Their destination was even farther north than Rosthern. And when they got out of the car in the resort parking lot, it was absolutely freezing, not to mention dark - at 4:15PM - and almost entirely deserted.
"You're positive this is the place?" Sam asked, casting a sidelong glance at Sophie.
"Five of the eight victims were guests here," Sophie said, "I'm sure there were a lot more people up here last month and certainly over the summer. The first disappearance was in what - May?"
"And the other three?" Sam asked.
"The death reports only described them as: a local entrepreneur, a game guide, and then 'well-known community member.' Wasn't able to dig up much else. This town doesn't have a paper of its own," Sophie said, "So hotels are the logical place to start. And the other hunting lodge is way out. Ten miles from the nearest other structure. At that point even eight maulings in four months isn't as sign of a werewolf. It's as sign of bad wildlife management. Too many hungry bears and too many nosy tourists."
"I thought you said bears were more docile than we thought?" Dean asked, grabbing their bags and taking Sophie's hand.
"Depends where you are. And the kind of bears," Sophie replied, "Black bears are sweethearts. Kodiaks will rip your head off. Polar bears think you're lunch. This area…we've got Kodiaks and black bears, but no polar bears thank goodness."
She crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her coat tighter. None of them were dressed for this weather. And while Sophie didn't know much about werewolves. She was fairly sure hunting would involve a lot of being outside. She shivered.
It was an old-fashioned resort. With a big central lodge room and a roaring fire. The three of them approached the young, bright-eyed receptionist at the desk. On the wall of keys behind her, Sophie noted that only five of the several dozen room keys were missing.
"Two rooms?" The receptionist said cheerfully.
Sam shrugged, "Just the one is fine. Two queens. Booked for the name Albertson."
He passed her his credit card.
The young woman knit her brows together and frowned.
"Are you two…" the woman looked meaningfully back and forth between Sam and Dean. Sophie stifled a laugh.
"We're brothers," Dean growled.
But…" she said, "There's…"
"Family business?" Sophie asked, trying to distract the receptionist and hoping to build better rapport. She'd suggested, five times, that they book two rooms. She'd stayed at enough nice, normal hotels to know that two men and a woman showing up and asking for two beds would get weird questions.
"Yeah," the receptionist said, "My dad owns it."
"That you guys back there?" Sophie gestured at a family portrait thumbtacked beneath the rows of room keys, "You and your parents."
"Yeah," the receptionist's eyes clouded a bit, "My mom used to help him run it. I actually lived down in Calgary. But she passed away last month so I came up to help."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Sophie said.
"But everything's okay now. We actually just repainted a couple of the rooms," the woman's tone was forced, "There's a wine tasting available at six, complimentary. And then breakfast is seven to ten, also complimentary. We've got snow shoeing - if we can get a decent snow - and some hiking trails if you're interested. And I can set you up with a hunting guide if you'd like."
"That'd be great," Dean said, taking the keys then taking Sophie's arm.
"Miss," the receptionist called up the stairs after them.
"Yes?" Sophie stopped, looked over the railing. She felt Dean's hand tighten on her arm.
"Would you come down for just one minute?" That forced cheerful tone again.
"We'd be happy to stop back in the lobby after…" Sam began, but the receptionist cut him off.
"Oh no," she said quickly, "I just have a few quick questions to ask. Ladies' things. You wouldn't be interested."
Sophie looked at Dean and shrugged.
"You're not up in five minutes and I'm coming to find you," he whispered into her ear, "Be safe."
"You know I will be," Sophie murmured, prying his fingers off her arm.
The receptionist sat gingerly on one of the sofa's near the fire and patted the space beside her. Sophie put her duffle at her feet and sat down.
"What can I do for you?" Sophie asked.
"I'm Liza," the receptionist said.
"And I'm Sophie. It's nice to meet you," Sophie replied, "I'm so sorry to hear about your mom. Was it sudden?" Local entrepreneur sounded suspiciously like it could describe a resort owner, so Sophie figured she might as well pry where she could. Maybe they'd identified their sixth victim. It'd certainly be convenient.
"Yes, but…" Liza trailed off.
"I'm sure it's hard to talk about," Sophie said, "Sam is a psychologist - a grief counsellor actually. In case you ever feel like discussing it."
Sophie could get people to open up quickly. But Sam could get them to share more, share everything.
"Thank you but," Liza took a deep breath, "Are you okay?"
"Of course," Sophie replied, "Why do you ask?"
"It's just…they're not…" Liza gestured ambiguously, "Mr. Albertson…Sam…and his brother aren't…"
"Aren't doing what?" Sophie asked. She'd expected some skepticism but she was in no way prepared for the full on intervention taking place.
"They're not abusing you right?" Liza spat out.
"My boyfriend - Dean - and his brother?" Sophie replied, "No. They're not. It's really okay. We're up for a hunting trip is all. Couldn't get time off work during the better season."
