decided to tell her everything that wasn't personal. Which turned out to be quite a bit.
"Do you think he's a rogue agent?" she asked.
Rogue agents had been Juger-Suchers once. They'd gone off on their own, still hunting, still searching, but they no longer followed any rules but their own.
"Could be. All we have to do is ask Edward."
He knew every agent, past and present. I put the question on my mental to-do list.
"I talked to the owner of the tavern," Jessie said. "Fitzgerald is working for cash. The guy doesn't have his Social Security number, next of kin, address, or shoe size. The setup screams shape-shifter."
"Except for the silver ring and the silver bullet in his gun," I murmured.
"Which shoots that theory all to hell." She shrugged. "I ran the name Damien Fitzgerald, from New York.
Without his Social Security number to narrow down the field... I got back a sheet of Damien Fitzgeralds as long as my forearm. None of them have records, which means no fingerprints or photos on file."
"Damn."
"Yeah."
Silence fell between us. I was thinking as fast as I could, but I wasn't getting anywhere.
"You didn't come speeding into town to talk about Damien," Jessie said. "Something else spooked you.
Wanna tell me what?"
"Not really."
Jessie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I know about your family."
My head came up so fast the room spun. My eyes narrowed.
"Relax. Mandenauer didn't say anything that wasn't in the police report." Her lips twitched. "Except for the part about the werewolves."
The police had decided that mad dogs killed my family. There were so many of them in Topeka.
"I can't imagine what it was like," she said gently.
"No, you can't."
"My best friend was a werewolf. She fooled me for years. Wanted to make me one of them. Then rule the world. I stopped her."
Our eyes met, and I saw how much what had happened in Miniwa had affected her. Having someone you trusted turn furry and try to kill you didn't happen every day. For an instant I wanted to reach out, but she just had to open her mouth again.
"You know something else, and I don't want to get killed because you're too much of sissy to tell me what it is."
I shook my head as if I'd been doused with a bucket of water, then wiggled my ringer in my ear. "Sissy?"
"You heard me. What did you see out there tonight that scared you enough to make you run to me?"
Jessie might be the most annoying person on the planet, but she wasn't dumb, she wasn't slow, and she wasn't going to go away until I told her.
In truth, I was scared. Had I seen the white wolf or hadn't I? If I had, we were all in deep shit. If I hadn't, only I was. Either way, it couldn't hurt to ask a question.
"Have you ever heard the name Hector Menendez?"
"Should I have?"
"I don't know. You're the sheriff."
"You think he's here?"
I sighed. "Maybe."
"What does he look like?"
"Six-foot-two, a hundred and eighty pounds, black hair, goatee, blue eyes, Hispanic. Very... handsome,"
I managed.
Hector had been one of the most beautiful men I'd ever seen. Beauty was part of his allure. By the time I'd discovered what that beauty hid, it had been too late.
"I haven't seen him," Jessie said. "But that doesn't mean anything. People come and go. Did you see him?"
"I'm not sure."
"Maybe you'd better tell me who he is."
"Hector's the werewolf that killed my family," I said.
Her eyes widened. "And you saw him in Crow Valley?"
"I'm not sure," I repeated. "I thought I saw a wolf outside the bar. I followed him, but the one I shot was black, not white."
"You said Hector had black hair."
"He did."
"Then how could he be a white wolf?"
"His mother was blond and so was Hector."
He'd shown me a picture of her and him. Hector had been a true towhead as a child - the thick, wavy locks nearly white instead of blond. I'd thought it cute that he carried a picture of his mother and himself in his wallet. Later, when he'd told me the rest, the picture had disturbed me. Sadly, it hadn't disturbed me enough to make me stop seeing him. Although by then it was probably too late.
"His mother left the family when he was very young, and he hated her. So he dyed his hair the shade of his father's. Hector is a tiny bit psychotic, I'm afraid."