Page 10

Chapter Nine

M arric slinked in through a basement window. The air smelled damp. The concrete blocks felt rough even with gloves on. He lowered himself onto the floor as quietly as possible. Marric smelled blood as soon as he entered the witch’s house.

It was in the middle of the night and the house was dark. He let his eyes shift to his wolf’s so he could see better. Almost as soon as he could see, he wished he hadn’t.

The body at the bottom of the stairs had to be the homeowner.

Marric had done his homework. He’d been thorough.

He even knew the woman had seven children who were all grown.

Most were his father’s age. She’d had a dragon shifter for a mate, but he’d died twelve years ago.

She lived alone. More important to Marric was the fact she was one of the best healers in three counties.

She was supposed to be in her bed, fast asleep on the top floor of the house.

Not lying face down at the base of the staircase.

Anyone who saw her might think she had fallen.

Many would think it had been just her luck that she landed wrong.

But Marric knew better. He didn’t need to be a cop or a forensic specialist to see the hole in her skull. No way did she get that by falling.

Marric’s brain went into overdrive, trying to think if he had touched anything. He wasn’t worried about his hands. If any other part of him touched something, then he was in for a real treat in the form of a jail cell.

Gods, did Marric brush against the wall? Did he leave clothing fibers behind?

Marric took a deep breath and then looked at the woman again. She didn’t deserve what had happened it her. It didn’t matter if his clothing fibers were on anything. It wasn’t about him. He wasn’t going to just leave her lying there. Whoever hurt her deserved to go to prison.

Maybe people would think he did it and it might buy him 20 years to life in the state penitentiary, which scared the crap out of him. But maybe the sheriff would believe him when he told him the truth, since they might be mates.

Marric took a deep breath again and then another one to calm his racing heart. When it didn’t work, he repeated the process.

Marric began pacing.

Maybe he should call his dad. His dad had a lot of influence because he was the alpha of the Timeston pack. But Emery and Regan needed Dad. He was their only caregiver while Marric searched for a cure. Marric couldn’t take him away from them. Calling Dad was a last resort.

Oh gods. He would go to prison and never see Emery and Regan again.

And he was not prison material. How did he make friends with murderers, rapists, and fraudsters when it was difficult enough to make friends with regular people?

He was a thief, technically. He had stolen a book. A useless book, but he did steal it.

He’d been a criminal for a few weeks and so far, he kind of sucked at it.

He could research the homeowners better than he thought, though.

That part was simple. It was the part where he found a dead body in the basement where he panicked.

His only move was to call the one person who would put him in prison, which was the opposite thing a hardened criminal would do.

Marric took another deep breath and shored up his courage. His hands shook when he took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. It seemed to take forever for his home screen to come on.

He looked up the number for the Fortune Falls police department and then pressed the call button.

When the dispatcher asked him what his emergency was, he said, “I need to talk to sheriff Palmer.”

“Well, he isn’t in right now. Why don’t you tell me about your emergency, and I’ll help you.”

“Tell him Marric Ransome called. Give him my number.” Marric rattled off his number and then he ended the call.

It didn’t even take the sheriff two minutes to call him back.

“Marric.” The sheriff said his name as though he knew they were mates, too. But how could he? They had never officially met. Unless the sheriff knew Marric had watched him after every break-in. Marric didn’t know if the intimacy was real or imagined.

“What’s your first name?” Marric felt ridiculous asking, but he honestly didn’t know it. Marric just knew his last name was Palmer because everyone only ever referred to him as Sheriff Palmer.

“It’s Iven.” His voice was deep and a little raspy. It held tones of distrust, which didn’t bode well for Marric’s chances of escaping a prison sentence.

“Iven. That’s a nice name.”

Iven sighed. “What’s going on, Marric?”

“You know it’s me, right?” Marric didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew he was referring to the break-ins.

“Yes. What I don’t know is why.”

