"This place stinks," he observed once, and rubbed his wrinkling nose. "Okay, I think — this way." He pointed away from the building.
"Did they take him somewhere in a car?" It was the only reasonable guess.
"I'm not sure. I'd guess so."
I followed him, trying to remember to breathe, along back roads and through an alley...all the way to the main road where he stopped, looking consternated.
"It's too faint now. I'm almost sure I was following his scent — but it's definitely gone now."
"They took him away somewhere." And that smug bastard McCann was grinning about it because they knew we'd never catch him. Which meant they had murdered him or were planning to.
They'd probably make him shift first, then dispose of his body by flinging it in a field to rot and be eaten by crows. No one would suspect it was a shifter, even if they saw his body. Why would they?
I stumbled and stopped suddenly, leaning hard against a building, closing my eyes. My head swam, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so lightheaded. I wasn't one for fainting, but that's what this felt like. Fainting or death coming to take me so I could catch up with —
No! I struggled with myself, my weak body and weaker heart.I mustn't give up. What if he was still alive and there was time to save him? I had to keep trying. Every second might count.
"Hey." A light touch on my shoulder reminded me of the rabbit's presence. "You need to eat something maybe?" He sounded embarrassed. "Keep up your strength or you'll never find him. Here." The familiar crumple of a candy bar wrapper sounded as he pressed something into my hand. "Go on, eat it. You can pay me back later."
With another awkward pat on the shoulder, he moved away, retracing his steps, sniffing the air, then towards the ground, his face heavy with thought… "We'll walk along the road and see if I can pick out anything else," he said. "Pick a direction."
I pushed myself off the wall and straightened up. "Shouldn't you pick? You're the one with the magic schnozz."
He gave me a narrow-eyed glance. "If I knew which direction, I would." He threw up his arms. "Fine, let's pick right."
"No, left."
"Okay, fine."
"Left goes towards the highway. If they took him away, it's probably somewhere rural so they can…" I let my voice trail off, because I couldn't say it.
"Why didn't you say that at first?" he grumbled, and turned left and started trudging along the sidewalk. It was a busy street, but there wasn't much foot traffic. He kept wrinkling his nose, although whether that was because the traffic fumes smelled so bad or because he was still trying to catch a whiff of Wallace, I didn't know and didn't dare distract him by asking.
We walked for about a mile, me always at least a pace behind him so I wasn't crowding him. We didn't talk. There was nothing to say. I ate the candy, but it didn't make me feel any fucking better.
Up ahead lay the bus stop where I'd dropped Wallace off that first time. If I'd had any sense, I'd have locked the doors and sped away before he could get out, no matter how indignant he looked or how disappointed with me he became.Anything. I should've done anything it took to save his life.
But no, I'd believed him. I'd believed Wallace when he said he had to do this, could do this...and would come back to me safely. I'd thought it was more important to respect him than to protect him. Dammit, he should be curled up in a big chair somewhere, reading and eating chocolate, lavished with the good things in life, not fighting for his life without me. Or already beyond that…
"You're hyperventilating," the rabbit shifter informed me. He probably knew exactly what I was feeling, not a comfortable thought at the best of times, but now it hardly seemed to matter.
"Just keep looking," I told him.
A single figure sat hunched at the bus stop bench, a picture of misery in his hoodie and ripped jeans. Quinn stiffened at the sight of him, stopped walking. "That guy," he muttered. "He's a fox. And…" He took another suspicious sniff. "Yes. He was in the club."
Suddenly I had a lead. I shouldered past him, moving fast. The bus pulled up, and the fox jumped up and climbed aboard. If I hadn't known he was a fox, I still might have guessed from the fluid and beautiful way he moved. Even sad and distracted, he had a pure gracefulness about him.
And he might know what happened to Wallace. I put on a burst of speed and got to the bus, climbed aboard, and looked around wildly. The kid was making his way to the back with slumped shoulders, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Hey, buddy," said the driver, sounding annoyed. "Pay or get off."
I showed him my badge and hurried towards the back. By now the boy had caught sight of me. He stood frozen in the middle of the bus for one instant, his eyes growing huge. Then he turned and made a dash for the emergency exit.
I vaulted after him, flinging myself with all my pent-up fear and anger, and caught him by the sleeve before he could work out the door and get himself out of it. "No, no," he panted, sounding like he was going to start crying.
"You're a material witness in the disappearance of a cop," I told him sternly. "You're coming with me to answer some questions."
"A — a cop?" He stopped struggling and looked back at me warily.
