Mia’s phone buzzed, and she tugged it from her pocket, noting the call was from Claire. “Hi, Claire. Are you checking on me?”
“No. I just wanted you to know that we found another body off I-90 at the gas station right at the exit. It’s across the county line, but the pack owns the gas station, of course. The victim is a woman, killed like the rest, and her death was only a few hours ago,” Claire said quietly. “We just cordoned off the scene. Should I call the Seattle FBI? I’m not really a deputy.”
Mia clicked through options for the best thing to do. “Yes, call the Seattle FBI and have them process the scene. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” She disconnected.
Kurt zipped up his coat, his jaw set hard. “Sounds like we have another one?”
Mia nodded. “Off I-90, several miles from Lost Lake.”
Rodney crumpled up the bill and shoved it into his apron pocket. “That sucks, but I was here all day.”
Kurt studied him. “It really wasn’t you, was it?”
Rodney’s shoulders slumped even more. “No. I told you it wasn’t.” He looked toward the waitress by the door, who was watching him with wide eyes. “But thanks for ruining my life. I’d like to return the favor sometime. You know? I think I will speak to that lawyer. I might have a decent case for harassment.” He stomped away and shoved open the door to the kitchen without looking back.
Mia swallowed. She’d worry about a harassment case later. “We have to return to Lost Lake. Now.”
Chapter27
Amerciless rain beat down and pummeled the SUV as Erik drove it off I-90 and a short distance to a lone gas station with a drenched and silent forest stretching out on three sides just beyond a dirt parking area. Kurt sat next to him in the passenger seat, his head back, snoring softly. It sounded like maybe he’d caught the cold that had been going around town.
Todd scrolled through his phone next to Mia, chuckling to himself every once in a while. When she glanced over, she saw cat videos on social media. Fascinating. Not in a million years would she have thought the deputy would be a cat guy. He seemed more like a falcon type of person.
Erik parked, and she moved out of the vehicle before anybody could come around and put an umbrella over her head. She was tired of being covered so completely. In fact, she was just plain tired. Her body hurt, her head ached, and her ankles were swollen. It was way too early in her pregnancy to have swollen ankles, but there they were.
She studied the building, which was wood-sided and rather quaint, and then an unwilling smile tickled her lips as she noted the name:Canine Coffee and Gas. She shook her head and began walking around the side of the building, which was fully illuminated by massive spotlights. When Erik approached her with an umbrella, she took it from him, knowing he’d shove it above her head if she protested. He was much more like his brother than she had realized. “Thanks, but I can hold it. Do you want under?”
“No.” The rain matted his hair to his face, turning it darker, and he looked so much like Seth for a moment that she could only stare. He scouted the area much like Seth would, his body relaxed but close enough to her that he could take her to the ground if necessary.
Todd and Kurt strode toward her, and she jerked herself back to the depressing scene. The area had been cordoned off with crime scene tape, and one side had come loose from a pine tree to stick to the muddy ground.
Seth lounged against the wooden siding, protected from the rain where he stood next to Lionel, who still had his camera secured by a band around his neck.
Upon seeing her, Seth shoved away from the building and strode toward her, looking like a dangerous animal, even in male form. Rain ran in rivulets down his chiseled face, sticking his black T-shirt to his hard body. How anybody could think him anything but a predator was beyond her. She’d recognized it the second she met him, even without knowing about wolf shifters. He reached her and gently ran a knuckle down her face. “You look tired,” he murmured.
“I am,” she admitted. Flying to DC and back and interviewing several people had taken its toll, but she had wanted to see the crime scene before heading home, even though it was after midnight. “The techs are gone?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they finished up about two hours ago, but I knew you’d be here. Thought I’d keep your agent friend company since he wanted to wait for you and Colbey. Special Agent Lionel talks to his cameras. Did you know that?”
“We all need friends,” she mumbled. She’d always thought him talking to his equipment was a charming aspect to Lionel. It was, no doubt, a way to deal with the terrible things he saw every day in this job. In fact, she’d never noticed him having a difficult time and wondered who was there for him. She relied more and more on Seth, and it was getting hard to remember how she’d done all this alone before. Should she rely on him to this degree? Not that he’d given her much choice.
Lionel shoved his camera into a leather bag and left it under the eaves before loping her way, his eyes bloodshot and his movements slow. “It’s been a long day, right?”
She nodded, relieved to see his posture straight. He was holding it together well. “What do you know?”
Lionel swiped rain off his face, even as more battered him. “Unfortunately, they’d already processed the scene by the time I returned to Lost Lake. After going to Seattle, I headed down to Portland to look at a couple of cold cases.”
Mia’s eyebrows rose. “Connected to ours?”
“I thought so, but after viewing the photos and talking to the local agents, I ruled it out.” Lionel sighed. “So, I wasn’t the one who photographed this scene, unfortunately. I’m hoping to get copies of the pictures tomorrow.”
Mia stretched her neck. That was too bad. Lionel was the best. “Do we have anything?”
“The agents here earlier managed to get a quick ID on the victim because her prints were on file. They did send that to me.” He reached for his phone in his back pocket and then scrolled through some messages.
Kurt moved closer to Lionel and turned his head to sneeze. “Excuse me. Was she a sex worker?”
“Bless you, and no,” Lionel said, his khaki pants soaked and clinging to his legs. “Her name was Bobbi Trienze, and her prints were on file because she worked as a nurse at Lost Asylum.”
