Boxed Set: The Charming Shifter Mysteries: The Charming Shifter Mysteries

By Calinda B

The Entire Collection of the Charming Shifter Mysteries

Fans LOVE this FUNNY and SEXY Urban Fantasy Series! A #1 Most Wished for Horror Anthology.

"Let's go save some shifters!" And with that sentence out of her mouth, Chia and trouble are about to collide!

In her quest to find her supernatural powers, town manager Chia honestly doesn't go looking for trouble. The thing is, trouble doesn't just find her, it moves in, puts the toilet paper on the wrong way, and eats the last of the chips and salsa.

If it's not slick politicians or money-grubbing developers, it's practical-joking vampires—the kind who live in her basement, shifters who keep getting themselves murdered, and gossipy ghosts with guilt-trips.

That's not even counting the crazy, hot bounty hunter who is hung up on solving murders, or taking down bad guys...when he's not trying to get Chia to bed.

There is only so much trouble a woman can take. All she's left with are questions. Like, what's this mysterious connection with her vampire roommate and her throbbing bloodstream? Why do the dead guys keep re-appearing? And how can she possibly take down evil when she can't seem to access her own magic with any consistency?

With trouble at every corner, and evil in the wings, the Charming, Alaska town manager will be with you in the order your call was received--if she can save her friends before they are destroyed.

The entire Charming Shifter Mysteries series, included in this set:

Storm Shift: Book 1, #1 in Vampire Suspense. #1 in Ghost Suspense. Top 5 Fairytale Fantasy
Power Shift: Book 2, a USA Today bestselling book, Top 25 in Werewolf & Shifter Thrillers, Vampire Thrillers
Blood Shift: Book 3
Soul Shift: Book 4
Star Shift: Book 5, the epic finale

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calinda B
• Release date: Jan 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393498179

Calinda B

Author Bio: Calinda B was told early on that she should be a writer. She heard frequent praise for her writing, as well as her sense of humor. Scoffing at such admonitions and praise, she went on to pursue her life of adventure, chock full of the things that make up a well-rounded adventurous life: music (yup, she was a singer in a rock and roll band), dance (even performed hip hop in Russia), rock climbing (ever hung from a rock wall a few stories up? Yikes!), fire walking (taught high-ranking Moscow fire officials how to walk the coals), kayaking, scuba diving (she’s in love with sharks), travel, and falling in love again and again. Living in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with the love of her life and her two cats, she has now chosen to put fingers to keyboard and write – when she’s not in pursuit of another adventure!

Book preview

Part I

Storm Shift

Copyright

Published by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

Ebook Edition

Copyright ©2017 Calinda B

All Rights Reserved.

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License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, but it can be lent according to the retailer’s coding. If you would like to give this book to another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

As always, to John; to Rainy, my fab editor; to Charity, and, of course, to Ron.

Chapter 1

Crack! Chia aimed her gun and shot a marble-shaped clay orb from the sky. Its copper-colored bits exploded like mini-fireworks against the backdrop of a clear blue Alaskan vista. The clay fragments drifted away, caught in a light, spring breeze. She hoped some of her grief joined it on its journey.

How can my grandparents be dead?

Brass casings from prior shots littered the ground near her booted feet. They lay scattered at odd angles, like bits of metal confetti in the dirt.

Again! she called over her shoulder.

Projecting thoughts of her grandparents’ death into the sky, she peered into the bright clouds. An accident? I don’t think so. Someone’s going to pay. Her wraparound safety sunglasses shielded her eyes, while she kept a steady grip on her trusty Ruger .22 rifle.

Charm’s Inlet, a scoop of seaworthy territory carved in the Bering sea, stretched to the west. She and her granddad had gone on many a fishing excursion, bobbing along in gramps’ blue and white sea-skiff. They’d also explored lakes and streams in his classic welded aluminum fishing boat. The kind he and grandma had taken out and… She sniffed, unable to endure the thought.

Behind her stood a decrepit, two-story wood and brick building. Built in the 1700s, it currently housed the Charming Administration Offices— her new place of employment. Grandma had told her she’d make a whale of a difference if she ever summoned the nerve to assume a role in government here in town. When the opportunity arose, she’d entered the election race, going against the long-time incumbent, Mark Canning.

She’d won.

He’d been town manager for far too long.

Beyond the office, the road led through town. Straight ahead, to the east, lay a lush tundra. It gave way to distant mountains, highlighted by the Haunted Bear glacier. Her house resided near the glacier, nestled next to a creek. She squinted into the distance. That’s where she’d lived since high school…right there…with her wonderful, crazy grandpa and loving, nurturing grandma. Until they died a couple of days ago. She couldn’t see the sturdy homestead from here, but she always had a cozy sense of home when she looked in that direction…except for today.

Today, grief dragged at her heart, clawing at her emotions. It made tears hover at the ready, nagging at her to let them loose. Not going to go there again. I’ve already cried six buckets of salt water.

Throw the damn clay marble, for Gods’ sake, she said.

Cecil Carpenter, her loyal friend and Husky dog shape-shifter, fished a clay orb out of the small, cardboard box resting on a tree stump next to her gun case. Currently in human form, he lifted the clay marble in front of his face and squinted. You’re a trip, you know that right? Most people shoot a clay pigeon.

They’re too big. I like a good challenge. Now throw the damn thing.

Fore! he yelled, as if they were on the golf course. With a quick swing of his arm, he flung the penny into the sky.

Crack! Once again, the penny exploded, as Chia’s sharp-eyed shot met its reddish target. She sent more sorrow into the heavens.

Let’s do something else, Cecil said. Watching you shoot clay marble after clay marble is hardly what I’d call fun. There are no more, anyway. I threw the last one.

It’s more fun than facing my new job. Or thinking about my newly… Her chest began to heave. …inherited… Her voice splintered. …home.

The last word came out as a wail.

Cecil stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He stared at her for a few seconds, before turning to look at the boats bobbing about on the sea.

Sniffling, she lowered her weapon, then plucked the magazine out of the butt of the gun. Squinting at it with one teary eye, she declared the magazine empty. She stepped toward the tree stump, put it and the gun in her hard-sided carrying case, and then scooped the brass casings from the ground. She poured the casings into the empty clay orb box and brushed off her hands. She leaned against a short evergreen tree. Lifting her head, her attention flew to her smallish, two-foot tall ghosts settled in the branches.

Go away, she hissed at them, hoping Cecil didn’t hear.

