8. Gage

CHAPTER 8

GAGE

G age walked into the library and felt calmer just from the smell of books and the familiar sight of the shelves and couches. He had loved going to the library ever since he was a kid, where the quiet atmosphere made him feel secure, and the limitless knowledge gave him big dreams.

The library was one of his safe places when his brothers got too rowdy or their teasing was too intense. Gage could slip away and lose himself in adventures or discover new facts about one of his many hobbies. Whenever he felt at a loss, the library offered sanctuary, community, and answers.

He was hoping it wouldn’t fail him now.

“Hi,” Gage said to the person at the front desk. “Is Liam in? I’m Gage. He’s expecting me.”

She pressed a button and looked up with a smile. “I’ve let him know. You can wander around or find a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.”

Gage took the opportunity to wander. He checked out the community art display with recent works by local residents of all ages. The new books table caught his eye and he made note of several titles that he wanted to add to his reading list. The aquarium, with its brightly colored fish, was a favorite stop. He watched them swim and wondered if fish shifters were a thing. That brought him to the terrarium with its mini ecosystem like a private world.

“I wondered where you wandered off to.” Liam came up behind him. “Enjoying the view?”

“Just impressed by how much goes on here,” Gage replied. “You do a fantastic job of community engagement.”

“Pfft. It’s not just me. Our whole staff pitches in with ideas and connections and time organizing and moderating. But I am inordinately proud of what goes on here in any given month.” Liam preened. Gage thought the gesture definitely resembled Liam’s fox side.

“I’m looking forward to your Library Nights,” Gage told him.

Liam had proposed doing a series of evening programs linking books about brewing to tastings at the taproom. Gage had been surprised to find out how many thrillers, cozy mysteries, fantasy novels, and romances used breweries and distilleries as major elements in their plot.

That led to the idea to do book and beer pairing events where people were encouraged to read and discuss the featured alcohol-related book at the taproom with drink specials and snacks. Gage’s bartenders had enjoyed trying to come up with unique cocktails tied to the stories. Everyone had a good time, and the events were some of the taproom’s most profitable evenings.

Given Liam’s out-sized personality, it always amazed Gage that the lively fox shifter had chosen a profession that fostered a reserved atmosphere.

Then again, he’s the Pied Piper to the whole community, matching us with thrilling adventures.

“Is this still a good time to plan the next couple of events?” Gage asked.

“Sure. Let me make sure we don’t get disturbed.”

Liam spoke quietly to the volunteer at the front desk and gestured for Gage to follow him into his office. The snug space had floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, a large collection of fox figurines, and a framed portrait of a very handsome wolf whom Gage recognized as Liam’s mate, Russ.

“This is perfect. And before we start, have you heard from Scott? He asked me to look some information up for him, but I haven’t been able to get him to answer his phone,” Liam asked.

Gage’s instincts went on high alert. “You haven’t? He hasn’t answered me, but I thought he was just annoyed at me. I checked his motel yesterday, but he wasn’t there.”

“You guys had a lover’s spat.” Liam made it a statement, not a question.

Gage knew Liam’s interest was sincere, even though the fox never liked to be out of the loop on local news.

“I overreacted when I found out about him being a fed and that he had told other people about his reason for coming to town but not me since we had started to get close. We argued. I called to apologize, but he didn’t pick up. I’ve left messages, and he hasn’t called me back,” Gage admitted. Liam was a true friend, and Gage respected the solid relationship Liam and Russ had put together.

Liam offered Gage coffee from the single-brew maker on the windowsill. Gage accepted it gratefully.

“I’m sorry—I thought you already knew , ” Liam said. “It’s not that unusual to have bumps at the beginning. There’s so much to learn about each other and so many old triggers. It gets better.”

“I hope he’ll give me another chance.” Gage hadn’t intended to come here and spill his guts, but he was doing exactly that.

“Are you kidding? I was barely around the two of you, and I can see that you’re mates. I spoke to him after. He hasn’t given up on you yet. Let him cool off, and you can make it up to him,” Liam replied with a salacious wiggle of eyebrows.

“That’s the problem—he’s not answering his phone, and he isn’t at his motel. I’m worried,” Gage said. “I know he’s here to do a job, but he shouldn’t try to tackle those coyotes alone.”

Liam frowned. “You think that’s what he did? Did you talk to the sheriff?”

