Page 12 of Trees Take the Long View

That would be nice. I wasn't going to get my hopes up; I rarely did anymore. "No, I'm full. Let's go now."

We left, both of us putting out a tip, and then vying, in the nicest possible way, about who would pay. He won—but I let him. It was enough for him to know that I could provide, could pull my weight as a mate, if need be.

But then, he already knew that, at least subconsciously. He'd seen me heft large stones (no way he wasn't watching when we first met), and I'd introduced him to the wild joys of feral fruit. That had to count for something.

He drove us to the sheriff's office. I felt the nervous butterflies starting up in my stomach, hoped I wasn't going to be sick. It wasn't the same, it wasn't going to be like that anymore: going into a place where I thought I'd belong, part of the pack, making friends, being someone they relied on and having people around me I could trust—and then finding out I couldn't. This was just a quick job. In and out. Help find a missing kid, and save the day—then go back to stacking rocks in the hot sun, and trying to woo my man.

I could do this. I could.

After parking, he made no move to get out. "You think you can handle this?" he said, real soft and sober.

I took a deep breath, and nodded.

"You don't have to. I mean, not to prove something to me. Okay?"

"Okay." I dusted off the front of my shirt, even though it didn't need it.

He reached over and squeezed my biceps, and then we got out of the car, and headed into the lion's den.

#

"I don't understand. How can a little kid be missing overnight and nobody notices till the next day?"

Sheriff Cox grimaced. "It's a sore point, I'll grant you that. We've had two different stories out of the guardians so far. We'll get to the bottom of it. But finding Melody is top priority here."

That was where I came in. Dean looked at me expectantly. The sheriff looked at me with equal parts expectation and uneasiness. Did he think I was going to rip off my clothes in front of him, howl at the moon, and start growing fur?

"Okay, well, I'll need somewhere to shift," I told them.

"Men's room should work." Dean rose and led the way. "Don't worry, I'll stick by you," he said in an undertone as we left the sheriff's office.

"Thanks."

I wished my nerves weren't quite so easy to read. But on the other hand, if he was my mate, it would be weird if he couldn't read me.

"I'll hold onto your clothes for you and run interference if anyone gets too nosy.

Bloodhounds had been requested, and could be here as soon as the end of the day. But we were hoping to find the child sooner than that. My nose was actually probably a bit stronger than a bloodhound's—not that I mean to brag, just the simple facts. On the other hand, this was my first real search and rescue...and I was already terrified of what I might find.

But if Melody was alive, we owed it to her to find her as quickly as possible. And even if she was dead, we owed her that much.

"A lot of cases like this turn out just fine," said Dean, and I realized he was just as uneasy as I was. Saying things I already knew, that we both knew and weren't actually making either of us feel better. Maybe it was his first search and rescue, too? He worked for the same people who had trained me, but that didn't mean he'd ever been partnered with a wolf. I realized jealously that I'd never thought to ask him that. I hoped the answer was that he hadn't been.

I studied him briefly, then pulled off my shirt and put it in his hands. "Let's get this show on the road."

I undressed in front of him without hesitation or self-consciousness. There was nothing sexual about the moment for either of us, and I wasn't particularly shy. He accepted my clothes, and stood in front of the door so nobody could accidentally walk in on me. I shifted, and looked at the world from a different, lower perspective. Every odor was stronger, and I wrinkled my nose against the harsh chemicals that had been used to clean the floor in here recently. The place wasn't attuned to shifter senses: but then, it didn't have to be. I doubted they'd ever had a shifter in the building before, at least as far as they knew.

Dean had folded my clothes, and tucked them under his arm. He opened the door for me, looking grim, and escorted me out.

The sheriff drove us personally to Melody's house. Police tape and roving officers with worried looks on their faces were the first things we saw. The house seemed ordinary besides that, just another building that blended in with those around it, neither particularly poor nor particularly well-to-do. The upkeep matched the neighbors' places: grass so short it was sun-scorched, a few scraggly shrubs wheezing their last by the house, and a miserable-looking red maple in the front of the house, its leaves drooping with thirst.

I hopped out of the car and walked close by Dean's side, as the sheriff led the way into the building. I watched his butt move in front of me, realizing that I could always bite him on it if he really was a bad guy. It was hard to see a problem with that plan as a wolf. But at the same time, he seemed like less of a threat than he had before, too. As a wolf, I could really smell exactly how he was feeling and it made him seem sort of vulnerable and not particularly evil. He wasn't in a happy place; he wasn't confident and arrogant, there was nothing alpha or in charge about him just now. He had the smell of despair. He walked with confidence, but his shoulders slumped a little, and his scent gave him away completely. He was propping himself up, trying to be strong—but inside, he had no hope.

Oddly, it made me wish I could offer him some reassurance. But it was almost guaranteed that he knew far more about missing child cases that I did, and if he had reason to feel that way, I couldn't talk him out of it. I swallowed back a little whimper of worry, and pressed against Dean's leg briefly to steady myself.

Inside the house, the odors of cooked food and the strange smell of despair and rage filled the place, along with the many people that had been in and out. The sheriff led us to a child's room, a white door with chips in the paint, and stickers decorating it here and there haphazardly, some of which had been half-peeled off. Inside, there were two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, against the walls. One had cheap-looking pink sheets and the other had faded green sheets. Toys had been shoved under the bed, including a doll with gum in its hair. The room smelled faintly of children, mostly two, but more than two. It was a nest of childhood, with goldfish cracker crumbs rubbed into the carpet and sticky candy traces, the slightly sour smell of spilled milk in one corner, and stale Cheerio crumbs.

The sheriff pointed to the green bed, and the smell of his despair strengthened. He was afraid of what I might smell there, I realized. I leaned over the bed and took a few quick sniffs. No scent of sexual activity, nothing even faintly like that. I looked up and shook my head at him, quickly. He gave me a startled blink. "Er, that's Melody's bed," he said, sounding uncertain. Maybe he didn't get my meaning. Fair enough. We hadn't trained together. He pointed at it. "Can you get her scent?"