Gideon had risen in the ranks when he still had the thoughtless athleticism of youth and a strong body that could go on forever just because he asked it to. Now that boundless, youthful energy had turned to disciplined maturity, and his blond hair had faded like an aging golden retriever’s pelt. He exercised and trained hard to maintain his muscled physique, stamina and quick reflexes. Each battle he fought and won, he did so knowing that his youth might have gone but he was still at peak condition, and it was not yet time for the alpha to lose his place at the head of the pack.
He was not one of the strange, immortal Wyr who had come into existence in the dawn of the world. Wolf Wyr had a life span of around two hundred years. If something didn’t bring him down first he expected to see another good eighty, eight-five years. With discipline and constant training, he could have spent another fifty years in active combat duty before age would have forced him to consider other options.
Here in the gentle sanctuary of Alice’s kitchen decorated with pretty sunflowers and sage green cabinets, with her sensitive, bright hazel gaze resting on him thoughtfully, and the kindest, most generous and delicious meal anybody had ever cooked for him spread out before him, he could finally admit the truth to himself about why he had quit—he had grown tired.
The tips of her slender fingers touched the back of one of his hands. “Are you all right?”
Riehl ducked his head. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “Thank you for supper.”
“You’re welcome.” The tip of her tongue touched her lower lip. She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but she lowered her head instead.
They ate supper in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable. When Alice finished the food on her plate, Gideon took the serving spoon and offered her another helping of the scrambled egg dish. She raised her eyebrows but nodded with a smile. He watched with deep pleasure as she ate it.
His cell rang with Bayne’s ringtone, the Bee Gee’s “Stayin’ Alive”. He ducked his head further to shovel the last of the hash browns into his mouth even as he dug into his pocket for his phone. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s my boss. I’ve got to get this.”
The shadows came back into her face. He hated to see that. She said, “Of course you do.”
Gideon strode into the living room and clicked on the phone. “Yeah.”
“Heard you found your witness,” said Bayne.
“Yeah, I’m still with her,” Gideon said. He started to pace. “We’re at her place. What’s up?”
“We’re wrapping up at Haley Cannes’ apartment.” The gryphon said to someone else, “Pack it up. I want someone to comb through every file on the hard drive, and check out every contact on her email list.” Then his voice came back stronger, “You find out anything from Alice Clark?”
Hell yeah, a whole slew of new things, but most of them weren’t any of the sentinel’s business. Gideon turned to pace another lap. Alice was cleaning up the kitchen. She had carried the dishes to the sink. Even though she had a dishwasher, she was running a sink full of soapy water. It looked like she felt the need to do something as well.
Gideon said, “We’re still talking.”
“Call or text if you find out something new. In the meantime, we’ve got a lock on the whereabouts of all the chameleon Wyr who live in NYC. Now that schools have let out for winter break, some are traveling for the holidays. A family of four has left for Arizona, a single parent, her boyfriend and her kid have gone to L.A., and a couple are headed for Miami. We’re checking with the airports to confirm their flights left before the storm shut things down, but assuming they did, that leaves us eleven chameleons still in the city.”
“Right.” He looked at Alice again. She had finished the dishes and was wiping off the table. She had just started winter break? On the one hand, he liked that she had personal time right now. She needed it. On the other, he didn’t like the thought of her possible isolation. He growled, “Eleven is more than enough if he’s looking to do a repeat of seven years ago.”
“He’d only need four more, wouldn’t he?” Bayne said. “Something bothers me about all this. If this is the Jacksonville guy, last time he took advantage of a situation that was very comfortable for him. All of his victims lived together in one place, and they tended to isolate so nobody knew something might be wrong when the group disappeared for a week. They were only found after acquaintances missed them at the Masque they had scheduled to attend. That’s not the case with these murders.”
Gideon rubbed the back of his neck. “He plots things out carefully ahead of time,” he said. “He’s got a plan and he thinks it’s going to work.”
“Yeah,” Bayne growled. “That bothers me a hell of a lot.”
That also bothered Gideon. He asked, “What about protection?” The NYPD wouldn’t have the funding to provide police protection for eleven people, but the Wyr Division of Violent Crime was supported by a separate funding stream that came from the demesne’s coffers. As the sentinel heading the WDVC, Bayne could authorize such an expenditure of manpower and money if he deemed it appropriate.