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  "I thought wolves rarely attacked people."

  "These are more than wolves."

  More than wolves? What did that mean? I could ask, but then he’d probably tell me. I needed to talk to Clyde and a few others before I started questioning Mandenauer. I was having serious doubts about his sanity.

  After flicking the safety on my rifle, I reached for the rope used to lower weapons to the ground.

  "Where are you going?" Mandenauer sat on the floor of the tree stand with his back against one plank wall.

  "Back to work?"

  "This is your work now."

  I glanced at the woods where the wolves had disappeared. "But—"

  "Now that they know we are here they may be back. It isn’t safe to be on the ground until morning."

  "You mean we have to sit up here all night?"

  He shrugged and snuggled his shoulders into the corner. "Wake me if they return."

  Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep, just like that.

  Morning came—eventually. But none of the wolves did.

  I observed a lot of wildlife that night, but nothing out of the ordinary. A raccoon or three, an opossum, a doe and two fawns tripped through just before dawn. Man-denauer slept through everything.

  When the sun spread bright fingers of light across the floor of the tree stand, I kicked Mandenauer’s boot. He came awake in an instant. I could tell by his face he knew where he was. I wouldn’t have. The only people I knew who could come out of a deep sleep and function immediately were ex-military. The longer I knew Man-denauer the more interesting he became.

  He glanced into the clearing. "Nothing," he stated.

  I didn’t bother to answer what hadn’t been a question.

  We lowered our rifles to the ground, then followed them down, returning to town in silence. Mandenauer must have gotten a car from somewhere, since he’d met me at the station, so instead of dropping him at his cabin, I took him back where I had found him.

  Zee was already gone and a new fresh face sat in her place. I wondered where they’d gotten this one. She appeared to be all of twelve years old—fine blond hair, huge blue eyes, porcelain pale skin—she would have been pretty except for that nose. Poor thing had a beak like a hawk.

  "Morning, Jessie," she chirped.

  Someone had neglected to tell her she should never talk to me before breakfast.

  Clyde must have been waiting for us, because he barreled out of his office almost as soon as we walked in. "Gonna make my day?"

  The youngster murmured, "Sudden Impact." Maybe she was smarter than she looked.

  "No, sir," I answered. Set to launch into an explanation of how it was all my fault, I was shocked when Mandenauer put a heavy, staying hand on my shoulder.

  "This will take time," he said.

  Clyde chewed hard and fast on his first chew of the morning. "I went to Miss Larson’s house. Nothing unusual there."

  "Any indication of why she might have been out on the road at three a.m.?"

  "None. I doubt we’ll ever know the answer to that. Hell, maybe she just couldn’t sleep."

  "I hate loose ends," I muttered.

  "You, me, and the rest of the free world." Clyde stalked back into his office and slammed the door.

  "He is upset."

  I glanced at Mandenauer and tamped down on the urge to say, "No shit." The old man was staring at the door to Clyde’s office with a contemplative expression.

  "He doesn’t do well with change. Rabid wolves, citizens eating each other, that’s new around here."

  "Hmm. Then we’d best obtain some results for the sheriff. I will meet you tonight?"

  "Same bat time, same bat channel," I agreed.

  Mandenauer appeared confused. His knowledge of classic television trivia was no doubt sorely lacking. But at least he didn’t ask me to explain. 1 was not in the mood.

  What I was, was tired and sore from lounging in that tree stand all night. I wanted food and my pillow, but I had one phone call to make before I could go.

  Mandenauer headed for the parking lot; 1 headed for what passed as my office—a desk among all the other desks—but at least no one else was in the room. Then I looked up the number for the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.

  "This is Officer Jessie McQuade of the Miniwa, Wisconsin, PD," I began. "I… Uh, well, you see, we have a tiny problem here."

  How did I explain something that sounded like I’d read it in a fantasy novel? One that had a cheesy, car-toonish, snarling, slavering wolf on the cover?