“I’ll tell you, but you have to not arrest me.”

“I can’t promise that.” Iven’s reputation for being a good sheriff had even reached Timeston.

The only reason people in Timeston talked about him was to compare him to the Timeston sheriff.

Marric had heard that Iven was known to give people breaks when he thought they deserved it.

It was the exact opposite with Timeston’s sheriff, who only ever investigated crimes if it benefited him to do so.

Marric sighed. “Someone murdered Hattie Winston. But it wasn’t me. I swear it.”

Iven sucked in a breath. “Miss Hattie?”

Shit. It sounded like Iven knew her and if that was the case, then Marric should have said it with a little more finesse. “I’m so sorry.”

Iven cleared his throat as if he were fighting off tears. His voice sounded raspy when he asked, “What are you sorry for?”

“For your loss.” Marric’s chest tightened, and emotion clogged his throat.

The next thing he said was an info dump unlike any he’d ever had before.

And he’d had plenty. He always lost control of his tongue when he was scared or nervous.

And he was both of those things. “I learned Hattie was a healer, so I came to see if I could find the healing spell that would save Emery. But I smelled blood as soon as I entered the house. I can’t just leave her lying here and I can’t call my dad.

He’s too busy taking care of my sister. And I just don’t know who else to call.

So, can you please just come? Please. I don’t have anyone else. ”

“I’m on my way,” Iven whispered. Marric heard the muffled sound of a door closing. “Stay on the line with me, honey.”

Marric sat on the floor, scooting against the basement wall. “Why did someone do this to her? She didn’t deserve it.”

“You really didn’t kill her, did you.” It wasn’t a question. Was Iven reaffirming what he already suspected to be true?

“I would never hurt someone. Not on purpose. They… um, they shot her. I could never…”

“How do you know how she died?”

“Her head. It’s… there are pieces of it.” The hole was shaped a bit like a funnel. The tissue around it resembled hamburger.

“I’m almost there.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer.

Marric sat with his knees up to his chest. “She’s at the base of the basement stairs.”

“Where are you?”

“With her. She shouldn’t be alone.” Marric might be a little stuck on that one thing.

“Okay, I’m entering the house.” A door opened and then closed again. The sound was faint but distinct.

Marric ended the call and stood. “I’m down here.”

And then there he was at the top of the stairs. He was a shadowy figure with a glowing hand, which he used as a light to guide his way.

One look at Iven Palmer’s face told Marric he wasn’t happy, despite how calm he’d sounded on the phone. Iven narrowed his eyes, making sure Marric knew he thought it was all Marric’s fault. He might as well have read him the Miranda Rights.

He held up a hand, telling Marric to stay back while he inspected the scene. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

Iven pulled a flashlight from his pocket. It was a little brighter than his glowing, tattooed hand. “Did you touch anything?”

“Not with my hands.” Marric held them up, showing Iven his gloves. “I might have brushed against the wall.”

Iven waved that away. “Go to my car and stay there. Don’t touch anything and don’t let anyone see you leave the house.”

Marric nodded and stepped over Hattie’s body.

This wasn’t going the way he thought it would. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the cold distance he’d gotten. Okay, he totally knew what he was expecting. A little comfort in the form of a hug and maybe Iven telling Marric everything would be okay.

“I didn’t do this, sheriff.” So maybe he liked having the last word. It wasn’t his worst trait.

Iven sighed. “I know. Just go to the car and don’t let anyone see you. The last fucking thing I need is for my mate to be on anyone’s radar for this murder.”

Marric gained some of his hope back. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We have an interrogation to get through first.” Iven met his gaze. “You’re going to tell me everything. Is that clear?”

“Crystal. As long as you know this is the only time you’ll ever get to boss me around.” And with that, Marric walked up the stairs. As much as he wanted to pound his feet, he didn’t want to cause any unnecessary noise.

Was he hearing things, or did Iven just call him sassy?