PacksBrokenHeart (12 page)

His legs were another matter. They were sore and stiff and the backs of his knees were swollen enough he couldn’t bend his legs all the way. He forced himself to walk down the hall, around the living room and back again. Tom, who’d camped out on the sofa, watched him.

“Bad?” Tom asked. He got up, stretched and started folding up the blankets he’d used.

“Could be worse. Walking it off is helping.”

The shower had stopped and Suzanne came out of the bathroom. Owen stared at her for a moment. She was so pretty—pink and freshly scrubbed. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and it emphasized her cheekbones. She stared right back at him then, like the night before, something in her expression softened. Inhaling slowly and deeply, Owen took in her scent and liked that too. Then he yawned. Tom did too.

They hadn’t got much sleep. After Tom had contacted Roger and Skip and browbeat them into accepting police protection he’d driven Owen and Suzanne back to the site of Cory’s murder.

Owen still couldn’t believe he was gone. While Tom had directed the other officers, Suzanne had walked Owen through the crime scene. Cory’s Cadillac was parked in the middle of a taped-off section. It looked forlorn.

“We believe he was killed after locking up,” Suzanne had said, snapping him out of his reverie. “Employees told us he leaves through the back, where he parks his car.”

Owen had liked this side of Suzanne. Professional, straight to the point, confident without being overbearing. He guessed he was the one who brought out the ornery side of her. If they were going to be spending time together he’d have to correct that.

“We took casts of the tire impressions,” she’d said as they walked around the taped-off area. “There are no signs of attempted forced entry so whoever it was wasn’t trying to break into the pharmacy. That’s especially troubling because Cory had the keys to the place in his hand when he was killed. They keys to his car were on the same ring.”

“So no robbery. What was the killer driving?” Owen had asked.

“A pickup. Full-sized, like yours.” She’d looked up at him and her expression had been apologetic. “That truck had snow tires on though. Yours doesn’t have any.”

“Problem is,” Tom had said as he walked up to them, pulling off a pair of latex gloves, “just about every second vehicle in the state is a pickup and everybody’s taking off their snow tires about now. We won’t find a matching tread unless we check every garage, shed and auto shop with a three-county radius. Even then we’d find too
many
matches.”

Owen roused himself from his musings and forced his attention to the two deputy sheriffs standing in the living room with him. “What’ll you two do this morning?” He’d meant the question to convey simple curiosity. Instead it came out with a note of command. Why was it he couldn’t lay off stepping in and taking things over? No matter what the situation was.

“We’ll go into the station,” Tom answered without a hint of attitude, as if he had no problem with Owen’s bossiness. “We’ll start going over the evidence, interview witnesses.” He headed down the hallway, grabbed fresh towels out of a closet and walked into the bathroom. Tom’s house was small—only two bedrooms and one bathroom. “Correction. Witness. Somebody heard a muffled shot but nothing else.”

“Not even a vehicle peeling out?” Owen asked. He sat down on the closed toilet seat while Tom yanked off his T-shirt and sweats and turned on the shower.

“No. Now that you mention it, no.”

“Damn. That’s cold,” Owen said to the shower curtain as it closed behind Tom. “And…professional.”

Suzanne stepped into the bathroom carrying a big satchel of cosmetics. She began applying color and god knew what else with sponges and little brushes. “What about you?” she asked Owen.

“I’m going out to Cory’s. See if Piper needs anything.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tom said from inside the shower. The sound of the spray kept changing, as if he was moving around under it. “And thanks. We’ll drop by too. I imagine everybody will at one point or another.”

“Maybe while I’m there,” Owen said, thinking out loud, “I’ll keep a running tally in my head. See if somebody doesn’t show or if they try to insert themselves into the investigation.”

“Somebody other than you?” Suzanne asked. She shot him a wry grin then undid her ponytail, fluffed her hair and started pinning it up.

Mesmerized, he watched the efficient movements of her hands. They looked small, delicate and for some reason he couldn’t take his eyes off them arranging that pale, shiny hair of hers. She was wearing a pair of low-riding sleeping pants and a camisole top. Bright pink polish highlighted her toenails. Her breasts swayed with the movement of her arms and her nipples…

He hadn’t even noticed the shower turning off or Tom stepping out with a towel wrapped around his hips. Looking away from Suzanne, Owen cleared his throat and tossed a second towel to Tom without being asked. “Yeah,” Owen said, finally getting his head together enough to answer Suzanne’s question. “Somebody other than me.”

