Daniel smiled. Lecture averted.
I took his cell phone from him and used my human eyes to inspect it for clues. The face was cracked, like it had been dropped, and I was surprised it still worked. I checked the time and the number of the last call made from the phone. “He definitely called me from this.” I shuddered. “He was right in here while we were just outside.”
“What did he say?” Daniel asked.
“He said I was in danger. That we were all in danger. He said, ‘They’re coming for you,’ and that I couldn’t stop them. And he said that I couldn’t trust someone else …” I bit my lip and hesitated. “I don’t know, but I think he meant you.”
Daniel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Sounds like his feelings toward me haven’t changed.” A look of concern settled in his dark brown eyes.
I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as me—that maybe Jude had other intentions for breaking into the apartment. Maybe Jude had thought Daniel would be here alone and vulnerable? But that didn’t make any sense. If he had wanted to attack Daniel, my presence certainly wouldn’t have stopped him. It hadn’t stopped him before.
“Did he say anything else?” Daniel asked.
“No. The call cut off. I think he dropped the phone. He seemed nervous. Maybe his hand was shaking.” Or maybe he’d been about to go through the change.
“Do you think he was messing with you?” Daniel asked. “Maybe this is just some kind of twisted game to him. He never wanted us to be together in the first place.”
“I don’t know.” I looked down at the phone in my hands. “I guess it’s possible. But it doesn’t make sense that he’d come back here just for a practical joke. I think he’s got some other motivation.”
Maybe it was my new wolf instincts taking over again, or maybe it was just some kind of sibling connection, but something deep down told me that Jude was right … we were all in danger. I just didn’t know if he was the one we were all in danger from.
CHAPTER TWO
Benefit of the Doubt
HOME, TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Daniel insisted on following me home on his new—to him, anyway—motorcycle. I drove slowly as I navigated the few miles between my house and Oak Park, scanning the streets as I went. I slowed every time I came upon a pedestrian, which wasn’t often, since it was after ten o’clock.
I dialed Dad’s cell phone over and over, but it kept going straight to voice mail. What was the point of his finally getting us all cell phones so we can stay connected if he always forgot to charge his? “Call me,” was the message I left each time. Considering how much energy he’d put into looking for Jude over the past few months, I didn’t want to just tell Dad on his voice mail about his being back. That was the kind of thing you sprang on someone in person, preferably when they were standing—okay, sitting—right in front of you.
Chaos was the only word that could describe the scene that met us when I opened the front door to my house. The ten o’clock news blared from the family room, like someone had turned it up to full volume to hear the anchorman speaking over the sounds of James’s wailing as he thrashed in Charity’s arms on the stairs. It looked like she was trying to haul him up to his bedroom, but the toddler flailed so hard they were both in danger of falling down the steps.