Wolf at the Door (17 page)

“I don’t know what I want.” But even as she
said it, she knew better.

She didn’t want to hide anymore. She didn’t
want to disappear. Brandt’s face filled her mind. The softness in
his eyes, the tender touch of his lips on hers. He hadn’t backed
away once. Timber pressed the heel of her palm to her chest.
Somehow, so quickly, he’d wormed his way in. Walking away from
Brandt wasn’t something she wanted to do, wasn’t something she was
sure she could do anymore.

Shay’s voice dropped to a soothing whisper
beside her. “If I were you? I’d stay and fight. Not for the reason
you might think, but for the reason I see in your eyes right now,
the man I smell on your skin. You look like someone who thinks
she’ll lose everything when she thinks of disappearing. That tells
me you have something to fight for.”

A short laugh burst past Timber’s lips. She
wasn’t sure Brandt was hers to fight for. “I barely know him and I
doubt—”

“Don’t over-think it.” She tapped Timber’s
temple. “Up here isn’t the same as what’s in your heart. And I know
what you’re going to say. You doubt he feels the same. Doesn’t mean
it’s not worth trying. Sometimes men are just a little slower to
get on board the love train. They figure it out, though.
Eventually.”

Shay tossed her a wry smile.

“You speak from experience?”

“Yeah. And I’m still knocking my heartache
upside the head with a figurative two-by-four. I think he gets it
now, but is just being stubborn.”

Timber looked down at the bags in her hands.
“You’re probably right, but it’s more than just him. I’m so tired
of running and hiding. I’m tired of waking up from a nightmare
every night like I’m still running.”

“Well, you’ve already got people ready to
help. So next let’s teach you how to fight.” She tilted her head
toward the door. “And for what it’s worth. I think you can only run
so far, for so long, before the only option left is to finally take
a stand. At least when it’s done, you won’t have to look over your
shoulder anymore.”

That was a day Timber finally believed she
could look forward to. A day she’d do anything to reach.

“Lead the way.”

***

Brandt recognized the small house on the
other side of the road behind Timber’s lot. The couple who lived
there were both human, so he hadn’t been overly worried that they’d
draw Wolfe’s attention. From the beginning, he’d known that the
Wolfman had only stalked wolf-shifters. Now, with the death of a
Hound, he felt a curl of uneasiness beginning to unfurl.

No one was completely safe. It was a lesson
he really needed to make sure sank in with everyone who might cross
the Wolfman’s radar.

But the man who lived down the road from
Timber leaned against the rungs on his porch rail, watching the
Hounds approach, and not looking particularly worried. Then Brandt
noticed the rifle casually leaning against the rail by the man’s
hip.

The guy was probably in his early fifties, a
light spattering of gray along his temples giving his black hair a
salt-and-pepper look. The woman behind him appeared to be about the
same age. She sat on the swing behind him, her wire rim glasses
perched on the end of her nose.

“These are the Burkes,” his Hound said,
stepping up to introduce them.

The burly older man leaned down and extended
his hand to Brandt. Brandt took it. “Luke Burke, and this is my
wife Emma.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her voice
like butter. Sweet and soft. “I try to mind my own business, but
we’ve been watching the news. Everyone’s chattering on about some
wolf killer being in these parts. Then all you Hounds showed
up—”

“I wish you’d stay inside,” Mr. Burke said
and Brandt could see the mildly annoyed look flash across his face.
But there was love there, too, and worry.

“Please. Miss Timber ain’t never been a
problem to us. She’s always been sweet. Good neighbors watch out
for each other.”

“From inside their houses.” The gruff edge of
irritation seemed to grow in Luke Burke’s voice, while Brandt
struggled not to smile.

Mrs. Burke harrumphed. “I did. For the most
part. But I can’t sleep all that well these days. My mind starts
running and just can’t shut off.”

Brandt tilted his head. “Did you see
something?”

Her husband rubbed at his forehead.

“I did. We’ve been seeing a car park at the
old Johnson house. Honey, point to it, so they know what house I’m
talking about.”

Luke Burke leaned over the rail and pointed
down the road to the left. “You can see the hint of blue just
beyond the trees there.”

