Crescent Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,67

across state lines is a different matter."

Hell. I hadn't thought of that.

Luckily Frank had. On top of the dart gun lay documents, all made out and stamped nice and legal, signed by the governor and giving me the right to take pretty much anything anywhere I wanted to. Frank might be an annoying pain, but he was an organized, think-ahead, rich annoying pain with a lot of connections.

I handed the papers to Sullivan. Frustration washed over his face. He handed them back to me with a scowl. "Did you ever tell Adam Ruelle I wanted to talk to him?"

"We already had this conversation."

"He still hasn't contacted me."

I shrugged. Adam wasn't going to call the detective. Not in this lifetime.

"Why did you call me if it wasn't about Ruelle?" he demanded.

I'd forgotten about the call I'd placed, the message I'd left, but I remembered the question I'd had.

"Did you ever identify the man who was strangled in the swamp?"

"No."

"Isn't that strange?" Cassandra murmured. "Shouldn't someone be searching for him?"

"Eventually. Maybe." Sullivan shrugged. "You'd be surprised how many John Does there are in the world. Especially around here. Speaking of which, we never found Charlie Wagner's body."

I tried very hard not to look at Cassandra. Probably as hard as she was trying not to look at me. The detective glanced back and forth between us. His eyes narrowed.

Before he could ask us questions we wouldn't answer, I asked one of my own. "The St. Tammany police thought there was a rabies problem in the swamp."

"There's something. My boss called in a specialist."

"What kind of specialist?"

"There's been a problem in several states with a new strain of rabies."

"Really?" Cassandra murmured. "Funny we didn't hear about it."

"They try to keep information of that nature quiet. People panic."

"Can't imagine why," I said.

"Guy should be here in a couple days. He'll do his thing, and then we can concentrate on our other problems."

"Which are?"

"Who strangled a stranger and who's stealing dead bodies."

He squinted at Cassandra as he said the latter. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Maybe you should wait to do your trapping until our rabies expert is finished," he said.

"What if my wolf is the one with the rabies problem?"

And I kind of thought he was - if you considered rabies was a euphemism for the curse of the crescent moon.

"Then you'd definitely better back off. You don't want rabies, Ms. Malone. Even with the new medicines, it isn't pretty."

Hey, I didn't want to be baying at the moon, either. I wasn't going to take any chances.

"You'll wait until I give the go-ahead before you move forward with... ?" Sullivan made a vague motion toward the cage and the dart gun.

"Of course."

"Great I'll be in touch."

The detective climbed into his car and rumbled down the drive toward the highway.

Cassandra cleared her throat. When I glanced at her, she lifted a dark brow. "You really plan to wait?"

"Hell, no."
Chapter 29
Cassandra left after I assured her I wasn't going to set a trap in the swamp. What would be the point? There wasn't a crescent moon tonight.

However, I did want to scout the area and figure out the best location for the cage when the time was right. I should be safe in the sunshine, at least from a loup-garou. If there were rabid wild dogs, coyotes, or even a real wolf, I might be in trouble.

Except I didn't believe that. Not anymore.

I loaded the tranquilizer gun before I took a walk. I also had the pistol Adam had given me, but the thing made me nervous. What if I shot someone accidentally? Heck, what if I shot them on purpose?

As jumpy as I was, that could easily happen. There'd been enough death in the Honey Island Swamp. I preferred not to cause more. The tranquilizer gun would only put someone to sleep for a few hours instead of permanently.

I was so close to proving what Simon had always known. Werewolves existed right under our very noses.

How they managed to do so and not be found was a mystery. One I wanted to unravel.

I understood now what had obsessed my husband. My guilt at not supporting him while he was alive returned, but I refused to let depression take hold. I could atone for my lack of foresight if I proved his theory. If I found a loup-garou and presented the beast to the world, Simon's reputation would be saved. No one would ever dare speak his name and laugh again.

I hadn't realized in what