“Don’t know yet,” Kurt said.
There hadn’t been DNA on the others, but if this was a copycat, maybe he had slipped up. “Was she a sex worker?”
“Yeah.”
Just like the others. “Who found her?”
“Restaurant worker taking out the trash after a busy shift. This is different, Mia. Delaney never strayed from DC, and now we’re talking two states over.”
That was true. Delaney’s hunting grounds were limited. “I’m in the middle of a case right now.” She wanted back in the FBI. Didn’t she? But Gena was doing so well in the small cabin, and dragging her back to the city would likely be a colossal mistake. “I need more time here.”
His sigh was familiar. “Because of your mother?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t live your whole life centered around her just because she’s not all there,” he said. Again.
Irritation clawed down Mia’s back. “She’s all there, and I don’t appreciate your statement.” She stood and moved toward the dresser, taking out the thick case file. “Keep me informed, and if you need background on Delaney, give me a call.”
“What’s your hurry? I thought we could talk.” Ice clinked in a glass over the line.
“Can’t. I have a date. Thanks for calling.” She clicked off, checking the time. The cabin was quiet since Dotty and Gena had gone shopping for new jeans. Her heart filled with hope that her mother was healing from her ordeal.
Holding the file folder, Mia padded through the cabin and went onto the back deck. She had a couple of hours before Seth arrived, so she might as well go through her notes for the thousandth time. It was odd that an accomplice of Delaney’s would move out of the DC area, but perhaps the shackles were now off the second killer. There was no doubt in her mind that Delaney would’ve been the dominant partner in a killing duo, and DC was his home base.
She sat at the wooden table and spread out her notes, wishing she had grabbed her sunglasses. A light cloud cover wafted over the sun, spreading out like cotton batting. Mumbling to herself, she read through the notes from the last kill.
Movement near the tree line caught her attention, and she stilled.
The massive golden-brown wolf strode from between trees. Its ears were up, its fur flat, and the sun sparkling off the pelt made it look more amber than brown. He moved toward her, looking so much bigger than wolves did on television.
Her breath caught.
The beast kept coming, padding up the stairs and moving slowly toward her, his blue eyes mellow.
She almost told him that her mother wasn’t around. That was freaking crazy. She was losing her mind. “I don’t have any food for you.” Should she go and grab her gun?
He shuffled closer and then stretched out, flopping flat on his stomach near her feet.
She looked down at his wide head. “You’re weird.”
He sneezed.
“Bless you,” she said automatically.
His ear twitched.
Was he actually somebody’s pet? Did people keep wolves for pets? “While I appreciate the fact that you’ve befriended my mother, maybe you shouldn’t hang out on our deck.” She was talking to a wolf like it could understand her. Yet there was something oddly sweet about the deadly animal. He looked mellow and kind of lonely.
Resting on his belly, he looked up at her as if trying to appear harmless.
She lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re harmless.”
His tongue lolled out of his mouth.
“If you’re going to keep coming around, you need a name,” she mused. Maybe he was a pet. He certainly seemed domesticated. “How about Henry?”
He tossed his head in the air.
