. He may just be a witness. Realistically, he may be nothing at all. What’s there to be tactical about?”
“Baker’s dangerous, by your own admission.”
Park scoffed, “Dangerously grumpy.”
“I think we should pull an officer from Florence PD as backup.”
“There’s already two of us and only one of him, and we don’t even know if he’s our guy. What are you so scared of? The odds are in your favor.”
Cooper felt a wave of heat burning his face and his blood, different from the mild blushing before.
Scaredy cat. Weakling. Sissy boy.
Park didn’t seem to notice Cooper getting worked up as he continued, “You’re a highly trained BSI officer armed to the teeth.”
“He’s a wolf. He’s armed with teeth.”
“By that logic, so am I,” Park countered.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Cooper snapped. He felt furious. Or...something. But why he should be angry at Park, he didn’t know. “Two of you and one of me. The odds are in your favor.”
“You still don’t trust me not to attack you?” Park said.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course not.”
“But you don’t trust me to have your back.”
Cooper’s mouth opened and closed. He resisted the urge to touch the scars on his belly. The silence dragged out.
“Well. That’s an answer.” Park’s voice was tight and controlled. “Tell me, Special Agent Dayton, what have I done or said that makes you feel like I would choose a serial killer’s side over yours?”
“Nothing,” Cooper muttered, and even he could hear the resentment in the word. “But I don’t even know you.”
“Do you always assume the worst of people?” The way he said it, like he felt bad for Cooper, like he thought he knew him, like he could see all the times Cooper hadn’t assumed the worst and how that had turned out...
It just made Cooper angrier.
“Until someone gives me a reason to think otherwise, yeah, I do.”
“That must be very lonely for you.”
“Look who’s talking,” Cooper retorted. “So far the most useful thing about you is how terrified every wolf in this town is of you. You’re saying that’s not lonely?”
He knew he’d gone too far the moment the words were out of his mouth. Knew it even as he was saying it but couldn’t pull back. Park had been a fine partner. A good partner. If anything, his unflappable amiability had made Cooper feel too comfortable, drawing him closer and relaxing his tensions like a campfire on a cold night. But something about Park calling him lonely had cut deeper than he thought possible, and like an animal with his back against the wall, he’d wanted to fling the same back in his face.
Park pressed his lips together, shook his head and reached his hand up between them. Cooper instinctively flinched and then regretted it immediately when Park froze. His face looked shocked and then disgusted.
“Just turning the light off, Agent Dayton.”
“I didn’t—” Cooper stuttered, and jerked his hand away from where it was blocking his gut protectively.
Park didn’t wait to hear the rest. He flicked the light off and got out of the car.
In the darkness, alone, the last of his anger leaked out of Cooper as quickly as it had appeared.
Fuck. How had that gone so wrong so fast? Was there a professional equivalent for it’s not you, it’s me? Probably not, since it wouldn’t come up if both parties were acting professionally.
Cooper got out of the car and followed Park across the parking lot to the motel. It was oddly less dark outside than it had been in the car due to the light of a not-quite-full moon. Not that the moon had any effect on werewolves. That had been one of the first questions Cooper had asked. Though it may as well be having an effect on Cooper, he was behaving so poorly. When had he become so suspicious? So unkind? So...wounded?
He couldn’t quite catch up to Park, who somehow managed to move quickly without full-on running away from him. He wasn’t far enough away not to sense the frosty distance that had settled between them. Nothing had overtly changed. Nothing that he could complain about in his report. Park was still quiet. His expression as blank and polite as when they first met. But there was a subtle shutting-out. That quiet awareness Cooper had felt from him was gone.
If Park was indeed a campfire, Cooper had been banished into the cold.
Well, that’s what you’re best at, Dayton, he thought as he followed Park up the stairs to their rooms. Driving people away. Right after Park had opened up and started getting personal.
Because Park had started getting personal. Better to be shut out in the cold than to get too close and get burned, was the motto he’d been living for as long—
Cooper cut that thought off.
They came to Cooper’s door first. He fumbled with the key and sensed Park pause behind him.
Was he going to come in? Did he expect Cooper to ask him in? Did Park want to fight some more or...what?
When Cooper finally got the door open, he glanced behind him. Park wasn’t even looking at him. He was frowning into the parking lot, face in shadow.
“Lock your door,” Park said, without looking at him.
Was that supposed to be a dig at Cooper’s lack of trust in him or genuine advice?
Park walked the couple of doors down and quickly disappeared into his own room before Cooper could ask. He felt a twist in his chest that could have been disappointment or relief. Either way it made him feel oddly empty. Drifting. Like all that awareness and anger had built up to fizzle abruptly into nothing.
He ordered a pizza delivery. He thought about going next door to share it. A peace offering. He didn’t. He wished the BSI didn’t book them into these cheap-as-dirt motels with no minibars. He called Jefferson.
“About time, Dayton. I was almost starting to worry.” Jefferson’s deep, sonorous voice immediately settled Cooper. He needed to get his head straight and talk to someone about the case besides Park. “What’s been going on?”
So Cooper told him what had been going on. Everything from the search party and the locals to Whittaker and Crazy Baker. Even the bear made a cameo along with that weird synthetic crap in its fur.
The only topic he skirted around was Park. An avoidance that went as smoothly and uncontested as he’d expected.
“Why the hell aren’t you talking about your new wolf partner? Worried I’ll be jealous or something?”
“I don’t know what to say,” Cooper hedged. “He’s...fine. We’re working...fine.” He got up from the bed and paced the motel room.
“I’ve been doing some research myself down here and you’re not going to believe this. Apparently Park’s whole pack—”
“Lives here. Yeah, I know that. He told me.”
“You don’t think that’s relevant?”
“They’re not involved. They haven’t been here the whole summer.” Cooper sat back on the edge of the bed and stared at the mirror hanging over the dresser. Everything about him looked crumpled. His clothes, his hair, his skin, his face, his spirit.
“Well, there or not, they’ve been sanctioned by us for getting—”
“They’re not his pack anyway. Just family,” Cooper interrupted, feeling suddenly weary. A couple hours ago he was dying of curiosity to find out more about Park’s family and why he’d separated from them. Now it felt exhausting just hearing Jefferson hint at it. He didn’t want to hear what Jefferson had found on that family. Didn’t want to think about Park, any Park, at all. “You know sanctions don’t mean anything. They might as well be parking tickets—everyone’s got one. Park’s not involved in this.”
There was a long pause on Jefferson’s end. “If you’re sure.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“What about the missing woman, Jennifer Eagler? You said she knew him. Maybe he’s not part of a pack, but she—”
“I already went down that road. She’s not a wolf.”
“What?”
Cooper explained his own suspicions about Jenny’s possible connection to the case. “Anyway, according to Park she’s human and not aware there’s any other way to be. The way I see it, she’s either a victim of an unrelated crime or Whittaker eliminated her because of her relationship, insubstantial though it was, with Gould.”
“He could be lying.”
Cooper snorted. “I’m sure Whittaker’s lying. I just don’t know about which part yet. Or which parts, plural. Or why. Or anything—”
“No, Park. Park could be lying about Eagler being a wolf.”
Cooper frowned at his reflection. “Why would he do that?”
“Same reason anyone tells a lie. He’s protecting something. Or someone.”
Cooper thought about that. “Look, Jefferson, I got to go.”
“All right. Keep me updated and watch your back, Dayton. Sometimes you’re too quick to trust people.”
Cooper laughed, bitterly. He just couldn’t win.