“Nothing. Fucking nothing.” Cooper gestured around them, still unnerved. “I mean, what is this? Who lives like this?”

Park shook his head and opened the dishwasher. “These have been here since yesterday, I’d say.”

“So he’s supposed to have, what, killed Arthur Crane, come home, done a load? Sure, why not. What else is there to do here?” Cooper looked around, exasperated. “This doesn’t feel right, Oliver.”

Park pursed his lips. “I—” He jerked his head up, looking vaguely toward the ceiling.

“What?” Cooper asked.

“I think Cola found something,” Park said as he quickly made his way back to the foyer and up the stairs, Cooper at his heels. Cooper got a peek of more blank walls, empty side tables and a pristine bedroom before he followed Park into what might have once been a guest room or office.

After the desert that was the rest of the house, walking in here was overwhelming. The desk, chair, bed, and dresser were all covered in camera equipment, files, books, photos, and electronics. Some had spilled onto the floor and appeared to have been shoved together in haphazard piles. On the table beneath the window sat a large vase full of coral-colored, long-stem roses.

The walls, though, that was what caught Cooper’s attention the most. Almost every inch was covered in photos.

Almost every photo was of Cooper.

Chapter Eleven

“Well, this was more than I bargained for,” Cola said calmly, as if they weren’t standing in the middle of a horrifying altar. But then, she’d had a few more moments to adjust to the shock. And her face wasn’t the one staring down at them from every angle.

Cooper glanced at Park, whose expression was unsurprisingly blank, like it usually was when he got the most upset. What was startling, however, were that his claws were completely out, hanging at his sides.

Seeming to sense Cooper’s gaze, Park looked at him, eyes glowing and fully gold. Cooper blinked and they were back to their average, human-looking amaretto brown. When he checked Park’s hands, the claws were gone too.

Park stared at Cooper as if waiting to see if he’d say something, but Cooper didn’t. Hell, he was disturbed enough to pop a claw himself, if he was able to. As it was, he could only stand there, arms crossed defensively over his belly, feeling...strange. Exposed. Unsafe.

He turned away and began to search the room. Behind him he heard Park do the same.

“He’s definitely aware of wolves all right,” Cola said a few moments later, a pile of files in her hand. “And there’s more information about your life here, Dayton, than even I know. Born Jagger Valley, Maryland. Middle name Isaac. Medical records. An old résumé. Hmm, I didn’t know you worked at a movie theatre.”