Hope and Vengeance (Saa Thalarr, book 1): Saa Thalarr, book 1 Read Free Page B

wasn't."
    "Did he work for Hartshorne Oil?"
    "Yes. Until the night he disappeared. Manuelo called his neighbor from Hartshorne because he worried he'd left his front door unlocked. That was at two in the morning. He never came home after his shift. If my guess is correct, Hartshorne is hiding his records and the records of many others. Rita convinced two families to speak with me—she told them I would not bring the authorities to their door. Both missing men worked for Hartshorne, and I was told the other fourteen did as well." Anna now stared at her hands. "Those men have families. If not here, back in Mexico. The ones responsible for this must be stopped." She turned to search my eyes. I felt as if she were testing me, now.
     "Is anyone else searching for these men?" I asked.
    "Rita's brother, Rick. Also born here, in case you're concerned. But he can only search after work—he has a job at a local transmission shop."
    "So, no bodies have been found—for any of these missing men?" I watched as she dropped her gaze to her hands again.
    "No bodies. Not yet."
    "You think they're still alive?"
    "I can't answer that."
    Usually, I have a good sense of truth and lie. Her statement made me think she was answering truthfully—but with an evasive truth. "What do you suggest we do about it, then?" I asked softly.
    "Look for all of them," she shrugged. "Somebody is preying on these people, because they know it will be difficult to prove anything. They're getting away with it, too, since nobody will come forward and report these disappearances. The kink in their plans came when the three you were sent to investigate disappeared."
    I knew, as well as she, that the three men I'd been given information on worked for the same refinery and disappeared on the same night. Everything was connected to Hartshorne Oil; I just didn't know when the seventeen undocumented workers disappeared.
    "Do you have dates of disappearances?" I asked.
    "Yes. Rick got the information and gave it to Rita. It's at my office."
    "Might I come and take a look?"
    "Of course. Do you want to come tonight?"
    "Tomorrow will do. I have other things requiring my attention tonight." I planned to make an unscheduled visit to Hartshorne Oil. "Is eight-thirty too late?"
    "No. That's fine," she nodded without looking at me.
    "This ship channel—where the three disappeared—has that been thoroughly searched for the third body?"
    "Yes. Several times. Nothing has been found—not even the boat. The last search was done with dogs along the shoreline. They found nothing."
    "Are we sure they went fishing?" Something about that didn't ring true—in the police reports and from a witness' account.
    "Bill Gordon's boat is missing. That's what I do know," Anna said.
    Bill Gordon was one of the two bodies locked in the local Packmaster's freezer. The other was Sam Greene, the werewolf. The third missing man, Ray Wilson, hadn't turned up anywhere. Bill Gordon's wife reported her husband missing the day after his night fishing expedition.
    Ray Wilson's family had already called in, however, when he failed to return home. Sam Greene's wife alerted her Packmaster—she was also werewolf, and Roger Prewitt, Packmaster for the Corpus Christi Pack, had sent wolves out searching immediately. They'd found two bodies sinking into knee-deep mud in a swamp. They'd gone out a second and third time, searching for Ray Wilson, but they couldn't find a scent to track.
    "I was planning to speak with Bill Gordon's wife," I said. "I don't suppose you've had contact with her?"
    "I called her yesterday. She said to come by anytime," Anna replied. "We can go tomorrow after you look at the records I have. I'll call her and let her know it'll be late when we get there."
    "I would appreciate that," I said. I studied her unobtrusively—she was avoiding my gaze. That puzzled me, as most women didn't mind looking in my direction. So much so, at times, that I was often forced to place compulsion. This one