Christophe started to answer, but another man walked up, snapping him with one of the dish towels before mussing his hair. “It’s because our omega is too good to eat with us. Isn’t that right, Christophe?” the man said before locking Chael’s younger brother in a headlock and rubbing his head with his knuckles.
A few of the other shifters in the room chuckled at the scene, but I covered my mouth, slightly horrified. When the guy let Christophe up, his cheeks were stained crimson, and his glasses tilted sideways.
“We’ve got business to take care of,” Chael said sternly. That caused everyone to sober up, their faces turning serious as they nodded at Chael and stepped aside for the three of us to pass.
“Are you okay?” I asked Christophe. Though I didn’t know him, I knew I would’ve been embarrassed if someone did that to me in a roomful of people.
He gave me a half smile. “They enjoy roughhousing. That’s all. I’m used to it.” He shrugged a shoulder, straightened his glasses, and proceeded to the door.
I looked back at Chael, who appeared unrattled, letting me know this was probably a common occurrence. I also wondered about Christophe as we walked toward his home. He kept a few paces behind Chael and me.
Looking between the two men, I wouldn’t assume they were related. Unlike Chael and Chance, Christophe didn’t have the deep-bronze coloring or long silky, black hair. Christophe didn’t have the rugged look that many of the other men in the pack had as well. He was more straitlaced. He was handsome in the Clark Kent sort of way.
Christophe’s home was about half a mile outside the main area where most of the pack’s homes were. His was also considerably smaller in size. It was still quaint and had all the amenities, but not as large as Chael’s.
“Thank you,” I said as I passed through the door Chael held open for me. Christophe’s wooden interior was similar to the other homes and buildings at the commune. However, instead of the stained glass, the glass on Christophe’s walls was all clear. I was sure that it still created spectacular reflections during the day and twilight hours, though.
“My office is back this way,” he said to me, bowing for us to follow.
Once we reached his office, I was impressed by the large desk where two flat-screen monitors sat. I instantly recognized an image on one of the screens. It was a picture of Dr. Pines. The one of him from the Creekview brochure usually given to the families of new residents or inquiring residents. I saw that picture many times while volunteering at the nursing home.
“I ran a background check on Dr. Pines as you requested,” Christophe said as he sat in front of the monitors. I assumed he was talking to Chael.
“And?” Chael asked. “Did you finally find something?” he asked impatiently.
“He’s worked at three nursing homes in his career,” Christopher answered while shaking his mouse and bringing up some documents on the second monitor. “All three of them were in the state of Texas. All of that’s public information and easy to find.”
“You told me all of this,” Chael said. “Tell me something new.”
From his profile, I could see Christophe’s lips pinch. “I cross-referenced the time he spent at those nursing homes with increased deaths or strange disappearances of residents.” Christophe nodded, face still on the screen. “I narrowed it down to three suspicious deaths at the home he worked at right before moving to Creekview four years ago and two resident disappearances. Supposedly, the residents were checked out by their family members, but I can’t track down a record or any surviving family of the residents in the area.”
I gasped and turned to Chael. “That’s what was happening at Creekview. I knew he was doing something to them. He’s done this before.” My eyes watered, thinking about how many people this so-called doctor had hurt, and there was no one to speak up for them. I covered my mouth with my hand.
“What is he doing to them? Why would he lie like this?” I asked.
Chael placed a hand on my hip, pulling me into his body. I sagged against him, needing some of the strength he exuded. To think that my nana had been under this man’s care. Yes, I visited her daily, but what about when I couldn’t be there? Had he done something awful to her too?
“I don’t have those answers,” Christophe answered, peering over at me, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was able to hack into one of his security cameras and download some of the images.” Christophe started clicking through a series of pictures of what, at first, looked like a typical unfinished basement.
But then he brought up a picture that looked familiar.
“Wait, go back,” I demanded more harshly than intended. “I’m sorry.” I gave him a sheepish look. “I just… can you go back to that last picture?”
He did, and I covered my mouth again. “I know that room.” I racked my brain, recalling where I’d seen that room before. In a second, I remembered and snapped as I turned to Chael.
“My dream,” I blurted out. “Those dreams that woke me up the night I first saw those wolves. Remember?” I asked. “It was the night I called you. The dreams I had about Ms. Anderson and the other residents. They were in a room just like that one.”
I pointed at the computer screen. “They were asking me for help.” The dark walls and the hospital beds were all the same. The picture on Christophe’s computer screen had only one hospital bed, and it was empty.
That was somewhat of a relief, but “Why would a nursing home doctor have an empty hospital bed in his basement?” And why was the same room I dreamed about staring back at me from a computer screen? The creepy feeling that had washed over me when I awakened from those dreams started to crawl its way up my spine the more I looked at the images before me.
“He’s doing something to them,” I told Chael.
“I’ve known it ever since we checked out his home.”
My eyes bulged. “You went to Dr. Pines’s home.”
Chael opened and closed his mouth. Regret stretched across his handsome face, and I wondered what he held back. After a few beats, he nodded.
