Secrets in the Moon (Crescent City Werewolves #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Captain Albert Dempsey once again found himself in his dress uniform. And once again, he found himself stuck with Commissioner Keene while the other man paced and worried at his mustache. Yet there the similarities ended: they waited for only one wolf instead of several, and they were at the police station, in a rarely used office built as an entire second level for the front half of the building. Massive two-sided glass windows provided a view of the entrance and areas open to the public, and Al looked out in silence while the commissioner fumed.

"He's obviously fled. I don't know why you wasted time leaving a message at his office. All the information points to him leaving with the Marshall girl. Her disappearance at the opera and a subsequent call where she refused to say anything except that she had left of her own free will, neither of them at his office or home this morning... do we have people watching the city's border with Saxby territory?"

"Sure do." Al knew the significance of Miss Marshall leaving her father. The sigil was off her and would no longer be a problem to his investigation. It gave him enough patience with Keene's blustering to keep his reply mild. "He won't show up at the Saxbys."

"Oh, no?" The commissioner stopped to look at him. "He's never let us interview him. He blatantly withheld information about his connection to Isabelle Saxby. There are only unreliable sources for the claim that he hates his former pack. What if he's as duplicitous as the rest of the Saxbys? We should have entertained that angle earlier."

Al smothered a sigh and finally glanced away from the windows. "You really think he kidnapped Cora Marshall and took her to his old pack?"

"We're uncovering more and more evidence that the Saxbys were involved in the murder attempt against Isaac Marshall, which makes their past interest in Miss Marshall all the more notable."

"I don't disagree, but Sam Hayes doing that? He's got puppy dog eyes whenever he looks at her. All his evasions have been related to protecting her, including not telling us that he's Isabelle Saxby's mate." And now that Miss Marshall was free, his protection no longer needed to include silence. "No, he'll come to the station as asked."

The commissioner scoffed. "What makes you so sure?"

Al faced the windows again and then tried not to laugh at the timing. "Because he's just stepped inside."

Keene turned and muttered something at the sight of Sam Hayes willingly giving up his guns and dagger to the officers who had stopped him just inside the entrance. Al had told his men to handcuff the wolf only if he resisted being taken to an interview room, but he didn't expect it to happen. It didn't.

As they both watched two officers escort Hayes out of sight, the commissioner said, "I'll lead the questioning."

Al nodded, uninterested in arguing.

They left the office together, but while Keene moved for the room where Hayes would be placed, Al approached the officer who was tagging the weapons taken from the wolf. "Ehrl. Did he ask for a lawyer?"

"No, sir."

That fit with his suspicions about Sam deciding to break his silence and cooperate. Al rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if something would finally go smoothly in this damn case.

By the time he stepped inside the room, the commissioner was already seated across from Hayes, sifting through a thick case file. The two officers stood within lunging distance of the wolf, but Sam seemed unconcerned, remaining still and silent. The harsh, overhead light constricted his pupils to pinpoints when he glanced toward Al, expressionless.

Al settled into the nearest corner and lit a cigarette. "Did your secretary give you the full message?"

The question drew a miffed look from Keene, who had likely wanted to let the silence stretch on to fray Sam's nerves. Al knew better than to try that tactic; wolves never saw a lack of conversation as silence. Their ears still picked up too much information—pulse rate, the steadiness of a breath, and probably even a mouth drying from fear or teeth grinding in frustration. Keene should've figured out that much from all the times they'd questioned Isabelle Saxby.