On the desktop, she had created a folder of the pictures she had taken of her visit here, as if it were a gift to him. Which frustrated him even more. She couldn’t come into his life like this and pop right out again without him having any say in it.
He opened the folder. A separate file was labeled “Elizabeth’s Note to Tom.” With apprehension, he paused, then clicked on the file and opened it.
Dear Tom,
You are the nicest man I’ve ever met, for a wolf. You should meet a nice she-wolf and settle down. I think you’d make a great mate and father.
I’m sorry for not saying good-bye properly. I just thought it would be easier this way.
You said I wasn’t a loner, and you’re right. I love what you and your family have. But it’s just not for me. It never has been.
Thank everyone for me, will you? I won’t be back, but I just wanted you to know how much I appreciated your kindness.
Elizabeth
Lelandi’s words came crashing back to Tom: She’s running away from something.
His thoughts in turmoil, he closed the letter. He wouldn’t let her run away.
He stared at the scene she’d captured of him on the slopes. The central figures in the picture were Kemp, the little girl, and him. Off to the side, the distraught mother had her hand over her mouth. The father and son had still been on the slopes. A couple of skiers watched the scene—spectators interested in who had gotten hurt. One man, a few feet away, wore a black ski bib, hat, and balaclava, and a blue-gray parka and reflective sunglasses—but he wasn’t observing the scene with the little girl. Instead, he stared straight at the camera operator—Elizabeth.
“Darien!” Tom called out.
Everyone came, his brothers and their mates, all looking anxious. He pointed at the man in the photo. “Wasn’t he the one seated on the chairlift behind Elizabeth? The one she thinks pushed her down the expert slope?”
***
Elizabeth felt awful for leaving Tom behind without saying good-bye. She hadn’t wanted to stay after her strange call to North. She had no intention of dragging Tom and his family and pack into her troubles. She’d tried twice more to get hold of North before she took off on the plane, but she only got his voice mail. She wouldn’t leave any messages.
She’d finally found a safe haven away from her family. If they knew she lived in Texas, no one seemed to care. Staying in Silver Town would be a dangerous thing to do if her uncle knew she was there and decided he wanted her dead, again.
She didn’t need to screw up her life by getting involved with a gray wolf, even as sweet as he was, who didn’t know her past history. Making her uncle pay for his crimes seemed to be only a dream. She prayed North hadn’t been hurt in the process.
Once she arrived home, she’d dropped her camera off to be repaired. Even though Jake was a pro with cameras, maybe the camera shop could do what he hadn’t been able to. Then Elizabeth immersed herself in her job. She wrote the article for her paper about the Silver Town Ski Resort, making sure to mention their great ski patrollers and staff, and turned the story in.
After that, she started an article about red wolves. Her research showed that two theories existed: one that red wolves were a special species separate from gray wolves, and the other that red wolves were descended from gray wolves mixing with coyotes. She slanted the article toward the latter.
Carol had said that gray wolves weren’t mixing with coyotes in the States, but Elizabeth found that Virginia coyotes had mated with Great Lakes gray wolves, and she found further articles stating that coyotes from other locations had a percentage of gray wolf DNA.
It made sense to her. Coyotes hunt in packs just as wolves do. They’re also both predators, eating rodents that cause plagues. Both species are bound to their families and take care of their young as a group. The Native Americans thought coyotes were clever and savvy because of their ability to adapt everywhere. Elizabeth couldn’t understand why some people were so strongly against them. Why was it so bad to recognize that red wolves are just coyotes with a heavy dose of gray wolf DNA?
Intending to call her editor about the new article, Elizabeth realized she hadn’t turned her phone back on since she flew home. She slipped it out of her bag and turned it on.
Twenty-two messages.
Surprised, she stared at the number before she clicked on it to see who had called her, hoping North might have tried to get in touch with her and was all right. She never got that many calls to her cell phone, and no one except her editor knew she was back in town.
She felt a pang of guilt, hoping Tom hadn’t called some of those times. She hesitated for a minute, then clicked on the messages.
Tom had phoned her seventeen times, but he hadn’t left her any messages. She closed her eyes. She had hoped he would figure out that nothing could be gained by the two of them speaking further. He needed someone who was local and all wolf, rather than someone like her.
Two of the calls were from Lelandi and the rest from Darien. Their messages were brief and just asked her to call them back. Maybe they’d caught the guy who pushed her down the slope. No calls from North. She should phone Darien or Lelandi, since they were the pack leaders. She shouldn’t get in touch with Tom, knowing full well he’d be upset with her. She didn’t want to explain what a mess her life had already been and why she was best being on her own.
So what did she do? She called Tom.
The phone rang several times. He didn’t pick up. She reached his voice mail but didn’t leave a message. He’d see that she’d called anyway. If he wanted to call her back, he could. This time she’d have her phone turned on. She tried getting hold of North again. Voice mail again.
She punched in the number for her editor, Ed Bloomington, and when he picked up, she could hear the smile in his voice, welcoming her home. But it wasn’t home. Not for her. A shifter without family. She realized just how much she had been fooling herself ever to think so.
She put on her business persona, swallowed the emotions welling up inside, and said, “I just sent you the story about the ski resort, and I’ve got a great idea for another one that I got from… a friend in Colorado. It’s a story about gray wolves not having mates, finding coyotes to love, and their pairings resulting in red wolves. Some call the offspring a coywolf. But evidence exists that’s how red wolves came to be. What do you think?”
“Sounds great. Send it to me.”