I looked at the three photos. All the girls were pretty, but in that average way that most young women are. Cute enough to catch a guy's eye. And they had caught someone's eye.

Did they leave the bar with the wrong man? Did someone follow them home? Did their disappearances have anything to do with the mutts? That was the million-dollar question.

The dates overlapped with the supposed wolf kills. I'd been ready to dismiss the connection earlier because the city disappearances were too different from the forest kills, but now I wondered.

Different, yes. But two distinct types of victims serving two distinct purposes: one for hunting and one for sex. Both would end up dead. In the forest, though, there was no need to hide the body-blame would fall on the wolves.

Yet if people found the same partially eaten victims within the city limits, concern would leap straight into panic, with every gun-owning citizen ready to shoot the first large canine he saw. Even the cockiest mutt wouldn't dirty his bed that badly.

"You think there's a connection?" Clay said as he came up beside me.

"I'm not ruling it out." I turned to him. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Got a lot of stops to make today. Better get moving."

"Let's start with an easy one." I leaned over the counter to get the attention of the clerk, who was counting stock in the next room.

The priest stepped from his office. "May I help you?"

"Sorry. We were just hoping for tourist information."

"Such as… "

"A museum of natural history maybe? Or a children's museum? Someplace we'd find wildlife displays."

"The Federal Building."

"The… "

He laughed. "Yes, not the first place you'd look, is it? As you can see… " He gestured from the cafe to the museum. "We Alaskans have eclectic tastes in our pairings. The Federal Building has an excellent collection of wildlife displays. It's free to the public and only a few blocks from here."

"Perfect. Thank you."

MUSEUMS AND TRUCK stops weren't the only places to find lattes in Alaska. In fact, I was beginning to wonder whether a city bylaw required all businesses to have an espresso machine.

"Oh, look," I said, pointing as we walked. "Faxes, copies, postal services… and espresso."

Clay jerked his chin toward a window across the road. "Hunting licenses, ulu knives… "

"And espresso. Just what you need when shooting and carving up big game. Do you get the feeling Alaskans like their coffee strong?"

"Long, dark winters, darling. They need something to keep them going."

We found the Federal Building a mere block from our hotel. At the foot of the steps, a young man was setting up a sausage stand, the meat already sizzling on the grill, the smell making my stomach growl. Then I saw the sign.

"Reindeer sausage?" I said.

"Works for me." Clay pulled out his wallet. "You want one?"

"Sure. We just won't tell the kids we ate Rudolph."

BACKTRACK

THE FEDERAL BUILDING did have an excellent display of stuffed beasties. We found wolverine and several subspecies of bear. Getting a scent from a taxidermy version is less than ideal, but we could smell enough to know that none of the creatures there had been the one that attacked me.

As for what had attacked me, we both suspected our best source would be the notes we'd taken from Dennis's cabin. So, exercising my new powers as Alpha-in-training, I sent Clay back to the hotel room to get a closer look at Dennis's work while I grabbed supplies-energy bars, fruit, water, brandy, all the little extras a werewolf needs to call a hotel room home.

When Clay hesitated, I reminded him that he'd been the one to suggest the shift in roles. "So that's what I'm doing," I said.

"And that's what I'm doing," he said. "There's one area with Jeremy where I get to argue a call. Personal security. We can both get the stuff, then both go to the hotel."

"A waste of time. As you said, we have a lot to do. I'm heading that way." I pointed down the road. "I saw a shop a block away. The wind will be at my back. No one can sneak up on me."

He grumbled, but eventually gave in. I headed in the direction I'd indicated… and kept going to Joey's office. I'd planned to go inside and ask for him, but as I rounded the corner, I saw him ahead, a tray of coffees in his hand.

I jogged up behind him before he reached the doors.

"That was a shitty thing to do this morning," I said.

He jumped, sloshing coffee and cursing. I waited while he cleaned up with napkins from his pocket. He took his time and didn't so much as glance at me until he was done. He knew I was a woman and a werewolf-my scent would give that away-and I was pretty sure he knew who I was, but when he did look up, he still seemed startled. His nostrils flared as he drank in my scent. Then he rubbed the back of his sleeve over his nose, as if clearing away the smell.

"Normally I'd apologize for making you spill your coffee," I said. "But I shouldn't have been able to sneak up on you like that, not coming upwind."

"What do you want?"

I took the coffee tray, walked to a marble-topped raised flower bed and set it down, then sat beside it. Joey stayed standing.

"I'm Elena."

"I know who you are."

"And you know who Clay is, despite that stunt you pulled this morning."

His mouth tightened. There'd been a time I'd never have talked to a stranger like that. I could blame all those years with Clay, his attitude rubbing off on me, but the truth, as I've come to realize it, is that being with Clay just gives me an excuse. Years ago, I might not have talked to Joey this way, but I'd have wanted to.

I continued. "Maybe he caught you off-guard, and we're sorry for that. But you could have come out after your coworkers were gone."

From Joey's expression, he wouldn't have done that even if Clay had suggested it.

"You need to speak to Clay," I said. "If only for a few minutes. He has something to tell you. Something important."

"Then you can tell me."

"Clay really should."

He picked up his coffee tray.

I caught his elbow. "Please. It is important."

"Then say it and go. I'm not interested in a reunion."

I moved in front of him. "Whatever Clay did or said twenty-five years ago-"

He looked up sharply, his frown cutting me short. It took a moment before he seemed to understand what I meant.

"That's over," he said.

"I know you didn't part on the best terms."

"The terms were fine. He was annoyed, but we worked it out, and we parted. The key word there is parted." He glanced at me. "Didn't Clay get all those birthday cards I sent?"

"No, he never-"

"Because I didn't send any." He adjusted the tray, holding it in both hands now, between us like a shield. "Clay thought I was running away from trouble with the Pack. I wasn't. I was running away from the Pack, from all that werewolf crap he's obsessed with-they're all obsessed with. I only stayed as long as I did for my father's sake. I was happy for the chance to leave and now I have no interest in resurrecting past ties. Whatever Clay came all this way to tell me, you can get it over with and go."

"Is that an order?"

He seemed to flinch at my tone, then squared his shoulders. "I know I can't hold territory, but as a favor to an old Pack brother, I'd like Clay to respect my wishes and leave Alaska."

"How about you tell him that?"

A definite flinch that time. He turned to go.

"And what about the other werewolves in Anchorage?" I called after him. "Are they supposed to respect your wishes, too? I don't think they're going to leave that easily."

A slow pivot. "What other werewolves?"

"Three mutts. We found their tracks near the latest wolf kill. They also attacked a young werewolf yesterday, about two blocks from here. So in the past twenty-four hours, you've had six werewolves trespass on your territory, and you never even noticed?"