Cade stares at me intently.
He conveys more meaning through that simple act than he does through words.
“Because they’re a lone family.” That’s when I finally get what he’s trying to say.
“Are they on the list?” He shakes his head.
“I checked.
But maybe they’re still related somehow.” I pause, deliberating what to do.
“What are their numbers?” “Seven; two parents and five boys.” My eyes widen with surprise.
Quite the big family.
“We’ll set up a meeting tomorrow.
I’ll take care of it.” Cades nods in agreement.
“Okay.” “Anything else I should know about them?” “That’s pretty much everything.” “Then let’s get going.” The closest address on the list is half an hour away.
With my urgency driving me, we get there in twenty minutes.
The Mariners’ house is very neat and homely, with a tire swing out on the well cared for front lawn.
It’s like the one I dreamt of having as a kid.
I almost start to imagine if my life will be like this when I marry Reena, and how our boys will be spending their time.
It’s a nice imagery that delays my knocking on the front door for a good long minute.
Then Cade pulls me out of my thoughts by literally pulling me toward the door and ringing the doorbell himself.
“Just a minute!” a woman calls out from inside with a distinct Australian accent in her voice.
There are the sounds of a child’s giggles and footsteps.
The door opens.
A blonde woman in her mid thirties is standing there, holding a boy of about two years old in her arms.
The baby is still laughing, his face all red from the exertion.
He cuts it off once he sees strangers in front of him, but his smile remains and even widens.
The woman smiles politely at us.
“Can I help you?” “Mrs.
Mariner?” I check.
“Yes,” she confirms.
The baby squirms in her arms and tries to hide his face in her neck.
The jerking movement almost causes her to drop him.
“Jace, love, stay still.
Let mummy talk to the nice men, alright?” Unease starts to settle in the pit of my stomach.
I’ve obviously caught her at a very bad time, and I don’t want to take her away from her son, but I do need some answers.
“My name is Logan, and this is Cade.
I’m sorry to come so suddenly and without notice, but I think you knew my father, Cameron Underwood,” I start by saying, making it sound like a question.
Her face lights up with recognition.
“Yes!
Cameron!
That’s right.
How is he?
It’s been years!” “Um,” I hesitate, not knowing how to answer that.
“Is it okay if we come in and talk to you and your husband?
There are some things I need to tell you and other things I need to know from you.” “Of course, dear, of course,” she immediately agrees.
“Come on in.” Mrs.
Mariner leads us into the living room, and my eyes are almost immediately assaulted by the bright flowery patterns on the couches.
Cade and I exchange looks.
I can tell he’s just as taken aback by the decor as I am, but he shrugs it off as quickly as I do.
“My husband isn’t here right now, but he should be back any moment with our son Jake,” she lets us know.
“They play softball together every Sunday.
It’s a great father-son bonding time.” I don’t say anything.
My father and I never played softball, so I can’t really relate to this kind of relationship.
The way she talks about her family is very affectionate.
You can almost feel the “all-American-family” air in their very house.
Never mind the fact that she’s clearly not American.
Cade and I sit down next to each other while Mrs.
Mariner faces us on the opposite couch, with Jace in her lap.
He squirms until she turns him around, and he stares at us with round eyes that make me uncomfortable for some reason.
“Now.
How can I help you?” she asks.
Better get right to the point; I’m feeling very uneasy in here.
“How well did you know my father?” “Not very well, to be honest,” she answers.
“My husband used to be in his pack before he met me on a business trip in Australia, but he and Cameron weren’t really that close.
It was a more of a formal relationship between them.
Cameron is a very private man.” I almost correct her, but I can’t.
“You said the last time you saw him was how many years ago?” Cade steps in.
Mrs.
Mariner frowns, deep in thought.
“Let’s see, it must have been…
eight or nine years ago?
I remember that Jake was two, so it must have been that long ago.” Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Do you remember what happened then?” There is urgency in my voice that finally makes her realize this is more than just a casual visit.
Suspicion flashes across her previously friendly face.
“What’s this about?” she demands.
Her heartbeat accelerates, and her arms tighten around her baby, as she just now begins to realize that she has let two werewolves into her home, unprotected.
I don’t want to frighten her, so I try to keep my own anxiety in check.
“Mrs.
Mariner, the truth is…” I hesitate, forcing the words out, “my father passed away a couple of years ago.” Seconds later, her body relaxes again, and the pity I’ve grown used to seeing on people’s faces appears.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.
He was a great man.” I swallow hard and wordlessly nod my thanks at her condolences.
“I’m here because I’m trying to retrace his final steps, and one of the things he left behind was a list of names and addresses.
Yours was the closest.
Do you know why he would have done that?” Almost instantly, fear fills her eyes, and she holds her son close once again.
Her grip is too tight, though, and he starts crying.
Babies crying are usually an annoyance for werewolves, especially with our strong hearing, but they’re tolerable.
This little guy’s scream, however, is particularly high pitched.
Cade and I automatically wince and cover our ears.
Mrs.
Mariner composes herself and starts rocking her baby until he calms down a little, and his crying dies down to a low whimpering.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” she says in a desperate manner.
“You need to leave.” Her reaction is completely unexpected.
Whatever it is that the list means, I didn’t think it would be that serious.
Now I need to know even more than before, and I can’t leave without getting at least some information, but I also don’t want to force Mrs.
Mariner to talk to me.
She’s already too terrified; I don’t want to add to that.
“Mrs.
Mariner,” I plead with her.
“This is really important.
Please, isn’t there something you can do?” She falters, torn between her obvious fear of something I don’t even understand and her wish to help me.
She doesn’t break eye contact with me for a good long moment, nor do I, hoping I can persuade her this way.
Finally, she sighs and shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t say,” she repeats regretfully.
I start to sag in defeat, until she speaks again.
“But…
my husband might be able to do something for you.” Thank God, I think with relief.
“Okay,” I agree, “we’ll wait for him.” She frantically shakes her head.
“No, not today.
Come back next week.” I’ll take what I can get.
“Thank you Mrs.
Mariner,” I gratefully tell her.
She doesn’t reply and instead ushers Cade and I out.
I don’t understand any of it, but I know now’s not the time to push for answers.
Once we’re out the door, she quickly shuts it in our faces.
For a minute, Cade and I just stand there staring at it, trying to process what just happened.
Then I turn to him.
“What the hell was my dad doing?” He sighs morosely.
“I don’t know man, but it doesn’t sound like it was anything good.” I look back at the house.
“Whatever it is, I’m going to find out.
I have to.” “I’m right there with you,” he promises.
“Do you want to check out another name from the list before we go home?” Home, I repeat in disbelief.
This is home now.
“No,” I reply.
“I want to go through it one name at a time.
Besides, I have a feeling this is the reaction we’re going to get from most of them, so we might as well learn to deal with it the first time around.” With that, we walk back to the car, silently planning our next move.