“This is a surprise, Mr. Chairman.”
“Just Erik, Charles. This isn’t a formal call.” He smiled as he thought about his friend, enjoying his retirement while he waited to be eligible for the Council. His son Martin had taken over as Alpha six years ago, after the tragic car accident that took his mate from him. “I need you to sit down, though.”
“Wait, are you all right? Is Claire?”
“My mate is fine, as am I. We think we know who wiped out your daughters Pack. The Council is flying there to arrest the Alpha and hold a trial, and you need to be there.”
“Oh my.” There was silence on the line. “Who did it? Who killed my Joanna and my granddaughter?”
“I won’t say right now, Charles. I can’t have you or your son going after them. They will face justice, you have my word on that.” Erik let him settle for a moment, knowing this news would stir up all the anger and hatred he’d held since that day. “I’m flying over, I’ll be there at the Syracuse airport at midnight. A new flight crew will be there, and we’ll leave again as soon as we have refueled. You may bring two people with you, and pack for a week.”
“I’ll be ready,” he said. “Erik? Thank you.”
“We’ll talk on the flight,” he said. By the time he hung up, his bags had been packed by his housekeeper and his driver was ready to take him to the executive airport where the Council Gulfstream G650ER sat. The long-range jet could fly nonstop to New York, and an hour later they were climbing to cruising altitude.
—
Craig Forrest thanked Luna that they had covered the tracks so well. He pulled up the copy of the guardianship papers they had forged and filed, three months after the fire in New York State. It was a good thing they had a Judge in the Adirondack Pack. He picked up the phone and called the number he had been given in the phone message. “Rochester Police, Detective Anderson.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m trying to reach Detective Jones,” he said.
“Detective Jones is on nights, I’m his counterpart in daylight hours. Can I help you?”
“Sure, Detective. My name is Craig Forrest, and the Detective left a message on my machine asking about information on Charlotte King.”
“OK, I’m checking his desk. Ah, here it is. He was doing background on a missing person, looks like he was searching for anyone with that name and around that age.”
“Well, Detective, there’s no missing person with Charlotte King. She was staying with her grandparents when the fire occurred, and they raised her. I found the papers declaring her grandparents her legal guardians. Last I heard, she was doing well in high school.”
He heard scratching of a pen. “Well, we just needed to follow up. I’ll leave a note for Detective Jones, and thank you for calling back.”
“Sure thing.” He hung up and smiled, they didn’t even ask for proof.
Back at the Rochester Police, the case got pushed aside quickly since the two suspects were lying in the morgue. By the end of the week, all their notes and evidence were in a box.
Ten weeks later, Chief Briggs was back on full duty, the shoot was ruled justified, and the investigation was closed. The box ended up in storage, never to be opened again.
—
Treasure woke up, pushing through the fog of the anti-psychotic drugs they were using on her. She tried moving, but quickly determined her hands and legs were secured to the bed with leather straps. The room she was in was white, bare, and the window was covered with metal mesh. The bright midday sun reaching her face must have woken her. She had to go to the bathroom badly. She found and pressed the call button by her right hand.
The door opened a minute later, and an orderly and a nurse came in. “Miss Olson,” the nurse said. “Good to see you awake.”
“I need to use the bathroom, please,” she said through her teeth as the orderly came around by the side of her bed.
The nurse was able to figure out what she was saying. “Can’t do that, dear. I’ll get the bedpan.” She reached into a cabinet and pulled one out, then pulled the thin sheet covering her body back.
Lifting her hips, she slid it in place, and Rea tried to relax. “Can he turn around?”
“Sorry, he has to be here with any violent patient for my protection. Just ignore him, he can’t see anything with me in the way.” She relaxed and let the stream go. The nurse moved it out of the way and cleaned her before putting the sheet back.
“What time is it?”
“Two fifteen,” she said.
“That’s not too bad, I was out for what, fourteen hours?” She tried to remember what had kicked off her episode. Her brain went back to the room, the men… “OH GOD MOM,” she said as she struggled. “Is my mom all right? Did I hurt her?” The worst of thoughts came through her head; it was her greatest fear that she would hurt her family or Jenny with one of her psychotic breaks.
“Your mother is fine, a little bruised from where that man hit her, but fine.” Rea relaxed a little as the bedpan was emptied and rinsed, then put under the sink again. “She’s been here each night hoping you would come back to yourself.”
Each night? What the hell, she thought. “How long exactly was I out?”
“Almost forty hours,” she said. Rea collapsed back into the pillow, never before had she been out that long. No wonder the drugs were so strong, she felt like her head was stuffed with cotton. “I’ll bring you something to eat, you must be starving.”