“Yes to both. Armel doesn’t know where Scott’s gone, either. I’m not happy that SPAM sent him here without backup,” Gage admitted.

“Yeah, it’s a big forest for one agent. And coyotes—real and metaphorical—tend to operate in groups,” Liam agreed. “He didn’t tell me anything about his job. But I may have done some snooping. I didn’t find much, just that they recruit people with minor special abilities to work for the greater good,” Liam continued. “I don’t know what his talent is, but Dr. Jeffries probably does. And I’m very sorry that I caused friction between the two of you.”

Gage sighed. “That’s on me being an asshole who is out of practice being in a relationship. I got butthurt about not being in the know, but I guess if I started out as a possible suspect, he wouldn’t blow his cover by telling me.”

Liam shrugged. “I could point you to the whole poetry section on how love and logic don’t always go together. Come to think of it, that’s half of literature too. So you’re not the first.”

“I guess it’s supposed to be comforting that the idiot table is crowded?”

“You can take anything you want from that,” Liam said with a laugh. “Did you have some new ideas about Library Nights?”

“Actually, I did,” Gage said and launched into the possibilities he had compiled. It felt good to set his worry for Scott aside since he saw no way to help or change the situation at the moment.

Liam had a list of his own, and some of their ideas spilled into possibilities for related craft evenings where taproom patrons, for a small fee, could work on an art project that they took home with them after an evening at the bar and a couple of drinks.

“I was thinking that over the summer, we could do something with wilderness adventure books,” Liam suggested. “You know, like having an actual wilderness guide comment on Jack London’s books or Whitman’s time in the forest.”

“That sounds really good,” Gage said. “People read those, come up here, and think that’s what they’re going to find?—”

“And have to get rescued by the rangers,” Liam finished with a sigh. “Yeah. Happens every year. At least shifters don’t get lost.”

“I bet we could get Madden and Elias in on this with comics,” Gage added. His squirrel-shifter friend Madden and Madden’s partner Elias ran the local comic shop and were very popular with Fox Hollow residents.

“We could even do a movie night with a forest-themed film and discussion over themed brews.” Liam flushed with excitement that brought a glow to his cheeks and emphasized his red hair. “Like watch one of those monster-in-the-woods-killing-campers horror flicks and talk about all the things they did wrong.”

“That would be fun around Halloween,” Gage agreed. He had opened the taproom more than a year ago and had been so focused on running the operations smoothly and creating a core set of proprietary brews that he had let the marketing be largely word-of-mouth.

On one hand, that kept the taproom from getting overwhelmed before it was able to provide the best experience. At the same time, Gage almost had to take out a loan when finances were thin. Now that they had found their footing and a loyal clientele, he wanted to attract seasonal traffic, tourists, and people who might come more for the event theme than the actual beer.

“So, now that we have that figured out—how are we going to help Scott find the bad brewers?” Liam asked with a conspiratorial grin.

“Isn’t that interfering in a federal investigation? It’s not going to help our relationship if I get sent to prison.”

Liam sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, looking every bit the wily fox. “First, they have to catch you. Second, if there are criminals running illegal substances near Fox Hollow, I’d say that the residents have a stake in the game.”

“I’m convinced.” Gage grinned. “But there’s a whole lot of nothin’ between here and the border in terms of forest without roads or towns. People carrying contraband would need to stick to roads or trails. But if they’re using coyote shifters, they can cut cross-country, and the area is so vast that there’s no way to find them, even with satellite photos.”

“Let’s see if Madden can stop by.” Liam grabbed his phone to text their friend. “He needs to be in on this.”

Ten minutes later, Madden showed up, practically vibrating with energy, as always. Gage marveled at how Liam and Madden somehow managed to channel their shifter sides into their human personalities. Liam was sly and witty. Madden’s rampant enthusiasm was nearly its own type of superpower.

Then again, I’ve been told I give off bodyguard vibes even when I’m human , Gage thought.

When it’s true, it’s true. We can be one scary SOB when we try, his Mal agreed.

“Oh, we’re doing an investigation? Count me in. You want to know what’s going on in the woods? Ask a squirrel,” Madden said enthusiastically. “We are networked . We joke about it being the ‘inter nut, ’ but that’s not far off. The only ones who know more are the birds. Sometimes we can get them to join in for a good cause.”

