“The council will want to talk to them first, but I’ll do my best to see that we get to carry out the sentence, when the time comes.” But my assurance obviously did little to assuage his rage. “Okay, let’s go through everything and see if we can confirm that the cop is Darren and find a last name for him. Or an address, or something.”
Abby and I took the first bedroom, while Lucas and Teo tore apart the second. Warner started in the kitchen, then moved into the bathroom.
“This sucks,” Abby said hours later, as she sorted the junk in the top nightstand drawer into the “keep” and “trash” piles. So far, “keep” was nearly empty. “What we need is an internet connection. If Darren’s a cop, he can’t be that hard to track down.”
But Darren’s email had been right about the spotty connection, and none of us had managed to get a decent signal. Not that that would matter, without Warner’s equipment.
“As soon as we’re done here, we’ll head back to the lodge and let Warner get started.” But we had to go through everything first. A single receipt or bill could make all the difference in our hunt for the hunters. Unfortunately, we hadn’t found any of those, because their lake cottage obviously wasn’t a primary residence.
I was sorting through a closet full of hunting camo when a hinge squealed from the kitchen. I spun around to find Abby frozen, staring at the open bedroom door. I was sniffing the air, tense and on alert, when something crashed.
Abby lunged for the door, but I pulled her back and stepped in front of her. Teo and Lucas were already there when we got to the kitchen, and Warner was on our heels, coming from the bathroom. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.
Teo pointed to the overturned kitchen table, which was propping the busted door open. “Someone just ran out the back door.”
“From where?” Abby frowned as she glanced around the kitchen, looking for some nook or alcove we’d missed. But we’d checked everywhere. There’d been no one in the house to run out the back door, and there was no one in the backyard.
“Could a human make it to the tree line that fast?” Lucas asked, staring out the window over the kitchen sink.
“Only one way to find out.” I shoved the table aside, clearing a path to the back door. “You and Warner go, but stay within earshot of each other. Teo, you shift, then join them.” In cat form, he would be faster, quieter, and have access to much better-developed senses.
The guys left to follow orders, and I righted the table, studying the kitchen for any explanation that made sense.
“There was no one here,” Abby mumbled. “We went through the whole house.” And that had only taken minutes. “Did anyone look in the pantry?” she asked, and I turned to see what she’d already discovered.
The light was on.
“I did, and Warner rechecked,” I assured her. “There’s nothing suspicious in there except the thought of an existence sustained by that much peanut butter, pork rinds, and domestic beer.” One end of the pantry was lined in pine boards stacked on concrete blocks. Shelf after homemade shelf was stacked with canned soup, generic brand sandwich cookies, puffed pork skins, and Miller Genuine Draft.
“Backwoods haute cuisine.” Abby stepped into the small space and pulled the string to turn off the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. As she was pulling the pantry door closed, she froze, staring at the floor. “Jace,” she whispered, backing slowly away from the pantry.
I followed her focus to the thin line of light showing beneath the cheaply paneled wall directly opposite the door.
“That’s not a wall.” I felt around the edges of the paneled section, then finally pressed in the right place to trigger a crudely fashioned yet well-hidden door. The panel swung backward to reveal a narrow, dimly lit staircase running down and to the left, along what could only be the exterior wall of the house. A wall that had no windows.
“A secret basement?” Abby said, and I nodded. Our backwoods hunters were also amateur craftsmen. “Well, now we know where he was hiding, whoever he is. And it has to be either Hargrove or Darren, right?”
“That’s my guess.” I inhaled deeply. “Do you smell that?”
“Old blood.” Abby sniffed the air. “Strays. And chemicals. Hargrove has another taxidermy studio—or whatever they’re called—down there.”
I’d drawn the same conclusion. Either he’d been teaching Darren his craft, or Hargrove spent a lot of time at his friend’s lake cottage.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.” She stepped past me toward the stairs, but I grabbed her arm.
“You’re not going. Not after what we found in the last basement.” And there could still be someone down there. The scent of old blood was strong enough to conceal nearly anything.
“I’m a big girl.” Abby tried to push past me again, her jaw set in a stubborn line, as if she needed to see whatever was at the bottom of those stairs.
“Stay here,” I growled. “That’s an order.”