Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“It doesn’t seem as if Lydia knows that I was lied to,” Frankie told him, stepping back, needing her space.
Brad gave a quick shake of his head. “Doesn’t matter. Everyone knows that shifters are protective of their own, particularly their children. If they’d loved you, they would have fought tooth and nail to keep you. They didn’t. They turned their backs on you. Now you get to do the same thing to them. They’re not good for you, Frankie. You’re better off without them.”
Seething, Frankie clenched her fists. She needed some goddamn air. She spun on her heel and headed for the door.
“You will not meet with those wolves, Francesca. I forbid it.” The whip in Marcia’s voice made her wolf snarl, but Frankie didn’t break stride. She just kept walking.
Outside she slid into her car and let out a long breath. She’d come here hoping her grandparents would assure her that the whole thing was a case of mistaken identity. Honestly, though, she’d have found any denials hard to believe. It just seemed way too coincidental that there would be another shifter called Francesca Newman who had lost her parents and been raised by her human grandparents.
So, yeah, she’d expected to hear that there were plenty of things they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t thought one of those things would be that her father had murdered her mother.
Noticing a blue light flashing in her peripheral vision, she saw that she’d left her cell phone in the cup holder and knew she’d received a notification of some kind. Swiping her thumb across the screen, she wasn’t surprised to see she’d received yet another e-mail from Lydia.
Dear Francesca,
I’m quite sure that you’re the Francesca Newman I’m looking for. I’ve kept myself updated on your life, watching over you in my way. I don’t understand why you seem confused about who I am, but I hope you will meet with me tomorrow so we can discuss it and I can answer any questions you have.
I will be at the coffeehouse on Cherry Avenue tomorrow at noon. I hope you will be there.
Best regards,
Lydia
Frankie slung her phone back in the cup holder and twisted her key in the ignition. She needed to do some damn research.
A little later she pulled up in her driveway. Inside the house she hooked her jacket over the banister before kicking off her shoes and heading down the hallway. The oak flooring was cool and smooth beneath her feet.
Her wolf was happy to be back in her territory, surrounded by the soothingly familiar scents of lavender, wood, and leather.
In the homey walnut kitchen, Frankie poured herself a glass of red wine. She had a feeling she was going to need it. She sure as hell could have done with one when she’d talked to her grandparents, she thought, as she made her way into the living area. Standing on the soft rug near the fireplace, she stared at the framed photo of her mother that stood on the mantel beside other pictures and keepsakes. What happened that night? Why did it happen?
Frankie took a long gulp of wine and then set the glass on the coffee table. Sinking into the plush sofa, she dragged her cushioned lap tray onto her thighs and then set her laptop on top of it.
Her nearest neighbor was half a mile away; thus she never received complaints about the amount of noise she made while working, and there were no sounds of kids playing, people talking, or loud music filtering through the open window. There was only the ticking of her laptop keys and the hum of the air conditioning.
There were many websites and blogs about shifters, which was how she’d learned so many things about her kind that she wouldn’t have otherwise known. The information had helped her understand her wolf and identify herself as a dominant female. Hopefully, there would also be information to help her understand what happened the night her parents died.
Bringing up the Internet, she typed in “Caroline Newman murder.” Several results popped up, most of which appeared to be articles. She clicked on the first result, which took her to a blog that catalogued crimes committed by shifters. Leaning forward, she read it.
Caroline Newman, a 25-year-old human ex-schoolteacher, was attacked and killed by her mate and wolf shifter, Christopher Brooks, on Bjorn Pack territory in California in May 1993. Brooks stabbed her eleven times in the chest with a Japanese chef knife on their kitchen floor before strangling her to death. Brooks, 30, later shot himself in the temple. The noise alerted pack mates, who raced to the scene. The only witness to the murder was their three-year-old daughter, Francesca, who was too traumatized to provide a statement.
A photo accompanied the article, of Frankie being huddled into her grandparents’ car mere days after the murder.