Gage and Liam exchanged a look. “Really? That might solve a couple of problems.” Gage caught Madden up to speed and swore him to secrecy. That was probably a lost cause, but since Scott had confided in a couple of people to get their take on the situation, Gage hoped he would be forgiven for bringing Madden in on the problem.

“If we help him take down a notorious drug gang, do you think they’ll do a cable documentary?” Madden asked.

“That would expose the shifter community and blow Scott’s cover,” Gage pointed out.

“Right. Bad idea. But I had to ask.” When Madden got enthusiastic, he spoke really fast and practically vibrated in his seat. That was one of the most fun things about including him in their RPG Night—he got very into the adventure.

“Tell us more about the internut,” Liam said.

Madden’s eyes shone bright. “So it’s like that old game of telephone, only with squirrels. There are thousands of us out there, different species, but we all speak the same chatter. I tell ten squirrels what I’m looking for, and they each tell ten, on and on, until someone finds the answer. Then the info goes back up the chain until it gets to me. Best of all, it’s fun—and no one expects squirrel spies.”

“Wasn’t there an old cartoon about a squirrel spy? I thought I saw it in reruns when I was a kid,” Liam asked.

“Yeah. Secret Squirrel was awesome,” Madden said with a swoon. “My dad got really mad when I cut eye holes out of his hat so I could dress up like the character for Halloween.”

Gage was only partly listening. “That could be a fantastic way to help—and since no one ever looks up, the coyotes aren’t likely to realize they’ve been surveilled. The squirrels can look for Scott at the same time to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay—fill me in. I need to know what to tell everyone to look for,” Madden said. “It’s gotta be easy to explain and remember, or we’ll get a flood of tips and never be able to sort through them.”

Gage thought for a moment. “On the drug side, we’re looking for coyote-shifters making a regular trek from the Canadian border into drop locations in the Adirondacks and back again. Could be solo, might be small groups. The shifters are likely to be outlaw types when they’re in human form. They would be moving packages, delivering them from the border, going back for more. They may leave the bundle for someone else to find or meet a contact and hand it off.”

Madden frowned. “Yeah, none of that would be normal. What do you want the network to do?”

“Leave them alone, observe and make notes, and report back,” Gage said. “They definitely should not try to get involved. They’ll be a huge help just by alerting us to the locations of the drug drops and the paths the coyotes are taking.”

He paused. “Here’s the more urgent thing—I think Scott may have gone out to find them on his own. So they’re looking for a blond man with curly hair who could be lost, hurt, or even being kept prisoner. Maybe being held in a remote cabin or an abandoned building. I don’t think they would move Scott too far outside Fox Hollow if that makes it easier.”

“And if they find him?” Madden looked dangerously excited about the whole search-and-rescue operation.

“Tell them not to get involved unless Scott is in immediate danger,” Gage said. “We don’t want them getting hurt. If they can chew through rope, great. If not, stay back and wait for a chance to help us get to him or for him to get away.”

“Got it,” Madden replied. “I’ll see if we can get the birds in on it too. We could cover a wider territory. Don’t worry, Gage. We’ll find him and bring him home safe.”

Gage appreciated his friend’s confidence and was grateful for his help. His first priority was rescuing Scott. Stopping the smugglers was a distant second, although if they could provide a break in the case—once Scott was safe—it would be good for SPAM and the community.

He hadn’t heard of a problem with drug use in Fox Hollow, but then again, most of the residents wouldn’t have the same reactions as regular humans so the cargo would be largely wasted. Perhaps it was possible that some of the tourists and campers were really picking up drug drops, but if so, they had been good enough not to arouse the suspicion of the sheriff or the rangers.

Gage remembered the coyotes he had spotted in the woods and the conversation he had overheard about switching routes. As pretty as the Adirondacks were, the huge forest was sparsely populated, and large areas weren’t easily accessible by road. Plenty of lakes made seaplanes a good option for some routes, and Gage wondered if any of the pilots were part of the illegal drug and pharmaceutical syndicate.

Every time I try to narrow the scope, I come upon something that makes it even bigger.

Gage scrolled through his contacts and called Jeffries, who picked up on the second ring.

“Gage—I was just about to call you,” Jeffries said. “Where is Scott?”

