Page 19 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
“I’m off today.”
“Right.” I stared back at the coffee, trying to find those mismatched eyes in its murky depths. The only thing I could see was caffeine needing consuming. “Hey, if you aren’t working, do you want to go looking into it today?”
Charlene blinked. “Looking into what?”
“My grandmother.” I brandished the letter. “I want to ask some of her friends what they think about it.”
“Of course, let’s do it. I’m totally in for a mystery investigation.” Charlene smiled broadly. “It’ll give us a chance to catch up some more too.”
“I’d like that,” I said, rising from the table. “It’s been kind of lonely. Did I mention I got dumped yesterday morning before I found out about my grandmother?”
Charlene choked on her coffee. “Youwhat?”
“Oh, yeah. Come on, I’ll tell you all about Caidyn and his impeccable timing to tell me he’dfound someone else.”
“This sounds juicy.”
I laughed, surprising myself. Perhaps moving on from Caidyn wouldn’t be that hard. “It’s more just an ode tothatkind of man. You know, the ones who can’t commit. Not a good man, unafraid of what he wants. That’s the type I should choose. I just never do.”
Charlene laughed. “You and me both. Our childhood selves would be so disappointed.”
“Right?” The giggle just slipped out of me. “Say, didn’t we make a pact that we would be married with five kids by the time we hit twenty-five?”
Charlene’s face grew rounder, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, yes, we did!”
“I failed that miserably.”
“Me too. Not a single child between the two of us, and we’re twenty-six. We screwed up big time!”
More laughter filled the house. I couldn’t help but think my grandmother would be happy to know it wasn’t all tears and sadness after her passing.
“Now, where to first?” I asked, stepping outside. The air was already quite warm against my skin, a foreboding of the heat that was forecast for later. “Maybe the historical society? I met a Mr. Crane at the funeral. He might know.”
“We could,” Charlene said, in that tone that suggested she would go along with my idea but had one of her own.
“All right, out with it. What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking we should go visit Mrs. Anderloss.”
I grimaced. “Really? Why? She’s kind of a nut.”
Charlene bobbed her head in agreement, heading for the passenger door of my car. We hadn’t talked about who was driving, but it looked like she was going to let me.
“She’s definitely a bit eccentric, but she’s a member of the OLS senior council …” Charlene looked up. “I know. I know. But she’s our resident nature nut. Your grandmother’s letter mentions darkness and the forest. If anyone is going to know about it …”
I sighed, dropping into the seat. “It’s Mrs. Anderloss.”
“It’s Mrs. Anderloss,” Charlene echoed. “Desmond Crane is a good fellow, for sure. But nothing about the letter, or that guardian, sounds overly historical. I don’t think he’s our best bet. Not at first.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” I admitted. “All right. Off to Mrs. Anderloss’s … house.”
Which was technically the truth.
But when I pulled into the driveway outside of Agnes Anderloss’s Place of Nature, it was impossible not to feel it was stretching that selfsame truth.
On the outskirts of the other side of town, the Place of Nature, as the sign called it, was a haphazard assortment of nature “landscaping” accidents waiting to happen. Trees grew at wild angles. Stones piled high to mimic waterfalls were perched precariously. Wild bushes with razor-sharp thorns grew in the middle of the front walk, ready to prick anyone who wasn’t paying particularly close attention.
Here and there, water stood stagnant in pools, uncleaned and untouched, just as nature intended. They smelled that way too. Animals frequented the overgrown grounds, with many smaller varieties calling it home—from squirrels and raccoons to rodents and even the occasional deer depending on the season.
