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  The cellphone on the nightstand buzzed. Lizbet and her mom just stared at it. Josie, Daugherty’s sister and Lizbet’s aunt, had given Daugherty the phone so she could keep a constant line of communication open with Lizbet’s aging grandmother.

  Lizbet peeked at the screen. “It’s John.”

  “I know.”

  Lizbet nudged her mom’s arm. “You should answer it.”

  Daugherty sighed. “Everything was so much easier on the island.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Don’t glamourize it.” She rested her hand on her mom’s thigh. “It was also a lot of hard work.”

  “I know, but with John...”

  “The best is yet to be.” Lizbet finished her mom’s sentence.

  “Do you really think so? Do you think he’s ever going to forgive me?”

  “Don’t you think he might be a tiny bit mad at himself? I mean, he’s the one who got snookered with ginger root tea.”

  “But I’m the one who gave it to him!”

  “So what? That’s like blaming the arms dealer for a shooter’s rampage.” Lizbet paused, then added softly, “Besides, you can’t be held responsible. You had amnesia. You didn’t know who John was. You didn’t even know who you were!” Lizbet thought about bringing up Rose, her biological mother, but decided to wait for a better time. She bottled up her curiosity and put a cork in it. “Did John say how Declan’s mom is doing?”

  “Gloria is frantic. She’s afraid the police are going to try and pin the murder on her missing husband.” Only a few weeks ago, Declan’s stepfather—and possibly Lizbet’s real father—had left Daugherty for dead and later had taken a few potshots at Lizbet as well. Since then, he had disappeared.

  “I don’t know how Gloria can still care about him.”

  Daugherty shrugged. “Love is complicated.”

  Lizbet thought about her relationships with her mom, Declan, Maria, Elizabeth, even Matias. The word complicated didn’t even come close to describing them.

  “Besides,” her mother continued, “Frank Forsythe wasn’t killed by a man. They suspect he died of a heart attack.”

  “And what about the nurse?”

  “He died from the wounds and blood loss. There’s no way of knowing if a person was or wasn’t responsible for the animal attack. No sign of forced entry.”

  “Then we might never know,” Lizbet said, but what she thought was, I’m going to find the beast, whether human or wolf, responsible for this.

  DECLAN TRIED NOT TO be embarrassed for his mom as she fluttered around the gravesite, acting more like she was hosting an open house for a swanky townhome than grieving for her father in a coffin. She had told Declan that the service would be limited to family and a few close friends, but he felt small and lost in the sea of people surrounding his grandfather’s grave. It bugged him that most of these people probably knew his grandfather better than he did. He blamed his mom. She and her dad hadn’t spoken in years. Declan had never been able to cross the chasm between them.

  He peeked over his shoulder at the hospitality van parked next to the small chapel adjacent to the graveyard. Even from a distance he recognized Mr. Croft and Missy, the caterers his mom always used for open houses and other events. He had suggested that she use Lizbet’s mom. Daugherty was trying to get a catering business off the ground and had thrown a few luncheons and business events for family and friends using her unique blends of food and wine, but Gloria had been adamant about hiring Mr. Croft.

  Which was fine...he supposed. He liked Mr. Croft. He just liked Lizbet and her mom more. His dad, John, hovered in the back. Declan felt his dad watching him and turned, catching his eye. His big shoulders filled out his suit, and the tie looked like a noose around his neck. Knowing his dad hadn’t liked Frank Forsythe any more than Gloria had, Declan guessed that John was only here for him. He also figured Gloria, who was whispering in the ear of a city councilman, wouldn’t miss him, so he headed toward his dad.

  Feeling like a fish trying to swim upstream, Declan weaved through the crowd. A hand on his arm stopped him. Seconds later, he was engulfed in a tight hug.

  “OMG, I’m so sad for you!” Nicole breathed into his ear.

  He pulled away and straightened his tie. “I didn’t know him. We never even met.”

  “And that makes it so much more tragical.”