They simply ignored her.

Not exactly ghosts—not the way most people think of ghosts, as spirits of the departed—hers each came about when she did something she felt guilty about, shouldn’t have done, went against her morals or ethics, or was just plain wrong. Thanks to her parent’s refusal to acknowledge things like the existence of magic, as well as her thoughts and feelings and other minor inconveniences, she had a healthy amount of denial in her upbringing. This denial kept her from dealing with said wrong-doings. She swept them away from her mind. Yet, for some reason, each shoved-away incidence had resulted in a colorful, see-through energy blip, hovering around her as a constant companion. The blips even had faces.

The red one came about when she’d been furious at being dumped by Brant, the captain of the football team and her high school lover. Even these many years later, the thought of him made her grind her pearly whites. After catching him in-flagrante with a junior named Misty, she’d set his beloved gun case on fire with explosives she’d procured from some old coot up in Fairbanks. Only her and sweet baby Jesus ever found out who did it. But then, the second she set things in motion, this translucent crimson energy blip appeared. Sadly, its face kind of looked like Brant.

The green one appeared after she’d gotten Misty drunk and cut off all Misty’s long blonde locks in a butchered haircut. She thought Brant would take her back. Instead, he fell even harder for Misty. Last thing she had heard, they were married over in Nome, Alaska. And, she was stuck with this green ghost with huge buck teeth.

Overall, there were six energy blips, so far. They stayed glued to her, wherever she went. As far as she could tell, no one else knew about them. Worse, they served no purpose whatsoever except to remind her of past wrong doings.

What are you looking at, Ms. Manager? Cecil stood before her, his hands on his hips.

Loomed would be more accurate, Chia thought, as she eyed his tall, muscular frame. Cecil definitely looms.

Nothing. Tree branches. Sky.

Uh huh. He squinted in the direction she’d been looking, and then at her. Did you add pink streaks to your hair?

Yes. Do you like them? She patted her hair.

Sure. Over six feet to her barely four foot eleven, he’d been her friend since she graduated from high school, five long years ago.

She eyed Cecil. A rush of pleasure skittered through her. As friendly and loyal as his Husky self, he stayed in excellent shape from romping in the woods as a dog, and odd carpentry jobs when he wanted to make a little money. Muscled, with glacier-blue eyes, he was more than a little easy on the eyes. She liked looking at him—but so did every other girl in town. She’d thought of bedding him a time or two. She always decided, in the end, he made a better friend for the simple reason he liked to share with others and explore options. She didn’t.

Done with moping about her grandparents for the moment, she swiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. He patted her shoulder with his large hand. Then, he peered up into the trees, a slight scowl forming on his face.

She pushed away from the tree. Can shifters see those things? He’s never mentioned it to me. As the newly elected manager of Charming, Alaska, population 695, she didn’t want to find out. She’d be a laughing stock. People in town already found her odd. Granddaughter to Leon Buisson—that gave townspeople pause.

Her grandparents believed in magic and the supernatural. They protected shifters. Most townsfolk didn’t know they lived near humans who could assume animal form. If they did, they’d shoot first, freak out second.

Not only that, the older men couldn’t deal with her sharp-shooting skills. The younger guys all wanted to bang her bones. But most of them were already hitched to someone and were looking for a little something-something on the side. And, their females treated her like a threat, thinking she had nothing better to do than steal their men. Like this town has the kind of man I’d prefer. I’m looking for something different—someone exciting.

Clearing her throat, she said, Thanks for tossing the marbles. I needed to get stuff out of my system.

Uh huh. I hope you didn’t put me on a marble.

Her eyebrows flew up. You? Never!

He glanced back at the branches, eyed her, and shrugged. I’m sorry about your grandparents. Seemed so sudden.

Fresh tears swamped her vision. Thanks. Yeah, they’re calling it a boating accident, but come on…on a clear day they just fall off the edge of their skiff into the lake? I don’t think so.

What do you think happened? Cecil turned and put his hand on her back, giving her a gentle shove toward the office. Magic? Murder? Mayhem? All of the above?

She shivered, reaching to grab the gun case, as Cecil hustled her away.

Magic? she squeaked. I know they employed it from time to time but they never talked about it with me. My mom made it clear the topic was not to be discussed. She’s a biomedical tech. Dad writes for science journals, debunking false claims. They both got into endless arguments with my grandfather about his so-called ‘superstitious conjectures’. She shook her head. So, they took us away from Alaska so they could ‘give me a better life in New York.’ I hated it. I was miserable. Finally, they struck a deal when they sent me back from New York to live with my grandparents.

Murder, then? Cecil scratched his head.

Chia shook her head. They were so well loved. Why would anyone do them harm?

Easing his arm around her shoulder, Cecil said, Your granddad was a pretty outspoken guy…as well as a magic man. He had enemies, for sure. He fought for the shifters in this town.

You mean the ones half the town refuses to acknowledge? We live in ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ reality around here, don’t we? She pursed her lips, lifting her gaze to stare at the Charming Administration office, a few yards away. I’m going to have my work cut out for me.

Cecil’s face fell into a thoughtful frown. Yeah. People can be intolerant. But, I have faith in you to set things right. You’ve always been a stickler for the rules, even back in school. He chuckled. You sure did a number on Brant when you got the school to look into him deflating footballs. The coach suspended him for half the season. Boy, was he pissed.

Chia rolled her lips between her teeth. Uh huh. Well…you shouldn’t win a game by cheating.

The red ghost flitted in front of her face.

She batted it away, like swiping a fly.

Cecil tilted his head, studying her.

Right. He patted her shoulder again. Anyway, your granddad would be proud of you taking over as town manager.

I hope so. I don’t know what I’m going to do without them. It’s going to get pretty lonely out there.

Cecil waggled his eyebrows. I’d be happy to keep you company and ease your transition. We could head over to a place I know…

Ew, Cecil, no. I won’t be one of your many, sorry. She kicked the decaying leftover leaves, recently unburied in the spring thaw.

I guarantee satisfaction. He grinned.

For a second she considered it. But then, there would go the friendship.

Thanks, but no, she said.

A voice called from around the corner of Charming Administration. Chia? Where are you?

Out back.

The face of her new assistant, Rachel, poked around the corner. Phone for you! It’s the funeral director.

Chia jogged toward Rachel. Sorry for the noise. I was taking a break.

