the kids are outside and we can talk without interruption."
Those forest-in-shadow eyes sharpened. "That's what I just said."
"Oh."
"What's going on in that head of yours? Your scent's not right."
It disconcerted her to be in the presence of people who could taste her sweat, her fear, her absolute terror at the thought of messing up this relationship. "It's not right anyway, remember?" If nothing else, she thought with bitter humor, the insidious disease eating away at her mind was good as an excuse.
Frown lines marred his forehead. "This is different."
"The reports."
"I already gave them to her." He nodded at the huge kitchen table behind her.
She turned to find Tamsyn leafing through the pages. Nate stood close by, gripping the back of her chair. "Tammy's not seeing anything obvious," he said, looking up, "but it might help if Talin went over the reports with her."
"Sure. At least I'll be able to split the injuries up into new and old." It would rip her to pieces but she needed to do this - for Jon, perhaps for other lost children they didn't yet know about.
"While you do that," Clay told her, eyes disturbingly intent on her expression, "we're going to see if we can pick up Jon's trail. We'll start from where you lost the scent."
Having already given him the location, she nodded. "Thank you." It was all she could trust herself to say without betraying the turbulence threatening to take her under. After a pregnant pause, she walked to the table and sat down facing Tamsyn.
The healer tilted her head to kiss her mate good-bye and Talin looked away, ashamed to be in the presence of something so beautiful. She had once been loved, she knew that. Clay had loved her. And look what she'd done.
Then a big male hand was touching the back of her head and she was looking up, startled. The kiss he brushed over her lips caught her breath, blew her confusion to shreds. His skin was a little rough, his mouth pure demand...and his kiss so right it hurt. He was out the door a second later. She raised trembling fingers to her lips, more than a little afraid of the strength of the feelings he'd aroused.
"You want to talk about it?" Tamsyn's voice was gentle but it broke the spell.
She dropped her hand, wanting to hide away the memory where no one could steal it from her. "Talk about what?"
The healer shook her head. "When you're ready, I'll be here. Now, tell me about this boy."
Talin looked at the file Tamsyn had spread out in the middle of the table. It was Mickey's. Rage hit her in a violent rush and she had to close her eyes for long seconds to compose herself. When she opened them, she found Tamsyn putting a cup of hot chocolate in front of her.
Grateful, she wrapped her hands around the mug as the other woman retook her seat. "Do you always take care of people?"
"It's part of me," was the simple answer. "Would you like more time?"
"No." If the kidnappers stuck true to form, Jon had very little left. "Can you translate the medical jargon?"
"Yes."
For the next five minutes, she listened as Tammy described Mickey's wounds. To her surprise, the beating appeared to have taken place postmortem. "Possibly to hide something else," Tamsyn said. "But if so, they went overboard."
Talin's gut burned at the reminder of the way Mickey's face had been turned to pulp. "Do you think he was killed as a result of the organ removals?"
"Likely." Anger lined the healer's face. "I wish I could tell you he didn't suffer, but what I can tell you is that his death was probably painless. He would've been anesthetized for the procedure, if only to keep him from moving. This beautiful boy went to sleep and never woke up."
Talin didn't cry. She had no right. Not when the monster or monsters who had done this continued to roam free. "The organ removal process?"
"Even the beating couldn't hide the marks of high-level surgery," Tamsyn said immediately. "We could be looking at black market organ sales."
"Max thinks that's a red herring."
Tamsyn's eyebrows rose. "Max?"
"The detective in charge," she explained.
"Oh, right. For a second there you startled me. Clay doesn't share well."
The pit of anger and horror in her stomach threatened to turn to ice. No, Clay didn't share well. And no matter how hard she tried to forget, deep inside, a part of her kept waiting for him to leave her again.