"Mal? Carver? I think I found something."
The two detectives rubbed their eyes. They'd been working on the witness statements from almost three hundred people. Carver had interviewed these from Ev's club while Mal had interviewed from the Irishman's. Declan couldn't make it for an interview yet, but Becky had. They found most of the witnesses were at Everett's. That particular group didn't know the man who'd been killed, but those at Becky's had talked to the young ladies.
The I.D. had been gone from the first victim, but the dental implants had given them his name. The man was Isaac Newton, which they thought was ironic. Gravity had not been his friend. He was twenty-six and a postgraduate student in history. He already had two other postgraduate degrees in English and political science. The man was smart. So how had he ended up dead in Everett's club instead of at a library in upstate New York?
Coffee was fresh. Everett was staring at something on the table before him. He'd conned someone to bring him a white board with markers and magnets. Though most of it was scribbled, Everett's handwriting was neat. He'd already figured out all three victims' names, where they were from, and what their jobs were.
Mal made two cups of coffee. Then he dumped the old grounds and started some more. He fixed them according to the other man's preference before heading over. Carver was already looking over everything, but he was having a hard time following Everett's train of thought.
Mal on the other hand was a little better at it. Seven pictures lay splayed on before them, all in random order. Except they weren't random. Everett had put them in order of time. The time stamps were cut off, but he could see some of them.
The same face was in each picture. It was Isaac Newton. He had been at both bars. The first picture was the night before he was killed. He'd gone to Declan's for a couple of drinks. He was then at Everett's the night he was killed.
The two women were new. Amy Stirling, aged twenty-one, and her cousins Kim Lands, aged twenty-five, were killed at Flanagan's. Unlike Isaac's murder, they hadn't been anchored to the wall. They'd been having drinks and chatting with some patrons, enjoying themselves on their last night of fall break. Mal didn't even want to know how Everett had gotten those pictures and the rest of the information.
These women had been posed in the fetal position. They were facing each other with their hands clasped. None of it made any sense.
But Everett's brain had started putting the pieces together. He'd gotten copies of the murder scenes and had scribbled on them. He'd gone through several copies before he'd found a possible pattern. It was loose and not very put together, but it was something.
He'd sketched a number one into Isaac's picture and a number two into the women's, but they were in Roman numerals. Someone was using the numbers as a sign, but he didn't kow what it meant or if it was even true.
"If this is the pattern and it holds, three people will be killed next," he muttered. "I don't know where or why."
"Strictland thinks it may have something to do with your past," Mal said. He watched the other man's expressions closely. His mouth tightened slightly but he didn't say anything. "Maybe we should take a trip to your hometown."
"No." His voice was harsh, making Mal and Carver look at each other. "I haven't been back in ten years. I'm not going now because some psychopath killed someone in my bar."
The detective tried again. He pressed his chest to Everett's side and lowered his voice. Not that it would do any good. Carver had exceptional hearing.
"Ev, it could give us some answers. Maybe they were trying to find you for a reason," he whispered. Usually his face so close to the other man's ear would elicit some sort of response, but Everett didn't budge.
"What part of no don't you understand?" he asked. "I will not go back there, and if you try to make me," he flicked his finger between them, "this is over. I will disappear."
Mal stepped away from him. Whatever had happened in New Port had been bad enough Everett was willing to put his relationship on the line to keep from facing it again.
"Keep looking, kid," Carver said. He patted Everett's shoulder. As he turned, he motioned Mal out. His partner was smart enough to know when to leave. "Don't fight with him. He's done more in eight hours than we could have in twice that time."
"I know, but I can't help but think he's the reason these things are happening," Mal mused. He looked back into the break room at the drawn face as the other man looked at everything.
"Even if he is, he doesn't want to go back. You can't make him. If you do, you won't have him anymore. He will walk away from you. Whatever happened in New Port was so traumatic he doesn't want to remember it."
Carver pulled out his wallet and handed Mal his card. "Go get us some dinner. It's going to be a late night. He's safe here. I'll watch him."
He watched his partner grab his jacket and leave the precinct to go get food. He knew the full moon was wreaking havoc on his body and mind. He was starting to let the wolf rise and take over. It could be very dangerous. He was going to have to change and run soon, or they'd be bandaging up some poor unsuspecting victim. Or worse.
He looked back at the human. Everett was working on the computer again, but his movements were agitated and jerky. He was just as affected as the werewolf detective was. He really liked this kid even though he was nearly thirty. When Mal had told him about the young man, he had been very curious. But Mal had kept him very secret despite everyone knowing by smell. He was happy, and no one had wanted to burst his happy little bubble.
"What's going on?" Carver looked back at Strictland. "Where did Danvers go?"
"I sent him to get dinner. There was a little blow up so I told him to get out to cool his head," he answered.
His boss pointed to the break room. "And that one? Is he going to be okay?"
"He's realizing what Malcolm does and what happens when he can't hunt. But he's also angery at himself for not understanding what was going on." Carver nodded though. "He just needs some time to think away from our volatile wolf."
"Does he know anything?"
The detective nodded. "Yes, but let him settle down. If he's riled up, Malcolm will be too."
"I'll trust your opinion. Hopefully it works."
Strictland left him, and Carver watched Everett as he hacked through whatever system he found. Behind those glasses was a kid who was tired, nervous and scared. Whatever happened in his past had mde him who he is today. It hadn't been fun or a bedful of roses. It had been dirty, hard and traumatizing, and at fifteen, those memories left a strong impression.