Sure, sure. I heard your version of a break. We all did. But usually gunshot in the middle of the day means the police will arrive next. She winked. A cat shifter, Rachel looked like the kind of feline who’d curl up on the sofa and sleep all day, given the chance—with her food bowl nearby.

Sorry, Chia said.

Don’t worry about it. I’m sure any of us would be doing the same thing if we’d suffered a loss the same as you. She waddled up the creaking wooden steps, then pulled open the door and held it open for Chia. Oh, hey, Cecil, she said, batting her lashes like she’d only just noticed him.

Chia rolled her eyes. They all make goo-goo eyes for the dawg-man. She followed Rachel up the steps, with Cecil by her side.

Once inside, she scurried down the hall toward her office.

Sound echoed inside the old, wooden structure, making Chia’s Duck boots, Cecil’s Chukkas, and Rachel’s soft-soled slip-ons create a clattering melody.

Once she reached her office, she entered, hustling toward the black land line phone handset which lay on its side on top of the old desk. She gestured to Cecil to sit down in the rickety chair in the corner, and picked up the phone.

Hello? she said breathlessly.

Ms. Petit?

Yes, this is me.

Walt Affadon, here. He cleared his throat. I’m with Blue Horizons Mortuary and Bone-yard. I’m the director.

Right. I know who you are. She pressed the phone to her ear, staring out the window at the sea.

Well…there’s been a problem.

Her fingers curled around the handset. She eyed the unpacked boxes stacked in the corner. Tell me.

There’s an issue with the burial spot your grandparents chose. It turns out the land allotted for their burial is supposed to be used for someone else. He cleared his throat again, suggesting he had several hairballs.

Oh, come on. They secured the spot years ago!

Well, um…someone else already paid for it…prior to that…and they, um…

What, they came in and bullied you? A thought formed in her mind. Oh, she said, drawing out the word. Someone doesn’t want a shifter supporter among the dead, do they?

Again, he cleared his throat.

Just cough it up and get it over with.

I’m coming over. They’re going to be buried in the spot they bought and paid for with their hard-earned money.

I’m afraid… Walt began.

Hold that thought. I’m coming over. She slammed the handset into the cradle. I’ll be back, she said to Rachel.

You coming with? she asked Cecil.

Nah. I’ve got things to do. Cecil jammed his hands back into his pockets and stared at the scuffed floor.

Chia’s eyes narrowed. He either had a bar to seek out or a babe to climb on.

At least walk me outside. She slid open the top desk drawer and retrieved the keys to her Jeep.

Day one as town manager of Charming, Alaska, with all its wild west politics, had begun.

Chapter 2

Chia’s gut coiled into a knot the minute she slid into her Jeep. There’s nowhere to bury my dead grandparents? Like hell there isn’t. She turned on the engine and sped from the parking lot, heading to Blue Horizons Mortuary and Bone-yard. As she drove to the other side of town, fuming about the possibility of no place to bury her beloved grandparents, the knot compressed into a red-hot piece of coal lodged in her abdomen.

When she arrived at Blue Horizons, she parked in the concrete lot outside the plain, concrete building. The graveyard behind Blue Horizons stretched along a gently rolling hill. Dotted with headstones dating as far back as 1699, it looked like there were plenty of vacant spots.

Still seated inside the Jeep, she took a few deep breaths. It didn’t work. The unsuccessful attempts at calming down only made her madder.

After shoving the door open, she uttered her grandpa’s favorite phrase. Dag nab it. Before exiting, she yelled at her pesky ghosts. Do something useful, for a change.

As usual, they ignored her. Today, she swore they hummed as they floated around her head.

Go away. Shoo! she said, picking up her pace. As she raced toward the entrance, she batted at them. Her hand merely slid through the blips. Good thing no one’s watching—Lemming News would have a field day.

She pictured a reporter, staring at her from the TV, telling the townsfolk, After assuming her role as town manager, is Chia Petit already showing signs of mental illness?

No, Lemming News, she is not, she uttered, striding through the front door.

Inside Blue Horizons floral bedecked lobby, she paused.

Huge vases of fresh flowers stood on polished wood stands. The floral fragrance did nothing to cover up the sense of death lingering in the air. Hurrying, she made her way to the director’s office.

The door to the sterile looking room hung open. It smelled of old-man aftershave and a strong cleaning agent, probably meant to distract from the smell of death.

Knock, knock, she said, her face so grim she wondered if it might crack.

Miss Petit, Walt said, looking up from some paperwork on his neat desk.

Walt, she said, while remaining in the hall. She forced her insides to a simmer instead of a boil about to spill over the edges.

He started to clear his throat for the millionth time but instead reached for a glass of water. He took a drink, then set the glass on a coaster. Refusing to meet her eyes, he folded his hands over the desk.

Chia cocked her head, studying his odd behavior.

Finally, as if he’d formulated the right words, he smiled benignly at her, peering through eyeglass lenses that made his creepy, hazel-colored eyes look huge and bulbous. Please, come in.

Stepping into his office, she stood across from him. She glanced at his nondescript workspace.

The space gave her the impression of forced calm. She pictured Walt studying a book on Fung Shui principles, like, Really Simple Techniques for Serenity. She imagined him placing the guest chairs at a forty-five-degree angles to the formidable desk, and the bookcase three inches away from the wall to allow for breathing space. Pictures of seascapes with lots of glowing light in the heavens were probably meant to imply one’s loved one looked out over water from his or her position inside a ball of light. It made her anything but serene. It made her want to mess up his desk and tear each scruffy whisker from Walt Abbadon’s face.

He swept his hand over the paperwork. So. I checked the records. I think if you’re willing to split your grandparents’ resting places…

Chia strode across the room. You mean bury them in different parts of the graveyard? She leaned over the desk, placing her palms flat.

He swallowed. As I was saying, if we bury your grandmother here… Using his fingertips, he twirled a paper map of the cemetery to face her. He tapped a spot on the map. Your grandfather could go here… Tap, tap, tap. And your grandmother… He picked up the map, held it close, and studied it. His face brightened. He placed the map in front of her triumphantly. Grace—your grandmother—could be buried here. He stabbed a spot in a corner lot, at the opposite side of the page.

Unacceptable. She picked up a pen and stabbed the center of the map, making a tiny hole. This is the lot they paid for. Beneath the rook’s tree. Grandpa always loved the crows.

She tossed the pen on the desk, stood tall, and folded her arms across her chest.

I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. He brushed his thumb across the hole she’d made, smoothing it.

Fix it.