Brandt saw it. He hadn’t been aware anyone
lived in the house. Well, at least no one had been home the few
times he’d sent Hounds out, but everything he could find said the
legal residents were human.

“They’re Florida birds, but this past winter
they didn’t come back like the usually do. Bet they’ll be selling
the house this year,” Mrs. Burke rattled on. “So of course I
noticed when a strange car was coming and going in their driveway.
Lucy and I are friends on Facebook, and I asked her about it. She
said her house should be empty.”

“Is Lucy the Mrs. Johnson you mentioned
earlier?” Tate asked and Mrs. Burke nodded.

“And she doesn’t know anyone who drives a car
like that. She was all worried, but I told her I’d have Luke go
check out her place. Nothing been broken into or nothing, but it
got me curious.”

Her husband grunted. Brandt doubted curious
was a positive thing in Luke Burke’s mind. But he couldn’t stop his
flare of excitement. They’d tracked Wolfe’s scent several times,
but the man usually wandered, strolling miles down the road, over a
creek, and weaving behind several properties. Always taking
different directions.

“Can you see Timber’s house from the Johnson
property?”

“Easily,” Luke Burke muttered. “There’s a
small clearing that cuts between the two properties. You can watch
the place, no problem, just sitting in the driveway.”

Mrs. Burke spoke then. “And not too long ago
I saw a man wandering down the road. Kinda jogging. Wearing a
baseball cap. I didn’t get a good look at him, but he vanished up
around the Johnson’s house. I didn’t think anything of it, really,
‘til last night.”

Brandt lifted an eyebrow. “What happened last
night?”

“Actually, it was more this morning than last
night. Like I said, I can’t sleep too well anymore. It was probably
four-thirty in the morning, and I decided to come out here, get
some fresh air. Lights flashed down the road and, sure enough, that
car was backing out of the Johnson driveway again.”

“Can you describe the vehicle?” Brandt
glanced at Tate, but the other Hound already had his notebook out
and ready.

“Red. Four-door sedan. Had something on top
of it, you know like the pizza delivery cars do. Except no one
delivers out here. I should know, Luke keeps trying.” She hopped
off the swing and shuffled over to the top of the stairs. Her
husband watched her the whole time, and Brandt could see the love
in his eyes, even if it was tinged with exasperation. “I had my
phone with me when he pulled out, and I tried to get a picture of
the license plate. It’s not real clear, but you can make some of it
out.”

Holy shit. Brandt blinked at her for a second
before his brain kicked in enough to look down at her phone. A
partial plate. Sure enough. Brandt could make out four of the
numbers. Almost a fifth. Colorado plates.

“Ma’am, you took one hell of a risk,” Tate
said softly.

She gave a rather unladylike snort. “I still
didn’t think it had anything to do with Timber or your mess on the
news. I was just going to call the cops and tell them we were
worried someone was casing Lucy’s place. She’s got a lot of fine
jewelry and things that might be worth a burglar’s while to
snatch.”

“They make quite a bit of money,” Luke said.
“They have family up here, hence the little house. But their house
in Florida is right on the beach. They’re not hurting for
cash.”

Mrs. Burke chimed in again. “But then I
remembered all the commotion and flashing lights from last night,
we could see those even through the trees out here. Then you all
showed up again this morning and, well, I figured it might just be
helpful.”

Brandt looked up at her. “Thank you.”

He stared at the numbers Tate had jotted
down, thinking hard and fast. Those numbers might very well be the
break they needed. Brandt glanced at the Hound beside him. “Let’s
take a look at the Johnson place.”

What the Burkes couldn’t do was tell if it
was Wolfe who had been there, but everyone left a scent behind. He
and Tate would know immediately if it was Wolfe. They shook hands
with the Burkes one last time and hurried down the road.

Brandt caught the musky scent of wolf about
halfway there, soon as they emerged from the trees.

“Did you have anyone who can try and trail
him this morning?”

“No, sir. We secured the immediate premises
and called you. The scent was old, didn’t see the point in tracking
it when we’d had no luck before.”

