Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,76

one more reason not to endanger those she loved. But she couldn’t just roll over and stay ignorant instead of asking questions that someone needed to answer.

Like who is killing people. And what happened here forty years ago.

A sleepless night led to a difficult day trying to focus at school. As soon as it was over, she drove over to Babette’s. Cordelia had once said that Babette was “gossip central,” that the store owner knew everything that was going on in Wolf Springs. Katelyn wanted to know what Babette knew about the killings — or even what the woman thought she knew.

Babette waved at her from behind the register as she entered, and Katelyn’s stomach tightened at the thought of talking to her. Katelyn didn’t know her well, but Babette had seemed very shrewd the first time they’d met. Katelyn was anxious that she’d reveal too much of herself from the questions she asked.

To her surprise, though, Babette turned away from her. It was then that Katelyn saw that the store owner was talking to a police officer in a khaki uniform — not Sergeant Lewis, so it had to be Wolf Springs’ other one, whose name she didn’t know. She was a woman, about five-eight, with heavy dark eyebrows, a round face, and brown hair pulled back in a bun.

A bolt of unease shot through Katelyn. Something about the woman was off and it was all she could do to keep herself from walking backwards out the door onto the street and running for her car. Babette’s brow was furrowed and she was drumming her fingers on the countertop. Babette was nervous, too.

Pretending to examine a couple of Fifties poodle skirts, Katelyn surreptitiously studied the shop owner. She could see the pulse in the woman’s throat beating hard and fast and she could smell the tantalizing scent of fear coming off her. What on earth could Babette possibly have to hide?

“Becky was in to buy a new dress just before she got killed. She didn’t say or do anything strange,” Babette said to the police offer.

“A new dress? Special occasion?” the officer asked sharply.

“A party, maybe. I heard that she was dating Trick Sokolov.”

The officer nodded. “Yeah, I heard that, too.”

No, no she wasn’t. She made that up, Katelyn thought, afraid for Trick. Except . . . that was what Sam had told her. Maybe Sam had been covering for Trick because Sam knew he liked Katelyn. Maybe Trick had been dating Becky, and did heartlessly dump her.

“Okay. What about Haley?” the officer was asking. “Did she say or do anything out of the norm?”

Babette shook her head, unconsciously running her fingertips back and forth along the counter. “You knew those girls, Luanne. They were lovely young ladies.”

Intrigued, Katelyn drifted from the skirts to some neon-colored fringed Sixties purses, which were hung on a display closer to the register.

“Well, thanks, Babette. I’ll be in touch if I have more questions,” the policewoman — Luanne — said.

Katelyn kept her head lowered, hoping Officer Luanne wouldn’t take the opportunity to interview the rest of the people in the store. There were only a couple of other shoppers, older women Katelyn didn’t recognize.

But the policewoman left, and Katelyn sagged with relief. She set down a lime-green purse as one of the two women scurried over to Babette.

“Was it awful?” she asked, and Katelyn blinked at the weird question.

“It sure wasn’t pleasant,” Babette said with a humorless laugh.

“I just know they’re going to ask me questions I can’t answer,” the other woman said, wringing her hands. And she, too, smelled of fear.

Katelyn blinked, surprised. The women weren’t werewolves. She had met the entire pack. What secrets could they be hiding that were terrible enough to cause them to be afraid of talking to a cop that at least one of them knew on a first name basis?

Did they know about werewolves, or were there skeletons in their own closets they didn’t want seeing the light of day?

Welcome to Wolf Springs, she thought.

“Now, Estelle, you have nothing to worry about,” Babette reassured the other woman. “I’m sure none of us have,” she said, much louder and more pointedly.

Katelyn didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t let her know she’d been eavesdropping. She set down the purse and glided soundlessly to a rack of dresses.

A glorious red dress caught her eye, strapless with a long, flowing skirt. Red was the color of boldness. And right now she felt she could use some. She took it into the dressing