I’m not sure if I can…

I said, fix it. You do realize I’m now the town manager, don’t you?

He met her gaze with his goldfish eyes. Yes, I…

Then, fix it. Make a few calls. She uncrossed her arms and jabbed her forefinger several times against the map. Here. Right here. See this spot? This is where they paid to be buried and where I’m going to bury them, even if I have to dig the grave myself. Are we clear on that?

His eyes slid right then left. There might be something I can do. There are no guarantees…

And I can’t give you a guarantee your zoning permit to build a new wing can be approved. She pressed her lips into a cold, flat smile, and batted her eyelashes at him. I recall it sitting on my desk this morning, just waiting for my stamp of approval.

A deep scowl dragged his jowls down, like those of a hound dog. I said, I’ll see what I can do.

And I appreciate it. She slapped the map with her palm.

He jerked back.

Always a pleasure, she said, before whirling and striding out the door.

She strode through the lobby, stalked outside, and made her way toward her trusty Jeep.

The ghosts kept up a humming chatter.

Making a gun out of her hand, she shot at them, focusing on the red one.

I know, I know, just deal with my past transgressions, she muttered as she slid in the front seat.

She decided to drive around the town on Old Route 19. Immersing herself in the calm of the wooded river area always soothed her soul. She loved to trek alongside it, following its flow into Charm’s Inlet.

Few vehicles traversed the unused highway. Years ago, it had been replaced with a newer road that made a beeline to the north, instead of a meander.

Rolling down the window, she let the crisp, spring wind and the river song soothe her temper.

A deer bolted from the trees, dashing across the narrow road.

She slammed on the brakes. The Jeep screeched to a halt, clipping the rump of the deer.

The doe fell to the ground, its legs flailing.

Oh, no! Chia yanked the parking brake into position, and leaped from the seat, leaving the engine idling. Right as she crouched next to the deer, a flash of light burst before her eyes.

The deer shifted into a pretty, young, strawberry-blonde woman.

She looked familiar. Have I seen her in town?

One bloody hole in her shoulder marred her perfect, porcelain skin.

Chia gasped. You’ve been shot!

The woman’s wild eyes tracked toward the other side of the road.

Let me help you, Chia said, reaching for the woman’s hand.

No! He’ll kill me!

Chia turned in the direction the young woman had stared.

A hunter stood between two trees, his rifle hanging at his side. His eyes tracked to Chia…slid to the river…then, back to Chia.

The shifter’s blue eyes wide and fearful, she sprang to her feet and sprinted toward the river.

Wait! Chia called out.

Stop! Chia yelled, scrambling to stand. She hustled toward her Jeep to retrieve her Nosler M48.

Too late.

The man turned and bolted from where he stood, blurring like a ghost into nothingness.

Chapter 3

Asplash, followed by a scream, rang out from the nearby river.

Christ! Stupid girl! The water temp could send her into hypothermia, Chia muttered.

She raced across Old Hwy 19, away from the woods where the armed man had just disappeared. She scrambled down the muddy bank and came to a halt at the water’s edge.

The river, swollen with spring-thaw snow water, gurgled, and swirled as it rushed toward the sea. Across the other side, the shifter woman clung to tree roots which poked through the four-foot bank.

Help! she screamed. I can’t hold on for much longer!

Chia cupped her hands around her mouth. Shouting over the din of the river, she yelled, Can you swim?

I think so, the blonde called back. Her words came out in a chattering shiver.

She thinks so?

Let go! Relax and float. The water’s glassy calm just around the bend. She pointed downstream.

The woman shook her head.

It’s either that or die from the cold, Chia yelled over the rushing water cacophony.

What?

Let go, Chia screamed. Calm water. She pointed downstream, stabbing the air repeatedly.

The shifter glanced downstream. Are you sure?

Positive. I’ll meet you there. I promise.

The shifter released the roots. The rapid current folded around her, tossing her down-river.

Chia jogged along the bank, tracking the woman’s progress. While she ran, she tugged her phone from her jacket. Praying for a signal, she pressed 911.

When the operator answered, Chia said, Hey, Millie. A young woman got caught in the river. She’s been shot. We need an ambulance.

Oh, hey, Chia. Congrats on the election results.

Thanks. Chia leaped over a log. She huffed and puffed into the phone. So, I’m over on Old 19, about a mile south of the bridge.

Got it. I’ll send word to the station. Hold tight.

Tripping on some branches, Chia nearly dropped the phone. She righted herself and said, Thanks, Millie. Gotta go. Get them here fast.

She scanned for the shifter. There she is.

The shifter disappeared under the water.

Chia’s heart lurched. She readied herself to dive in.

The young woman’s arms flailed at the surface and she reappeared.

Thank God, Chia muttered, resuming her jog.

The water started to even out as Chia rounded the bend.

The shifter swam for the shore. She stood and promptly slipped and fell, letting out a yelp. She pushed to her hands and knees and crawled.

Chia rushed into the shallow water, and helped the shifter to her feet. I’ve got you. She guided the young woman toward the shore.

Once she made it to land, the shifter crouched, fell on her side, and curled into a ball. She coughed and sputtered.

Chia peeled off her down coat.

Here. Crouching, she thrust it toward the shifter. Let’s sit you up. Put this on.

The shifter nodded. She pushed to sitting, shielding her breasts and groin with her shaking hands. I’m so cold. I’m numb.

The good news is that might be keeping you alive at this point. She nodded toward the bullet wound. What happened? You have a beef with someone?

No. The shifter gave her a plaintive look. I don’t know who that was. I was out for a run…as a…well, you saw. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? That I shifted, I mean? I try to only do it when I’m outside city limits.

Don’t worry, Chia said, tucking her coat around the woman’s slender, naked body. I’m on your side. I’m town manager, Chia Petit.

She flashed a reassuring smile at the shifter.

Megan Giles, the blonde said, her teeth chattering. T-t-town sloot. Attempting to pull a smile, she ended up making a clenched jaw grimace. "So cold."

Sloot? You mean slut? Who doesn’t enjoy sex, girl? Don’t let some jackass label you as a slut just because you do what he wishes he could do. Chia shook her head, musing at her conservative townsfolk. No doubt some disgruntled boy had labeled the young shifter after she turned him down. Do you think you can walk, Megan? I can’t carry you. We need to get you back to the road. An ambulance is on its way.

I can try. Leaning heavily on Chia, she got to her feet. She threw her arm around Chia. Okay, I think I can manage.

