“Do you have to use such cheesy setup lines?” Tony muttered, laying two fingers against the metal strip between the front and back windows. In the last few months, he’d gotten enough practice in with the Notice-me-not spell that he no longer needed to consult the instructions on the laptop. Of course, there were still one hell of a lot of spells he wasn’t as adept at, so the laptop remained close at hand.

From their perspective within the car, nothing changed but Henry felt the watcher’s attention drift away.

“Could be a troll under the railway bridge.”

“Julia Martin wasn’t anywhere near the bridge,” Henry reminded him. “And a troll would never hunt that far from home. They’re creatures of habit.”

Grace Alton, the witness who’d spoken to Kevin Groves, lived out past Eighth Street where Main began to curve toward Cache Creek, three houses closer to town than the Martins’. Old enough to be part of the original settlement, the small, white frame house was set back from the road at the end of a long, gravel driveway.

Henry pulled in behind an aged Buick and parked. “There’s lights on in the front room. She’s still up.”

“It’s just ten. Why wouldn’t she be?” When Henry turned and lifted a red gold brow, Tony shrugged. “Right. Country.”

Standing on the front porch, Tony fingered the ball bearing that anchored his personal Notice-me-not and glanced back toward the car. Because he knew exactly where the BMW had been parked, he could almost see a shadowy outline—anyone else would have to bump into it to find it. Which was how he’d found it the first couple of times, although it had been more slam into it than bump. His right knee ached remembering.

“One heartbeat. She’s alone.”

“Does it matter?”

“Makes it simpler,” Henry said as he opened the door.

“The door’s not…Right. Country,” Tony said again as he followed Henry into the house. By the time he reached the living room, Henry was on one knee beside an ancient recliner holding the hand of an elderly woman who was staring at him like he was…something elderly women really got into. Tony had no idea of what that might be although from the décor, crocheted doilies and African violets figured prominently. The place smelled like cat piss and the fat black-and-white cat staring disdainfully at Henry from the sofa seemed the most likely culprit.

Unlike dogs, cats had no issues with vampires.

Or wizards, Tony noted as the cat turned that same unblinking green stare on him, and if there was a spell they deigned to acknowledge, he hadn’t found it yet.

“Just tell me what you saw,” Henry said softly, and by the way the old lady leaned toward him, Tony knew his eyes had gone dark and compelling.

“I was out back, wasn’t I, checking to see how the trellis at the end of the old summer kitchen had come through the winter. I have roses in the summer, pink ones; they climb right up to the roof. I saw something moving down by the river. There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.” Her upper lip curled. “I don’t care what that constable says. I can see at a distance as well as I ever could. All right, fine, up close maybe I should wear my glasses, but at a distance I know what I saw.”

“What did you see, Grace?”

She preened a little, an involuntary response to Henry’s attentions, which, given the visible as opposed to actual age difference, was kind of creeping Tony out. “It was passing between those two clumps of lilac bushes. They’re nothing much now, but you should see them in the spring. Lovely. And the smell. Snotty young pup from the Ministry wanted to tear them out. I tore him a new one, that’s what I did. Those lilacs are older than he is.”

Tony wasn’t without sympathy for the guy from the Ministry, whichever ministry it happened to be.

“What did you see passing between the lilacs, Grace?”

“I saw something bigger than a man but hunched over. And it had a big, hairy hump. The shape looked wrong. It looked…evil!” She drew out the final word with obvious enjoyment, and Tony, who’d seen some terrifying things over the last few years, suppressed a shudder. “It was moving fast but I saw, I saw clear as anything, that it was holding a child. I saw the leg kick and the poor little thing had on a red rubber boot. Julie Martin was wearing red rubber boots when she disappeared, you know. I yelled for it to stop but then it was gone, so I came inside and I called the Mounties and they didn’t believe me. Oh, they were polite enough, those young men, but they didn’t believe me not for one minute. ‘Are you sure the boot was red?’ they said. Like I couldn’t see a little red boot against a big, hairy creature. Not like a Sasquatch, I told them. They’re just misunderstood, poor dears. This was ungroomed, ratty. I don’t like to judge but it was clearly a creature of evil appetites come down out of the mountains to feed. He asked me what kind of creature, and I said how would I know; did I look like I knew creatures? And he said maybe the light was playing tricks so I said it was a lot better back when I saw it because they hadn’t exactly hustled to get here, you know. When they left, I said to Alexander”—she gestured toward the cat, who looked bored—“I said, we’ll involve the fifth estate, that’s what we’ll do, and I called the paper.”

A messy pile of tabloids, topped by a copy of the Western Star, had a place of prominence beside her chair. The only visible headline screamed, IT’S NOT A RACCOON! Tony rubbed at a healing bite on his calf. It had actually been a Pekinese with a really bad temper.

“The man at the paper, he believed me.”

“I believe you, Grace.”

She patted Henry’s cheek with her free hand. “I know, dear.”

As amusing as it was to see Henry Fitzroy, vampire, treated in such a way, Tony couldn’t see how this was getting them any closer to finding Julie Martin. They’d gotten as much information from Kevin.

Then Henry leaned closer. “What did you hear, Grace?”

Her eyes widened. “Hear?”

“What did you hear?”

She frowned, slightly, and cocked her head to one side. “I heard rustling through the bushes, but that might have been the wind. I heard the river, of course. I heard…” She looked surprised. “I heard a car door slam.”

“Werewolves drive.”

“Some of them,” Henry admitted as they crossed the backyard. “But not very well.”

“It’s been a long winter and kids are easier to hunt than elk. Maybe they’re taking food back to the pack.”

“It’s possible but unlikely that there’d be enough rogue were around to form a pack.”

“You just don’t want it to be were,” Tony muttered, staring into the gap between the lilac bushes. The gap was only minimally less dark than the bushes themselves. The sky had clouded over and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. “You’ll have to guide me through to the other side. I don’t want to risk a light until I’m blocked from the road. There’s only so much a Notice-me-not can cover.

“Guide me,” he repeated a moment later as Henry set him down. “Not carry me.”

“This was faster. You need to put more work into that Nightsight spell.”

“Yeah.” Tony snapped on his flashlight, beam pointed carefully at the ground. “I’ll get right on that in my copious amount of spare time between working and saving the world. You got anything?”

Crouched, Henry brushed a palm over the crushed grass. “Unfortunately, the police believed Grace enough to check this out. There’s no scent here now but theirs.”

The tracks—the mess the police had made visible even to Tony—followed a path behind the lilacs probably created by deer or some other non-small-child-eating animal. The police appeared to have reached a set of tire tracks that lead up between two houses and back to the road and stopped their search.

“Do you think Ms. Alton told the Mounties about the car door?”