The girl at the desk handed over the envelope without protest after I placed compulsion, and I laid a second one for her to forget she saw me. Once inside the women's restroom just off the lobby, I opened the envelope. It was addressed to someone in Dallas. Inside, I found six pages from the novel I'd last loaned to Kelvin.
All right, that had me stumped. Why would he be tearing pages out of a novel and sending them to anybody? And why wasn't he telling me about this if that's what he intended to do with my books? The book itself was a best-seller, so those pages could be obtained anywhere by anybody. I sat there in the stall for the longest time, trying to come up with an answer. When I did, the knowledge frightened me. I looked up a number on my cell and made a call to a local bookstore that stayed open late.
The desk clerk might have wondered why I was telling her to rip six pages from a paperback I hadn't read yet, stuff them inside Kelvin's envelope and then re-seal it, but she was under compulsion and didn't ask. Once again, I instructed her to forget the whole thing. The envelope was placed into the outgoing mail pile, the girl nodded at me and I went on my way.
"Did you get enough air?" Winkler was teasing me when I walked inside Weldon's suite—he was there watching the late news with the Grand Master.
"Yeah. The view is nicely bland from the rooftop," I lied. Kelvin was puttering around in Weldon's bathroom when I arrived, but left quickly to go to his own room. I went inside the bathroom afterward and sniffed around. Kelvin had touched Weldon's deodorant and his shaving cream. He hadn't tampered with them further than that (not that I could tell, anyway). Kelvin was now on my list and would get as much of my attention as possible from now on.
We were in Arcadia, Florida, which is near the center of the state, the following evening. The Packmaster owned farmland and allowed his pack to run on some of it. Unfortunately, we didn't get to visit the beach while we were in the state; there wasn't any time. I kept my eyes and ears open around Kelvin, though, and I overheard one phone conversation, saying there was more coming. More coming. Well, things were getting interesting. I did notice that Kelvin didn't ask for any more books. Maybe he had as much from me as he wanted.
* * *
"I don't know how she knew your name," Merrill passed the gift basket over to Griffin. "Franklin kept this in the fridge for you since some of it was perishable."
Griffin smiled slightly and lifted the basket. "Lissa's different," he said.
Chapter 10
We made our way west of the Mississippi, landing in Kansas City just after nightfall. Winkler was rubbing my neck when I woke on the jet and handing my unit of blood to me when my eyes unglued. Winkler has a great smile, no doubt about that. Weldon also informed us on the way to our hotel that he was changing plans a little—going to the west coast next which meant Oregon and California. Then he intended to swing back through Arizona and New Mexico, before doing Colorado last of all. He'd fly to North Dakota after Denver, and I'd be on the Council's jet back to England. The changes were fine with me. I'd never been to Oregon before and I was looking forward to it. Weldon had a confirmation and a wedding there.
Kansas City had to be taken care of first, however. The new Packmaster in the Kansas City area lived in Overland Park and we went to dinner not far from a Barnes and Noble in Leawood. Winkler knew I wanted to go; I'd given a little moan of desire when we'd passed it while driving to the restaurant. I also had a whopping huge gift card in my purse for Barnes and Noble—my Christmas gift from Winkler. Honestly, no disrespect to Gavin or anything, but the way to my heart might lie through a bookstore.
Weldon and Winkler had coffee in the café at the bookstore and Kelvin walked around outside while I shopped. That told me right then he hadn't been reading any of the books I'd loaned him. If you read and you're next to a bookstore, you're going to look. It can't be helped. Since I didn't want to donate any more to Kelvin than I could get away with, I only bought three books and Weldon and Winkler were happy to leave. Kelvin was snapping his cell phone shut when we walked out the door.
Weldon confirmed the Packmaster in Overland Park the following evening and then we flew to Wichita. This was where Lester Briggs' biggest supporter, Bart Orford, had been Packmaster. My skin itched the moment Winkler unzipped my body bag on the jet that night.
"Winkler," I grabbed his arm and practically hauled him off the jet. Desperate to find a spot where we could talk without being overheard, I walked as far away from the plane as I could, dragging him along. "There's something going on here, I just feel it," I whispered.
"Lissa, we know this was Bart's Pack," Winkler attempted to soothe me.
"I know that too, Winkler, but I have a really bad feeling about this." How else could I tell him? I just had a feeling. This was almost like standing in front of the Council, telling them how I felt when Weldon was walking into a trap. Well, running as a werewolf into a trap might be a better description.
"How are your pilot and co-pilot on protection?" I asked. They were werewolves too; I just didn't know what they could do as far as guarding or fighting went.
"You think we need them?" Winkler was running hands through his hair.
"Yeah. Feel free to make fun of me all you want if nothing happens, Winkler. But I'm telling you, my skin is crawling."
"Lissa, I don't think Weldon will pull these guys away from their job," Winkler sighed. "Just be on guard, all right? We'll get through this." He put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a lop-sided grin.
"Winkler, I sure as hell hope you're right," I said as we walked back to the jet.
We made it through dinner with the Packmaster. It was a little boring, to be honest. I was beginning to think Winkler was right and I was only jumping at shadows as I sat on the sofa in Weldon's suite later. The Grand Master snored softly in his bed only a few feet away. One of my new novels was in my hand and I was reading when I heard footsteps walking down the hallway outside. People come and go inside hotels all the time, but it was three in the morning so I set my book aside, just in case. Winkler's connecting door was open, too. He usually left it that way. Truthfully, I expected the footsteps to walk right past on their way to another room on the same floor. They didn't. What shocked me most was the knock on the door with the accompanying, "Police. Open up."
"Fuck," I muttered, tossing my book aside. Weldon was out of the bed like a shot as was Winkler next door. They were both pulling pants on while Weldon told me to answer the door and to be careful when I did it.