Chia smiled. And, your teeth are ceasing their tap dance. Progress!

They made their way back to the Jeep. It proved slow-going with Megan shivering and stumbling. As they traversed, Chia kept a close watch on Megan’s movements, looking for signs of clumsiness, slurred speech, or other indications of hypothermia.

Megan showed no symptoms. She moved with the grace of a deer, even with the shiver-steps.

Once they reached the SUV, Chia threw open the back hatch.

She grabbed some clothes and tossed them at Megan. Here. Put these on. We can’t have the ambulance driver getting sight of you naked. Besides the fact, he’s not a shifter, he’s single and he’s horny.

You keep clothes in the back of your Jeep? Megan said, taking the proffered sweat pants, worn coat, and long-sleeved Henley.

Yep, for moments like this. Unlike others in town, I’ve got shifter friends and I don’t like to hang out with naked people once they’ve shifted. I get them at the Goodwill.

Megan put out her hand to lean on Chia. She tugged the sweat pants over her legs. That’s sweet. Thanks.

Chia rummaged in the cargo area for her Thermos bottle, filled to the brim with cocoa. She tossed aside a spare coat, her snow shoes, hiking boots, other clothes, an empty bullet box, her gun case, a backpack, and a few tools.

Here we go. She pulled it from behind the shovel. After removing the stopper, she poured some steaming hot chocolate into the red plastic cap. Drink this. It will warm you up.

Megan took it and brought it to her lips. Mmm.

Chia lifted her gaze.

The distant ambulance sped toward them, lights flashing.

She placed her hands upon Megan’s shoulders and fixed upon her eyes. Tell Tony you fell in the river. Don’t let him try anything. He’ll have old Bob Brown with him so he usually minds his manners. I’m going to go check in the woods for the gunman before he gets too far.

Megan nodded. She shivered, pulling the coat tighter.

Chia gave her a reassuring gaze. You’ll be okay.

Before heading into the trees, she retrieved her Nosler rifle from the back. She walked to the front of the vehicle and fished free a few wire ties from the glove box.

You never know. Maybe I’ll get lucky.

With a glance back at Megan, she jogged into the woods.

The muddy ground showed indents from the man’s boots. Calling upon her tracking skills, she moved quietly and stealthily into the woods following the trail. As she progressed, a strange, pleasant feeling pulsed through her bloodstream. She stopped, frowning slightly. What’s this? How odd. She turned in the opposite direction.

The buzzing sensation grew fainter.

She moved backward.

It grew even fainter.

She pivoted in the direction of the footsteps. The pulsing hummed, roaring in her ears like the river.

Whoa. Never had this happen, she muttered.

Overhead, birds jeered and called to one another a few yards ahead. The smell of tobacco wafted through the air.

Is he that stupid? she whispered. Did he actually stop for a smoke, thinking something dumb like ‘no girl can outfox me’?

Her lips pursed. She ghost-walked in the direction of the smell. When she sighted the man leaning against a tree, she slid behind a huge stump left behind by loggers. She peeked around the decaying log.

He sat a few yards away, his knees bent. With his elbow propped on one knee, he lazily brought the cigarette to his lips, then inhaled deeply. With a contented sigh, he exhaled a long plume of bluish smoke. His rifle rested on the ground next to him.

She could only see the side of his head. The tree he leaned against obscured his other side. Picking up a rock, she hefted it up and down.

I’ve got one chance at this. If I can shoot a clay marble from the heavens, surely, I can nail a man’s face with a rock, right?

Creeping from her hiding spot, she took aim.

The man seemed so engrossed with his smoke, he didn’t notice her.

She arced back her arm and let the rock fly.

His head pivoted and the rock landed squarely in his eye.

Fuck! Pressing his palm to his face, he stormed to his feet.

She raced toward him. When she grew close, she kicked the rifle as hard as she could. It flew farther into the woods and landed with a crash in the undergrowth.

He lunged at her.

She side-stepped him.

Glancing at the red blip over her head—the one she would never in a million years’ name Brant because that would imply he had meant something to her—an idea formed. The one useful skill she’d gained while with Brant had been cattle wrangling.

His dad owned a cattle ranch in Washington state.

The summer before they became seniors, Brant took her down to the ranch.

Although she was short, she learned how to wrestle a two-hundred-pound calf to the ground. She could hog tie its legs, ending with a wrap and a slap in about fifteen seconds flat. The only catch was—she’d been on a horse. Still, what she lacked in height, she made up for in sassy intention.

Facing the hunter, she brought her knee into his groin.

Best damn move I learned in self-defense.

With a groan and a few choice curse words, he doubled over.

She clasped her hands together and brought them down on the back of his head.

He fell to the ground.

She jumped on his back.

He tried to buck her off.

She wrenched his arms behind him, retrieved a wire tie, and managed to secure it around his wrists.

Her arms flew up in the air and she shouted, Time! as if she were in the arena. She slapped the hunter’s ass. Yeeha!

You’re going to pay for his, bitch, the hunter growled, his cheek pressed into the mud.

She chuckled.

Tell me all about it when you’re in lock-down. Still straddling him, she retrieved her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. She punched 911 again. When it connected, she said, Hey, Millie? Me, again. Send a police officer to pick up a bad guy. I’ve got him flat on his face, hog-tied and ready for the slaughterhouse…I mean, jail.

The guy squirmed in his restraints.

She ignored him, breathing in the beauty of her beloved Alaska. She’d do anything to protect the land, the people, and the shifters. Now all she had to do was figure out who this jackass was and what he was doing poaching on her land.

Who are you? she asked.

He lifted his head and spat.

She backhanded his head.

Bitch.

You got that right. Now who the hell are you?

He lifted his head again.

If you spit at me again, I’m going to grind your head to a pulp with my boot.

He stilled.

Let’s try again. Who the fuck are you?

He closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep.

She sighed. The men of Alaska would probably get answers out of this guy. At least she’d been the one to take him down.

Chapter 4

Burly police chief Bryer Cisco, standing behind the counter, glared at Chia as she strode into the one and only Charming precinct police station.

His glare made her feel spanked—and not one of those fun, give it to me, baby kind of spankings.

The chief and her grandpa went way back. On many occasions, she’d seen them, bourbon in hand, cigars between their fingers, sitting on grandpa’s wraparound porch. They’d talk politics, argue, or arrange their next fishing trip.

