The trail took three days to run down properly, Garrick’s people cross-referencing decades-old hospital intake records against public adoption filings and name changes with a patience that made me newly grateful I’d never had to be the target of this particular family’s attention for as long as Odile had.
“Her name is June Vane,” Garrick announced finally, laying a thin printout across the same table that had held Callum’s warehouse footage weeks earlier. “Twenty-six years old. Raised by her mother alone in a small town four hours north of here, no siblings, no known contact with anyone from the pack world. She works as a wildlife rehabilitator — runs a small shelter out of a converted barn, according to public records. No indication she knows anything about what she is.”
“And her mother
