"Jamur is all talk," Nam explained, easing back into his pillows with a careful breath. "The man's rich enough not to need more, but greed's got a firm grip on him."
"Rich and greedy often leads to danger," I said.
He chuckled, which turned into a wince. "Well, Jamur's the sort who'd stage an accident just to claim insurance. I’ve seen him doit before. But once someone catches on, he backs off and moves onto the next scheme. He’s a pest, but not a predator."
"Scams are one thing, a werewolf attack is another level," said Beth, skeptical.
"Exactly," Nam agreed. "He wouldn't risk his reputation on something like this. He loves money, but he loves his name more."
"Who else would have a reason to send a werewolf after you?" I asked.
Nam shrugged, his eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and pain. "I can't think of anyone. I've been here all my life. I feel like I’m a part of the town's fabric."
"What about your family?" Beth asked.
"They’re… well, they’re beloved," he replied with a hint of pride. "They owned half this town once upon a time. It's just me now, the last of my line."
"Any feuds or old grudges?" I prodded further, searching for any thread we might pull.
"None that I know of." Nam's brow furrowed as he considered the possibility. "Mystic Hollow's been good to the Durgins, and we to it."
Beth shifted her weight, clearly unsatisfied but ready to move on. "The other victims, what about them? Do you know anything relevant?"
"They’re both pillars of the community," Nam said. "Wealthy, respected. Like me, they've got their hands in many pots, but I can't say why they'd be targets either."
"Connections to the committee?" I tried to find some common ground.
"Sure, we're all involved in town matters, but who isn't?" He let out a long breath, the effort visible. "It doesn't add up."
"Okay, thanks, Nam." Beth clicked her pen, signaling the end of the questioning. We were back to square one, but at least we had a few more pieces of the puzzle.
After saying goodbye, we made our way down the sterile hallway, passing rooms with hushed whispers seeping through their partially open doors. When we reached the rooms of the other two attackees, a stern-faced nurse blocked our path.
"Family only," she stated, her arms folded over her crisp white uniform.
"Can you just tell them?—"
"Family only," she repeated firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Beth exchanged a glance with me, her blue eyes holding a silent conversation I knew all too well. Time to leave.
"Thank you," I muttered, though the nurse was already turning away. Beth and I retraced our footsteps back to the elevator.
There, I looked to the nurses’ station and saw them gathered around some gift baskets filled with food. New chairs with red bows sat beside them. Both nurses were grinning and laughing, eating brownies together. I smiled.
"Did you do that?” Beth asked.
My smile never faded. "Maybe they just deserved a little good karma.
She laughed. "Sometimes I wish I had your powers.”
"I’m grateful for them every day,” I told her sincerely.
Beth jabbed at the ground floor button. The doors closed, sealing us in with the muffled sounds of the hospital. For the first time in a while, I relaxed. It wasn’t fun being around the injured and those that are suffering.
Beth looked at me and screwed up her lips. "What do you think?"
I leaned back against the cool wall. "About what?"