What? she said, coming to a stop in front of the counter. "No to double-parking in front of the station? There are no parking spots, anywhere."

He lowered his shaggy head and peered out the window. He looked as massive as an aging Grizzly. His lush hair, sparsely streaked with gray, only hinted at his age. He’d been with the department for forty years, moving up the ranks—which made him at least sixty. Yet, no one in his right mind would tussle with the chief, ever, let alone double-park in the parking lot.

Her Jeep sat right out front, behind whoever had parked in the Employee of the Month spot.

He crossed his arms over his massive chest. How long you plan on staying?

Not long, I reckon. I’ve got to get back to work.

He acknowledged her with a quick chin lift. Beasley won’t need to head out any time soon, isn’t that right?

His gaze slid toward an officer sitting at his desk in the corner.

Mike Beasley lifted his eyes from his computer monitor. Oh, hey, Chia.

She nodded, wondering if she should call him Mike, still, or Officer Beasley. I am the town manager now. Hey, uh…Officer Beasley.

Go ahead and stay put. If you’re gone at quitting time. He beamed at her. Call me Mike, you know that.

Friends since high school, he’d hit on her at the local bar a time or two. But with his sweet smile and gingery hair, he was only cute in a Cocker spaniel kind of way. She preferred a more rugged kind of guy.

Why, thank you, Mike…I mean Officer Beasley.

He scowled and turned back to his computer.

She turned back to the chief.

His glare remained, effectively pinning her boots to the floor.

So, what then? she said.

Can I have a word?

She tilted her head and studied him. Sure thing. I need to question your new prisoner, however.

A stony expression crossed his face. Can’t let you do that, Chia. Follow me.

He reached down and pressed a button. It let out a loud, annoying buzz, releasing the cheesy lock on the spring-top counter barrier. Swinging the barrier up, he held it high for her to enter.

She walked toward the back.

The chief followed.

Mike’s eyes tracked her movement the entire way to the chief’s office, making her cheeks burn. Since being elected, she only wanted be regarded as a professional, not eye-candy.

Chief Cisco reached around her to open the door.

She stepped across the threshold toward his neat as a pin domain. Everything, down to the silvery stapler, sat in an orderly fashion. Even the books on the shelf had been arranged alphabetically.

He closed the door behind her, then strode to sit at his desk. Have a seat.

He gestured to one of the hard-back wooden chairs near his desk.

She glanced out the glass pane of Chief Cisco’s office toward Mike…I mean Officer Beasley.

His face expressionless, he continued to stare at her.

She turned back to the chief.

He likes you, you know. Chief Cisco stabbed his thumb toward Mike’s desk. He’s a good man.

Officer Mike Beasley’s head whipped back toward his work.

Yeah, your point? Chia settled in the uncomfortable chair.

No point. He straightened a stack of perfectly positioned folders, then folded his hands and placed them on the desk. Look, Chia, I’ve known you a long time, since you were a kid.

Yeah, so? She cocked her head.

I’m proud of you for getting elected…real proud. He fidgeted with a corner of one of the folders.

Thank you. And?

Leon and Grace…your grandparents…they’d be pleased as punch.

Uh huh.

Get to the point.

He flattened his palms on the desk. Look. The man you caught came in here babbling like a lunatic. You didn’t honestly take down that hunter all by your bitty self, did you? You had help from one of your… He twirled one of his hands in the air. Shifters? That’s what you call them, right?

Why is it hard to imagine I managed to hog-tie him? You think I’m incapable of such a feat?

No, I… He swallowed. Look, let’s just keep this on the down low, okay? If word gets around the station that someone such as yourself…

A woman, you mean?

No, a person of your stature… He cleared his throat.

Short? Diminutive? Spit it out. Grimacing, she vigorously scratched a non-existent itch on her head.

He pumped his palms up and down, as if to tamp down her temper. I have to keep morale up around here. We can’t have the men feeling emasculated by you. Just do your job, okay? Let us do ours.

Chia wanted to punch something…or, someone. She pushed to her feet. "Chief, I appreciate the show of support, I really do. You congratulating me in person for bringing in a bad guy warms my heart. Thank you so much." She batted her eyelashes at him.

His face reddened. Look, Chia, I’m sorry but…

"But what? Because I’m a short woman I’m not allowed to do things a guy can do? Because it will make the men who work for you feel less than? Get a therapist over here, pronto, to help them out with their self-esteem."

Chia, I…

Are we done here? I need to see the perp and head back to the office.

Chief Cisco stood. We’re done. Uh…thank you for bringing in the man for questioning. We can’t have hunters take pot-shots at the innocent.

You’re welcome. A generous smile crossed Chia’s face. All I did was hog-tie him, chief. Your boys had to do the hard work of getting him down to the station and booking him.

She winked at him as she stood.

The chief sighed. We’re in for some change around here with you holding the reins, aren’t we? You’ve got your grandpa’s blood, that’s for sure.

I consider that a high compliment. I loved him.

Chief Cisco stepped around the desk and put his huge hand on her shoulder.

We’re investigating their deaths, too, don’t you worry. His voice came out scratchy and rough. They were good folks. The best. I didn’t always agree or even understand some of their crazy notions… He shook his head. Never seen a human turn into something not human and I sure don’t want to start. He smiled. Then, his expression grew serious. He cleared his throat. So, uh… He tugged at his collar. "You’re not planning any big changes around here, are you? You’re going to focus on legislation and the like, right? Normal town stuff."

She squinted one eye, cocked her head, and peered at him. What, exactly, are you referring to? She folded her arms.

The chief scooped a few paper clips from the desk into his hand and gently shook them. You know…those, um…shifter things. Part animal, part human aberrations. His hand squeezed the paper clips.

They’re not aberrations.

He poured the clips into a plastic holder. Then, he held up his hand, palm out. My apologies. I don’t know what to call them.

"They’re not aberrations, she repeated. They’re people with different abilities." She leaned her hips against the desk.

He swallowed. Rubbed his chin. Understood. I only meant that… He said, in a low whisper, People round here…most don’t know they exist. I think they’d freak if they knew they lived next door to a wolverine at night, the grocer by day. You catch my drift?

Oh, I caught it, all right. She stabbed the air between them with her forefinger. I think I owe it to my grandparents to make this town a little more tolerant, don’t you?

The chief looked toward the ceiling, then, back to her. Go easy on us, okay?