“I don’t know—which is why I decided to call,” Gage said. “I’m afraid he’s in trouble.”

Jeffries was quiet for a moment. “Damn. That’s what I wanted to tell you—I had a vision about Scott. Just a glimpse, but I think you’re right.”

“What did you see?” Gage held his breath.

“It was jumbled and dark, but it looked like he got jumped by several men. There was a fight. He was outnumbered. They knocked him out and took him away.”

Gage swore under his breath. “Damn. I was afraid of that. I don’t want to compromise his investigation, but I’m doubting he was able to let SPAM know. So a search party isn’t likely, and they won’t be on the way to rescue him. I think he needs our help.”

“I agree,” Jeffries said. “We can pull a group together and keep the knowledge to a fairly small cluster. Let me make some calls. Can we meet at the taproom at noon?”

“Absolutely,” Gage said. “I’ve already spoken to Liam and Madden. They’re making plans as well.”

“I’m sure they are.” Jeffries chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. “They’ll be good for recon. I can bring a couple of psychics in on that piece as well. We need a witch on our side since we don’t know what the other side has. And if we’re going to go after him, we’ll want the Lowe brothers and Brandon, plus the sheriff. That’s not a big group, but it packs a punch, and it gives us some varied abilities.”

Gage’s head spun, realizing they were planning to go to war. “Okay,” he said, glad to be taking action. Maybe all that training when I was growing up will be useful, after all.

“If we’re lucky, they won’t realize he’s a fed and figure him for a nosy cop,” Jeffries said. “He’s got value as a hostage. They might be willing to change their routes away from this area altogether if it’s too much trouble.”

“You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.” Gage was a little weirded out by how easily Jeffries slipped into a tactical role.

“I’ve helped on some other dicey situations since I’ve been in Fox Hollow,” Jeffries told him. “And back in Ithaca, the cops wouldn’t admit to asking psychics for help. We had to promise to keep it hush-hush, but they brought us in more often than people suspected when law enforcement got stumped.”

“I thought that stuff only happened on TV.”

“Nope. It’s more common than you’d think. The cops worry that they’ll get made fun of by the press or that the city council will cut their budget for hiring us,” Jeffries replied. “Then a psychic will help break open a cold case somewhere, and all of a sudden, the police departments each want their own.”

“Thank you.” Gage felt a spark of hope. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“That’s one thing I love about Fox Hollow—we know how to take care of our folks. Go back to the taproom. I’ll call you once I have more details.”

Gage thanked him again and drove back to his bar. Just as he parked, his phone rang, and Gage was surprised to see it belonged to Sheriff Armel.

“I realized there’s someone else you should talk to,” the sheriff said. “He’s fairly new in town—moved up from Albany not long ago. Austin Williams. Private investigator, ex-cop. He got involved looking into disappearances from an old mental institution that happened back in the day, and it ended up being linked to bad drugs and shifter trafficking. He might not know anything helpful—but then again, he might. I just texted you his number.”

“Thank you,” Gage said. “And I think something happened to Scott—Dr. Jeffries had a vision and Scott still isn’t answering his phone.”

“Hmm. I get why you’re concerned,” Armel said, “and you’re right to say something. But he’s a fed on a case. He might have gone dark for a lot of valid reasons. Maybe he didn’t want the phone to tip anyone off he’s watching a site. I’ll have someone check the motel.”

“I’d hope the motel would have reported gunshots or a fight,” Gage said.

“I’d hope so, but it depends on the clerk on duty. Some of them just don’t want to get involved unless there’s no way around it,” the sheriff said. “I’d warn you again about getting mixed up in his case, but if he has disappeared, we need something to go on to find him.”

“Dr. Jeffries is pretty sure about his vision that something bad happened to Scott, so I think he really is in trouble.”

“Damn,” Armell muttered under his breath.

“Madden and Liam are handling surveillance. Dr. Jeffries is calling in a few friends to help once we get the intel to narrow down the territory. I’ll call Williams and see if he’s got any insights,” Gage said.

“You don’t waste time.” Armell sounded impressed. “You’ve gone to the right people. My team here isn’t intended for search and rescue or busting drug syndicates. But park rangers are officially law enforcement, and they take a dim view of shenanigans on their watch. I’ll see what I can find out—and if I hear anything about Scott or find any clues at the motel, I’ll let you know. Keep me posted.”

