Legend of the White Wolf

"Sense anything?" Leidolf asked.



"They've been here," Faith said, barely breathing, thankful now that she hadn't gone looking for these men alone.



"How long ago?" Gavin asked.



"Not today. Maybe yesterday." Cameron looked under the cabinets.



Faith smelled gingerbread next to the couch. She looked under the couch. Nothing but dust balls. She pulled out the cushions. The second one hit pay dirt. A empty package of gingerbread cookies from Specialty Cookies, Millinocket.



"Is this a processing plant in Millinocket? Or a small business? Maybe a family-run business?"



"It might just be sold at the grocery stores. Anyone could buy it," Leidolf said.



Faith cast him a frown. "Let's ask George Roux. Maybe he'd know."



But first, they explored the other cabins under renova tion. Every one of them had evidence that someone had been eating in the places. Maybe sleeping here. Watching the comings and goings of the guests and owners?



Suspecting that maybe Charles and his family were in with the werewolf culture? And that brought something else to mind. "When Charles was injured at his campsite, we thought it was Kintail or his men. What if it was Chris and his thugs instead? Maybe because he does business with Kintail and Chris and his Dark Angels believe that he's in on the werewolf business."



Gavin shook his head. "I've heard some crazy things in the police business and in our private eye concerns, but this really takes the show for the most bizarre."



Leidolf exchanged looks with Cameron as if he was warning him the trouble he could be in with keeping his friend on the mission.



They mounted their snowmobiles and headed back in the direction of the lodge, but when they reached Cameron's place, Trevor drove toward them, waving for them to stop. He seemed so agitated, she knew the news couldn't be good. And because he was here to tell them, she figured it had to do with David and Owen. Cameron's whole body went rigid. She imagined Gavin's did, too.



"They've got them," Trevor hurriedly said. "They've got David and Owen and Lila, too. And one more of our females."



She didn't have to ask who had taken them. She felt light-headed as if the knowledge Cameron's partners were at death's door delivered a blow to her brain. Instantly, her thoughts switched to the day the little neighbor girl ended up missing. About how hard they tried to find her before she was murdered. About how they were too late.



She broke the silence first. "Are they in Millinocket?"



Trevor's eyes teared up and he wiped his nose with his gloved hand. "We think so. We think they're not dead yet. But every second they're gone…"



"Let's go," Cameron said. "We'll tear the town apart."



"Wait." The men all turned to hear what Faith had to say. "Is there a place called Specialty Cookies in Millinocket?"



"Near the library. Yes," Trevor said.



"All right. We'll check the place out while we're at it."



Cameron waited for her to speak further, and she could have hugged him for believing in her. "Let's go," she said, and reached out to squeeze his hand.



His grip was gentle, but hers was not. She wanted him to know she was in this for whatever it took, damn the consequences. And he seemed to understand.



Then the five of them took off for the trailhead, first dropping by the location where she'd left her snowmobile when she'd had the urge to shapeshift—and she hoped the hell she wouldn't do that again anytime soon.



From the snowmobile rental shop, they could pick up her SUV and Cameron's rental car. Although her SUV fit five, the backseat was awfully small for three adults, so she figured they would divide up and a couple of the men would take Cameron's vehicle.



And then like Cameron said, tear the town apart.



Chapter 20



EVEN THOUGH KINTAIL AND HIS MEN WERE SCOURING Millinocket, he hoped the hell Trevor had gotten word to Cameron and the others since they were more equipped to handle investigations. Kintail, although normally in control and never rattled, felt like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off as he searched down every side street, drove past every home, but there wasn't anything to say, "Here's the house where your werewolves are being kept hostage," and he didn't feel he was getting anywhere—totally useless, at a complete loss as to what to do. But more than anything, he couldn't help worrying about Lila. She'd really gotten under his skin.



He pulled his gray pickup off to the side of the road. Even though he'd intended to leave Hilson and Whitson safely behind at the lodge, they both had insisted they come along to be part of the pack despite their injuries. Since he'd arrived in town, even Adams, suffering from his concussion, called him on his cell phone from the hospital, wanting to join in the search.



Kintail said no to that, but if Adams acted anything like Hilson and Whitson, Kintail doubted he had any control over his pack members, all of whom wanted to help save Lila and the others, and all who knew in his present state of mind, no meant maybe and that's all they needed to hear.



His phone buzzed and Kintail saw it was Trevor. Thank God. "Yes."