Civil rights, baby, Chia said, standing tall. They’re not merely for African Americans or gays. They’re for all beings. I couldn’t rest if I didn’t follow through on some of my grandpa’s visions for the future.

Chief Cisco pursed his lips and blew a lungful of breath. Anyway, he said, dismissing the topic. You can rest assured we’ll determine if it was merely an accident, or…

He shrugged.

She let out a sigh. I do appreciate that. The whole thing seems so…odd…sudden… Fresh tears pricked her eyes. She swiped them away with the back of her hand. Let’s see to this hunter, shall we?

They stepped from his office, heading out to the main floor.

Mike’s eyes stayed glued to his monitor, as if she’d somehow offended him.

Whatever.

Officer Danny Darco opened the door from the back, striding out to the main floor to join them. He held a notebook at his side.

Chia! Good to see you. He moved the notebook to his left hand and reached out to shake her hand. Congrats on the new position. Make us proud, will you?

Thanks, Danny. That’s the plan. She took his hand. Can I talk to the perp?

Danny shook his head. He’s getting his eye looked at by the medic. Plus, I don’t think he wants to see you anytime soon. He thinks you’re a witch or something. Luck must have been on your side today, right? He chuckled. You probably stunned him with that rock so he went down easy.

She scoffed. Right. That’s it. He fell like a lamb.

She couldn’t stop the eye roll.

Danny stood grinning at her. You might want to hear what we learned already and get on your way. His gaze drifted toward Mike. Hey, Beasley, you want to hear?

Mike lifted a hand but didn’t look up. Busy.

What’s the matter with you? Danny asked.

Nothing, Mike muttered. I said I’m busy.

Chia tugged on the hem of her shirt. She didn’t want to make enemies in her new role as town manager, but she also didn’t want to lead men on…nope, I want something different than a Charming guy.

Danny strode toward an empty desk and placed the notepad on its surface. Flipping open the cover, he fished free a sheet of creased paper. From the looks of all the crease marks, it had been folded into a tiny square.

"What’s that?’

It’s a list of names, some of them residents. We found it in his pocket. Turns out he’s some sort of bounty hunter.

No shit? Grandpa used to tell me about them. They’re not supposed to hunt in these parts. Matter of fact, no one’s supposed to hunt in or near Charming.

Chief Cisco and Danny side-eyed one another.

That’s a loose agreement, the chief said to her. You know that. You can’t stop a man from hunting.

Yeah, you can. Chia’s hands flew to her hips. That’s one of the first laws I’m going to put into place.

Again, Chief Cisco and Danny side-eyed the other.

Uh huh. Chief Cisco folded his arms across his chest.

Danny did the same.

What? Are you guys going to arrest him? Chia stared at each man.

He swears he didn’t shoot Megan. Said he found her that way.

Right, Chia said. I find him chasing Megan, she’s hysterical…that’s not enough to book him?

Nope, Danny said, shaking his head. We can hold him for seventy-two hours but that’s it. We don’t have bullet casings, or any other kind of evidence. For all we know, he could have been passing through.

Chia’s threw up her hands.

The Chief and Danny stepped back.

Passing through? Ask Megan. Talk to her. She’ll tell you. When the chief’s attention started to shift toward Danny, she blurted, If you two exchange secretive looks at one another again I’ll punch one or the other of you—probably both. Book him, for Christ’s sake.

Danny licked his lips. I’m, uh…I’m afraid we can’t question Megan.

Why the hell not? She was plenty lucid when I left her.

Megan’s dead. The bullet hit here. He pointed to a spot on his torso. Walking must have made it travel, piercing the lung. She stopped breathing by the time she arrived at the hospital.

Certain her legs were going to give way, Chia reached for the corner of the desk to steady herself. She’s dead?

Afraid so, Chief Cisco said. We got the call right before you arrived.

She can’t be dead. She looked so alive.

Chief Cisco tugged at his earlobe. I’m sorry, Chia. It’s true. There’s nothing you could have done.

Chia let out an exasperated gasp. You mean I should have left her to freeze to death by the side of the river.

Not saying that. The chief studied her. You did the right thing. You couldn’t have known.

She released the desk and paced in a circle, trying to come up with a plan. Finally, she stopped. You need reasonable doubt to put this guy away for murder, right?

That’s right.

Well, hold him for seventy-two. I’m going to find your reasonable doubt.

Without another word, she pivoted and headed out the door to power up her double-parked vehicle and find answers.

Chapter 5

Chia’s bones shook with rage and grief as she made her way back to Charming Administrative offices. Megan, dead? The notion seemed incomprehensible. At least I gave her a moment of happiness, hot chocolate warmth, and female support before she departed this world. Town slut, indeed.

Before turning onto the main road that led through town, she passed the bland building housing the Blue Horizons Mortuary and Bone-yard. On impulse, she braked, backed up, and veered into the parking lot. She clambered out of her Jeep and made her way inside.

Walt stood fussing with a gorgeous arrangement of lilies at one of the gilded stands. He turned when her footfalls hammered against the tile floor.

Ms. Petit, he said, making that nasty throat clearing maneuver again.

Suit clad, as usual, he stood making that same damn pope-like smile. A backdrop of solid mahogany paneling framed his lanky body. I don’t have any news…

She waved her hand at him. Whatever you have to say right now, zip it. I need only one thing—I want to see my grandparents.

His eyes slid toward an inner door and back to her. They’re not quite ready for viewing.

Well, I’m not quite ready to let them go but there’s nothing I can do about that, can I? Where are they?

He huffed out a sigh. Follow me.

He trekked lightly across the room and opened the inner door.

Chia strode through the entrance. There, she found steps leading downstairs. This way?

Yes, please. He flashed his pope-worthy smile.

She proceeded and he followed.

The walls leading downstairs were covered with vintage purple flocked wallpaper.

Chia ran her hand along the textured paper, needing a sense of something solid before she cast her eyes on her grandparents. At the landing below, she paused.

Two doors stood before her.

Which one?

The one on the right, please, Walt said.

She took a deep breath. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. Pushing it open, she entered. Her nose crinkled, assaulted by smells.

The room stunk like formaldehyde and other chemicals used to keep the dead lifelike for the living. The tiled floor sloped to a drain in the center of the room. Morgue refrigerators lined the wall, concealing the dead inside climate controlled cubicles.

Her grandfather’s remains lay on a stainless-steel gurney.

The mortuary artist froze on her stool, her makeup brush poised in the air.

