Moon Sworn

He grunted. “Why does that not surprise me?”

I restrained my grin. “Look, you’re obviously a damn good cop with amazing instincts, and Mike said you had a stellar career in Sydney. So why come back here?”

He considered me for a moment, then said, “Two reasons. The first being the fact that my soul mate—who was also a cop—was killed in the line of duty.”

And coming here was one hell of a good way to get away from every reminder of her. Part of me understood that, but at the same time, I didn’t. Running from a situation never solved anything.

I didn’t offer Harris the usual lines of sympathy, nor did I tell him that I was in the same position. His expression suggested neither comment would be welcome. And that I could totally understand. There was nothing—certainly no words—that could ever ease such a pain. It had to come from inside. From the desire to move on.

Do you want to move on? that voice whispered. Are you ready?

Yes. But again, the vision of the black car rolling over and over hit. But only if there’s something—someone—to move on with.

I swallowed heavily and said, “And the second?”

“My mom was dying and had no one to look after her.”

“What about your dad?”

“He died several years before. Heart attack.”

Which was damn unusual for a wolf. He couldn’t have been very fit.

He made a sharp sweeping movement with his hand. “Did you find anything else here?”

Meaning, obviously, that that line of questioning was over. “No.”

“And I’m gathering you’ve left no fingerprints behind?” He didn’t wait for my answer, simply added, “We’ve been ordered to preserve the scene, not investigate. The murder boys are due in tomorrow.”

If his expression was anything to go by, he was hoping Landsbury’s partner would make his appearance sooner rather than later. Which meant he’d been watching the house, even if I hadn’t seen him.

“They’re going to be less than happy about the print dust everywhere.”

And it was odd that Homicide was taking over. Usually they worked with the local detectives, not above them. But maybe it was simply a case of the local boys being seen as not having the expertise—despite Harris’s time in Sydney.

“That happened before we were ordered away.” He shrugged, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Harris wasn’t about to give up his case for anyone, and that was something I could totally understand. And respect.

“What about the coroner’s report? Was there anything interesting in the toxicology report?”

“Yeah. A drug known as DH208. Apparently it’s a military-only drug that’s designed to almost instantly freeze the central nervous system of humans and nonhumans alike.” His gaze met mine again. “You were right.”

“Which doesn’t mean I applied the stuff.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t actually thinking that.”

“So you no longer think I murdered him?”

“I never did. But it’s a cop’s job to be suspicious of everyone and everything. Especially when coincidences keep pointing a particular way.”

“Which just goes to prove you can’t trust coincidences.”

“I don’t. But here you are, the biggest of them all.” He tilted his head a little, studying me through slightly narrowed eyes. “Why is that, do you think?”

“What? Why am I here, or why are these murders happening while I’m here?”

“Both.”

“I think the murder thing is simply bad timing, but I guess whoever is behind the mess surrounding me wasn’t to know that I was investigating the very same crime or that it would actually happen here. As to the other … to be honest, I don’t know. Evin said we’d only be here for a week. After that, he wasn’t sure.”

“If he was a part of the scheme, wouldn’t he be aware of whatever plans there are?”

“Only if he’s a willing participant. I have a feeling he’s not.” I hesitated. “Which reminds me—I have another favor to ask.”

He simply raised his eyebrows, so I continued.

“As you’ve already mentioned, Evin goes to the pub to make a phone call every night. I caught part of the number last night—the first four digits are 0356. Is there any chance of getting a printout of the calls made on that phone and tracking down the full number?”

“You don’t want a lot, do you?” He frowned and rubbed a hand across his stubbly chin. “I know someone who might be able to do it on the sly.”

I frowned. “Why not request it officially?”

“What reason would I give? If there is a bigger plot behind your memory loss and sudden appearance here, don’t you think they’d have set up checks? A request for information on that particular phone might just send an alert to the very people you’re trying to uncover.”

My heart warmed at his statement. He believed me. He might have emphasized the “is,” but the belief was there in his eyes, if not his words.

“That might be a good thing. It might just lead to them making a mistake and exposing their identity.”

“Or killing you outright. There’d have to be someone else other than Evin on watch here.”

“I guess.” I might be able to defend myself, but there was no defense against a long-range bullet. And while I kept hearing that voice telling me he didn’t want me dead just yet, that he wanted me to suffer, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t end up dead if things started going wrong before my seven days were up. After all, I was a long way from home.

Home.

God, I ached for it—ached for the people who I couldn’t remember but who I was suddenly certain made home home—so badly the word stuck in my throat and made breathing suddenly difficult. I might not remember where home was exactly, but I so wanted to see Rhoan and Liander and …

Someone else, someone who was my heart if not my soul.

Someone who was in that battered, bloody, black car. Someone I’d already been told was dead.

No, something inside me screamed. No!

I rubbed my forehead wearily and battled to keep that scream inside. At least some information was slowly leaking back. I had two more names now: Rhoan and Liander. They were a part of me—not just a part of my life. I felt that with every fiber.

Which meant one of them, at least, was my brother.

Rhoan, that little voice whispered. My brother, my twin.

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath and released it slowly. I was tempted to ask Harris to do a search for him, but instinct said not to. Harris was right—whoever was behind this plot had planned it thoroughly. If Rhoan was my brother, then any official search for him might just raise alarms. Hell, even if I found his phone number, just ringing him might lead to more drastic action. Like his death.

That voice had said that he wanted me to suffer. And what better way was there to achieve that than to wipe my memories, take me away from everything and everyone I loved, then slowly allow those memories to come back—only to have each and every one I cared about murdered the moment I contacted them?

It would be his style. Whoever “he” was.

But first things first. I needed to find my brother’s location, either through Google or the old-fashioned way, via the White Pages—and at least looking through a phone book would leave nothing to trace.

I could decide what my next step should be once I’d found him.

“You’re looking rather lost in your thoughts,” Harris commented, and the sudden sound of his voice made me jump. I’d totally forgotten he was there for a moment. “Care to share?”

“Just remembering some names.” I shrugged. “Their relationship to me, however, remains tantalizingly lost