“It all looks normal,” Leonie whispered to Shan. “I don’t see anything.”
“Hmm.” He moved in front of her. “Wait here. I’ll signal if it’s safe to approach.”
She rolled her eyes behind his back. “Shan, it’s atree.”
He was already stalking toward it, low and cautious. He didn’t shift, but there was something distinctly tiger-ish about his slow, soundless steps. Leonie waited impatiently as he circled the tree twice; once at a distance, then closer. At last, he raised a gloved hand, beckoning to her.
“Finally.” She joined him, picking her way over dead, gnarled roots. “Find anything?”
“Yes.” He gestured at a split at the base of the trunk. “Whatever Hetta saw, it didn’t have to be incorporeal to come out of here. The whole tree is hollow. Do you have a light?”
Leonie pulled out her phone, flicking on the flashlight. With a nod of thanks, Shan took the device. With somedifficulty, he managed to get his head and one arm into the tree, playing the beam around the interior.
After only a few short moments, he pulled out again. He shook his head, brushing chips of decayed wood from his hair. “I can’t see anything. Not from this angle.”
Leonie surveyed the split. It was too small for someone Shan’s size, but the average adult would be able to slip through, if they were willing to get a little dirty.
“I’ll check it out.” She dropped to all fours. “Move over and get ready to pass me the light.”
This would be easier in her shift form. She drew on her lion, and the world sprang back into sharp definition, her feline eyes far better adapted to the night than her human ones. She tested the gap in the trunk with her whiskers, then flowed through easily, dead bark brushing against her flanks.
It was surprisingly roomy inside the dead tree, though still a tight fit for a full-grown female lion. She shifted back to human shape, straightening. Without being asked, Shan put his arm through the split trunk to pass her the phone. She swept the flashlight around, eyes adjusting to the dimness.
“Huh,” she muttered to herself, her voice echoing in the confines of the space. “That’s weird.”
“What is?”
“The trunk is worn smooth on this side. Like it’s been polished. And there’s no dirt or decaying wood at the bottom. Just dry leaves. Shan, I think something made a nest in here.”
“Wood and dry leaves,” Shan murmured, as if to himself. “The same scents Claire detected. Can you see anything else?”
Leonie panned her light across the ground, and a glint caught her eye. Squatting, she brushed leaves aside until she could see what was underneath.
She sat back on her heels, staring. “Shan?”
“Yes?”
“Do ghosts eat Twinkies?”
A pause. “Not as far as I’m aware.”
“Well, this one does.” She picked up one of the plastic-wrapped cakes, examining it. “There’s a whole stash of them in here. And some other stuff, too. Hold on, I’ll pass it all out to you.”
The baffled silence outside the tree deepened with every item she handed through the split. When she crawled out herself, she found Shan regarding the neat line of objects with a distinctly nonplussed expression.
She joined him, brushing off her hands. “Either we’re dealing with a kleptomaniac poltergeist, or someone’s been living rough out here.”
He picked up a ripped pair of boxers. “A man, I presume.”
“Or just someone with a taste for comfortable underwear.” Leonie frowned as she realized something. “Hang on. They’re all different. No matching sets.”
Shan rubbed the worn material thoughtfully between his fingertips. “As if they were acquired at different times. Hmm.”
“Paige did say the sheriff was concerned about a spate of recent thefts. That’s what you were here to investigate before, right?”
Shan nodded in confirmation. “Food and clothing, according to the reports. Primarily male underwear. That’s one of the reasons the sheriff contacted us. He thought a shifter might be responsible, given the nature of the stolen items.”
“Why would a shifter keep getting caught without pants? I mean, once or twice, maybe. But…” Leonie did a quick count. “Sixtimes?”
