Forever

“Ten-four,” she replied.

He waited a moment, and then he said, still not looking at me, “Now tell me the truth, Sam, because there is no more time for dancing around it. Tell me now, the truth, not what you told Heifort. Where is Geoffrey Beck?”

The tires were loud on the road. We were nowhere near Mercy Falls. Trees flew by us, and I remembered the day I drove to get Grace from the tackle shop. It seemed like a million years ago.

There was no way I could trust him. There was no way that he was prepared for the truth, and even if he was, this was our number one rule: We didn’t tell anyone about ourselves. Especially not an officer of the law who had just been standing in the room while I was accused of kidnapping and murder.

“I don’t know,” I muttered. Barely audible over the road noise.

Koenig set his mouth and shook his head. “I was there at the first wolf hunt, Sam. It wasn’t legal, and I regret it. The whole town was choking on Jack Culpeper’s death. I was there when they drove them through the woods to get them up against the lake. I saw a wolf that night and I have never, ever forgotten it. They are going to drive those wolves from the woods and shoot every single one of them from the air, Sam, and I saw the paperwork to prove it. Now I am going to ask you again, and you are going to tell me the truth because you and the wolves are out of options except for me. Tell me straight, Sam. Where is Geoffrey Beck?”

I closed my eyes.

Behind my eyelids, I saw Olivia’s dead body. And I saw Tom Culpeper’s face.

“He’s in Boundary Wood.”

Koenig let out a long, long hiss of breath between his teeth.

“Grace Brisbane, too,” he said. “Right?”

I didn’t open my eyes.

“And you,” Koenig said. “You were there. Tell me that I am crazy. Tell me I am wrong. Tell me that when I saw a wolf that night with Geoffrey Beck’s eyes, I was wrong.”

Now I opened my eyes. I had to see what his face looked like when he said this. He was staring straight through the windshield, eyebrows drawn together. The uncertainty made him younger; made the uniform less daunting.

“You’re not wrong,” I said.

“There is no cancer.”

I shook my head. Koenig didn’t turn his head, but he nodded a tiny nod, as if to himself.

“There are no leads on Grace Brisbane not because she disappeared, but because she is —” Koenig stopped himself. He couldn’t say it.

I realized that I was letting a lot ride on this moment. On whether or not he finished this sentence. Whether he grabbed the truth like Isabel had, or whether he pushed it away or warped it to fit some religion or changed it to match a less strange worldview, like my parents had.

I kept looking at him.

“A wolf.” Koenig kept his eyes on the road, but his hands twisted around the steering wheel. “We cannot find her or Beck because they’re wolves.”

“Yes.”

Koenig shook his head. “My father used to tell me wolf stories. He told me he had a friend in college who was a werewolf, and we used to laugh at him. We could never tell if he was telling a story or telling the truth.”

“It’s true.” My heart was thudding with our secret hanging out there between us. Suddenly, in light of his suspicions, I was replaying every conversation I’d had with Koenig. I was trying to see if it changed how I saw him, and it didn’t.

“Then why — I cannot believe I am asking this, but why are they staying wolves if the pack is about to be eliminated?”

“It’s involuntary. Temperature based. Wolf in winter, human in summer. Less time every year, and eventually we stay a wolf forever. We don’t keep our human thoughts when we shift.” I frowned. This explanation was getting less true every day that we spent with Cole. It was a strangely disorienting feeling, to have something you’d relied on for so long start to change, like finding out that gravity no longer worked on Mondays. “That’s grossly oversimplified. But it’s the basic rules of it.” I felt weird saying grossly oversimplified, too; a phrase like that was only because Koenig spoke so formally.

“So Grace —”

“Is missing because she’s still unstable in this weather. What is she supposed to tell her parents?”

Koenig considered. “Are you born a werewolf?”

“No, good old horror movie technique. Biting.”

“And Olivia?”

“Bitten last year.”

Koenig snorted softly. “Just incredible. I knew it. I kept finding things that led me back to that, and I could not believe it. And when Grace Brisbane disappeared out of the hospital and left just that bloody hospital gown behind … they said she was dying, that there was no way that she could have left under her own power.”

“She needed to shift,” I said softly.

“Everyone in the department blamed you. They have been looking for a way to crucify you. Tom Culpeper more than anyone. He has Heifort and everyone else lapping out of a bowl.” Now he sounded a little bitter, and it made me look at him in an entirely different way. I could see him out of uniform, at home, getting a beer out of the fridge, petting his dog, watching TV. A real person, something separate from the uniformed identity I’d assigned him. “They would very much like to hang you with this.”

“Well, that’s great,” I said. “Because all I can do is tell them I didn’t do anything. Until Grace gets stable enough to reappear. And Olivia …”

Koenig paused. “Why did they kill her?”

My head was full of Shelby, her eyes on me through the kitchen window, the desperation and anger I thought I’d seen there. “I don’t think there was a ‘they.’ There’s one wolf that has been behind all of the problems. She attacked Grace before. She attacked Jack Culpeper, too. The others wouldn’t kill a girl. Not near summer. There are other ways to get food.” I had to try, very deliberately, to push away the memory of Olivia’s destroyed body.

We rode in silence for a minute or two.

“So, this is the situation,” Koenig said, and I was kind of charmed, now, to see that he sounded like a cop no matter what he said. “They have clearance to eliminate the pack. Fourteen days is not very long. You are telling me that some of them probably will be unable to shift before then, and some of them cannot shift at all. So we’re talking mass murder.”

Finally. It was relieving and terrifying to hear Culpeper’s plan defined as such.