Page 45 of Relics of the Wolf

I rubbed the rune on the bottom and showed him its glow.

“What does that do?”

“I think that’s it. Glowing. I thought that would look enticing—magical—in the photographs.” I hesitated but then tabbed back to the screen to show him the post. “I suppose the same could be done with photo-manipulation software, but if someone reaches out and wants to see it in person…”

I trailed off, feeling foolish. Seeing it in person wouldn’t convince anyone that it was real. Up close, it looked like the toy it was. The wolf head was similar in profile to the one on the case, with rows of sharp teeth on display, but I didn’t know if that was what had drawn the thief to the case in the first place. Mom’s medallion had a howling wolf on it. No teeth.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Duncan offered after looking at the photos and post I’d uploaded on the server that Chad had mentioned, as well as in other spots I’d heard of before or found through research.

“You sound like you’re being politely supportive but don’t think this has a shot of working.”

“I am politely supportive. That’s why I brought you sausages.”

“I’m not sure what else I can try if this doesn’t work.”

“Touring lavender farms in northern Snohomish County?” Duncan raised his eyebrows.

“They don’t offer tours in November.Orhave flowering lavender.” I shook my head, still skeptical that the thug traipsed through flower fields daily and that was where the scent had come from.

The phone in the leasing office rang, an avocado-green rotary model that was older than I was. The owners of the complex kept saying they would replace it with something modern when it stopped working, but it had proven resilient.

“You didn’t put your name and number in the posting, did you?” Duncan asked as I reached for the phone.

I hesitated. “Not myname, but I did need a phone number someone could call. And the phone needed to be close by so I’d hear it ring.” I answered, worried I’d done the wrong thing, since whoever had researched me enough to know where my family lived probably knew the number for the complex too. Maybe I’d made a mistake. “Sylvan Serenity Housing.”

Duncan waited with his eyebrows raised.

“We do have some availability, yes.” It was a perfectly mundane call that had nothing to do with magical artifacts. “A couple of two-bedrooms and one three. Yes, dogs from most breeds are allowed.”

“And wolves,” Duncan whispered with a smirk.

I held my finger to my lips, gave the rest of the requested information, and made an appointment for the person to come see the units.

“We do require at least a 650 credit score,” I said. That was on the website and in all the ads, but people tended to think it didn’t apply to them.

The prospective tenant didn’t cancel the appointment, so I put her in the calendar for the following day.

“Ah, the credit score,” Duncan said, “a rather unique American invention that rewards a person for going deeper and deeper in debt.”

“While making the payments in a timely manner each month.”Thatwas what my employers cared about.

“You’d think a more ideal tenant would be one who pays in cash for items and doesn’t have any debt.”

“We’re okay with those people too.” Given my own bruised history with debt, Ienjoyedleasing to those who’d also clawed their way out. “You just can’t be in debt and behind on payments. Areyoudebt-free, Duncan Calderwood?”

“Of course.”

“You should have mentioned that when you first asked me out. After being married to a deadbeat who took out loans I didn’t know about and stole the kids’ college money, I’m particularly attracted to men who can make ends meet without credit cards.”

“I guessed that from the envelopes.” Duncan grinned. “But I didn’t think you would be wooed by the finances of someone who lives in his van. You were somewhat snide about the idea of me making a living as a treasure hunter.”

“I was snide about the rusty forks and forty-year-old bike locks. Had you pulled golden chalices out of Lake Washington, I might have believed your career had more financial stability.”

“Gold isn’t magnetic.”

“Ah, so the chalices are down there, and you just don’t have the right tools?”

“I haveallthe right tools. Trust me.” His eyelid shivered in what I took as a wink, though it was subtle, and I wasn’tpositivethat was a sexual innuendo. It probably was.

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