  Tragical? He’d never known Nicole to make up words. With her pale skin and hair, light blue eyes, and plain black dress, she was the opposite of Lizbet in almost every way. The sun’s rays glinted off the silver cross around her neck, making him blink.

  “If you need to talk, I lost my grandma a few months ago, so I know what it’s like.”

  Since Nicole’s grandma had probably died peacefully in a hospital bed rather than being ripped to pieces by a wolf, Nicole did not know how he was feeling. He couldn’t tell her that the sight of his grandfather’s bloody and torn body haunted him. He couldn’t tell her that the rusty smell of blood and putrid stink of death clung to him like a mold he couldn’t wash away. He couldn’t admit to her, or anyone, that a gray wolf with emerald eyes lived in his nightmares.

  “Who’s that?” Nicole asked.

  Declan followed her gaze to the gravesite where a tall man with honey-blond hair stood beside his mom. “I’m not sure.” It could have been any one of his grandfather’s ‘family and close friends,’ but something about the man’s posture leaning toward his mom told him that this wasn’t just anyone. Declan tightened his lips and threw his dad another glance. Fortunately, John was involved in a hushed conversation with East End High’s science teacher. Declan thought he caught the word quarterback.

  Nicole elbowed him. “Your mom wants you,” she whispered.

  His mom waved him over with her white handkerchief. The crowd parted as he headed her way.

  “Darling.” Gloria reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “This is Leo Cabriolet.”

  “Godwin’s tennis partner,” Declan said. Recognizing the name, he took the man’s extended hand in a firm grip.

  “Former partner,” Cabriolet said.

  “Also your grandfather’s attorney,” Gloria said.

  Declan studied his mom and read her excitement. He felt ill and off balance. He blamed the sun, lack of sleep, and his nightmares.

  “We need to talk,” Cabriolet said.

  “Of course,” Gloria said, looking like she was ready to find a comfortable tombstone to settle down on for a long chat.

  Declan glanced around at the crowd and shook his head. “This isn’t the best time.”

  Cabriolet nodded. “Tomorrow?”

  For some reason, Declan wanted to say he had school, basketball practice, or work, but since the next day was Sunday, he said none of those things.

  “Ten?” Gloria suggested.

  Cabriolet smiled. “I look forward to it.” He cuffed Declan’s arm in a friendly goodbye, as if they were meeting for a date instead of the reading of a will.

  LIZBET WATCHED HER mom and grandmother move to the front of the crowd while she hung back in the shade of a giant maple tree. Above her, a squirrel chattered, but she paid him little attention.

  Large groups of people made her nervous. It still took her by surprise that this was exactly where her mother belonged—this was the world where Daugherty had been raised. These well-dressed, diamond-flashing peers of Declan’s grandfather had been the parents of her mother’s playmates.

  Lizbet smiled, watching her grandmother. Elizabeth didn’t ooze money as the others did, but even in her last-century dress, heels, and hose, she belonged. Her husband’s wealth and land holdings had secured his wife and daughter’s position on East End’s slippery social ladder.

  Lizbet sought out Declan. She spotted him near the gravesite, hovering near his mom and Nicole. Nicole whispered something in his ear, and he turned and gave her a brief smile. Lizbet’s heart tightened as if someone had tied a string around it. She knew Declan planned on leaving in a few months. He and Nicole both planned
on attending Duke University. Lizbet wondered who had made their plan first.

  She didn’t hold Declan’s leash. She wanted him to go to the best school that could best prepare him for the best med school. He deserved the best. But she also knew that what was necessarily best for him might not be best for her. The thought of him leaving while she stayed behind made her ache.

  Her own plans were nebulous. Her mom and grandmother wanted her to go to school. She wanted that, too. Maybe. She didn’t know. She’d never been to school. It intimidated her and she had no idea what she wanted to study...or do after graduation. Besides, she really wanted to stay and help her grandmother on the ranch, and Daugherty was attempting to start a business, so that was also interesting. Lizbet had decided to attend a local community college that would allow her to keep her job at the nursery, live on the ranch with her grandmother and mom, and lend her mom the occasional hand with the fledgling business. She tried to be content with this plan, but adventures in foreign lands tempted her. Duke University, even though she knew she’d never be accepted, also tempted her. But only because Declan would be there...but so would Nicole.

