Page 71 of Silver Claw

I clenched the steering wheel. “What was the time of death?”

“The investigator with the ME’s office puts it between eight and eleven AM this morning.”

“Well, there you go. Sam was at Silverwood all morning.”

“Kait…”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’d better not be about to tell me you don’t believe me, Detective.”

“No, no. I know you wouldn’t cover for him if you thought he was killing innocents.”

I took the phone off speaker and put it to my ear. “What’s going on?”

“Beth came home,” he said.

My stomach plummeted. “Home?” I asked, my mind scrambling to figure out where exactly home was to Beth. “Where’s home? The city? Your street? Your fuckingbed, Rick?”

He paused, maybe taken off guard by my reaction. “She showed up this morning at the house. She wants to talk about things.”

“To talk,” I said, my heart pounding with equal parts anger and fear. “What doyouwant?”

I’d asked him that very question before, and we’d been interrupted before he could answer. I waited now, barely breathing, afraid to hear, afraid not to.

“What I want,” he almost whispered, “what I’ve wanted for so very fucking long, is you, Kait. You. I told you I’m your human world man. I meant it.”

Someone began talking to him in the background, and before I could even begin to put together a reply, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have to go. We’ll talk tonight.”

Then he was gone.

And I was going to have to talk to Jared about my human world man.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

We had no trouble getting into Sterling Hills. The guard in the gatehouse peered into the car, checked his computer screen, and then the heavy gates began to slide open. During daylight hours when traffic in and out was heavier, they’d leave the gates open and use only a barrier arm to keep out the riffraff.

I was no stranger to gated communities, but Sterling Hills screamed money. It had none of the careful watchfulness of a gated wolf or other supernatural village, but I had no doubt there were many secrets hiding inside the immaculate, stately homes.

And I was about to get up close and personal with one of them. I grabbed my bag of supplies from the back of the car, making a mental note to restock when I got home.

Keith was waiting out front, pacing in his wrinkled designer shirt, looking both hopeful and terrified at the same time. “Leah is with Mila,” he told me, giving Joe a nod.

He didn’t waste time on small talk, but led us over beautiful, dark oak floors toward a modern staircase with gleaming steel railings. I caught a glimpse of a massive, open-concept great room, gorgeous framed family photos, and the warmth of lived-in spaces, despite the awfulness of a sick child and what may or may not have been an evil demon making her that way.

Mila’s bedroom was a little girl’s fairy-tale room. Spacious with pink and white colors, a canopy bed draped in sheer, flowing fabric, and what looked like hand-painted murals of whimsical trees and castles on the far wall. There were stuffies and dolls everywhere, but they were neatly contained and arranged. A set of French doors led to a balcony. Against the footboard, a Pomeranian sat quietly on a deep, fuzzy dog bed.

A uniformed nurse slipped through a door across the room, where she’d likely stay until Joe and I left.

The room looked lovely, but my sensitive wolf’s nose picked up the underlying scent of sickness.

I’d been wrong in thinking Mila had a demon possession. Their intruder was definitely a ghost, and when I neared the bed and stared down at the little girl, I had to fight to keep my emotions in check.

She was curled up on her side, dark hair like her dad’s, pale skin like her mom’s. And Keith was right. She was fading.

Joe stood a little back, not wanting to be intrusive but close enough so that if I needed him, he could help. Leah and Keith hovered, but they were quiet. I was thankful that they knew to be quiet and let me work.

I sat on the edge of the bed but was careful not to touch Mila. I didn’t want the ghost to feel something or have any idea that I could see him. Not yet.

“Mila,” I murmured. “It’s going to be okay, honey.” I pulled my bag onto my lap and opened it, blindly searching for a ghost trap, which I placed beside me on the bed. I hoped the little dog wouldn’t eat it.