Gage promised to do so and then dialed the number Armel had given him.

“Williams Investigations. Austin Williams, speaking,” a man’s voice answered the phone.

“Sheriff Armel gave me your number,” Gage blurted. “I’m Gage Merrick. I run the Merrick Craft Brewing taproom. A friend is in trouble. Can we meet to talk?”

“Sure,” Williams replied. “First half hour is free, after that, standard rates apply.”

“Fair,” Gage said. “Meet me at the taproom? How soon can you come?”

“Can you give me an idea?—”

“I think a pack of shifter drug smugglers kidnapped a federal agent, and the sheriff said you’d run into people making altered medicines when you dealt with an old hospital,” Gage replied.

Williams was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Wow. Yeah, all right. I can be at the taproom in ten. Blond guy, mid-thirties.”

“I’ll watch for you. Thanks.” Gage ended the call, and only then realized he hadn’t asked William’s standard rate.

I can’t shake the feeling that Scott is in big trouble. He’s my mate, so I should be able to pick up more through our bond, even if it’s new, but I’m not getting anything except static and vague worry.

Maybe I’ve made a mess of his investigation, and he’ll be angry if he’s gone undercover or off doing recon. We’re new, he’s doing a job, and he doesn’t owe me a rundown of his schedule. But who else is going to notice that he’s gone missing if he’s really in trouble? I guess SPAM might if he never reports in to his superiors, but how long would that take? And would they send more strangers to look for him? If he’s in danger, it’ll be too late by then.

Gage knew he was probably rationalizing, but Armell didn’t seem to think he was overthinking the situation.

He’s our mate. Trust the bond, his Mal told him. He needs us.

The taproom was quiet this time of day. They weren’t officially open yet, and while the kitchen crew was prepping for the day, the dining area and bar were empty.

Gage waited by the locked doors until a man he didn’t recognize walked up and tapped on the glass. He fit the description Williams had given, and Gage let him in.

“Austin Williams.” The man extended his hand.

“Gage Merrick,” he replied, giving a firm shake. “Let’s talk in my office. I appreciate you coming out on short notice.”

“You gave me one hell of a pitch.” Williams laughed. “I couldn’t turn that down.”

Gage offered Williams coffee and poured a cup for each of them from the pot that was always full behind the bar. They carried their drinks into Gage’s cramped office, and Gage cleaned files off the guest chair.

“Sorry—things have been a little crazy,” he said about the mess. “Please, have a seat.”

Williams sipped the coffee and sat. He gave Gage a look like he was memorizing every detail and running it through a mental database.

“Something about smugglers, altered drugs, and a missing federal agent?” Williams nudged. “How about if you start over and give me the story and we’ll figure out how to fill in the blanks?”

Gage started from the beginning, and Williams listened with intense focus. He interrupted a couple times for clarification, then let Gage pick up the story again.

“There’s too much empty space between here and the border to search without more intel,” Gage said as he wrapped up his story. “But if the coyotes have taken Scott, we need to find him.”

Williams was quiet for a moment as if he was buying himself a moment to pull his thoughts together. “What did the sheriff tell you about my old case?” he asked.

“Nothing, really,” Gage said.

“Okay.” Williams stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “Havenwood Hospital was an old-school mental hospital back in the day. It closed down quite a while ago, and stories started to circulate. I got hired by an elderly woman who wanted to solve the mystery of what happened to her brother, who had been sent off in the 1960s.”

Williams took another swig of his coffee, and his gaze grew distant. “A lot of the people locked up there were shifters or psychics. To control them, the docs kept the patients drugged to the gills. In the process, they formulated some special drugs that worked on supernatural metabolisms.

“Everything the hospital did was illegal, so the drug piece was just a part of the bigger problem. Jamie and I put together a fairly long list of patients who disappeared and looked into it. Many of them had died over the years.”

“Jamie?”

“At the time, a researcher at the local historical association. Now, my husband,” Williams replied. “Anyhow, we couldn’t locate a few of the missing patients. We talked to psychics and got an earful from their ghosts. We discovered that when the hospital received a new patient with abilities, they sold them off to the highest bidder to someone who wanted a captive psychic.” Williams’s disgust was clear in his voice.

Gage’s stomach churned. “Fuck. How long did that go on?”

