Hunter's Trail (A Scarlett Bernard Novel) (33 page)

Epilogue

Tuesday. Moving day.

Shadow trotted at my heels as I limped around Molly’s house collecting my things. There were a lot more of them than I remembered, and it was a little sad, having to tear my belongings away from their homes in the kitchen drawers and on the movie shelf. Molly had mysteriously procured a bunch of boxes from somewhere and left them out for me. I went around the house and filled them up, leaving them where they sat so Eli could come carry them out to his truck when he arrived in a few hours. I had hoped Molly herself would wake up to make an appearance, but although I kept popping into range of her, she never emerged from her room. I wasn’t sure if I had fully burned that bridge, but it did seem to need some repair.

At ten thirty, the doorbell rang, and Shadow went into an immediate stalking pose. “No, Shadow,” I cautioned. “First we see who it is,
then
we eat them.” She tilted her head at me in a classic “I know you’re trying to communicate, but I’m a dog” pose, and I laughed and limped toward the door.

I opened the door. It was Jesse. Wearing, of all things, an immaculate suit and tie. “Um, hey,” I offered. “I didn’t expect to see you.” We hadn’t spoken since the night of the full moon.

I realized, with a pang of sorrow, that I had missed him.

“It’s Tuesday,” Jesse reminded me, hands in his pockets. “I promised to take you to see the surgeon.”

“Oh. Right,” I said lamely. I’d forgotten the appointment. “I didn’t think you were still gonn
a . . .
”

Jesse shrugged. “I swore on my honor,” he said simply. “And I’d like to keep whatever I have left.”

I eyed his clothes. “Is this a particularly fancy doctor, or are you
also
planning to tell me about Jesus my Lord and Savior?”

He smoothed down the tie self-consciously. “I have an interview later today. Didn’t know if I’d have time to stop and change.” I opened my mouth to ask if the interview was for Homicide Special, but he gave me a tiny head shake and said, “Get your coat, we need to go.”

I put Shadow in the megacrate Dashiell had sent me and got my jacket. When I returned to the door, Jesse was staring at the half-packed boxes. “I heard Eli was back. You moving in with him?” he asked, his voice detached.

“Just for a bit, until I can find a new place. One that allows
really
big dogs.”

“Are you referring to Shadow or Eli?” he asked innocently.

I swatted him on the arm, and Jesse smiled faintly. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” There was sadness in his voice, and bitterness, and pain.

I looked up at him. “There are different kinds of love,” I said quietly. “His is the kind I need right now.”

Jesse nodded silently, stepping aside so I could make it through the doorway. I started to scoot past him, but impulsively stopped, brushing dust off on the back of my jeans. I met his eyes and held out my hand. “Friends?” I asked.

He shook my hand, a ghost of a smile on his beautiful face. “Partners, dummy,” he corrected. “Come on, I’ll race you to the car.”

Acknowledgments

Hunter’s Trail
has been my most ambitious project to date, and it would never have come together without quite a few helping hands. Thank you to Tracy Tong, who didn’t have to handle as many fashion questions this time around, but who did suggest that Griffith Park might be a good location for a showdown, and to the endlessly talented Elizabeth Kraft, who is as good at beta reading as she is at bookmark design (which is really, really good). And a big thank-you, as always, to my entire family—both the huge one I was born into, and the one I made for myself—for all your support, encouragement, and interest.

My deepest thanks also go to Dr. Adrian Treves from the University of Wisconsin, who was willing to entertain any number of my bizarre questions about wolves. His generosity made this book better, and any misrepresentations of real wolf behavior are my own creative decisions, and not a result of his excellent advice.

Thank you to the team at 47North, who were as patient and accommodating as ever, and a very special, quite enormous thank-you to my fellow 47North authors, whom I leaned on many times when I needed help or advice, or to just rant a little when I got stuck. You guys have truly made this process into a pleasure.

Speaking of social media, I also want to thank those of you who e-mailed, messaged, or tweeted me to ask about
Hunter’s Trail
and tell me you like the series. You guys mean the world to me. My thanks to the people who took time out of your lives to post reviews—good or bad—for the books, and to spread the word when you enjoyed them. Without you guys, I wouldn’t be able to keep doing this. I am so honored that my books are in your lives.

For more information about me, adorable photos of the real-life Max, sound tracks for all three novels, and much more, please visit my website at
www.MelissaFOlson.com
.

About the Author

Photo © 2013 Elizabeth Kraft

Melissa F. Olson was born and raised in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, and studied film and literature at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. After graduation, and a brief stint bouncing around the Hollywood studio system, Melissa moved to Madison, Wisconsin, where she eventually acquired a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee, a husband, a mortgage, two kids, and two comically oversized dogs—not at all in that order. She is the author of
Dead Spots
,
Trail of Dead
, and the short story “Sell-By Date.”