“We can’t afford to think like that on this
case.” Brandt knelt along the side of the road. He could see paw
prints in the dirt, followed by boot prints. “I should have had
people stationed here waiting for him to return, but he moved
faster than I did. He’s out-maneuvering us every step of the
way.”

“And it’s getting damn annoying,” the other
Hound muttered, and Brandt agreed. That it was.

“But I think we just might have gotten
lucky,” Brandt murmured. Shoving to his feet, he continued down the
road. Wolfe’s scent from this morning lingered over the asphalt,
crisp and clear. And it led straight to the Johnson’s driveway.

And Luke Burke was right. Standing in the
dirt driveway, Brandt could catch a glimpse of Timber’s house
through the thick, overhanging trees. Stepping further in, and he
could see all of it. Wolfe could have easily watched them without
ever tipping his hand. “Call in that plate, get someone working on
it. I want everyone out looking for that car.”

Because finding it was the first real shot
they had at finding Charles Wolfe, and Brandt would be damned if he
let the chance slip away.

Chapter Sixteen

Timber
laughed when the tin can bounced off the table and ricocheted
across Shay’s lawn. The silver metal still spun and clattered over
the grass and pebbles while she lowered the rifle. Her shoulder
ached from the recoil, and her arms felt like jelly from the sheer
weight and number of weapons Shay had helped her learn to use
today. But every second she’d spent training had been worth it.

They’d helped her feel strong again.

She’d never been a gun person. Bad things
usually ended up in the hands of bad people, and there was no
denying a gun could be a very, very bad thing. Still, when she
looked down at the slender rifle in her hands, she felt
stronger.

“Nice one,” Shay called out. She was sprawled
out on top of her picnic table, one booted foot dangling over the
edge, her other knee pressed up against her chest. She had a beer
in one hand, but Timber had the impression that it’d take a lake of
alcohol to dull Shay’s senses. The woman was alert to everything. A
squirrel chattering in the trees, the wind chimes on her front
porch, the slight shift in Timber’s breathing.

Shay had called her out several times for
letting her mind wander, and when Timber had asked her how she’d
known, Shay had explained. A person’s breathing changed with their
thoughts, and if it was something negative, you could detect a
shift. A slight hitch. Apparently it was a useful talent when you
were trying to keep someone safe.

People rarely tell you the whole story.
Sometimes you have to figure it out on the fly. The ex-boyfriend
they don’t want to mention, but suddenly see in the crowd. Paying
attention to the person you’re supposed to be watching is almost as
vital as watching the crowd around them.

“You shutting down again, sweetheart. Go
stack some more cans and picture Wolfe’s face on every one. It’ll
cheer you up.”

Timber smiled as she glanced back at Shay.
The woman was so not what she’d expected. Cool, crass, but with a
heart of freaking gold. “You know, I used to hate guns.”

Shay shrugged. “The guns themselves aren’t
bad. Idiots who use them can be.”

Shay opened her mouth like she was about to
say more, then tilted her head, her attention turning to the back
of the house. Shay set her beer on the table and slid down,
striding across the lawn to Timber.

“What’s wrong?”

“Gonna be getting company.” Shay took the
rifle from her and then walked toward the house. She didn’t act
concerned, but then again, she’d taken the gun.

“Shay?”

“It’s fine.”

Which didn’t tell Timber whether or not she
was supposed to stay or follow. Rocking her weight back and forth
for a second, Timber made the decision on her own and set off
across the lawn after Shay. A large black SUV pulled to a stop in
Shay’s drive, and Timber recognized the driver. Brandt killed the
engine and hopped out, nodding at Shay.

“Shay, nice seeing you again.” He held out a
hand and she took it.

“Same to you. Here on business or
pleasure?”

A corner of Brandt’s mouth hitched up
slightly, and Timber hesitated when his eyes met hers. “A bit of
both. It’s not much, but I might have some good news.”

“Well then, why don’t we head in, get
something to drink, and you can spill?”

Shay gestured for them both to follow. Brandt
glanced at the rifle, then back up at Shay. “Teaching Timber to
shoot?”

“Building on what you started.” She grinned.
“She can now handle one heck of an arsenal. Knowledge keeps people
alive, and now she’s got it in spades.”