"We just made it to town. We're on our way first to Specialty Cookies. Faith thinks it might be a lead."



"We're on our way there now." He hoped to God the woman was right, and they found Lila and the others before it was too late.



"There it is," Faith said, pointing out the window while Cameron drove her SUV. They'd meant to split up the passengers, two in Cameron's rental, and the rest in Faith's because the seat was really crowded for three men to squish in back there.



But everyone, Leidolf, Gavin, and Trevor did just that, squished together in the backseat, because Cameron wouldn't let Faith ride with them in the back instead of one of the men, and the men all wanted to stick with the woman who seemed to be in the know.



"I know it's a real long shot." Faith didn't want them to think she knew for sure, but she was used to following dead-end leads in her work, and she figured both Cameron and Gavin would realize that. But Trevor and Leidolf might not.



"It's the best shot we have right now," Cameron said, his voice attempting reassurance, but an edginess was evident.



But all that kept going through her mind was a little girl with dark curls and dark eyes and a winning smile who drew pictures on the sidewalk in colored chalk across the street from her parents' home, annoying the eighty-year-old next-door neighbor who claimed it was graffiti and hosed it down every chance he got.



The day of her disappearance, he hosed down the last memory of her, and that was the last Faith remembered of the smiling little girl. Faith stared out the SUV's window and fought the tears. She thought she'd gotten over the memories so long ago. But every time she had a case like this where the victim was still possibly alive, she felt the same cloud of doom, feared the same ending.



And all she was left finding was the killer on the loose, the victim sacrificed for yet another meaning less cause.



"Faith?" Cameron said, touching her shoulder.



She clenched her teeth and looked at him.



"We're here."



"Right." She grabbed for her door handle, but Gavin was already opening the door for her. And then she saw the quaint little house with the gingerbread trimmings like lilac lace and the rest of the house painted in garish pink, reminding her of Hansel and Gretel and the witch who lived inside with her big oven and children made into gingerbread ornaments in the front yard. Here a white picket fence enclosed the small front yard, and a sign hanging between white porch columns said: SPECIALTY COOKIES, OPEN MON-WED, 1-5 PM.



It was Thursday, so no problem there. Cameron led Faith up to the front door, but none of them bothered to knock. Leidolf whipped out his lock picks and opened the door as if he were a master thief, quietly, without making a sound. Thankfully, there wasn't any kind of an alarm to let the occupants know someone had come in through the front door. But Gavin gave Cameron a look and Faith assumed he wanted to know what business Leidolf was in where he carried lock picks wherever he went. That made her curious, too.



The entryway had a quaint little parlor filled with two antique love seats, curved mahogany legs and seat backs, and bright yellow floral fabric. A counter with an old-time cash register sat nearby. And a plastic display contained chocolate fudge of various kinds— vanilla, with nuts, without, chocolate, next to it, the aroma mouthwatering. But deeper inside the house, the fragrance of gingerbread filled a kitchen, which was decorated in yellow, bright and cheerful. Antique plat ters and plates and paintings gave the place an old-world feel, but the splash of constant color made it more Alice in Wonderland in appearance, when ironically Faith thought it could be a front for a bunch of "Dark Angel" lunatics bent on killing werewolves.



While Faith investigated each room thoroughly, Gavin, Trevor, and Leidolf hurriedly explored every room throughout the two-story house and the basement also, looking for any sign of hostages or hostage takers.



Cameron stayed with Faith, his gun ready, protecting her while she looked in every kitchen cabinet, in every drawer for some kind of clue.



Just cooking supplies and cooking utensils, nothing else. But then she found a drawer full of receipts. Again, for cooking supplies, shipping orders, nothing that would indicate whoever owned this place was involved in hunting werewolves. She moved on to the basement, but she didn't smell any of the men who had visited them at the hot tub.



"You don't smell them here, do you?" Cameron asked.



She shook her head.



She walked to the second floor up the creaky wooden stairs covered in an old worn tapestry muffling her foot falls and examined the two bedrooms and bath when she got there. All were very feminine with frilly curtains, frilly bedspreads, frilly lace pillows, in frilly pink and purple colors. She looked in the drawers. In one, the folded sweaters were big and bright. In another, she found underwear, all white. In another, she noticed a bright, neon pink strap of bathing suit fabric beneath a pair of denim shorts. She reached for the strap and pulled the bathing suit out and stared at it. The woman in the hot tub. The woman who had seen Bigfoot. Mary.