“No, but it’s fresh exhaust. I think there’s a car parked in front of your place, maybe two.” He set a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Keep an eye out, and give a shout if anything seems off.”
“You think it’s connected to Willow?”
“Well, at almost midnight I wouldn’t think so, but it’s not impossible her dad came out here looking for trouble. I’m going to stand out here a minute and listen for you to make it home.”
As Ezra strode across the field toward his cabin, he fixed his attention on his senses, every small detail they could relay to him that human senses couldn’t. He was tired, but as he neared home he pushed that aside, slowed his pace to double-check his surroundings. One sniff and one look told him the fresh exhaust had come from vehicles occupied by three unknown humans, none of them far away. Two cars sat single file in his driveway, engines off, headlights off. He might have missed them altogether without his wolf-keen night vision.
Squad cars.
Around the back of the house—three men checking his doors, his windows, wordlessly. Static from a radio. A flashlight beam.
“Hello,” Ezra called.
One by one, three uniformed officers rounded the cabin and approached him.
“Ezra Sterling?” called the one closest to him, shortest and stockiest of the three.
“That’s me.”
The officer’s flashlight hit Ezra full in the face, and reflex brought one hand up to shield his eyes.
Another of the officers gave a shout. “Hey! Stand still! Do not move!”
“I’m not moving,” Ezra said.
“And don’t get smart!”
“Okay, okay,” said the first officer. “Mr. Sterling, please slowly approach me with your hands up.”
Hands up? Was he serious? Adrenaline burst through Ezra’s system like a shaken coke spewing fizz. No, keep thinking, keep calm. He lifted his hands, ordered himself to cooperate. But this was his property, and he’d done nothing wrong. A growl pushed up from his chest. He swallowed it, and his throat burned. He stepped forward until he was within six feet of the officer.
“Stop,” the man said. When Ezra obeyed, the officer walked behind him. “Now slowly lower your hands.”
Ezra did so, and immediately the man seized one of his hands and tugged it behind his back. Reflex stiffened all his muscles. He forced himself not to resist. “What’s going on?”
“I’m Sergeant Kelly, and that’s Officer West and Officer Davis. You’re not under arrest. This is a precaution to keep you safe and to keep us safe. Okay?”
No. Not okay. Not okay at all. Cool steel circled his wrists. The handcuffs clicked, first the right then the left, and Ezra barely restrained a laugh. As if any handcuffs on earth could hold a wolf. “Sir, I want to know what’s going on. Please.”
“Do you know Willow Fitzgerald?”
Crap. Dad was right. “I’m dating her.”
“Have you spoken to her recently?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Is she inside?”
“No, sir.”
Kelly stepped in front of him and crossed his arms. His two colleagues had come near as well, now that Ezra stood in his own front yard in handcuffs. He pushed past the racing of his heart. Think. Dad was hearing every word of this from the porch.
“Do you know where she is?” said Officer West, the one who had ordered him to raise his hands. This man was a little younger, probably Ezra’s age. His hair was so blond it looked white in the moonlight.
“She’s next door,” Ezra said. “She’s with my parents.”
“When and how did she get there?” His words were more a challenge than a question.
