The Alpha’s Forbidden Claim

9

IRIS

Austin Police Station 43rd

Austin, Texas

I

stood across the street from the 43rd police district, sipping my gas station coffee as I watched people filter in and out. This was the third time I’d ventured to the station — I’d previously worked several cases in Texas. First for Demi and then for a friend she’d recommended me to. Demi was my first case, and I was… frankly shocked to get my first recommendation. I couldn’t get back to Austin fast enough, even though I hadn’t had a spectacular first experience with the police.

Working with police was always, well… hazardous. They were either grateful that you were picking up a cold case they’d put to the side and didn’t have the resources to continue investigating, or they were various levels of hostile as you ‘got in their way,’ regardless of it being a cold case or not. Over the past five years, I’d met no lack of officers who looked down on me for being a private detective, certainly more who shrugged me off than those willing to take me seriously.

My lack of professional training didn’t help much. When I was a little girl, I had wild aspirations — I wanted to attend art school and become a painter. Also, I wanted to go to a local college and become a biologist to help protect the streams and rivers my family often fished in. I wanted other people to enjoy the area as we did — the idea of teaching other people about the wildlife and the natural resources always excited me. My mother once told me she didn’t see why I couldn’t be both — ‘naturalist’ wasn’t exactly a job title anymore, but who says a biologist can’t also illustrate the species they worked with?

I think I probably drew a thousand different fish at that point — I was only nine or ten, so you can imagine how accurate those sketches were.

The memory made my heart pang. College and art school were dreams that evaporated like a cloud of smoke the day my parents were ripped away from me. Frankly, it was a miracle I made it through high school. Several times I thought I’d just quit and start my own business, even though I didn’t know what I would do or sell, only that I wanted to be my own boss. I didn’t want to take orders from someone else, especially if I thought they were wrong. In that regard, I was probably lucky that I was able to attend a trade school. I went because I wanted to take their business program — I enrolled in the forensics program because I needed a science elective, but…

Well, something clicked. My instructor was a spicy older woman, and even if sometimes she rubbed me the wrong way, I appreciated her candor. She was the one who introduced me to a few online courses — she even paid for one for me after I finished at the top of her class. I used my payday from Demi to do the next course. None of this was required; there was no such thing as a private detective registry. Anyone could wake up one day and decide they wanted to be a detective — though their ability would probably be sorely lacking — but I needed to stand out when most of my competition was former law enforcement or the legal system. I needed to be competitive.

There had to be an option for the people whom the police had failed, and I would be that option. My family’s case had never been solved. I still checked on it once in a while — there hadn’t been any new leads or updates in years. You would think a m******e like that would inspire more… I don’t know. Vigor. Concern. Sure, the state police in Alaska were extremely spread out, and yes, they didn’t know it was an entire pack of shifters that had been all but erased, but still! It was entire families! The elderly, parents, and children.

Some of our pack members were Sugpiaq, including my mother — though she’d moved from the Alaskan Peninsula to be with my father. Others had also attempted to look into the matter, but the state police weren’t any more forthcoming with tribal officials than private detectives. As far as I knew, no one was looking into it anymore.

I sighed, finishing the last dregs of my coffee so I could pitch the cup in the waste bin and head across the street.

My last visit here had been a b***h and a half, but that was four years ago, and I had only been in the game for a year. I was hoping now that I’d had much more experience and wasn’t quite so young, I wouldn’t be given the same run-around as before, but only time would tell.

I trotted up the stairs, checking my phone one last time to make sure I had the time and the officer’s name — Detective Hailey Hightower. Demi had sent over some additional information last night via email, including the person officially assigned to Cyn’s case. I didn’t have high hopes for this meeting, given what my client had told me about her experience.

I took a deep breath. It’s showtime, Iris. Start with good manners. We can do this.

We sat in Detective Hightower’s pristine office; it almost felt sterile. Where are the case files? Where’s her research? What’s this woman actually doing?

She sat quietly across from me, her hands folded neatly on her desk as she stared at me. Her dark hair was tied in a bun so tight it looked like it should give her a headache; not a single strand was out of place. Her suit was dark and pressed. She exuded a stern sort of authority, though in my opinion, she also looked like the sort of person who never left her desk. I determined she was handling four of the other missing person cases I was interested in, but was starting to get a bad feeling about.

My wolf stirred, even as slow and sluggish as she always was, adding her quiet displeasure with an almost-silent growl. Even if this officer was a shifter — and she most certainly was not — I sorely doubted she’d have been able to sense that.

“Thank you for taking the time to see me, Detective Hightower,” I started, forcing a smile. The detective just stared back at me, her lips not even twitching. “I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”

“Doubtful,” she replied, arching one elegantly manicured brow.