Page 99 of The Evening Wolves

“Ree, Marcie Fuentes.”

John-Henry shoved the paper at Emery and sprinted to the stairs. He retrieved his phone from the room and placed a call on the way down. It went to voicemail, with a prerecorded message identifying the number he’d called. John-Henry sent a text, and a moment later, his phone rang.

“I know you said it’s an emergency,” Braxton said, “but I’m working—”

“The girl who died the other night. The carbon monoxide poisoning. What was her name?”

“Who?”

“What was her name, Braxton?”

The silence lasted a handful of seconds. “Just a minute.”

John-Henry held the phone to his ear as he passed through the living room. Shaw was sitting up, worry darkening his face, and North frowned up at John-Henry. Tean had closed his laptop and was hugging it to his chest, while Jem ran the backs of his fingers over his beard.

“She was living here this whole time?” Emery asked. “The hit-and-run—do you think—”

But Braxton started to speak again, and John-Henry shook his head to stop Emery.

“Whitney Higgins,” Braxton said. “Did you know her? Because we’re having a hell of a time finding next of kin.”

“Who found her?”

“What?”

“The call. Who called her in?”

“The landlord. Hey, what’s going on?”

“Tell you later,” John-Henry said as he moved his finger to disconnect. “Thanks, Braxton.” When he looked up at Emery, he said, “Whitney Higgins.”

Emery’s eyes narrowed. And then he said, “Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” North asked from the opening to the living room.

Shaw stood behind him. “Is everything ok?”

“We’re not sure—” John-Henry began.

“No,” Emery said. “Everything is not ok. John, I’m willing to accept that one of these girls died suddenly. Maybe even two. They didn’t have easy lives, and it’s entirely possible, in the middle of the winter, for someone to die from exposure or carbon monoxide poisoning. But three of them? And one of them connected to GLAM?”

“Who was connected to GLAM?” Tean asked as he joined them. Jem bumped against him and slid an arm around his shoulders.

“We’ve been looking for the victims of a human trafficking organization,” John-Henry said.

“The ones that boner cop rescued in the spring,” North said. “Yeah, you’ve been talking about it for months.”

“I found one of them in Kansas City just before the…events with John began,” Emery said. “She had died from exposure. Or at least, that’s what someone wanted us to think. God damn it—someone at the camp told me her friend had been there, or a friend was looking for her. No.” He shook his head. “He asked about a friend. Like she’d been expecting someone. How much do you want to bet it was the same person who tracked down the rest of these girls?”

“Another of these girls was found dead from carbon monoxide poisoning in Auburn.” John-Henry picked up the paper. “A third died last night. A hit-and-run right here in Wahredua. And she was working at GLAM.”

Jem took the paper and began to read it, his mouth moving slowly as he parsed the words.

“You think someone’s killing them,” Shaw said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Three of them?” Emery made a disgusted noise. “We haven’t been able to find them for months, and now three of them turn up dead in, what? Less than a week?”

“It’s like Brey,” Jem said. “And that lady with the meth lab.”

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