Return of the Alpha (8 page)

We spent almost an hour with Hill. By then he was beginning to flag.

“Should you call Freda to let her know we're coming?” I asked.

“It'll be better if I go alone.”

Before I could object, he continued, “I'll give Grosvenor a call. He's head of Territory Security. I'll clear it for you to go over there and see him. Tell him everything you know about Marlow. He may already have some intel. If not, he can get his people onto it.”

“Okay.” It made sense for me to get the ball rolling on tracing Marlow while Craven spoke to Freda.

Chapter 9

CRAVEN

It had hurt Craven deeply to see how sick Hill was. He couldn't help but wonder how much of his demise had been the result of taking on the role of alpha. If Craven hadn't left in search of Louise, Hill would have happily continued in the role of second-in-command. Although Craven wasn't prepared to return to Terroun as alpha, the very least he could do was to ensure a smooth transition to the next pack leader. From everything Hill had told him, and from what he'd seen himself on his last visit, Rayma was the ideal candidate.

“Come in,” Freda greeted him at the door. She still lived in the same apartment. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No thanks.”

She led him through to the living room where they took a seat at the dining table.

“What happened?” Craven asked.

“I don't know. They're trying to say he ran away because he was too afraid to become alpha. But that's rubbish.”

“Who's
they
?”

“There's lots of rumours, and I'd bet good money I know who started them.”

“Drayton?”

Freda nodded. “It's common knowledge that Hill has been gravely ill for some time. People began to speculate on who the successor would be. Naturally, Rayma's name was on most people's lips.”

“How did he feel about that?”

“Scared, nervous, but not so much that he'd run away. He'd never do that, and he'd never leave me.”

“What do you think has happened to him?”

“I don't know, but I'm pretty sure who's behind it. Drayton is desperate to become alpha, but he doesn't dare challenge Rayma because he knows he'd come out second best. As far as I can see, he's the only person who benefits from Rayma's disappearance.”

“Talk me through what happened. When was the last time you saw him?”

“We exercise our wolves on Tuesday nights—it's a regular thing for us. That particular Tuesday, I got a call from the hospital to say there was a major incident, and that I was needed. Rayma wanted to wait until I came back, but those types of emergencies are unpredictable. I might have been there all night. I told him to go by himself. The thing is—when I arrived at the hospital, there was no major incident. No one knew why I'd been called in.”

“Did you recognise the voice on the phone?”

“No, but that's not all that unusual. We use lots of casual staff. I tried to call Rayma to tell him to wait for me, but he didn't pick up the call. When I got back, he'd already gone. That was the last time I saw him.”

“What time was the call from the hospital?”

“It must have been just after seven-thirty.”

Craven took a note of Freda's phone number, and then made his excuses and left. Before he did, he promised that he'd do everything within his power to trace her mate. What he didn't tell her was that he thought there was a good chance Rayma was already dead. Once he was outside, he made a phone call.

“Craven,” Grosvenor said. The head of security had recognised the ex-alpha's voice immediately. “Good to hear from you. I've just been speaking with your mate.”

“Were you able to help with Marlow?”

“Not yet, but I've got my people on it. Do you want me to keep you posted?”

“No. It'll be better if you liaise directly with Louise. I do have something else for you though.”

“Shoot.”

Craven gave him Freda's number, and the time of the phone call which had supposedly come from the hospital. “How long will it take you?”

“Give me twenty minutes, and I'll call you back.”

It actually took less than five minutes. When he got back to Craven, Grosvenor was able to confirm the location where the call had originated. It
wasn't
the hospital.

*********

Greenide was the underbelly of the Terroun territory. Even in Craven's day the district had had its problems. Drunks and other addicts—human and shifter—all seemed to congregate there. From what Craven now saw, things had gotten a whole lot worse. Even after so long away, Craven was still recognised in most parts of the territory, but not here. As he made his way through the back streets, hardly anyone made eye contact, and those who did were too out of it to register him.

The lifts were both out of order, and looked as though they had been for some time. The staircase reeked of urine. There was no number on the door, but Craven worked out by the numbers on either side that this was the flat he wanted. He pounded on the door loud enough to wake the dead. Nothing. Craven took two steps back and then threw himself, shoulder first, at the door. It shattered.

“Hello!” He made his way down the dimly lit corridor. “Anyone here?”

As he passed by each door, he kicked it wide open. He got lucky on door number three. Lying on the bed, totally out of it, was a male shifter. The floor was littered with empty bottles; the smell of alcohol was overpowering. Craven backed out and made his way to the kitchen. When he returned to the bedroom, he was carrying a pan full of water.

“Rise and shine.” He poured the water over the shifter's head.

“What the fuck?” The shifter coughed and spluttered as he shot upright.

