“He told you this?” I asked.

“Yeah. I was on duty when he came in. I don’t know about the pot, but he was high on something when he got there, and everyone assumed he was hallucinating. Yet he clearly had wounds consistent with being clawed by a wild animal.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“I took him to…well, to your house early this morning, then I had to get back to work a shift for the guy who took over for me when I left. I’m going on about two hours sleep, so the coffee is much appreciated.”

“Has Elliott shifted yet?” Robyn didn’t look at me when she asked the question, but I could tell from the tension in her frame that she was thinking the same thing I was.

“I doubt it.” Spencer took a sip from his paper cup, then turned to me. “But if Justus is responsible, everyone will think it’s you,” he said, vocalizing what neither Robyn nor I wanted to say aloud. “How long are you going to let everyone think you did this?”

“At least until I find my brother and figure out what happened. Drew’s trying to keep me out of everything. I understand why, but I need to know what happens with this new stray. Will you keep me updated?”

“Of course.” Spencer glanced at his watch and stood. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Don’t tell them you saw us or spoke to us, obviously,” Robyn said.

Spence’s brows dipped even lower as he turned to me. “Does the council know you’ve resigned? Because when they find out, they’re not going to want you running around with their prodigal daughter.”

Robyn scowled. “You know, everyone thinks ‘prodigal’ means runaway, but it actually means ‘wasteful’ or ‘lavish’.” She gestured from herself to me, then back. “Between the billionaire and the poor college co-ed, who do you think better fits that description?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Spencer grinned at her. “Did you major in Bible story vocabulary?”

I laughed. “She just likes knowing more than anyone else.”

“Screw you both,” Robyn said. But she was smiling. “The Real Story Behind The Bible Story, on The History Channel. The Di Carlos don’t get movie channels.”

“Oh. You have my sympathy,” Spencer said with a frown. “I have to get back, but if I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.” He raised his cup in Robyn’s direction. “Thanks again for the coffee. And the vocabulary lesson.”

EIGHTEEN

Robyn

Leland Blum didn’t answer his phone. I was leaving another message when Titus got into the car with four foil-wrapped hot dogs.

“Voicemail again?” He set two of the dogs in my lap, and the combined scents of beef, relish, and mustard made my mouth water.

“Third time.” I unwrapped the first dog and took a huge bite.

Titus laughed at my enthusiasm. “I promise I’ll take you out for something nicer than burritos and hot dogs soon.”

“Or maybe I’ll take you out. And FYI, this is exactly the kind of high-class cuisine I can afford.” I took another bite.

He laughed again, but then his smile faded as he stared through the windshield at the dorm building in front of us, his gaze moving from window to window, because we didn’t know which one belonged to Leland Blum. “I think we should go check on him. I’m afraid he may be stuck in cat form again.”

“Which would be hilarious, considering the college dorm setting, but probably less than reassuring for the local populace.” I rewrapped what was left of my hot dog and set it on the center console. “Room 204. Let’s go.”

At thirty, Titus was older than the average college student, and older still than the average dorm resident, but I was in my natural habitat. No one gave us a second glance.

The door to room 204 was devoid of all personality. There was nothing stuck to it or written on the message board next to it. “It’s definitely his.” I knocked three times. “Leland? It’s Robyn and Titus.”

When we got no answer, Titus pressed his ear to the door. “I don’t hear anything. This is a hollow door, and there’s no seal at the bottom. If he’s in there, I should be able to hear him moving around, at the very least.”

I shrugged. “So—”

Titus gave the doorknob a quick, firm twist, and the door swung open.

“Oh shit,” I whispered. Now we were breaking and entering.

He quickly pulled me into the room and closed the door behind us.

“We can’t—” The rest of my objection was swallowed by horror. “Oh no…” Leland Blum lay on the floor of his dorm room, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A pool of blood had soaked into the rug beneath his head, and more dripped from the corner of his nightstand. Where he’d clearly split open his scalp. Very recently, as far as I could tell. The blood hadn’t yet begun to dry. “You think he fell?”

“I think that’s what we’re supposed to think.” Titus knelt next to the nightstand and sniffed the blood. “It’s all his.” He bent even farther to sniff Leland’s hands, careful not to touch the body. “Fresh hand sanitizer. Either he just came out of the bathroom, or someone tried to destroy a scent.”

“You think this was…” Justus? But I couldn’t say his name. I couldn’t theorize that Titus’s brother was now a killer. “…a shifter?”

“A human murderer would have no reason to try to destroy his scent,” Titus said. “They can’t smell personal scents like we can. Try the doorknob.” He waved one hand at the bedroom door, but I didn’t understand what he wanted until I saw him bend to sniff the bathroom doorknob.

I squatted in front of the front door, but found only the metallic scent of the knob itself and… “More hand sanitizer.” My gaze fell on Leland again as I stood. We’d dropped him off two hours before, alive and relatively well. A sick feeling twisted in my gut. “So we’re pretty sure this is a murder?” If we’d kept him with us, he would still be alive.

This is our fault.

“Looks like it. Let’s go.” Titus took my hand as he reached for the door, but I pulled free.

“Wait, we can’t leave him here.”