Carver understood, but he thought they needed to know more. Something had come for him in the guise of rogue werewolves. The detective wasn't sure that was the case, and every instinct told him this was so much more than rogue werewolves and dead bodies.
~~~~~~~
Mal returned with three bags of Chinese food and a bag of soda. It had started to rain, making his already strained mood worse.
He had never heard Everett speak like that before. He knew the young man was nervous about his past, but didn't it make sense to at least look into it? Mal would. Mal would look into what made him the person he was.
He had. After he'd been changed several years ago, he looked into the wolves that had changed him. They'd been rogue wolves who'd happen to meet in Spokane. He had been an extra victim of the wrong place, wrong time. But at least he'd known what had happened when he'd woken up.
Everett didn't want that. He didn't care to know who he was before that stormy night, but he didn't mind living with the after effects. He was nervous during thunderstorms. Every light in the house was always on when it stormed, and he had flashlights stashed in every room.
If a storm popped up while he was asleep, he always woke up. One night, he'd had a death grip on Mal until the storm had passed. Then he'd refused to talk about it. Mal had been at a loss for words during it all. Sometimes he wanted to ask, but he knew something like this would happen. Everett wasn't as secretive as Mal when it came to his personal life, but he guarded his past like a dragon guarded its hoard.
He set the bags down on the desk and looked into the break room. Donovan was talking to the young man, a gentle expression on his angular face. What had happened while he'd been gone? Why was the chief of police and Alpha talking to someone who was not part of his pack? Not officially at least even though he had the protection of the pack.
As if knowing he was watching, Everett looked at him. Mal saw the determination and a flicker of pain in his violet depths. Had he pushed him so far he was mad at him?
"Donovan asked him what he could do to make things easier for him," Carver whispered. "They've been talking for ten minutes."
"Do you know what he said?" Mal asked.
"No, Donovan's kept him covered until just now. But Everett's settled down. He's not as volatile."
The younger werewolf started to unload dinner, his eyes flickering to the break room. The two talked for a while longer, until the food was lukewarm. When they ventured out, Everett grabbed his food and slipped back into the break room. Mal could only watch as he sat down and ate alone.
Mal watched him, silently beating himself up. He looked so very small in that room alone. Everything was collapsing around him, but he was refusing to help. It was either self-preservation or fear. Mal wasn't sure which one yet.
"Don't worry about him," Donovan assured. "We were talking about what he needs to feel safer."
"What'd he say?" Mal couldn't help the hopefulness in his tone.
"He says he's fine, but he refuses to go back to his hometown." Donovan's gaze was knowing but firm. "Malcolm, it's not wise to push. It could be detrimental to his mental health."
"I just wanted to help." The detective stared at the window without seeing anything. His emotions were firing on all cylinders and they were threatening to spill over.
"Sometimes being a silent figure is the best thing to do." He was saying not everyone needed to be fixed. There were times when someone just needed an ear or someone else to lean on.
Donovan patted him on the back. "Malcolm, he's a good kid. I can say that because I'm pretty old. But he's human. He has other needs other than food, sex, and warmth. He needs someone to trust and care for him. His whole world was just shaken up, and your first instinct is to take him back to an even more serious situation. I'd react the same way."
"If Claudia threatened to end your relationship, would you step back?" Claudia was Donovan's human mate and wife. They'd met when Mal first moved here and had gotten married within six months. They were currently trying to have children, but due to Donovan being a werewolf, it was difficult.
"What makes you think she hasn't?" Carver laughed.
Mal wasn't laughing, but Donovan was smiling. It must be true if he hadn't bitten Carver's head off for the comment. Instead he just looked at him fondly. Carver was one of Donovan's closest friends and it showed.
He sighed, grabbed his food, and went into the break room. Everett looked up at him but didn't say anything. He continued eating and watching his computer screen.
Outside, Donovan watched the couple carefully. His gut was screaming at him that there was more going on with Everett than anyone thought. Just by talking to him he realized there was more going on. He'd known several people who had lost their memories. Some had regained partials back but were content not to pursue the rest.
However, they had all tried to regain them. They had gone back to familiar places to see if they could recover anything. The fact that Everett didn't want to say anything could mean two things. Either it was so tragic he didn't want to relive it, or Everett knew what had happened and didn't want to admit it.
"What are you thinking?" Carver asked.
"I'm going to make some calls. I know the Alpha around New Port. Maybe he knews something about what happened thirteen years ago," Donovan said.
"Are you nervous about what we'll find out?" Because Carver was. He didn't want the kid to find something out that could potentially ruin the life he had painstakingly built away from that town.
"Not that necessarily. My gut says his past is connected to this case, but I'm not sure if he truly remembers and is hiding it, or if he's scared of finding out."
Carver could understand. Maybe Everett didn't want to relive whatever had made him an orphan. Or he didn't want to know why his parents gave him up. Either way, he was bound to find some unsavory things. Staying away from it was the only way to protect himself.
Donovan went off to make his phone calls before he had to leave for the night. It was the last main night of the full moon and a day before Halloween. He had to take the new kids out for their last hunt before everyone and their brother lost their damn minds. The effects would start to wane by morning.
Carver cast one look at the couple beore he left for the hunt. Mal should be fine tonight. Everett was in the precinct so if anything happened, he'd be safe. More like the rest of humanity would be safe for Mal. Then they could do whatever they wanted on the biggest night of dressup of the year.