“Time to wake up.” Craven could barely conceal his contempt for the drunk. Drink and drug addiction was relatively rare amongst shifters when compared to humans, but Greenide had more than its fair share of low-life scum like this.

“Who are you?” The drunk's eyes were still only half-open, and his words were slurred.

“I want to ask you a few questions.”

“Fuck off!”

Craven grabbed him around the throat, lifted him clear of the bed, and pinned him to the wall.

“Let—let me—go,” The drunk waved his arms and kicked his legs as he struggled to break free.

“You're going to answer my questions or you're going to die.” Which is it to be?

The drunk's face was red, and his eyes were now wide open. “Okay,” he managed to splutter.

Craven released his grip and allowed him to fall to the floor.

The shifter stared up at Craven. “Aren't you—? Didn't you used to be—?”

“I'm asking the questions. You made a phone call two weeks ago to a nurse.”

“What?”

“You told her you were on the hospital staff and that she had to come into work.”

“I don't know what you're—”

Craven pushed the drunk's head hard against the wall.

“Ouch, okay, okay.”

“Why did you make the call?”

“Someone paid me.”

“Who?”

“How would I know? Ouch!”

Craven had run a claw across the drunk's throat. Not deep enough to do any real damage, but enough to draw a little blood. “Next time I cut your jugular. Who told you to make the call?”

“I don't know his name. He gave me twenty quid to do it. He wrote down the number, and the words I had to say. That's it. I don't know anything else.”

“Tell me his name or I'll kill you right now.” Craven pressed a claw hard against the drunk's throat.

“I don't know. I swear.”

Craven could see he was telling the truth now. “Would you recognise him again?”

“I'm not sure. Probably.”

Craven took out his phone, and did a quick Internet image search. It didn't take him long to find the photo he wanted. “Is that him?”

The drunk screwed up his eyes to study the image. “Yeah, I think so. Yeah, that's definitely him.”

*********

Craven parked on a side street just down the road from Drayton's apartment block. From there he had a clear view of the main entrance. While he was waiting, he gave Louise a call. There was no answer, so he tried Grosvenor's number.

“Have you seen Louise?” Craven asked.

“Not since she came by earlier. I spoke to her on the phone a short while ago though. I had some info on that shifter she's looking for. What's his name? Marlow?”

“That was quick.”

“One of our guys over in Maja was already aware of him.”

“Is he alive?”

“As far as we can make out, yes. I let Louise have his last known whereabouts.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Craven tried Louise's number again. Still no reply. He tried to ignore the doubt which was niggling away at him.

A familiar figure in the distance caught his eye. Craven watched as Drayton walked down the steps at the front of the apartment block. A black Audi had pulled up at the roadside. He tried to see who was in the car, but the tinted windows made it impossible. The Audi pulled away, and Craven was about to follow when a bus blocked his way. “Damn it!” He looked down the road—trying to keep the Audi in sight. As soon as the bus moved away, Craven put his foot to the floor, and set off in pursuit of Drayton. For a moment he thought he'd lost him, but then he spotted the back-end of the Audi as it took a left onto the slip road.  Craven made sure he kept at least three vehicles between his car and the Audi. He didn't want to risk being spotted.

Where the hell was Drayton going? They were almost at the Maja/Terroun border. Could he be headed for Maja? Craven was desperate to pull over and call Louise. Now she had information on Marlow, she'd be itching to follow it up. He hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid. The call would just have to wait; he couldn't run the risk of losing the Audi.

When they were within three miles of the border, the Audi pulled onto a side road. Craven followed. A huge purple and white sign announced that Hotel Arriva was a half-mile further along. Craven arrived at the hotel's almost deserted car park just in time to see Drayton walking into reception. He appeared to be alone.

Craven had hoped Drayton might lead him to Rayma, but even if he was right, and Drayton was responsible, it was unlikely he'd be holding him in a hotel. As Craven walked across the car park, he spotted Drayton in the restaurant, which was to the right-hand side of the building. He appeared to be at a table by himself. Was he waiting for someone?

Craven walked into reception, and made his way to the small bar from where he had a clear view of the restaurant entrance. He called Louise again. Still no reply.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” The barman asked.

“Just tonic water,” Craven said without once taking his eyes off the restaurant entrance.

“Shall I charge it to your room?”

“I'll pay cash.” He handed him a five pound note. “Keep the change.”

Craven almost spat out the tonic when he saw the figure walk into the restaurant. It was Milton.

What the hell was he doing here? Drayton must have chosen that particular hotel because he'd know that very few shifters would venture so close to the border. The vast majority of the hotel's patrons were human. They wouldn't care about or even notice a shifter from another pack. A more pressing concern for Craven was how Milton had managed to get through the border. Something was very wrong.