  I took a deep breath and told the switchboard operator everything that I knew. To the woman’s credit, she didn’t collapse into giggles right away. Who knows what she did after she transferred my call to Dr. Hanover.

  "Elise Hanover." The voice on the other end of the line was clipped—all business and very busy.

  I began my story all over again, but she interrupted me after only a moment. "Yes, yes. I know about the new rabies strain."

  "You do?"

  "Of course. I’m working on that problem right now."

  "You are?"

  An impatient sigh drifted several hundred miles. "Officer, what is it you want to know?"

  What did I want to know‘? That Mandenauer wasn’t a psycho with a gun? That he hadn’t made up this rabies crap so he could go bonkers in our forest and start killing every wolf that he saw? I guess I knew that now. But as long as I had an expert on the line…

  "Is this a terrorist infiltration?"

  Dr. Hanover snorted. "Like I’d tell you if it was?"

  Good point.

  "Relax," she said. "Everything that goes to hell in our country isn’t the result of a terrorist."

  "Yeah, tell it to the media."

  Silence met my snarl. I waited for the click of the phone or the request for my superior’s phone number. Instead the doctor chuckled. "You’re a woman after my own heart, Officer."

  I blinked, uncertain what to say to that. I wasn’t used to female friendliness. The two words were mutually exclusive in my book.

  I’d spent my childhood with the boys. I liked them—still did. Boys didn’t smile in your face and stab you in the back. They kicked your ass; then they were done. I prefer my hostility out in the open where I can see it.

  My only girlfriend was Zee, and she wasn’t much of a girl. But her hostility was definitely out in the open. Zee was a woman after my own heart.

  When I sat there like a lump too long, Dr. Hanover filled in the silence. "The virus is a result of nature, Officer. You’ve heard, I’m sure, that certain infections are becoming resistant to antibiotics because of overuse of medication?"

  "Yes. I also know that infections are different from viruses and antibiotics aren’t worth dick if you have the flu. Since rabies is basically the flu on acid, what difference does resistance to antibiotics make?"

  "None whatsoever. I was using an analogy. The rabies virus is mutating to get around the vaccine."

  "I was told if anyone else was bitten we should use the rabies vaccine."

  "For humans, that’s true. The only help for animals is a bullet."

  "Those I got."

  "Silver?"

  "Excuse me?" I could not have heard her right.

  "Silver bullets work best."

  It was my turn to snort. "Doctor, have you been watching too many Lon Chaney movies?"

  "Who?"

  She was either too young to remember the Wolf Man—hell, I was too young, except I liked black-and-white horror movies—or too much of a brainiac to watch movies at all.

  "Never mind," I said. "You’re kidding me about the silver bullets, right?"

  "Sorry, but no. We’ve discovered the mutated virus reacts negatively to silver."

  "Dead is dead in my book. What difference does it make how?"

  "You’d be surprised. I’ve had reports of animals with a nonkill wound dying if a silver bullet was used. What can it hurt? Dead is dead, right?" I heard the amusement in her voice as she
threw my own words back at me.

  "Where the hell do I get silver bullets? Werewolves ‘R’ Us?"

  "Try the Internet. You can buy anything there."

  The phone went dead in my hand.

  "Silver bullets." I shook my head. That’d be the day.

  I could see myself trying to explain why my rifle was loaded with silver—to Clyde, to Bozeman, to John Q. Public, even to Mandenauer. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.

  I’d take my chances with the lead variety, thank you.

  My radio crackled. "Jessie?"

  The new dispatcher. Why hadn’t she just shouted for me? She had to know I was three doors down the hall.

  I got up and walked to the front of the building. She appeared frazzled; the buttons on her switchboard were lit up like a meteor shower. Someone was chattering into her headphones. I could hear them from five feet away.

  I glanced into Clyde’s office. He was taking a call and, if the wide sweeps of his hands and the scowl on his face were any indication, he was in the middle of an argument.

