“So why do they need us?”
“They can’t find the kid and they want to make sure he’s safe before they make any accusations. They want you to read the parents.”
Gunnar took a wide, sweeping bend and Bryn tightened his hold. “They aren’t going to agree to that, surely?”
“Which is why we aren’t going to tell them what you are.”
“If we do that, they won’t be able to use my evidence in court.”
“They’re aware of that. They think they can close the case anyway but want to find Edwin Junior first.”
“So who are we supposed to be?”
“Specialist trackers who are going to head into the forest to help with the search. All you need to do is shake hands with them before we leave.”
“I get the search thing with you being a wolf, but I don’t fit the profile.”
“You’re my tech support.”
“Figures. You know what I do doesn’t work so well if I shake hands, it’s better with a pulse point.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Gunnar built up some exhilarating speed as he navigated the winding roads of Essex County. He slowed as they approached Boxford, which proved to be quaint, with a number of colonial-era homes, their white clapboard façades and colorful shutters standing in stark contrast to the dark backdrop of the woods. They circled the town green then the steeple of the First Church of Boxford appeared above the treetops. Jones’ Plant Place was on the outskirts of town. Once Gunnar had pulled into a graveled parking lot and they’d dismounted, Bryn took off his helmet and scanned the area. Row upon row of plants stretched out to one side of a cluster of buildings. In the distance he could see several greenhouses, sunlight glinting off the glass panes.
“Smells good,” Gunnar said. “Earthy and fresh.” He took a deep breath.
“That sniffer of yours working overtime, huh?”
“Yeah. Wolves like trees.”
“You know that’s wide open for a comment about… Never mind. Not the time.” Bryn turned away from Gunnar’s challenging gaze and scrambled out of his leathers.
“Wolves do like to mark their territory.”
Bryn swiveled around to find Gunnar leering at him.
“Stop that! You’re worse than I am.”
Gunnar shrugged. “You started it.”
Changing the subject seemed like a plan. “You think that’s where the family lives?” Bryn nodded at a large modern house to the left of the business premises. There were people milling around outside and he could see some uniforms.
“Let’s head over there and find Sergeant Kaminski. He’s our contact. He’s in charge of the search and knows he has to maintain our cover.”
“I should take my gloves off. It’s not cold enough for it not to seem strange I’m wearing them.”
“Okay. I’ll talk the talk and make nice with people. You be your usual emo self.”
Bryn stuck his tongue out at his partner. “Rude.”
“There’s better things you could be doing with that tongue. We should talk about that.” Gunnar strode in the direction of the house and Bryn, gaping, trailed after him.
If Edwin Junior’s parents were faking, they were doing a damn good job. They were standing with the sergeant at the front of a crowd of people dressed in outdoor gear and preparing to leave. Two groups departed before Bryn and Gunnar reached them but others were still milling around discussing grid references and locations in the forest.
Gunnar introduced himself to Sergeant Kaminski. “Specialist search team reporting for duty.” He nodded to Edwin Senior and Rosalie. “Sir, Ma’am.”
“Welcome, and thanks so much for coming out here, I know you guys are in demand,” Kaminski said.
