tangier, enough to make her eyes water. She lifted her T-shirt over her nose and breathed out of her mouth as much as possible. Tallulah stopped abruptly at the edge of the field, where flies swarmed low to the ground. This was it.
She crept closer, not wanting to get too near. Only close enough to glimpse what had died.
Yellow corn kernels dotted the ground where they’d spilled from a burlap sack. A patch of blue denim, a black T-shirt and a gray beard—the body was human. Bile rose in her throat, caustic and burning. She was used to wisps, trapped souls, Ishkitini and other shadow spirits. Not this carnage of blood, flesh and bone. Did she know the victim? She edged forward for a closer view. The neck was torn open and blood stained the front of the dark T-shirt. Dried globules of red liquid speckled his gray beard. His face was as white as a cotton sheet, as if all the blood had drained out. Even though his features were contorted in pain, she recognized him.
It was Jeb Johnson, owner of the farm. Evidently, he’d been out illegally baiting deer and something or someone had caught up to him. Killed him. Brutally, at that. But why? Jeb mostly kept to himself—he was a quiet man who worked his land and hunted and fished. A widower, his sons were grown and they seemingly got along well with one another.
Tawny wolf eyes glittered in her mind’s eye. But even that made no sense. A wolf wouldn’t attack a human unless it was starving and there was no other prey available. These woods were filled with squirrels and rabbits and mice, enough to fill its belly.
She’d seen enough. Tallulah ran to the farmhouse, intent on reporting the news. Jeb was dead, but the sooner the cops arrived and observed the body, the more clues they might gather to solve the murder. She rapped sharply at the door.
A handsome, genial male opened the door, raised his brows in surprise and then grinned.
“Hello, little lady. Can I help you?”
“There’s a—a...” Her breath grew more shallow and she bent at the waist, catching her breath. “There’s been a murder. Call the sheriff.”
The grin slipped from his face. “Who? Murder, you say?”
“Call 911.”
“Of course.”
He started to shut the door in her face. Damn, if only she’d brought her cell phone. She never could remember to carry the stupid thing everywhere she went.
Tallulah threw her weight on the door with her right shoulder and slipped inside. The man was stronger than she was, but her quick maneuver had caught him unaware and she pushed past him.
At least a dozen men sat around the den, in various stages of undress. A few, apparently, had just arisen. At least half wore only shorts and sported shadows of a beard. The smells of bacon and coffee pervaded from the adjoined kitchen to the left. Payton was nowhere to be found.
The man who’d answered the door walked in front of her, blocking her view. “Bad news, guys. There’s been a murder.”
Tallulah stepped to his side and eyed the men.
“Shit—”
“Damn it—”
“What the—?”
One of the men rose, his forgotten breakfast plate crashing to the floor. “Not again.”
Tallulah zeroed in on his clean-shaven features. Not again? “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Has this happened before?”
Warning glances passed around the group and an unnatural silence descended.
A tall man with close-cropped black hair strode her way. She recognized him as the timber crew’s supervisor.
“Who’s been murdered? Where’s the body?” he demanded. His blue eyes were arctic—cold and piercing.
“In the field behind your house. Call the cops.”
No one moved.
Tallulah stiffened. Their reactions were off. Way off. Any other crowd this size, over half of them would have already whipped out their ever-present cell phones and called the police. Too late, she recalled the strange creature who had entered this very house. The wolf no one claimed to notice. And Jeb’s bloody neck could have been the result of a bite. Chills ghosted up her spine.
“We’ll take care of everything,” the leader said smoothly. His eyes narrowed. “You look familiar...oh yeah, you’re one of those protestors. Ms. Silver, isn’t it?” He turned to the man who’d answered the door. “Eli, go upstairs and get Payton.”
Eli immediately bounded up the wooden stairs. The leader gripped her forearm. “Show me where you found the body.”
“After you call the cops,” she insisted. Bossy men like him couldn’t intimidate her.
He spoke to one of the guys, his eyes never leaving her face. “Adam, call 911. Now, Ms. Silver, I want to see the body.”
“You can view it along with the sheriff,” she countered, thrusting out her chin.
Shock widened his pupils. He was obviously used to being instantly obeyed. At least Adam was on the phone, reporting the murder.
He released her arm and faced the men. “Everyone go out, divide up and check the field and its perimeter.”
The men scrambled to follow his orders. Two sets of footsteps clamored down the stairs. Eli and Payton emerged.
Payton’s blond hair glistened, and tiny rivulets of water fell down his face. He wore jeans, but no shirt. The dark hair on his muscular chest was matted. He was sleek and lean and sexy as hell after his morning shower.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Of course it’s you, stirring up trouble first thing in the morning. Should have guessed.”
“This is no laughing matter,” the leader snapped. “Another body’s been found.”
Another. Tallulah noticed his choice of words.
Payton’s face paled underneath his tan. All traces of humor vanished. “No,” he whispered, his voice strangled.
“So there’s been other bodies? Other murders?” she asked.
The leader’s jaw clenched. “You’re the only one saying murder. How do you know this person didn’t die from natural causes?”
She shuddered, recalling the mauled neck, the loss of blood.
Payton came to her at once. “Come, sit,” he ordered. “You look like hell. Must have been a shock to find the body.”
He tossed an arm over her shoulders and she leaned into his solid mass, smelling soap and shampoo. Warmth washed over her body and she allowed him to seat her on the beat-up leather sofa in the den. She stared at her hands that violently shook in her lap.
Payton closed his strong hands over her trembling ones. “Delayed reaction,” he said. “I’m sure the shock is starting to catch up to you.”
Somehow