  "Jessie!" The dispatcher beckoned. "I need you to go out on a call."

  "I’m off."

  "Nuh-uh."

  I raised a brow and glanced at her name tag. She wasn’t wearing one. Zee must not think the kid would last through the day.

  She waved a hand at the switchboard. "We just got slammed. There’s a three-car pileup on the highway and a domestic disturbance on Grand. I sent everyone available; then another call came in." She bit her lip. "Clyde said if I disturbed him I should find another job."

  I glanced into his office again. He was still arguing. He caught me staring and turned his back. Odd.

  "Fine." I saw my blueberry bagel and cool soothing sheets slipping away, but there was nothing I could do about it. "Where and what?"

  She beamed. "The university. One of the professors’ offices was ransacked."

  "Whose?" I asked, but I already knew.

  Chapter 14

  "Cadotte," she said. "William Cadotte."

  One thing I did not need today was a face-to-face encounter with the man who’d had his tongue in my mouth last night.

  "I’ll take the domestic," I offered, which only proved how desperate I was.

  Domestic disturbances were the most dangerous calls. You never knew what you were going to run into when love turned to hate. Besides, I’d never been very good at dealing with family squabbles, never having had one of my own.

  The dispatcher shook her head, destroying my hopes. "One Adam Three is already there. One Adam One and Two are en route to the accident. Which leaves you."

  I gave up. Sometimes fate was a malicious bitch.

  Surrendering any delusion that I might get to sleep soon, I grabbed coffee at the Gas n‘ Go, then snagged a doughnut, too.

  The route to the university was becoming familiar, as was the route to Cadotte’s cubbyhole of an office. Students, teachers, security milled aimlessly in the hall. There was no sign of the man himself.

  The crowd parted for me like the proverbial Red Sea.

  However, I wasn’t feeling much like Moses. The land of milk and honey was my apartment, and it felt farther away right now than Egypt.

  I likened myself to Pharaoh’s soldiers. If I went through these people and into the belly of the sea, I was going to drown, but I had to go. Orders were orders and duty just that, as much now as they had been countless centuries before.

  I paused on the threshold of the office. Cadotte sat at his desk, his forehead in his hands. Several colleagues hovered around, trying not to disturb the mess.

  Cadotte glanced up, almost as if he’d sensed me there. Our gazes met. The air between us sizzled. I was in way over my head with William Cadotte.

  "Jessie," he whispered, and stood.

  If I hadn’t come here before, I might have thought he was just a pig or a spacey egghead who had better things to do than clean. But I had come, and while the place had been full of stuff, the stuff had been in neat piles. Now it was spread to hell and gone in every corner and all across the floor.

  "Everyone out," I ordered.

  I couldn’t stop staring at Cadotte. Though he appeared as exhausted as I was, he was still something to see. His hair stood on end, as if he’d run agitated fingers through the strands over and over again. His glasses were hooked in the pocket of his shirt, so I could see his dark eyes flare hot in an unusually pale face. He was pissed, and I couldn’t say that I blamed him.

  I’d been burglarized once. I still remembered how it had felt to know some stranger had invaded my place, touched my things, perhaps seen something private. I’d lost money, my CD player, but more important, I’d lost my sense of security for a long, long time.

  The door closed and we were alone. "What happened?" 1 asked.

  "I already went over this with Security."

  "And I’ll get that information. I want you to tell me."

  He sat on the edge of the desk and I was reminded of how easily he moved—at home in his skin, confident with his body—he’d be attractive for the way he held himself alone. The handsome face, rippling muscles, and great big… brain were all gravy.

  "I came in to work early this morning," he began.

  I wanted to ask why, but I knew better. When taking a statement it was best to let the person tell you everything without interruptions first. You didn’t want them to forget something important because they were distracted. The second time through was the time for questions.

  "My door was ajar. I figured the cleaning crew was running late. I walked right in." He gave an annoyed grunt. "Sorry, I touched the doorknob."

