pulled the sheet aside, she stared at an unfamiliar angular face, cold gray eyes, bushy red brows, and wet red-blond hair. A chill raced down her spine.
“This man isn’t Joe.” She meant to sound firm in her statement, but the words came out in a rushed whisper of shocked surprise.
Then again, maybe this was Joe.
“Not the man we met at your place, in any event,” Finn said, shaking his head at Caruthers but confirming what she’d suspected—that the dead man had been Joe, and the other had been an imposter. “Did he have any picture ID?” Finn asked, pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the man.
“No, sir. Just the return plane ticket and the note with Meara’s phone number and address on it.” Caruthers shoved his hands in his pockets, watching Finn and acting as though he was trying to decide whether to question Finn or remain silent. Caruthers had been a police officer up north, but when he’d learned that Hunter needed a couple of officers to help police his werewolves and others trickling into the area, Caruthers had jumped at the chance to bring his mate and join the force.
Some of the reason had to do with their werewolf longevity. As Caruthers put it, he’d been a Texas Ranger early on and then had moved farther west. He’d retired a few times and had had to die sometimes to avoid anyone becoming suspicious that he didn’t grow old very fast and had lived so many years. He and his mate had been in the Portland area long enough when they left.
Finn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She’d seen him do it before, deep in concentration, when Hunter had talked secretly to him about a mission, right before he’d ask her brother another question.
“Were any weapons found on or near the body?” Finn asked.
Knowingly, Caruthers shook his head. “We searched the area but didn’t find any.”
Finn nodded.
So what did that mean? No weapons meant this Joe was the good guy?
Meara noticed the damn worried look Caruthers sent her way. She knew he wouldn’t want to do anything Hunter didn’t want him to do, and being new in the pack, he was probably afraid he might jeopardize his pack ties and job.
“I’m taking care of her,” Finn said, as if trying to reassure the officer.
“Hunter knows?” Caruthers quickly asked.
“No,” Meara said, annoyed she was being left out of the conversation. The officer was part of her pack, not Finn’s. He didn’t have any jurisdiction here or any say in their pack politics. Typical that he would take charge in Hunter’s absence as if he were the pack leader.
“But Hunter would approve of the arrangement,” Finn said, giving Meara, a small knowing smile.
Caruthers looked from her to Finn and then gave a stiff nod. “Thanks, Miss Greymere, Mr. Emerson, for coming by.”
She’d almost told the officer not to mention this murder to Hunter, but she knew it was Caruthers’s duty to keep the pack leader informed, although what Hunter could do about it while he was on his honeymoon was beyond her. Learning of the man’s death would only make him worry more about her safety. From where he was, he couldn’t do anything about that, either. And she did not want him to give up his honeymoon to take care of things here when she was certain the pack and Finn were capable of dealing with the situation.
Finn took Meara by the elbow and was about to guide her out of the morgue, when Rourke and his lupus garou mentor, Chris, walked in. Chris looked annoyed that he had to baby-sit Rourke, but his green eyes brightened when he saw her. Even though Chris was one of Hunter’s sub-leaders, he’d never appealed to her. Too quiet, too by the book, way too somber. He was a nice enough guy, but she liked a man who could laugh about things.
Finn eyed them both, his whole body tensing at once, and Meara hurried to introduce everyone. “Rourke Thornburg, a news reporter and friend of Tessa, Hunter’s mate—” She paused and turned to Rourke. “No story on this,
“This man isn’t Joe.” She meant to sound firm in her statement, but the words came out in a rushed whisper of shocked surprise.
Then again, maybe this was Joe.
“Not the man we met at your place, in any event,” Finn said, shaking his head at Caruthers but confirming what she’d suspected—that the dead man had been Joe, and the other had been an imposter. “Did he have any picture ID?” Finn asked, pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the man.
“No, sir. Just the return plane ticket and the note with Meara’s phone number and address on it.” Caruthers shoved his hands in his pockets, watching Finn and acting as though he was trying to decide whether to question Finn or remain silent. Caruthers had been a police officer up north, but when he’d learned that Hunter needed a couple of officers to help police his werewolves and others trickling into the area, Caruthers had jumped at the chance to bring his mate and join the force.
Some of the reason had to do with their werewolf longevity. As Caruthers put it, he’d been a Texas Ranger early on and then had moved farther west. He’d retired a few times and had had to die sometimes to avoid anyone becoming suspicious that he didn’t grow old very fast and had lived so many years. He and his mate had been in the Portland area long enough when they left.
Finn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She’d seen him do it before, deep in concentration, when Hunter had talked secretly to him about a mission, right before he’d ask her brother another question.
“Were any weapons found on or near the body?” Finn asked.
Knowingly, Caruthers shook his head. “We searched the area but didn’t find any.”
Finn nodded.
So what did that mean? No weapons meant this Joe was the good guy?
Meara noticed the damn worried look Caruthers sent her way. She knew he wouldn’t want to do anything Hunter didn’t want him to do, and being new in the pack, he was probably afraid he might jeopardize his pack ties and job.
“I’m taking care of her,” Finn said, as if trying to reassure the officer.
“Hunter knows?” Caruthers quickly asked.
“No,” Meara said, annoyed she was being left out of the conversation. The officer was part of her pack, not Finn’s. He didn’t have any jurisdiction here or any say in their pack politics. Typical that he would take charge in Hunter’s absence as if he were the pack leader.
“But Hunter would approve of the arrangement,” Finn said, giving Meara, a small knowing smile.
Caruthers looked from her to Finn and then gave a stiff nod. “Thanks, Miss Greymere, Mr. Emerson, for coming by.”
She’d almost told the officer not to mention this murder to Hunter, but she knew it was Caruthers’s duty to keep the pack leader informed, although what Hunter could do about it while he was on his honeymoon was beyond her. Learning of the man’s death would only make him worry more about her safety. From where he was, he couldn’t do anything about that, either. And she did not want him to give up his honeymoon to take care of things here when she was certain the pack and Finn were capable of dealing with the situation.
Finn took Meara by the elbow and was about to guide her out of the morgue, when Rourke and his lupus garou mentor, Chris, walked in. Chris looked annoyed that he had to baby-sit Rourke, but his green eyes brightened when he saw her. Even though Chris was one of Hunter’s sub-leaders, he’d never appealed to her. Too quiet, too by the book, way too somber. He was a nice enough guy, but she liked a man who could laugh about things.
Finn eyed them both, his whole body tensing at once, and Meara hurried to introduce everyone. “Rourke Thornburg, a news reporter and friend of Tessa, Hunter’s mate—” She paused and turned to Rourke. “No story on this,
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