Tulane and had been in a night class at the time of Isabella’s call, leaving there to go to work, unaware of his girlfriend’s disappearance until Henry’s call.
I powered up Isabella’s cell. First, I tried the mobile number, which went straight to voice mail. I thought about calling Luke but didn’t know what type of Were Kyle was. There were hundreds scattered throughout this area. The chances were slim that Luke would know him. I dialed Kyle’s work number. No way was he tending bar. I knew from experience: If someone you loved went missing, you didn’t go back to business as usual the next day. But they might know how to find him.
A gruff voice answered, “Blue Moon Club.” That surprised me. The Blue Moon was run by the Alpha of all the local Were Clans. If Kyle was working there, he wasn’t any moon-howler but someone close to their leader.
“Yes, I’m looking for Kyle Thompson. Is he in?” I went for professional, but all I got for my trouble was a snarl. “Excuse me? I didn’t catch that.”
“Hold on, lady, I’ll check.” I held for ten minutes. I was about to hang up and call back when the call was transferred without warning. It rang and another voice answered.
“Yes?” The woman’s musical voice was perfectly modulated. She didn’t sound like a twenty-something male Were whose girlfriend had possibly been kidnapped by a sorcerer bent on world-domination (or something else as trite). I slapped my hand against the table. Knowing my luck, the snarling man had transferred me to a random stranger for shits and giggles.
“Hi, this is Cate Delacy. I’m looking for Kyle Thompson.” There was silence on the line.
“Kyle’s not here, right now.” She stopped.
“It’s urgent that I speak with him. Is there a better time I could call?” Again silence, this time too bare of sound. She’d put the phone on mute.
“Kyle’s been detained on Pack business. He should be available tomorrow night. Be at the club at eleven.” Her tone left no room for discussion.
Were the Alpha’s people covering for Kyle? Or had Isabella’s boyfriend found his own set of troubles? I gave my thanks, jotting down her directions.
I sat staring dumbly at my notes. Tomorrow was Thursday. I was going to walk into a nightclub full of hundreds of horny Weres putting out seas of lust pheromones, and there was no way that Detective Jacqueline Slone would sit this dance out.
I was so screwed.
* * *
Jacq returned as I was preparing dinner, dashing my dream of a little alone time…or so I told myself, ignoring the part of me that was happy to see her again. I’d sorted through Isabella’s phone looking for red herrings. But nothing had seemed out of place. And there had been no connection to any of Bob’s or the other girls’ contacts. I’d called Jacq with the names, numbers and locations of everyone our missing girl had spoken with recently. Then I’d spent the afternoon poring over fact sheets on Bob Rainey and all the dead girls. I’d gone over every photo meticulously, staring at the mess until my eyes crossed.
I desperately needed to get away from all that death for a few hours. There was a comfy couch and a DVD waiting for me in the den. Until Jacq had shown up, I’d had the house to myself. My aunt had gone back to New Orleans to visit friends and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. I hadn’t been alone with Aunt Helena since my meeting with Fera. I suspected she was avoiding me, maybe sensing my need to talk about my mother’s previous disappearance. And Mynx was out, doing surveillance for her own run.
During our call, Jacq had said she’d return to compare notes, but when she hadn’t arrived by dusk, I’d thought she’d gone back to NOLA. Her knock on the kitchen door nearly made me jump out of my skin. I reached to turn down the upbeat country station I’d been blasting while puttering around the kitchen and gestured for her to enter. The doors stayed unlocked when the wards
I powered up Isabella’s cell. First, I tried the mobile number, which went straight to voice mail. I thought about calling Luke but didn’t know what type of Were Kyle was. There were hundreds scattered throughout this area. The chances were slim that Luke would know him. I dialed Kyle’s work number. No way was he tending bar. I knew from experience: If someone you loved went missing, you didn’t go back to business as usual the next day. But they might know how to find him.
A gruff voice answered, “Blue Moon Club.” That surprised me. The Blue Moon was run by the Alpha of all the local Were Clans. If Kyle was working there, he wasn’t any moon-howler but someone close to their leader.
“Yes, I’m looking for Kyle Thompson. Is he in?” I went for professional, but all I got for my trouble was a snarl. “Excuse me? I didn’t catch that.”
“Hold on, lady, I’ll check.” I held for ten minutes. I was about to hang up and call back when the call was transferred without warning. It rang and another voice answered.
“Yes?” The woman’s musical voice was perfectly modulated. She didn’t sound like a twenty-something male Were whose girlfriend had possibly been kidnapped by a sorcerer bent on world-domination (or something else as trite). I slapped my hand against the table. Knowing my luck, the snarling man had transferred me to a random stranger for shits and giggles.
“Hi, this is Cate Delacy. I’m looking for Kyle Thompson.” There was silence on the line.
“Kyle’s not here, right now.” She stopped.
“It’s urgent that I speak with him. Is there a better time I could call?” Again silence, this time too bare of sound. She’d put the phone on mute.
“Kyle’s been detained on Pack business. He should be available tomorrow night. Be at the club at eleven.” Her tone left no room for discussion.
Were the Alpha’s people covering for Kyle? Or had Isabella’s boyfriend found his own set of troubles? I gave my thanks, jotting down her directions.
I sat staring dumbly at my notes. Tomorrow was Thursday. I was going to walk into a nightclub full of hundreds of horny Weres putting out seas of lust pheromones, and there was no way that Detective Jacqueline Slone would sit this dance out.
I was so screwed.
* * *
Jacq returned as I was preparing dinner, dashing my dream of a little alone time…or so I told myself, ignoring the part of me that was happy to see her again. I’d sorted through Isabella’s phone looking for red herrings. But nothing had seemed out of place. And there had been no connection to any of Bob’s or the other girls’ contacts. I’d called Jacq with the names, numbers and locations of everyone our missing girl had spoken with recently. Then I’d spent the afternoon poring over fact sheets on Bob Rainey and all the dead girls. I’d gone over every photo meticulously, staring at the mess until my eyes crossed.
I desperately needed to get away from all that death for a few hours. There was a comfy couch and a DVD waiting for me in the den. Until Jacq had shown up, I’d had the house to myself. My aunt had gone back to New Orleans to visit friends and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. I hadn’t been alone with Aunt Helena since my meeting with Fera. I suspected she was avoiding me, maybe sensing my need to talk about my mother’s previous disappearance. And Mynx was out, doing surveillance for her own run.
During our call, Jacq had said she’d return to compare notes, but when she hadn’t arrived by dusk, I’d thought she’d gone back to NOLA. Her knock on the kitchen door nearly made me jump out of my skin. I reached to turn down the upbeat country station I’d been blasting while puttering around the kitchen and gestured for her to enter. The doors stayed unlocked when the wards
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