  I shrugged and made a circular motion with my finger indicating he should keep rolling. People would be amazed to know—despite countless hours of NYPD Blue—how many times evidence was fucked long before we got there.

  "The place was like this." He spread his hands to indicate the mess. "I called nine-one-one, then Security. Someone was searching for something."

  Since he appeared to be done with his story, I asked, "What?"

  "Do you still have the totem?"

  I started, frowned, forced my hand to stay at my side and not creep to my pocket to check. I could feel the talisman there, sharp against my upper thigh. If Cadotte had been looking, he’d have been able to see it, too, although the small piece of stone could easily be mis-taken for a key or any other paraphernalia of the pocket.

  "Not on me," I lied. Then, "You think someone was after the totem, so they trashed your office?"

  "Nothing was taken. I checked."

  "Perhaps you gave a student one too many zeros."

  "I don’t give zeros."

  "Too many Fs then."

  "I don’t give those, either."

  "Well, sign me up, Professor. Sounds like my kind of class."

  His lips twitched. I was glad to see him coming out of that frozen, zombielike state. "Who else knows I had the totem?"

  Myself. Cadotte. Clyde.

  I frowned. The only one of us who didn’t know I had the totem now was Clyde. But what possible reason would he have for trashing Cadotte’s office? Clyde might not like him but wouldn’t risk his job just to be pissy.

  Then I remembered the paper Cadotte had signed for the totem and that it was missing. Hell, anyone with access to the evidence room, or the stolen evidence, could have done this. But why?

  "Jessie?"

  I raised my gaze. "Maybe the person who lost it was searching for it?"

  "And they would come to me instead of you, why?"

  Hmm, good point.

  "Who knows that I had the thing besides you and me?" he repeated.

  "Clyde." I shrugged. "And anyone with access to the evidence room."

  Quickly I explained about the receipt, the evidence log, and the missing evidence.

  Cadotte gave a long, slow blink. "That makes no sense."

  I had to agree. "This was probably an unrelated incident."

  "Why my office and no
one else’s? Why take nothing but look at everything?"

  My gaze swept the room. There was an awful lot of paper. Books, notes.

  "Axe you working on something?"

  Cadotte had been staring at the ground, fingering his glasses, and scowling. "Huh?"

  He glanced up and I started. For a second there his dark, angry eyes had reminded me of the wolf I had seen in the clearing last night.

  I rubbed my own eyes, and when I tried again, all I saw in his was curiosity. Why on earth would I remember a rabid wolf when I looked into Cadotte’s eyes?

  Because I was way too tired to be working, way too deprived to be anywhere near him. 1 had a hard time thinking beyond how he tasted, how he smelled, how he had appeared naked in the moonlight and fully clothed on my porch with his tongue between my breasts.

  Yet ever since I’d walked into this room, he had given no indication that we were any more than acquaintances. Perhaps in his mind we were. He probably brought women to orgasm with his kiss alone all the time.

  Since the idea of him touching anyone else as he had touched me made me angry—how crazy was that? I couldn’t even bring myself to call him by his first name—I forced myself back to the matter at hand. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I was a cop, not a silly, hormonal teenager.

  "Are you working on a paper? A book? A theory? Something a colleague might want to take a peek at? Steal? Screw up?"

  He shook his head. "I just finished a book."

  "You wrote a book?" Although I had asked, that he’d actually written an entire book made me gape.

  Cadotte laughed. "I’ve written several. That’s what professors do when they aren’t teaching. Publish or perish. Ever hear of it?"

  No. I’d never been much of a student—although I liked to read. What else was a girl supposed to do alone, Friday night after Friday night?

  "What are all these notes for?" I waved my hand at the fire hazard living in his office.

  "Mostly for you."

  "Me?"

  I might not be the flowers and chocolate type, but crumpled paper and dusty books didn’t do a thing for me.

  "The totem, Jessie."

  Poof went my ideas of romance. Everything came back to that damn piece of rock.