Both of them got his voice mail.
“Okay. I’m going to drive to the sheriff’s office and see if he’s in. If he’s not there, I’ll call him and let him know about the professor not coming home last night,” she said.
When she went back downstairs, Marigold gave her a quizzical look. “Everything all right? Not working today?”
“Can I borrow Imogen’s truck to go to town? The professor went to the dig last night to get something he forgot, and he never came home.”
“Oh. Good heavens. Yeah, go ahead. And if sheriff jerk-wad hurt your feelings, I’m going to punch the fuck out of him,” Marigold added. “Of course he’ll probably kill me afterwards, but it’ll feel really good while I’m doing it.”
“I thought he was Sheriff Sexy-ass?”
“If he upset you, he’s Sheriff Jerkwad.”
Ginger forced a smile. “Everything’s fine. No punching. No name-calling. I’ll call you from the sheriff’s office.”
As she drove to the office, her phone rang, and she grabbed it quickly. Her heart sank when she saw that it was her Alpha’s number.
“Ginger? How is everything going there? You haven’t caused any more trouble, have you?” Reynaldo’s tone was aggrieved.
“Everything is going fine,” she said brightly.
“Are you sure? You sound strange. What have you done now?”
“Nothing! Everything is going really, really well. Oh, gotta go! Another call’s coming in.” She hung up quickly.
When she pulled up out front, she saw that the sheriff’s patrol car wasn’t there yet. Now unease rippled through her stomach, warring with anger and hurt.
She walked inside and saw Jax sitting at his desk. He glanced up at her, his expression neutral. “Do you know what time the sheriff is coming in?” she asked.
“No. He called and said he’d be in a little late.” He went back to his computer.
Oh. So he’d called Jax, not her. So at least he was all right…he was just making it quite clear that he wanted nothing to do with Ginger.
Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. First Ashmont, then Loch. Rejection was becoming painfully familiar these days.
Should she turn around and go back to the boarding house? But that would make it too obvious to everyone there that something was wrong. And it might make Loch look bad, as if she’d disobeyed his orders and was ditching her assistant duties.
Portia, sitting at a nearby desk, flashed a cold smile that dripped with malice. “Oh, trouble in paradise?” she asked sweetly.
“Cut it out,” Lola snapped.
“Or what?” Portia’s eyes glowed.
Lola leaped up from her desk and whirled to face her. “Or, get up off your bony ass and you’ll find out what-“
“Lola! I need help finding a file on my computer! Could you show me?” Ginger said desperately. The last thing she needed was to be accused of starting a fight right in the middle of the sheriff’s station.
Grumbling, Lola followed her, shooting dirty looks over her shoulder at Portia, who bared her fangs and let out a long, low growl.
Jax was sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer.
Ginger sighed, took a deep breath, and walked over to him.
“The professor never came home from his dig last night,” she told him. She hated to tell Jax, because she didn’t want to stir up trouble between the wolves and the panthers, but she had the feeling that the sheriff didn’t want to hear from her.
It surprised her how much that hurt. It hurt far worse than when Ashmont had texted her to tell her it was over. This was like a bruise that spread all through her insides, deep and aching.
“What do you mean?” Jax looked up, his brow furrowing.
“He didn’t come down to breakfast this morning, so we went and checked his room. It was empty and his bed hadn’t been slept in. One of his students told me that she saw him after dinner last night, and he said that he was going to head out to the dig to get something he forgot. And apparently, he never came home.”
“Which student?”
“Her name is Tallulah.”
Jax waved one of the other deputies over. “All right. We’ll head out to the dig right now. Thanks,” he said, and headed for the door, muttering “Freaking panthers.”
Ginger felt unease ripple over her. There was no way Jax would approach this situation with any diplomacy – but after the way the sheriff had flipped out last night, she doubted he was in any better mood to deal with it either.
She walked back to the filing room to resume her filing. It was nearly impossible for her to concentrate; she could barely remember the alphabet.
A little while later, Portia came and knocked on the door.
“The sheriff wants you at a scene,” Portia said, her expression neutral.
“What kind of scene?”
“Death that was just reported this morning. It appears that the body’s been moved. We want to find out what happened during his final moments. Come with me.”