Williams’s expression grew angry. “Way too long. Needless to say, people didn’t like us poking into the situation, digging up old dirt. They gave us enough grief that I realized that even though the hospital closed a long time ago, there were people out there running the same rackets today. We reported what we found to the FBSI and turned copies of the files over to them to handle it from there.”

Gage knew the S stood for supernatural, one of several government law enforcement groups—like SPAM—that handled paranormal crimes without admitting the existence of such things to the general public.

“Do you think anyone from those days is still around?”

Williams drew a deep breath and let it out again. “Anything’s possible, but I doubt it. They’d be pretty old. Since those days, both the government and private hunters have gotten a lot more involved policing crimes against people with abilities. I’ve heard plenty of opinions about how that’s worked out, but it’s not the wild, wild west like it used to be.”

“The drug runners must have a contact,” Gage said. “And since the couriers are shifters and the drugs are made for people with abilities, I’m thinking that contact isn’t a regular human. Maybe a shifter or a vampire—or a witch.”

“Did Scott have any intel on that piece?”

Gage shrugged. “Not that he told me. He was playing things pretty close to the vest, but he did talk to the sheriff and Dr. Jeffries, and so did I. Dr. Jeffries gave me your contact info.” Gage ran a hand back through his hair. “I’m worried. It’s been hours with no word from Scott.”

Williams’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your connection? Why do you care so much?”

“Scott is my mate.” Gage met the private investigator’s eyes levelly, daring him to make a smart remark.

He was pleased when Williams didn’t blink. “Good enough. I’m guessing your bond is fairly new?”

“Yeah. And I don’t want to mess up his investigation, but both my mate bond and my spidey sense is telling me something’s very wrong. And Dr. Jeffries had a vision.”

“Spidey sense?”

“Intuition. I’m a shifter so that accounts for the mate bond. I got into craft brewing to formulate beer that shifters and people with paranormal metabolisms could get buzzed from. And that connection led Scott to check to make sure I wasn’t one of the bad guys, using altered additives for more nefarious purposes.”

Williams blinked a few times. “That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Do you think there’s a witch involved?” Gage asked.

Williams frowned. “What makes you ask?”

“The whole issue Scott was investigating was tied back to unscrupulous magic. The coyotes are shifter couriers, but they aren’t creating the drugs. I guess it could be a human who knows about pharmaceuticals and paranormal physiology,” Gage said, “but it seems more likely to be that there’s a witch in the mix somewhere.”

“There’s a guy named Jennings Weston who keeps popping up like a bad penny,” Williams replied after a moment. “He apprenticed to a couple of powerful dark witches who have been taken care of by other hunters, over in Ohio and down in West Virginia. Weston got away, but he’s powerful and ambitious, and now some of the elder witches who would have kept him in check have been killed.”

“I haven’t heard that name,” Gage admitted.

“Don’t go looking for him by yourself,” Williams warned. “We have people with abilities here in town who can approach him if it comes to that.” He drank more of his coffee, and Gage wondered if the PI was weighing how much to disclose.

“I won’t,” Gage said. “I’ve already talked to Dr. Jeffries and the sheriff about mounting a search. But my mate’s in danger, and I don’t trust the feds to care enough to save him.”

“Fair enough,” Williams agreed. “There’s some history involved you need to know. It’ll tie some of the loose ends together for you—and for Scott when we get him back.”

Gage appreciated Williams’s positive attitude. Deep inside, Gage felt nervous and terrified despite the plans put in motion.

“There are a couple of hunters who killed a very dark witch, and now they’re going after his coven of disciples,” Williams said. “They’ve tracked down and eliminated a handful, but there are more from the coven out there. Weston apprenticed to one of those witches, Willis Osborn, who created illegal drugs and unregulated pharmaceuticals for paranormals out in Cleveland.

“When Osborn died, the drugs moved through a cultish wellness center in West Virginia run by Fletcher Swain, another of the dark witch’s disciples. After the hunters caught up with Swain, Weston came up here. No telling whether he had heard the stories about the doc at the old asylum, but those days were long gone,” Williams said.

“Of course, supernatural creatures have long memories. He could have found someone who knew details from the old days and started to cook up his own drugs,” Williams added. “I haven’t looked for him, and he hasn’t come to light, but he’d be the logical suspect in my book.”

“How do I find him?”

