A Wolf After My Own Heart by MaryJanice Davidson (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

had emptied her purse, grimaced at the inevitable detritus

(When did I have oyster crackers? Or soup?)

cleaned it, cut the lining, sprinkled a tablespoon of baking soda into it, sewed the lining shut, and went back to business as usual.

“Oh, you couldn’t smell anything? No idea I hadn’t brought a handgun?” she asked, giving off wide-eyed Orphan Annie innocence.

“Not even the shotgun,” Oz replied cheerfully, which was silly. Where would she have put it?

“Good Lord, Berne. Why would I bring a gun to an airport? I’ve got enough to do this week. I don’t have time for a body cavity search followed by a stint in lockup.”

“You are terrifying.”

“Why do people keep telling me that?”

“Because you’re terrifying?” Oz guessed.

“Not like regular Stables are terrifying,” Berne added. “You’re terrifying in an entirely unique way.”

“Thanks! Wait. I have the feeling that wasn’t a compliment. Let’s table my penchant for terrorizing random citizens around me and talk about the site—did you guys pick anything up?”

“No.”

“Which is a problem,” Oz added.

Lila waited, but Oz had apparently finished. “So…should I guess? Maybe play a round of charades? What?”

“Sam wasn’t there.”

Berne’s sentence hit like a dull thud. “You didn’t…find his body? Or you didn’t—”

“No body. No scent. No tracks—not that I think he could have survived. Two people went up,” Oz said, “but only one came down.”

It sounded impossible, so she sounded it out to be sure she had it right. “Sally’s parents boarded and took off together, they didn’t make any stops to refuel, but somewhere between D.C. and a muddy field in Iowa, Sam Smalls got off that plane.”

“Nailed it.”

“That’s correct, lass.”

“Did—was there a flight plan? Is there a rule about that?”

“You don’t have to file a flight plan,” Berne explained, “but Sue was meticulous. Two on board, no cargo, straight shot to MSP.”

“Well. Shit.”

“Succinctly put, lass.”

Chapter 32

“You know who faked their death?”

“You mean besides Jesus?”

Oz groaned. “Lila, please tell me you’ve never gone to church and sprung that theory on anyone.”

“It’s a perfectly legitimate—wait, how do you know about church? Are Shifters religious?”

“Why wouldn’t I know about churches?” Oz replied, bewildered. “Or religion?”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just want to know what they are.”

It was late afternoon and they’d just gotten back from the airport. Berne had landed, taxied, given them cordial goodbyes, then pulled Oz aside just as he and Lila were about to head for the parking lot.

“Sure you don’t want to come with us, Magnus? Mama Mac’s turkey chili will make you cry and cry and then feel great but sleepy the rest of the day.”

“I need about twenty hours of sleep now, lad. And I need to think about what we know, and about what we’ve yet to know. I also need a shower. Badly. But that young lady…the Stable. Be careful.”

He wanted to bristle; Berne was acting like an overbearing big brother, which was Annette’s job.

“You’ve only known her a couple of days.”

“I’ve known you for one day.”

Magnus shrugged that off. “She flew to Iowa in the company of two men she’s just met, men she knew could overpower and kill her—not that we would’ve, but she didna know that, and she still wasna worried. So she’s stupid, or dangerous. And I dinna think she’s stupid.”

Almost against his will, Oz turned to look at Lila, like a flower following the sun.

(Following the sun? Jesus.)

“No,” he replied slowly, watching her hop on the escalator. “She’s not stupid.”

“Hey! Are we going, or what? If you’re inviting him to move in with me,” Lila called, “I don’t have the room! I am not a Motel 6!”

Berne let out a snort. “Good luck, lad.”

“In general, or with the case, or with her?”

“Which d’ya think? It’s obvious you find her intriguing beyond the boundaries of your case.”

Shit. That obvious? “It—that’s not relevant.”

“Trust me, lad. She likes you. She barely glanced at me, which I can honestly say has never happened to me before.” “Peeved” was a new look for Magnus Berne. Oz decided, quite irrationally, that he liked it.

“Hey!” From the escalator. “You want a ride?”

“Ha!” To Magnus: “Finally a bluff I can call. She can’t leave without me.”

“Er…lad…”

Oz could tell what had happened from Berne’s expression; there was no need to look. He looked anyway; Lila was waving his car keys at him from the escalator. Oh, who am I kidding? She probably knows how to hot wire anything with an engine. Probably could have taken the plane, too.

“Like I said, lad: Good luck.”

With that, Oz collected his keys and his dignity, then drove them back to Lilydale while Lila played with his radio and mocked his taste in music. He poked her back because (1) it was clear neither of them were ready to talk about what they hadn’t found in Iowa, and (2) anyone who liked Katy Perry that much deserved mockery.

But now, in her kitchen, the subject needed to be broached, and not just because Annette was there.

“That’s the new theory?” she asked, hanging up her raincoat on one of the pegs by the door.

“Huh.” Lila was giving the slicker a critical once-over. “I didn’t take you for a fan of salmon pink, Garsea.”

“No one is more surprised than I am. Well. Maybe Nadia. But the color has grown on me. Like lichen! You see, about six months ago—”9

“I don’t actually need the backstory on why you wear a pink raincoat when it’s not raining. Plus, laundry.”

Annette, Oz was glad to see, was also surprised by Lila’s abrupt segues. “It’s your laundry day?”

“No.”

“Okaaaaaay.” Then, as Lila left to…not do her laundry? “So tell me.”

Oz sighed. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Sometime between takeoff and Iowa, Sam Smalls got off that plane.”

“Well, hell.” Garsea sat at the table and nibbled her lip.

“Why did I think that trip would clear anything up?” he groaned, slumping into the chair opposite her. “Why do I think anything I’ve done on this case will clear anything up?”

He braced himself for “I told you so” and was pleasantly flabbergasted when Annette