Dead Letter Day by Eileen Rendahl

eating frozen deer meet from some lady’s freezer? Not in this lifetime. I wondered if anyone else was missing from the Pack. That didn’t sit right either, though. They certainly weren’t behaving like werewolves. “Yeah, but I’m not sure what or who they were.”
    “You don’t think they’re werewolves?” He handed me the address for the cop’s house.
    “Not any werewolves I’ve ever seen. Or heard of. Or read about.” I scanned the map. “Turn right on Jonquil Avenue.”
    Ted’s brow furrowed. “Then what were they?”
    “I don’t know. I’ll ask Alex about it. He knows some things I don’t. I can get Sophie and Norah researching, too.”I glanced down at the map again and my stomach lurched. I tossed the map aside. “At least my GPS doesn’t make me carsick.”
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Ted pulled over to the curb and put the truck in neutral.
    Damn. I should have kept my mouth shut. “Lots of people get car sickness when they read in cars. It’s a normal thing.”
    “Yeah, but you’re not a normal girl.” He looked hard at me.
    “Gee, thanks tons. You sure know how to make me feel special.” Deflect with sarcasm. A tried-and-true defense.
    He shook his head. “You know what I mean. Did you see a doctor yet?”
    “I haven’t exactly had a lot of free time for that,” I pointed out.
    “How about we ask Alex to check you out when we ask him about the not werewolf thingies?” Ted suggested.
    “Sure.” Like hell I would, but it wasn’t an argument I was going to win. I’d win through passive aggression, another tried-and-true defense.
    He picked up the map, glanced at it and the address again and pulled away from the curb.
    Michael Hollinger’s house was a lot more modest than Leanne McMannis’s. Then again, I was quite aware of how far a cop’s salary didn’t stretch. He wasn’t doing too badly for himself. We did our march up to the door and knocked.
    At first I thought the door had swung open by itself. Then I looked down. The little girl who had opened the door barely came up to the doorknob. She had on a pair of striped leggings and blue smock top with a big ribbon on the chest. She was, in short, adorable. “Who are you?” she asked.
    Ted and I exchanged a look. He crouched down so they were eye to eye. “My name’s Ted. What’s your name?”
    She pivoted back and forth on the ball of her right foot, then cocked her head. “Justine.”
    “Justine, is your dad home?” he asked with a smile.
    She shook her head.
    “How about your mom?”
    This time, she nodded.
    “Could you get her for me?” he asked.
    Justine started to scamper back into the house.
    “Justine,” he called after her as he stood. “Close the door, honey.”
    She came back and slammed the door in our faces.
    I shot him another look.
    “She shouldn’t open the door to strangers and she shouldn’t leave them at an open door,” he said.
    “I know that, but we could maybe have learned a little something.” Who knows what a person might hear through an open door? I admit that eavesdropping isn’t the hobby I’m most proud of, but it is a useful one.
    He shook his head. “Maybe we’ll learn more if Ms. Hollinger knows she can trust us, that we have her family’s best interests in mind.”
    Okay. That was a reasonable approach, too. The straightforward thing wasn’t part of my usual playbook, but I’d told him—and told him and told him—that he was the boss today.
    The door opened again, this time with a full-sized person behind it. Sarah Hollinger looked a little frazzled. Her ponytail was coming undone and her shirt was half tucked in and half hanging out. She was probably about my age, late twenties or so. She was carrying a few more pounds than she needed to, but even with the messy hair and total lack of makeup, she was still pretty. “Can I help you?”
    “We were hoping to talk to your husband,” Ted said. “I’m Ted Goodnight. I’m with the Sacramento PD.”
    “Is