  John pulled away from a group of middle-aged men. With his football player build, thick brown hair, and strong jaw, he looked too young to be Declan’s father. He took Elizabeth’s arm and helped her find a seat beneath the white hospitality tent. Lizbet strained to hear what he said to Daugherty.

  She understood why he was mad. She just hoped he would get over it soon. What her mom had done was wrong—no one deserved to be doped up on ginger root tea—but Lizbet couldn’t hold her mother accountable for what she’d done while suffering from memory loss. Then again, Lizbet had read that amnesiacs, as well as those under a hypnotic spell, would never do anything that went against their personal code of morals and ethics. Which made her wonder where ginger root tea fell into her mother’s moral compass.

  Lizbet guessed John had the same concerns as she watched him and her mom exchange a few brief words. Even from a distance, Lizbet could see mutual attraction buzzing between them like an electric current.

  She hugged herself, feeling, as she often did, misplaced. Someone nudged her. Turning, she smiled up at Declan’s enormous best friend, Baxter Dresden. His suit pants looked a little short and his jacket was too tight, but she was glad to see him.

  “Hey,” he said. “Does Declan know you’re here?”

  Lizbet shook her head. “It’s okay. He should be with his family, especially his mom.”

  She watched Declan’s face as he talked with Nicole.

  “You should at least let him know you’re here.” Something in Baxter’s tone made her wonder how he felt about Nicole.

  Lizbet shrugged.

  “Finding the right someone is like finding a pair of shoes,” Baxter said.

  “What does that mean?” Lizbet asked, smiling up at him. Declan had told her that both of Baxter’s parents were therapists, and he frequently quoted them.

  “It means that people look for good-looking, smart shoes, but they always end up with the ones they feel the most comfortable with.”

  Lizbet didn’t know if Baxter was comparing her to a pair of broken-in loafers, but as he waved Declan over, she decided not to take offense when she was pretty sure none was intended.

  Relief washed over Declan’s face when he caught sight of Lizbet. Immediately, he broke off his conversation with Nicole and headed for Lizbet. She decided she’d be loafers, stilettos, or gumboots—any footwear Declan desired—as long as he always looked at her this way.

  BILE ROSE IN DECLAN’S throat when he entered his grandfather’s house. The memory of his last visit flashed in his mind no matter how hard he tried to oust it. His mom had told him that professional cleaners had scoured and steamed, but...was it his imagination or did the stench of death still hang in the air? He didn’t have a reference point. He had no idea how his grandfather’s house had smelled before the wolf—or possibly wolves. Pipe tobacco odor puffed up from the upholstered sofa when Declan took a seat.

  “I hope you don’t mind meeting here,” Leo Cabriolet said as he settled into a wingback chair directly opposite Declan and his mom. “It seemed easier.”

  For whom? Declan wondered.

  Cabriolet set his briefcase on the coffee table between them. He pulled out an inch-thick document and placed it before Gloria. “This is an overview of your father’s financials.”

  Gloria perched on the edge of the sofa. Her excitement radiated toward Declan, smothering him. She picked up the papers with shaky hands.

  Cabriolet leaned back and crossed one ankle over the other. “I’m sure you’ll have questions. It’s a lot to process. As you know, your father had numerous investments and properties. Holbrook St. James, your grandfather’s accountant, will want to meet with you as soon as possible.”

  “Of course,” Gloria murmured.

  Cabriolet cleared his throat. “I hate to be indelicate, but...”

  “You’re wondering about Godwin,” Gloria said without looking up from the financial statements.

  “Have you heard from him?” Cabriolet asked.

  Gloria locked her eyes with his. Something passed between them, but Declan couldn’t decipher it.

  She shook her head. “He can’t think that he can take potshots at my son and still be welcome in my life!”

