“Well done,” she said. “Thorough but not alarming.”
“Thank you.” I resisted the urge to pull her close. Everything in me wanted to claim her openly. “Did you notice anything suspicious?”
“Joyce seemed nervous. Mary was a little too agreeable. But nothing definitive.” She glanced toward where Ava was looping her camera bag strap over her shoulder and filing out with the other women. “I’ll follow Mary after this. You should talk to Ava about her blog.”
I nodded. “Meet me back at the office after?”
“Perfect.” She squeezed my arm briefly before slipping away.
I approached Ava. “Do you have amoment?”
“Sheriff.” Her face brightened. “Of course. That was an excellent presentation. So well-organized.”
“Thank you.” I gestured to her camera. “I’ve been meaning to ask about your work. I understand you maintain a blog about your wildlife photography.”
“Oh yes, I do. That’s actually why I came to Lonesome Creek. The opportunity to photograph orc creatures in their new habitat is unprecedented. Scientists are fascinated by how they’re adapting to surface conditions.”
Her genuine excitement didn’t fit with someone eager to exploit our creatures.
“What drew you to luminooks in particular?” I asked.
“Their bioluminescence is unique in the natural world.” She pulled out her tablet, swiping to show me close-up images of glowing luminook spines. “Each pattern is like a language, a form of communication we’re only beginning to understand. I’m documenting their behavior shifts as they acclimate to surface light cycles.”
The images appeared respectful, captured from observation areas without disturbing the creatures. Her explanations matched what legitimate researchers would focus on.
“Your photos are remarkable,” I said. “Have you noticed any unusual behavior among the luminooks recently?”
“They’ve been more vocal at night,” she said, frowning. “More agitated. I assumed it was seasonal changesaffecting them, but maybe there’s something else going on?”
Her question seemed genuine, her concern authentic. Either she was a great actress, or Ava might not be involved.
After answering a few more of her questions about luminook habits, I excused myself, making a mental note to cross-reference her blog posts with the times of known disturbances. Something still felt off, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.
Near the exit, Aunt Inla snagged my attention, her silver-streaked hair tucked beneath her customary bonnet. “There you are, nephew.”
“Yes, here I am.”
She latched onto my arm and drew me to a quiet corner, where she fixed me with the penetrating stare that had intimidated me since childhood. “When do you plan to perform the formal mating ritual with Riley?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I licked her palms already.”
“She does not display her own mark.”
I’d noted that.
“You care for her.”
“I do, but it’s complicated.” I shifted my weight, resisting the urge to straighten the already-perfect alignment of chairs beside us. “Riley’s been through a lot. I don’t want to pressure her.”
“Hmph. When an orc finds his mate, he claims her. There’s nothing else to it.”
“She’s human,not orc.”
“So I’ve seen, but look at your brothers’ mates. They had no problem claiming them.”
Yet they had. None had slipped seamlessly into a relationship, and that was expected when two differing species came together.
“I’m sure things will work out as they should,” I said, watching as Joyce slipped out the back door, not the front like everyone else.
