First off, I want to apologize for how poorly written Chapter 6 was. When I read over it, I just cringe. I hope this chapter will be a lot better.

Ande-Thanks for all your great reviews! They're much appreciated. And don't worry! The next chapter will be about Doug, just in case you were wondering. I was just trying to make the timeline fit and add some stuff about Leigh that needed to be added. By the way, the end of this chapter was just as much a surprise to me as it will be to you. I didn't expect this to happen. I'm curious to find out what happens next—funny that this statement is coming from the writer herself. Haha!

Chapter 7

Leigh poured herself a big gulp full of water. Anything to get that bile flavor out of the back of her mouth. The cool liquid poured down her parched throat, feeling better than any pleasure food available. There was something about the life-giving substance. 'Wolves needed it too. With her acute taste buds, the flavor was all the more enticing.

The Carlyle's were having a quiet dinner at the table. They had invited her to join them, but she couldn't stomach any food tonight. It had been a week since Detective Tross' first visit. He had been pestering Jamie and all of her friends nonstop. Leigh had managed to evade him so far. She had no use for the human law force. Sure, she admired them at times—but they were completely clueless to her world. They had no place in 'wolf enforcement. The problem was that 'wolf enforcement was too far and few between to make a real difference.

Leigh leaned against the countertop with an inaudible sigh. She splayed her elbows behind her. She wondered if the Carlyle's had even noticed that she'd been living in their garage all week. She dreaded going home and all the accusations and arguments it would bring. Besides, they probably liked it better when she wasn't around.

But she had left her textbooks in her room. She had been too furious when she left to think about things that seemed so mundane. But she needed them now. Exams would be in five weeks and it was getting hard to study properly.

Leigh fished into her pocket. She found the key ring, pulling it free. She looped it around her finger. The keys spun in a circle, tinkling.

With an inward sigh, she headed for the door. She had to walk around the side of the house, because she didn't particularly want to walk out the glass doors in the dining room. She didn't particularly want to interrupt the Carlyle's dinner, but she needed to get to the woods behind.

Leigh stepped into the brush. Her foot crackled on a twig. She didn't even bother to hide her approach. Hardly anyone walked through these woods. That's why it was an ideal place to hide her bike. She should probably just put her 'cycle in the driveway, but she was embarrassed. She didn't want the Carlyle's to know how much time she was spending at their house.

Leigh snorted mockingly. She probably wasn't fooling anyone but herself.

The late April breeze brushed against her skin, warm and peaceful. She trudged ahead until she caught sight of her bike in the distance. Her heart caught in her stomach. There was a man standing next to her bike wearing a police uniform.

She could turn back…it was too late. Detective Tross was already looking across the glade at her with an inquisitive smile playing across his lips. You couldn't hide from him forever, Leigh thought. She might as well get this over with.

She walked faster, letting the twigs crackle under her feet faster. She let out a tiny hiss of annoyance as she watched the detective slide his hand longingly across the leather seat of her motorcycle.

"Watch yourself," she snapped once she had gotten closer. "I paid good money for that bike."

The detective nodded to her. A curt nod. He fingered the dashboard, making her cringe. If he wasn't a policeman, she would have slapped his hand away. "No worries. I can appreciate a good bike when I see one. I like what you've done to the dashboard."

Leigh shrugged. "When you have extra time."

"Extra time is not always a good thing." Tross gave her a sharp look out of his chiseled face. He looked like a hawk without the beak. Instead, he had a pair of thin lips that he liked to purse in curiosity and disapproval. Right now, Leigh decided he was giving her the disapproval glance. "There's nothing wrong with using it constructively…such as decorating your bike. But extra time can also lead to bad results…such as dead people."

Leigh glared. "I'll pretend you weren't just accusing me there."

"There was an interesting thing I found out about you, Leigh Bennet."

Leigh bristled as he said her name. She didn't like the idea of her name flopping around on that man's lips. He ignored her stiff shoulders, placing a couple fingers to his chin.

"I tested," he continued, "some samples of Mr. Vince's skin that had been left aside and preserved. They were taken from some scratch marks on his upper arm. Did you know I found some DNA samples that weren't just his own. Do you know whose DNA it was?"

Leigh sent him a wary glance.

"Yours."

She refused to give him anything. She stared at him impassively. He might have evidence. Leigh wasn't particularly sure whether or not she had scratched the Colonel during the fight or not. It had all been a blur to her—a necessity that she didn't want to remember. But there was still the chance that he was trying to bluff her.

"What are you trying to pull?" She asked.

Despite her perfectly calm appearance, she could feel her heartbeat start to speed up a couple of notches. She wished the others were with her. They would be able to handle this better together.

"I'm not trying to pull anything, Mrs. Bennett," the policeman replied. "Tell me, Leigh, what were you doing on the scene that night? Why did you lie about being there? My source tells me that only four people were on the hillside that night. Mr. Vince, his son—who has since disappeared, Amber Carlyle, and Alec Hindley. How did you suddenly get into the picture?"

Leigh folded her arms across her chest. She went for an outright lie—one that she hoped would fool the detective. "It's not my fault if your junior detectives are incompetent," she grated. "If they forgot to write a name down, then it's their fault. I was there—and the reason you found my scratch marks in his arm was because I was afraid. I saw Mr. Vince fall down and I ran to him. I was so frantic when I tried to wake him up that I accidentally scratched him."

The detective raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. That's the exact same excuse that Amber gave to explain her own nail prints."

Leigh cursed silently. Her expression didn't change. She wouldn't let her muscles move an inch. She shrugged.

"We were both there. I don't know why we wouldn't have the same reaction. We were both scared."

The detective took a step toward her and then another. Thankfully, he took his grimy hand away from the seat of her bike too. But he was too close for Leigh's liking. An intimidation tactic, Leigh decided. She tried not to flinch when she felt his breath brush across the sensitive nerve centers on her face.

"No," the detective replied. "I don't think that's the way it happened at all. I think there's more to investigate on this matter."

"Investigate away," Leigh replied with a shrug. "You'll find nothing we haven't already told you."

"Thanks for the invitation." Tross smiled. It wasn't a nice smile either. "I think I'll do just that."

Leigh shrugged and started to head toward her bike when her cell phone jangled loudly. She sighed and pulled it from her pocket, checking the name. It was her mother. She shut the phone off, putting it back in her pocket. She hadn't been answering the phone calls all week. Her mother would just yell at her some more.

The detective raised his eyebrow. "Who was that?"

"My mother," she said. At his glance, she added just so he wouldn't look at her like that anymore. "We're not exactly getting along right now."

"Ah, so that's why you've been spending so many nights at the Carlyle's."

Leigh bristled. "Have you been spying on me?"

A smile slipped up the sharp, hawk face. "It's my job."

"Well, I'm giving you a new job," Leigh snapped before she could help herself. "Go spy on someone else."

She hopped onto her bike, pushing the kickstand out of its current position.

"I'd be careful what you said, Mrs. Bennett." His words chilled the back of her neck. "Defensive people are usually guilty."

Leigh turned and glared at him. "Well, I'm not guilty, okay?"

"Maybe you're not," the detective said. "But you know who is. And sooner or later, I'm going to get that information out of you. In fact, I give you two weeks to think about it and fess up."

"And if I don't?" she said through gritted teeth.

"And if you don't," the detective finished for her, "I'm pretty sure I can get you a nice long jail sentence for those drugs you used to—and I bet still—do. Won't that make mommy and daddy proud?"