Page 15

“Zodiac,” Victor grumbled.

“If you’re gonna suck neck in front of me, imma eat my feelings.”

And the moment was gone. “We’ll have time for more personal uhm . . . stuff . . . later.” I checked my reflection for any stray drops of blood, but as always, Victor was meticulous in clean-up, his bite invisible—and his heated gaze in the mirror suggested I’d definitely get my wild ride later. “We need to get a look at where the body was found,” I said, clearing my throat. “And the person who found him.”

“Finally,” Zee exclaimed, tossing the cookies onto the boxes and strutting toward the door. “Let’s go and Scooby-Doo the fuck out of this furry whodunnit.”

Galbraith loomed outside the bar, with Old Furry flanking the other side of the doorway. “Thought you’d skipped out on us,” he said, big brown eyes glaring from under bushy eyebrows.

“We made a vow.” My tone was clear—we did not break our promises. The pair of werewolves grunted a noncommittal noise. “Will you show us where Cameron was found?”

Galbraith nodded. “This is Duke, our beta,” he said, putting a name to Old Furry. “He’ll lead the way.”

I wasn’t sure what a beta did, but I assumed he was the pack’s second-in-command. Duke was bigger than Galbraith, stocky and firm. His eyes were cooler, though. Harder. He didn’t waste any time with greetings, just stomped off into the woods behind the bar.

A little over one hundred meters in, we came to a disturbed patch of dirt. Half-rotted pine needles and leaf litter revealed where there had been a struggle—blood splatters confirmed the outcome of that fight. This was Cameron’s final resting place. There wasn’t much blood, though, especially for a gut wound. Not that I’d know much about stomach wounds, not having gutted many people myself . . . Well, there was that one time . . . A few times, actually. Never mind.

“It’s close to the bar,” Victor said, eyeing the back of the bar through the trees. “Whoever did this was not concerned about witnesses.”

“When was Cameron last seen alive?” I asked Duke.

“Early this morning,” the gruff beta replied in a deep, growly voice. “He left the bar around two.”

“We got here after six,” Zee explained, and was met with two werewolf frowns. “Just sayin’ . . .”

“And his body was discovered not long after,” Galbraith added, standing back between us and the bar, perhaps blocking any escape route should we attempt to run. Maybe they were using the excuse of us helping to keep us in their sights. Keep your enemies close . . . But if they continued to believe we’d murdered their packmate, we might miss important clues.

I had to make sure we were useful.

“Did Cameron have any obvious enemies?” Victor asked, hitching up his trousers and crouching to scan the disturbed forest floor up close.

“No, he’s well liked.” Duke sniffed. “Was well liked.”

“What about the woman who found him?” I asked. Screaming murder instead of help had been an interesting choice, but people did weird things in stressful situations. Again, not that I’d know what people screamed when confronted with death, since it’s not something that happened around me . . . much.

“Kate? She’s the cook. She was out back vaping and heard a noise.”

“What kind of noise?” This came from Zee. “A scurrying? A scuffle? A kerfuffle?”

“You’ll have to ask her,” Galbraith replied, turning his attention to Victor who was visually scanning the scene.

“He has a photographic memory,” I whispered. Whispering seemed appropriate now we’d all fallen quiet. The trees around us rustled softly, and somewhere far off a confused daytime owl hooted.

Galbraith’s bushy caterpillar eyebrows lifted. “You guys do much of this? Solve murders?”

Zee laughed. “Fuck no. We mostly cause them⁠—”

“Yup!” I interrupted before Zee’s mouth dug our graves for us. “We have a lot of experience with murder.”

“You’re really the three heroes of San Francisco?” the big alpha asked.

“That’s us.”

“So why you all the way up north?”

“Great question.” Zee’s grin wasn’t entirely innocent as he flung it my way. “Why are we all the way up north, Kitten?”

“For this.” I gestured at the dirt. “For things like this. Not for this exact crime scene. Just to help out. With uh . . . murders? And for a vacation.”