  “Men like Godwin consider themselves welcome wherever they wish to be.”

  Gloria bristled. “He is totally irrelevant to me, my son, and this.” She shook the papers at Cabriolet.

  Cabriolet leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “You may feel that way, but it’s not necessarily accurate. As I’m sure you are aware, Washington is a community property state. This means that all income earned and property acquired by either spouse during the marriage is considered joint property.”

  Gloria stood. “But that can’t be true of my inheritance!”

  Cabriolet eyed her. “I’m afraid so.”

  Gloria sank back onto the sofa and a puff of pipe tobacco filled the air. “Is there nothing I can do? I’ll divorce him this minute!”

  “Divorce proceedings can take time,” Cabriolet said. “Especially if you don’t know where one of the party is.”

  “I’ve heard of people going to Idaho for a quickie divorce,” Gloria murmured.

  “He would still need to sign the papers.”

  Gloria bounced back to her feet and began to pace. “I need to find him!”

  “Mom, the police are looking for him,” Declan said. “I’m sure they’ll find him. And even if they don’t, that’s good, right? He can’t claim anything if he’s hiding.”

  Gloria ran her hand over the heavily carved fireplace mantel. “I’m going to move in here.”

  “What?” Declan asked, feeling slightly dizzy.

  “My father was paranoid.” Gloria’s attention flashed around the room as if she were searching for hidden cameras. “I bet he has a topnotch security system.”

  Declan thought about pointing out that it hadn’t done him much good. “Your house also has a security system.”

  “But Godwin knows the passwords.”

  “Then change them,” Declan put in.

  Gloria shook her head. “Don’t you see? His name is also on the account. He could change it at any time. No, this will be better.”

  “You’re making the right decision,” Cabriolet said. “You’ll be safer here.”

  It hadn’t been such a safe place for Declan’s grandfather. He thought his mom should realize this, but he didn’t want to be the one to tell her.

  “Should I call the security company now?” Gloria stood before Cabriolet.

  “No. Just lock the doors behind us. I’m sure you’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

  Gloria nodded, but bit her lip and looked unsure. “Will you come with me to speak to St. James?”

  Cabriolet flushed and looked pleased. “If you wish.”

  The undercurrent between them grew thicker a
nd murkier, and Declan’s sensation of being smothered washed over him again.

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY, Lizbet stood on the steps of East End High. Walking through the doors was like crossing the border into a foreign territory. The long halls lined with banks of lockers, the posters on the classrooms’ windows and doors, the student-painted murals on the walls—this was an alien nation. She didn’t know the language or customs. She could never learn their mores in books. It bothered her that this was Declan’s world and it was one she’d never understand.

  She shook away her self-doubts and tried to match her mom’s hurried pace. Laden with donut boxes, Daugherty strode down the hall as if she knew exactly where she was headed. Lizbet realized with a start that of course Daugherty knew the way to the home ec room—East End High was also her alma mater.

  “We only have a couple of hours after the ceremony to set up for grad night.” Daugherty pushed open the home ec room door and placed the stack of donut boxes on the countertop. The boxes, purchased from Dee’s Delights, the local bakery, were not filled with donuts, but nearly a thousand cookies all baked by Daugherty, Lizbet, and Elizabeth. Half were of the more traditional flavors, such as chocolate chip and sugar, but Lizbet’s favorite was Daugherty’s own creation, the blackberry bongo bar.

  The senior grad night was Daugherty’s largest gig to date. Declan’s dad, who was East End’s head football coach, had set it up for her. Lizbet knew that none of the East End seniors would be repeat customers for her mom, but she didn’t say anything to dampen Daugherty’s s excitement.

  Daugherty took the boxes from Lizbet’s grasp. “Now, I want you to go and sit with John and Gloria.”

  “I’d rather be helping you.” Lizbet folded her arms and planted her feet.

  Daugherty brushed a loose curl away from Lizbet’s face. “We already had this conversation. Your grandmother will be here with Matias and Maria any minute to help.”