from making any additional remarks. Opening the oven, he pulled out a tray of biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“We are!” Mack called from outside, his booming voice penetrating through the closed door. “Open up or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow …”
“Yeah, yeah. This big bad wolf is not in the mood for visitors. I’m a married man now. So take your hungry pup and go someplace where you two can super-size your meals,” Zane called out the open window.
Under normal circumstances I would have been annoyed by the intrusion, but having the father son duo in for breakfast would help relieve the tension and temptation that lingered in the kitchen.
“You might as well let them in. We don’t want two hungry wolves patrolling the park today,” I said.
“You heard the lady, breakfast is served.” Several plates clanked together, as Zane reached for more dishes. I was surprised by how quickly he’d agreed. Maybe he was as uncertain about how to deal with me as I was him.
“Thanks, Chloe. We owe you,” Michael laughed as I swung the door open.
“We thought you might want an update,” Michael added.
For the first ten minutes, nobody spoke. We all shoveled Zane’s biscuits and gravy into our mouths like we’d never seen food before. I’d never tasted such a scrumptious breakfast. Not even my step dad’s homemade waffles could compare.
Long before the men finished with their third helpings, I’d pushed my plate away and was rubbing my swollen stomach. I was certain someone might mistake me for a woman in her second trimester of pregnancy. Despite my fullness, my taste buds were still screaming for more food while my insides protested.
Being around wolves wasn’t good for the waistline. I’d have to watch what I ate if I wanted to keep my figure. I assumed that werewolves burned huge quantities of calories during the shifting process. Presumably, running around in wolf form also burned a fair share. If I could be so lucky.
What was I thinking? I’d never consider becoming a werewolf. And taking into consideration my human status, if bitten, I’d turn into a freakish mutant. I’d have to find another, more acceptable way to burn off my extra caloric intake. Maybe Zane had a gym membership. We could work out together.
Abruptly, Zane made a satisfied groaning sound. He tipped his chair back and wiped his mouth with another napkin. He and Mack had accumulated quite a pile of napkins between their two plates. At least Michael seemed to have more refined table manners.
“Good stuff,” Mack confirmed. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“Who cares?” Michael interrupted. “As long as we get to reap the rewards.”
“Both my mother and my father were good cooks. So was my sister.”
“Well, good for all of you,” Mack managed to say before taking another huge bite.
A few minutes later, the men joined me in rubbing their stomachs and looking stuffed at last. Though I doubted they minded the “ready to burst” feeling as much as I did.
Mack, now settled with his feet up, explained that Officer Tate had visited the park on two occasions, and that Agent Green had stopped in once. They’d also received a late night visit from Detective Davis and her mystical minions. They all had been seeking more answers and were eager to know when Zane and I would return.
Both Michael and Mack sensed that Officer Tate and Detective Davis had no qualms with Zane or me. But the shifty FBI agent seemed suspicious of us both — in particular — me.
Why would anyone think that I had a part in the murders? Sure, I’d known two of the victims, and I’d dated Will, but it was a small town where everyone knew everyone. Paths were bound to cross often.
Will hadn’t exactly been a prude either. Last summer he’d spent some very intimate one-on-one time with Rhonda following our short-lived relationship, if you could even call it a relationship. She’d made certain that the entire park staff knew the details of their escapades.
Why didn’t Agent Green take a long look her way?
Rhonda had been furious when Will had decided to cut her off. And far more important than Rhonda’s unlikely involvement was the fact that any halfway intelligent person would know I didn’t have the physical strength, let alone a motive, to carry out such heinous crimes.
Just like the crime dramas my step dad was addicted to — something just didn’t add up. But unlike the TV shows, figuring out who-done-it