“Damn, Wells, you’ve got a natural instinct for this,” Tom said and crowded Suzanne away from the front of the sink so he could reach his toothbrush.

“Don’t know about natural.” Owen shrugged, flexed his knees and stood gingerly. He untied the borrowed sweatpants he was wearing, let them drop and stepped into the shower. They’d all agreed it was a prudent idea to camp out at Tom’s house overnight, although Suzanne had insisted on dropping by her apartment to grab what she called
the basics
. According to her, lip liner was a basic necessity. “In the sandbox I got used to looking for danger everywhere and honed my talent for sniffing it out. Although I’m severely pissed at myself for not sniffing those boys out in the dark.” He didn’t mention that, at the time, he’d been thinking about Suzanne’s ass instead of scanning the area for danger. The hot water felt good on the backs of his legs and he braced his hands against the far end of the enclosure, letting the spray loosen him up.

“Just keep your eyes open and don’t go anywhere alone.” Tom’s voice was distorted, as if he was talking around a mouthful of toothpaste. “I’d hate to have to phone Sheriff Cutler Powell and tell him I let his mate’s best buddy get killed.”

Suzanne piped up. “I wouldn’t mind so much.”

It was still early morning when Owen, Tom and Suzanne stepped up to Piper’s front door. After getting dressed and eating a quick bowl of cereal, they’d driven to Owen’s house. He’d put on his dress uniform, packed the rest of his clothes and thrown his suitcase in the back of Tom’s pickup. Owen’s truck was still parked beside the sheriff’s office. Suzanne followed them in her beefy SUV. They’d gone back to her apartment next and came out with three heavy suitcases.

“Do you actually need eight pairs of shoes?” Owen had complained as he lugged a suitcase down the narrow flight of stairs.

“Don’t dis a woman’s shoes, Wells.” Her voice had echoed up the stairwell with unarguable authority.

“Yeah but do you need the pink high heels?” He knew he was pressing his luck but he did so like to rile her.

“It’s early. I haven’t had coffee. Do not start in on me.”

Owen figured the prudent thing to do was shut his mouth. The arch look Tom shot over his shoulder at him confirmed it.

As they waited for someone to answer the doorbell at Piper’s, Owen realized the three of them had presented a cohesive unit, driving like a convoy through town. Twice. Windows down, they’d scented the town and left their scents in their wake. In a community on the verge of chaos and hiding behind locked doors, if that drive didn’t trumpet confidence and a take-charge attitude Owen didn’t know what did.

They were admitted by a woman Owen recognized as one of Piper’s sisters. She led them through to the kitchen. The house smelled faintly of were and floor polish. Every surface was immaculately clean, as if someone had been up all night scrubbing. Katherine Clark, the pack’s top bitch and, Owen remembered belatedly, Cory’s cousin, shot him a suspicious look as he walked past. She seemed too busy talking on the phone to someone about funeral arrangements to pay him more attention than that. Her eyes were puffy and she looked as if she hadn’t slept.

“Owen.” Piper’s greeting was warm although her voice wasn’t as strong as usual. She held out her hands, took hold of his arms then fussed over his overseas service bars, straightened pins that were already straight. “You look so handsome. Cory would be so proud…” Her voice faltered then stopped altogether. When the first tear slid down her cheek, without stopping to think about it Owen opened his arms and touched the back of her neck until she laid her head on his sleeve. She hiccupped but didn’t sob. He wondered if she was even able to cry out her pain yet.

The house fell quiet. As he stood there, stroking Piper’s strangely fragile back, he looked around. There were maybe eight weres other than him, Tom and Suzanne. He saw their eyes move over him, taking in his size. Saw their nostrils dilate ever so slightly as they reached out for his scent. Owen took his own read on the room, smelled their pain, confusion and anger.

His wolf sensed the same questions from each of them. How? How could their Alpha be dead? How could he leave them so soon after their Beta had been taken? Without discussion Owen knew these people were vulnerable. Without being asked, his wolf gave his consciousness a hard slap and demanded he step up.