No, no, no, no, no! Chia marched toward her grandpa, staring at his clownish make-up. She snatched the brush from the artist’s hand and waved it in her face. Did you know him? Did you know Leon Buissan?

The artist tugged at the scarf covering her head. No, I…I live in Anchorage. I was asked to come down to help out.

She sought Walt’s eyes.

He stood frozen, hand on the doorknob, blinking, as if clueless what to do.

Well, head on back to Anchorage. Chia waved the brush in the direction of North. You’ve made gramps look like a hack actor from the 1920s. He’d be ashamed to see himself like this. She pulled the sheet covering his torso over his face. Where’s grandma?

The scarf-haired artist pointed at the sheet-covered body in the corner.

Chia tossed the brush on the shiny tray next to the gurney, and stalked across the room. She reverently peeled back the crisp, white sheet, revealing the corpse of her grandmother.

Her grandma’s cheeks were rosy bright with powdered blush. Garish red lipstick had been applied to her lips. Her eyelids had been smeared with blue shadow.

Oh, hell, no! She looks like a hooker after a hard night. Dropping the sheet, Chia whirled around and leaned against the steel gurney, clutching the metal sides. After taking a couple deep breaths, she said, "Look, I know you’re just doing your job but these are my grandparents. She said the word like it would explain everything. They were my… Her chin quivered. Tears assaulted her eyes. Can I please have a moment with them? I just need to be with them for a minute. I promise I’ll be in a better mood once I’ve had a chance to clear my soul."

The artist looked at Walt.

Go ahead, he said to her. Take a break.

She shrugged and stood. She walked across the tiled floor, her Birkenstocks and stockinged feet poking out from her long brown skirt.

Meet me in the break room next door, Walt said to the artist, a hush to his tone.

She nodded and exited.

We’ll be in the room to the right when you’re done. He swished his hand in the air. I’ll leave the door to the break room open. Take your time.

Chia regarded him somberly. It was the first thing he’d said to her that seemed genuinely compassionate.

Thank you. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing.

He practically tip-toed out and softly closed the door behind him.

Chia strode to the stool next to her grandfather’s body. Unable to stomach his made-up face, she chose to simply sit with him, keeping the sheet in place, speaking from her heart.

Oh, God, grandma and gramps. I’m not ready to let you go. Sobs tore from her throat. Unable to repress them, she broke down and bawled. When she could manage a sentence or two, she said, I don’t know what to do without you. I’ve never lived alone, let alone cooked for myself. You’ve been so good to me, taking me in and…and thank you for deeding me the property but I wish you were still alive.

A fresh wave of sorrow pushed through her lungs. She scanned the room, searching for a tissue or a paper towel. Unable to see where they were kept, she lifted the corner of grandpa’s sheet and dabbed at her snotty nose and teary eyes. He wouldn’t care.

There’s so much about your life I don’t know. You said you’d start teaching me about the ancient ways of the land. I wish we’d have gotten to that. I figured we had loads of time. She sniffled. How will I find my way?

As she sat on the pivoting stool, she swore she heard him speaking.

We share the blood, sweetheart. His rich voice rang out, as clearly as if he were standing next to her.

She sat up straight, looking right and left. Granddad?

I’m in your heart. You’ll find your way. It’s in your blood.

What’s in my blood?

That same warm buzzing spread through her limbs. She cocked her head and listened intently for more instruction.

Nothing came. No more words were spoken.

That’s all you can say at this moment, huh? She stood and bent forward, kissing his cool, lifeless cheek through the sheet. Propping her hands on her hips, she said, Nothing else? She paused, waiting. When nothing more was said, she sighed. Alrighty, then. I’m really going to miss you both.

A gentle stream of tears flowed from her eyes, instead of a raging river. She stepped over to her grandma and kissed her cheek, in the same way—through the sheet.

Then, she turned and walked out the door.

It’s all yours, she called to Walt and the make-up artist. Thank you for this moment.

Of course, came Walt’s voice from behind the break-room door.

She lifted her hand over her head in farewell. Resolutely, she strode up the stairs in the direction of her new life. He said I’d find my way. He’s always steered me true. There was no reason to believe he’d fail her, even though he lay dead. She scratched her head, then muttered to herself, You know you don’t believe that, right? Suddenly you develop some sort of blood fever? How do you know it’s not a tragic illness, like a brain tumor?

Sighing, she headed for her Jeep. For the moment, she had a perp to put away and a town to run. She’d figure out things like humming blood when she had the chance.

Chapter 6

Despite being inside that God-awful mortuary, and viewing her dead grandparents with their clownish costume make-up, a cleansing wind had stormed through Chia’s system. It came from the conversation she’d had with her grandma and grandpa, and from letting out some of her sorrow. She practically waltzed to her Jeep. When her smart phone rang, she looked at the display before answering. Chief Cisco. Now what?

What can I do for you, chief? Miss me already? She smiled into the device, hoping the gesture might stave off any bad news. She wanted to hang on to the shred of peace inside.

He’s gone, Chief Cisco said in a rush. You need to get out of sight. Hide. Go to a friend’s. Just don’t be visible.

Slow down, chief. Who’s gone? What the heck are you talking about? She pivoted and leaned against the Jeep, crossing one leg over the other.

The bounty hunter. One second he was in the cell, the next minute he vanished. No trace. Gone.

He’s got to be some kind of shifter.

All right, all right. When did this happen?

Just now. I called you straight away. He could have a vendetta against you. I’ve issued a BOLO. We’ve got a manhunt going. In the meantime, get somewhere safe.

Calm down, chief. I dealt with him before, and I can deal with him again. She pressed the key-fob to open the Jeep door lock and climbed in the front seat. Don’t you worry about me.

Girl, you’ve got to be the most stubborn female in Alaska. Don’t go thinking you’re immortal. Leon would crawl from his grave and fetch me to be with him if anything happened to you on my watch.

Her heart stirred at his words. Okay. I promise to go somewhere safe. Eventually. After I’ve checked around for some clues to the hunter’s whereabouts. "Do you think he knows Megan’s dead?"

She slid the key into the ignition and powered the engine on.

I don’t know but I doubt it. How would he have heard? He was in lock-down. Gotta run. This is serious. Every officer from here to Anchorage needs to be on alert. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. You promise you’ll get yourself out of danger, right?

Right. You have my word. By the end of the day or maybe tomorrow. She thumbed the disconnect button and tossed the phone on the seat. Where to next? she asked her ghosts.

The red non-Brant ghost settled on