Williams stared at him. “Did you not hear a word I said about not going after the witches on your own?”

Gage shrugged. “Never said I’d go alone. Maybe Weston has nothing to do with Scott’s disappearance. But I don’t think the coyotes are cooking the drugs. They’re runners, not chemists or head honchos. It would make sense to have a witch involved—and that means a loose end Scott might not have known about.”

“How long has Scott been missing?” Williams asked.

“Since yesterday. He didn’t say that he would be out of touch. The sheriff said his SUV was at the motel, but it wasn’t there when I stopped by earlier in the day. So he didn’t go anywhere unless he left with someone else. My connection with him—the mate bond—is staticky, not clear. What I’m picking up from him is jumbled. I’m worried that he’s hurt or drugged.”

“Do you have something that belongs to him or that he had in his possession recently?” Williams asked.

Gage reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper that Scott had written his phone number on. “Will this do?”

“Let’s find out.” Williams took the paper in his right hand, and laid his left hand over top of Scott’s. He shut his eyes and slowed his breathing.

For a couple of minutes, nothing happened. Williams’s face took on a look of intense concentration. Gage felt a tingle where their skin touched and a buzz in the back of his mind as if the contact activated something within him. The focus of his mate bond grew sharper, and in his mind, his Mal sat up, ears twitching, on high alert.

Gage saw Scott sitting in a wooden chair, tied with rope around his chest. His wrists and ankles were also bound. Scott’s badly bruised face and black eye made Gage’s heart ache, and his inner Malinois growled a warning.

Mate is hurt. His inner Mal sounded ready to attack.

We’ll bring him back, Gage told his other side. First, we have to find him.

Find him soon, fix him, bite the ones who hurt him.

I totally agree, Gage said, feeling his shifter’s anger surge through him.

Gage had watched enough TV shows to know he should concentrate on picking up as many clues as he could. He wondered how much additional detail Wilson took from the same vision.

Although the image wasn’t completely clear translated secondhand from Williams, Gage looked around the room where Scott was imprisoned. It looked like the cabin with rough-hewn walls had an oddly Old West feel.

As quickly as it appeared, the vision faded.

“Did you see that?” Gage asked breathlessly.

Williams nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

“What did the Old West have to do with anything?”

Williams smiled. “Everything—because it tells us where he is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There used to be a western theme park nearby called FrontierWorld,” Williams said. “It opened in the 1950s when American families got cars and going on road trips was a big deal, and it petered out in the late 1990s because tastes changed and there were lawsuits over injuries.”

“You think the coyotes have Scott there?”

Williams nodded. “It would be a perfect place to hide. It’s less than an hour from Fox Hollow. There are buildings still standing from the old park, and no one goes there nowadays. I remember hearing people talk about it, although I never got to visit. It was done up like a western town from cowboy movies with a live rodeo, a saloon, and a gunfight on Main Street every day at noon. For the kids who grew up watching Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone on TV, it was a dream come true.”

“I was more into spaceships than westerns,” Gage admitted. “But if the old theme park is that close, they wouldn’t have had to travel far with Scott. And if it’s deserted but still has some buildings suitable by coyote standards, it would work to hide him and also store the drugs. No one would have any reason to go there.”

Williams nodded. “If we’re going to check out FrontierWorld, we should also look at Tahawus. It was a mining town that was deserted nearly overnight when the mine shut down. There are some buildings left, but no one lives there. Another place where drugs could be stored or cooked where people wouldn’t notice.”

“We need to do something,” Gage urged. “Scott looked hurt. He needs our help.”

Williams held up a hand. “Slow down. We’ve got to think this through. It doesn’t do anything for Scott if we go in, guns blazing, and people get hurt, or the coyotes vanish to another location and take him with them.”

Gage knew the ex-cop was right, but he hated the delay. “I really don’t want to contact SPAM and tell them we misplaced Scott. They’re too far away to help, and I’d like to avoid getting him in trouble.”

“Agreed. And I don’t think we need to,” Williams said. “Our folks can check both sites out much easier than regular law enforcement. If we’re wrong, it was a hike in the woods. But if we’re right, and we assemble the right crowd, we can save Scott and stop the coyotes.”

He gave a sly smile. “After all, I think wolves, a moose, a fox, a bear, and a Belgian Malinois could hold their own against a pack of coyotes.”