"Oh thank goodness," Liza sagged with relief, "I'm a hospital receptionist back in Alberta. And we get all this mandatory reporter training, you know? And so help me it just makes me paranoid about everything. And…I don't mean to be rude but you look exhausted and you've got that fresh scar on your lip. And they're big. And a little rough around the edges. And there's two of them with the one hotel room and…"
"I appreciate your concern," Sophie said, checking her watch. She had approximately ninety seconds before Dean was due to come storming down that stairway in abject panic, undoubtedly making Liza question all the placating remarks Sophie had just shared, "I do need to get going though. We'll talk more later tonight?"
Liza nodded and Sophie rushed up the stairs.
She ran headlong into Dean in the hallway outside their room.
"You okay?" He asked immediately, taking her by the shoulders.
"I'm fine," Sophie assured him, "And I got some good intel."
"What did she want?" Dean asked, opening the door to their room and ushering her inside.
"To know if you and Sam were taking advantage of me," Sophie replied, "We either need fake wedding rings or two hotel rooms. We set off too many alarm bells this way. Unless of course you want to either stop kissing me in public and start claiming I'm your sister or start kissing Sam and claim he's your partner."
Dean kissed her, "Not happening."
"And the intel?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes.
"We know her mom died recently and now we also know it was sudden. Last month. Which is when we have the report of a local entrepreneur being mauled to death about a mile from here. Tracks to me," Sophie said, "So there's the details on victim number six."
"So I figure we go to this wine tasting thing and scope out the other guests?" Sam suggested.
"There are worse ideas," Sophie agreed.
"Wine tasting?" Dean grimaced.
"There's usually snacks," Sophie assured him.
—
There were, in fact, snacks. Good snacks, too. Dean and Sophie sat at the bar and talked to Liza while Sam circulated among the seven other guests.
"We'd love a hunting guide for tomorrow, if you can swing it," Dean said, "Though…gotta admit…I'm a little worried. I've heard about a couple maulings lately."
"I really is nothing to be concerned about," Liza said, "Not if you're going during the day."
"Excuse me?" Sophie asked, feigning surprise.
"We've had five guests killed plus my mom, a hunting guide, and the town drifter. But we're suggesting that the guides avoid most of the trail - it's pretty and people say it gets you to a great spot for pheasants - but it's just not worth it. We've mostly had issues farther out - twenty or thirty kilometers. But a short day hike should be completely fine and our guides have started carrying bear rifles to be certain. Only one of the guests was with a guide when the attack occurred. You'll be perfectly safe," Liza assured them, "We think it's just a really testy grizzly. Though nobody's gotten eyes on it and lived to tell. And he should be sleeping for winter now. If you'll excuse me I've got to go pass out some refills."
She picked up a bottle of white and a bottle of red and started circulating the room.
Dean raised his eyebrows, "Well that answers that question."
"So I take it we're going on a nighttime hunting trip?" Sophie asked.
"Unfortunately," Dean said, "Given this freakin' weather, I think we are."
Sam was likewise finding some interesting clues among the other resort guests. There was an old couple, copiously intoxicated, who hadn't realized where the hotel was until they arrived. They'd intended to go antiquing. And weren't thrilled when they realized the nearest antique store was a two and a half hour drive. There was the trio of hardcore moose hunters, that frankly scared him a little. There was the quiet, disciplined fishing guide, who'd come up for a few weeks just to talk shop with other outdoorsmen during his off season. And there was Ronny. Ronny was, odd. There was nothing bad about him necessarily. But he was just a little weird. A tight-wound executive from a staple manufacturing firm in Halifax, he'd booked the trip as a romantic getaway with his wife, who'd left him two weeks before he was due to arrive. That was in May. According to Liza he'd extended the reservation indefinitely, and had been staying in room 208 for six months and counting.
They reconvened in the hotel room that night.
"So we've got a location," Dean said.
"And I've got a suspect," Sam added.
"Now we just need a guide and some serious winter gear," Sophie finished.
"I'm sure we'll be…" Sam tried to brush off her concern, but Sophie didn't let him finish.
"I'm a meteorologist. And I'm Canadian. Don't you question me about appropriate clothing for the weather," Sophie swatted at Sam's shoulder.
"She has a point," Dean said.
"So what do we need?" Sam asked.
"Wool socks, down pants, seriously warm coats…none of that leather and canvas nonsense…mittens, not gloves…warm hats, preferably wool and then scarves or neck gaiters that you can pull up over your face. Plus snow boots. Not work boots. Your feet will freeze in those things," Sophie rattled off the list intuitively.
"So I say tomorrow we get what we need and we get out on the trail and waste this thing," Dean said.
"Resort should have a pro shop and be able to get us a guide," Sophie added, "You guys have what you need to kill it?"
"Sure do," Dean snapped open a box of silver bullets for her to inspect.