"Mostly. Not everyone gets the skill, of course. Some flip the other way and are mind-blind." He shrugged.
"Our siblings are mind-blind, and so are you."
I was? Again, that statement just felt wrong. And yet, I'd been picking up nothing telepathically from anyone in this town, and surely if I was telepathic, I should have been able to. Of course, there was the whole daggers-inthe-brain factor. Maybe I wouldn't be able to do anything until that eased off.
So why could I see that soul? Why would the pain affect one talent and not the other?
Maybe they didn't know about the other talents, that perceptive little voice inside me whispered.
Of course, I had no fucking clue just who "they" were. Or whether they were nothing more than an overstressed imagination.
But I was really doubting that imagination had anything to do with all this. It was real, and it was happening, and I needed to find out why.
"Well," I said lightly, "that sucks big hairy ones, doesn't it?"
He laughed and dragged a croissant out of the bag. Blueberry, if the color of the juices that oozed out of it were any indication. "So, what are we going to do today?"
I shrugged. I knew what I wanted to do - a little more crime scene investigation - but I wouldn't be able to if Evin was going to stick like glue to my side. "I don't know. Maybe a little swimming, a little sunning, and a whole lot of eating."
"Sounds like a plan. It's already getting warm out there."
"Then I'd best go change into a suit." I grabbed another croissant - this time blueberry - and munched on it happily as I headed into my bedroom to change.
The rest of the morning passed peacefully enough. I swam, I sat on the sand and soaked up the sunshine - or at least I did until my skin began showing signs of severe sunburn again. Why was it suddenly so damn sensitive?
I shifted to the shade of the trees, drank coffee, and read the newspaper. There was no mention of Landsbury's murder anywhere, although the paper catered to Western Australia as a whole, not just this town. And given the vastness of WA, maybe the murder of a rapist wasn't considered newsworthy enough.
Or maybe an embargo had been placed on it.
Lunch came and went, and it was midafternoon when Evin decided he was going to have a little siesta. I glanced at my watch and waited fifteen minutes to insure he was well asleep, then wrote him a note telling him I was going to buy some decent coffee. I slathered on some sunscreen, then grabbed my wallet, hat, and sunglasses, and headed out.
The air was unbearably hot and the sun beat down almost relentlessly. I could feel its heat caressing my skin, but this time, it didn't feel like it was burning as deep. Obviously, sunscreen and I were going to become firm friends while I was in this part of the world.
There were plenty of people out and about in the caravan park, though most of them were sticking to the shade of the big old gum trees. There were a few kids splashing about in the crystal blue water, but most were - like me - slathered with sunscreen and wearing hats. All of them smelled human. It wasn't until I reached the main town that the scent of wolf became stronger.
I headed down the side street again and walked toward the stand of trees. There was a young, bored-looking uniformed officer standing under the shade of one of them, and I smiled. Harris had obviously taken my jibe about protecting the crime scene seriously.
Of course, this also meant that I couldn't nose around like I wanted to. I gave the young officer another smile as I walked by the trees, and continued on until the grass gave way to the tufted wild grass. I turned around and studied the houses surrounding the paddock. I couldn't imagine Landsbury living in the immediate area - not with the police station and Harris's house so close, but he'd have to live somewhere near the paddock because otherwise someone would have noticed him being carried. Although for all I knew, someone had. Harris wasn't about to tell me stuff like that.. Something within me shivered at the sound of that name, so obviously it had once meant something to me. Something unpleasant.
"Did you run any other checks?"
He raised his eyebrows. "The word of a pack leader isn't enough?"
"Pack leaders aren't infallible, you know. They lie and scheme as much as the rest of us."
"You really haven't got a very high opinion of pack alphas, have you?"
"Apparently not." I pulled the toast toward me and picked up a piece. "Does this mean I'm no longer a suspect in the crime?"
"No, it simply means you're not lying about who you are. The whole crime thing is another issue entirely."
And if he was drinking our coffee and eating toast, then I very much doubted he was here in any official capacity. He seemed the type to be a stickler for rules - written and unwritten - and regular cops didn't usually sit at a suspect's kitchen counter eating their toast and drinking their coffee, because any evidence gathered that way would be inadmissible in court.
Which didn't mean he wasn't fishing.
"Has the autopsy happened yet?"
He took another drink then shook his head. "These things take a time in this part of the world. I did, however, read about similar crimes in Sydney and Brisbane."