I thought of the distinctly uncomfortable edge to his face when Jefferson spoke of the development. The near blasé comment of Cole being the brains, as if he wanted to pass the buck.
Ethan nodded. “Maybe, although I would think Cole would still need him. The development is not a sure thing just yet and Jefferson is well liked and has a lot of influence over the people in this town. They have a detailed replica of the area in his office, it’s quite the establishment. Plastic surgeon, day spas, meditation, golf course. The usual elitist bullshit, and they want to reintroduce wolves to the area.”
I thought of Wolf. He would have some company at least, that thought brought light to my heart in what was otherwise a shitty fucking day. “That’s good.”
Ethan grimaced. “Then, once re-established, he plans to have commercial hunting trips, for wolves, bears and deer.”
Anger chased away the light. “The son of bitch.”
I thought of the man who had attacked Katrina over culling, Ron. I wondered if he had anything to do with their plans. I couldn’t stand it if Wolf got hurt. He wasn’t my pet and yet I felt a strong connection to him that I couldn’t explain. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. No way.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “The good news is his laptop was there. The bad news is, I couldn’t crack the password, so I took it.”
I waved out a hand, still distracted by the news, Wolf might be in danger. “I can help you with that, but I’ll tell you how later, we’ll do it tomorrow.”
He looked at me wordlessly, he knew I didn’t possess the skills. He probably knew who I meant though, he spent a bit of time at the bookstore after all.
“What about his mobile?” Monique asked, leaning forward, grabbing the whisky decanter from the coffee table and pouring herself a drink.
“Missing. It wasn’t on his body. My guess is whoever killed him took it.”
“That rules out the bear theory then, unless it took it out of his pocket and ate it,” I said.
Monique sat the decanter back down. “Perhaps the phone was not on him, maybe he had it somewhere else in the house and someone removed it after his death.”
“Possible.” Karson nodded. “It would be destroyed by now or disabled, if that’s the case.”
I sat back, closed my eyes, and tried to visualise Jefferson, searching for a lump of a phone in the pocket of his jacket or pants. I replayed him standing by the bar, his smile, the drink we shared. I could make out a small soft lump in his left jacket pocket—it would be a hanky, probably—in the right, maybe a wallet? It was square, thicker than a phone. I searched the room, behind him, looking for people watching him. Mike was at the bar, talking, pretending not to watch.
“Amy.” Ethan’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
I opened my eyes. They were all staring at me.
“Ahh, yes.” Conscious of the weight of their stares, I shifted in my seat. “I was just checking to see if I could see a phone in Jefferson’s pocket.”
“You have an eidetic memory?” Ethan asked, sounding both surprised and mildly impressed.
“Photographic, eidetic and something else doctors have no name for,” I answered, embarrassed to have drawn attention. “I can replay things I’ve seen in my head like a movie.”
There was a long silence as they continued to study me. I cleared my throat and twisted my ringless finger. “What do you think happened to Brian?”
Monique said, “I think we can rule out suicide.”
She was so blasé I wondered how many times she had seen death. How many times she’d caused it? My stomach twisted. I ignored her and directed my question to Ethan. “Was it a vampire or human that killed him do you think?”
“Not sure. The spacing and depth of the rips looked like bear claws were used but whether it was attached to a bear, human, or vampire . . .” Ethan held out his hands in a show of perplexity. He moved over to the couch and sat next to Michael.
“It certainly wasn’t a bear, we would have heard something,” Monique said, taking a sip of whiskey and crossing her legs, the split in the long black dress she wore, parting to reveal sleek thighs.
That may not be the case, bears were extremely quiet animals and attacks were usually silent, unless they were defending something or felt under threat. If they were catching food they wouldn’t roar before they attacked. But Jefferson should have been able to scream, unless, of course, fear had frozen his throat. One swipe across his head and he might be been knocked unconscious, and came to later. But the bear didn’t eat him, nor hang around to defend its catch, so it wasn’t an attack for food . . .
“I did hear something, but I didn’t know what it was.” The attention turned back to me. “A minute before he was found I heard a noise, like a roar or a cry, maybe. I don’t know.”
“And you didn’t think to come and get one of us?” Karson raised his voice.“Are you insane?”
“Don’t yell at me,” I said, yelling. “I didn’t know what it was. I can’t cry out every time I hear a noise, Karson.”
He sucked in a deep breath, as if he were trying to regain his composure, but his eyes were cold—Antarctic cold, and a chill shuddered down my spine.
