The flashing lights of emergency vehicles and squawk of police radios marred the beautiful setting of Turtle Point. Carved into the stony shore of Black Robe Lake, the remote inlet offered spectacular views of the Cabinet Mountains’ peaks silhouetted against an inky field of stars. Lying at the end of a curving dirt trail, hidden from view of the main road by a quarter mile of thick forest, it was a popular make-out spot for the high school crowd.
Not tonight.
Getting out of his pickup, the first thing Luke noticed was the smell. He sneezed violently and scrubbed the end of his itching nose.
“Jesus, what’s that?” Dean said, holding his hand over his face.
“Citronella.”
They both flinched as the sheriff, Vaughn Ellis, emerged from the woods, wearing a breathing mask that made him look like an extra from Star Wars. Neither had sensed the other male’s approach at all. Hell, Luke couldn’t smell anything over the oily lemon scent filling the air.
Though they were close in age, Luke didn’t know the sheriff very well. After Ellis’s father died when he was a child, he and his mother, an eagle shifter, moved to Arizona to be with her people. But Luke did remember the talk and bizarre rumors that inevitably sprouted up when Ellis returned to Black Robe each summer. Impossible stories that said the giant golden eagle riding the thermals over the mountains wasn’t really Ellis’s mother but the young werewolf himself.
“Here.” Ellis held out two masks. “I had some painting respirators brought out from the hardware store.”
As they put them on, Dean asked, “Isn’t citronella the stuff they use in candles to keep mosquitos away?”
Red rimmed Ellis’s gray eyes. “Yeah, and in dog control collars. You know, the dog barks and gets a little puff of this crap as a deterrent.”
“Effective,” Luke said through his wolf’s growl. Having their primary sense waylaid like a common canine was enough to raise both their hackles. He donned the mask, which dulled the overpowering stench but didn’t eliminate it.
“Extremely,” Ellis said. “So let’s talk here before I take you to the body. What do you know about Eric Conroy?”
“I’ve met him several times. Chamber of Commerce stuff, mostly. But I can’t say I know him personally.”
“He wasn’t associated with the pack?”
“No. He and his family are human,” Luke said, his eyes narrowing. “Though I did call him yesterday for some information on a bunch of recent land sales. Why?”
“What’d he tell you?”
“Nothing. He didn’t answer.”
Ellis nodded, and something in his eyes told Luke the sheriff had already known the answer. “So no pack dealings at all then?” Ellis asked.
“What the hell, Vaughn?” Dean growled.
“This is a murder investigation, deputy.”
Even with the masks concealing their expressions and the citronella overriding their scents, the hostility and challenge between Ellis and Dean was clear. Their beasts’ power rippled over Luke, raising the hair on his neck, calling his own wolf to the surface.
Since Ellis had returned to Black Robe a few months ago, he and Dean had maintained a tense but respectful distance. As Beta, Dean ranked higher in the pack than Ellis. But within the sphere of law enforcement, Ellis was king.
In wolf form, they glared and growled at each other. Still, Ellis never did anything that could be construed as an overt challenge to Dean’s position as Beta. In fact, he didn’t seem interested in position at all. During pack runs, when pack hierarchy was normally established, the sheriff kept a tight rein on his beast. He didn’t back down from fights, but he never started them either.
Other wolves weren’t so easygoing. Every run saw him facing down several challengers—each one looking to prove themselves stronger, more dominant. So far, he had prevailed every time. With ease.
Maybe his laissez-faire approach to pack status had come to an end.
“Enough.” Luke stepped between the bristling males. They didn’t have time for this. And he certainly didn’t have the patience. A world-class headache pounded behind his eyes thanks to his wolf’s distress at being in this reeking forest, away from their vulnerable mate. Facing the sheriff, he got right to the point. “To answer your question, Vaughn, no. There is no reason for the pack to want Conroy dead.”
“There’s nothing Conroy could have seen that he shouldn’t have?”
“Everything is legal. Hell, we’re even incorporated. If he’d found out about us, you know we wouldn’t have murdered him. We certainly wouldn’t have and left his body somewhere a couple of humans could stumble upon him.”
The bristling power of the sheriff’s wolf faded away. “All right then. Come on.” He turned on his heel and stalked back into the woods.
Luke clapped Dean on the arm. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”
Dean glared at the spot where Ellis had disappeared into the trees. Then, shaking himself like he was shedding water from his pelt, he nodded.
The crescent moon offered little light, but they had no trouble following Ellis. Despite his muscular, six-two frame, he moved silently through the dense woods. It reminded Luke so much of Ellis’s uncle, Darren, that a pang of loss twisted his stomach. He could have sworn he was following their late Beta were it not for the long, dark braid that reached the middle of Ellis’s back.
“Couple of kids called it in,” Ellis said over his shoulder. “The boy’s a fox shifter from Libby, but even the human girl with him could smell the citronella from the parking area.”
They stopped just outside the glow cast by a ring of battery-powered lanterns set up around a dark lump in the snow. Deputy Sam Vogel, another of Luke’s wolves, hovered over the form on the ground, writing on a clipboard. He greeted them, a haunted look in his irritated eyes. “It’s not a pleasant sight.”
A growl reverberated within Luke’s head. It didn’t matter if Sam was old enough to become a sheriff’s deputy. He was still the gangly juvenile Luke had watched over on pack runs, making sure he didn’t get into too much trouble while the young pup sniffed around after the females. Sam was a kid. He shouldn’t have to look at things like this.
Hell, none of them should.
“Bastards covered the guy in citronella oil,” Ellis growled. “I can’t even smell the body.”
Dean lifted his mask, sniffed, and promptly started gagging. Swearing and sputtering, he raised his flushed face. “Son of a bitch. Nothing.”
“They covered the scent trail,” Luke said.
“Shifter, then. Or a human who knows about us,” Dean said, his voice a choked rasp. “He wanted us nose-blind. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Ellis pointed in the direction of the main road. “They brought the body in through there on foot. Walked out the same way. Not only did they spray this stuff all along that trail, but they dragged something behind them obliterating their footprints.”
Luke swore. Then he swore again when he saw what had been done to the man lying in the snow. A thin man in life, Eric Conroy looked positively scrawny in death. His dark suit was torn at the left shoulder seam, his sedate tie loose and crooked around his badly broken neck.
Dean squatted to take a better look. “Damn. Broke it clean through.”
“It gets worse,” Ellis said, pulling on latex gloves. He hunkered down across from Dean and motioned for Luke to do the same. Clicking on a flashlight, he directed it at Conroy’s slack mouth and tipped down the chin.
Bile rose in Luke’s throat. “What the fuck?”
Someone had cut out Eric Conroy’s tongue.
“Certainly sends a message, doesn’t it?” Ellis said. “Wonder who it’s for?”