When Piper straightened away from him he handed her the handkerchief he always kept in his inside pocket. She blew her nose discreetly then brushed an invisible speck of lint off his dark jacket.

“Have you eaten?” she asked and stepped over to the refrigerator. “I can make you something.”

“We’ve already—” Tom started to say. Owen lifted his hand, silencing the other were.

“Breakfast sounds great, Piper. And maybe coffee if you’ve got some.” They really didn’t need food but he knew Piper needed something to do. Anything to keep her body moving and distract her from the unbelievable truth of her mate’s death. He sat down at the kitchen table and ignored the ache behind his knees. Tom and Suzanne joined him. Owen remembered when he got the news that his mother had been killed. How he’d taken all the extra patrols he could, how he’d worked out until his muscles shook with exhaustion. Anything to keep busy. When the pain was so horribly fresh all he’d wanted to do was deny the truth of it, frenetic activity had bought his psyche time to deal with what had been thrown at it.

Piper brought out eggs and a loaf of bread. There were a few foil-covered casserole dishes on the counter but she bypassed them in favor of cooking herself. She brushed her brown hair back from her face. “We’re getting low on coffee,” she said, speaking to no one in particular. “The coffee cups are all clean though.” She put bread in the toaster and began breaking eggs into a frying pan. Without asking she poured three glasses of juice and put out three place settings. “I got the walkway swept this morning but I’ll probably need to do it again.”

No one interrupted her rambling. For a while Piper lost herself in cooking and musing. When she set their plates on the kitchen table, she stopped quite suddenly and stood still. Owen stood, seated her in an empty chair, put a half-slice of toast in her hand and touched her cheek before returning to his seat. Piper simply stared at the toast for a moment then began nibbling on it as if she wasn’t really aware of what she was doing.

“Abby,” he said, speaking to Piper’s sister. “Would you get a pen and paper and make a list of things Piper might need from the grocery store?”

Abby blinked as if she’d just been shocked out of whatever dark thoughts had taken her. “A list?” she asked and her voice shook, just a little.

“Yes. Please.” Owen kept his smile and his voice as warm and encouraging as he could. The Army had taught him how to create order out of chaos but it wasn’t big on mollycoddling. He’d just have to wing it. “Start with coffee then see if she needs any milk or cream.”

Abby jumped to the task. Soon she and another woman were rummaging around Piper’s cupboards, pantry and refrigerator. The scents of unease and grief that had been hanging around them dissipated as they focused on the task Owen had assigned.

He asked another woman who was hovering in the living room to call the grocery store. “It’s not open yet but Roger’s there. Ask him if he’d open up early for Abby.” The woman nodded, fished a cell phone out of her purse and went in search of a phonebook. Owen hadn’t actually seen Roger inside his store when they’d driven past but he had seen a sheriff’s squad car parked out front. It had to belong to the deputy assigned to guard Roger.

When the house phone rang Katherine answered it. She told the caller that, yes, Piper was in and it would do her good to have people drop by. Katherine looked up at the sudden activity around her. Her gaze went to Owen when he asked a couple of women to start running hand towels through the washing machine. The suspicion in her eyes toned down to skepticism.

In groups of two, Piper’s visitors presented their lists to Owen. He glanced at the items, nodded his approval then got out his wallet. With wads of twenty-dollar bills in their hands, Owen sent them out on their tasks.

Suzanne leaned across the table and nudged his elbow. “You shouldn’t carry so much cash,” she said. “What if you get mugged?”

He snickered, stood up and stuck out his chest. “Like
that’s
going to happen.”

Tom and Suzanne left soon after. They’d be back that afternoon to pick Owen up. They said goodbye to Piper and told her they’d find whoever killed Cory. Another visitor, a retired male Owen recognized from the community center, saw them off at the door. Once they were gone Owen sat back in his chair, flexed his knees covertly and exhaled slowly. Piper, sitting across from him, was still nibbling on the piece of toast he’d given her. Her knuckles were red, as if her hands had been immersed in cleaning products all night. A wave of foreign, emotional discomfort almost had him running for the door. Almost. Instead he put his shoulders back and got to his feet.