Free Wren and the Werebear by Aubrey Rose Page A

and she'd exulted, believing it to be the beginning of their new sexual relationship together.
    Instead, it was the end.
    Wren wiped the back of her hand against her cheek, brushing away the wetness. She'd loved him so much when they first started dating. She loved his ambition, his drive, and she thought that someday that passion would transfer over to their own relationship. But it hadn't, had it? And she'd let the relationship continue, locking her desires away and never admitting that she had anything but respect and admiration for the kind of platonic courtship that Olivier wanted.
    It wasn't until a stranger kissed her that she'd realized how broken her heart really was.
    One. Surroundings. Wren stood up from the rock, aware that she'd been letting her thoughts drift away while ignoring the surroundings. That was dangerous to do, even in an open space. Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she decided that she would call Olivier again. She needed to apologize for hanging up on him. He was legitimately upset—she had, after all, up and left him without a moment's warning. Never mind that he'd done the same thing to her a dozen times before during the election campaign. He must feel hurt, and angry, of course...
    Wren made her way quickly down the other side of the loop. She stopped only once when the path seemed to branch, but one of the trails quickly died out and she backtracked to the other one. Making a mental note to go back and check on the side path later, she hurried back down to the trailhead.
    At the hotel, she put half of the sample of the bear fur into an envelope and mailed it off to the address Marty had texted her for the closest lab. Matt was sitting at the lobby counter reading a fishing magazine when she went down to mail it off.
    “Hey there,” Wren said.
    “Nice hike?” the hotel owner asked.
    “Ah, uh...yeah. I mean, um...” Wren stumbled over the words, thinking about the ranger’s kiss. “Lovely day outside.”
    “Always lovely. That’s California.”
    “Right, right. Have you lived here long?”
    “All m’life.” He flipped a magazine page.
    There was something tickling at Wren’s mind, a suspicion she had to put to rest. She’d tracked a bear up to where Dawson was swimming, after all—she needed to know if he was a likely suspect. He didn’t seem like it, but Wren was nothing if not careful.
    “I’d love to live here,” Wren said, “doing a ranger’s job. How much does he work, anyway?”
    “What? Daws? Oh, he never works.”
    “Never?”
    “Mmh, just lopes around picking up sticks and clearing trails.”
    “I mean, I’m curious: do you get any vacation time off when you’re a ranger? Weekends, maybe?”
    Matt closed his magazine and exhaled, evidently resigning himself to answering her questions.
    “Nah, park service’s a long term gig. Seven days a week until forever.”
    “How long term?”
    “Six months on, six months off. You rotate through.”
    “So he works six months out of the year?” Wren did some mental calculations, figuring the last kill on the East Coast. Marty had said there was a murder every two months...
    “Daws? Ha!” Matt snorted, interrupting her thoughts. “You couldn’t pay Daws to leave this mountain. He hasn’t taken a vacation in years. Course he’d tell you he’s on vacation every day.”
    “Right.”
    “Don’t think you’d be able to get a rotation in this park. Daws has it on lock down. You’d have to kill him to get a ranger spot here.”
    Wren chuckled along with Matt.
    “Well, thanks anyway!”
    “Sure thing.” The hotel owner held up a hand in a wave and went back to his magazine as Wren swung the door open to the parking lot.
    So that was that. One suspect down, four hundred and... ten, was it? to go.
     
    Across the road, she picked up the pay phone and dialed Olivier's number. It rang twice, three times, four times. Wren tapped her foot anxiously, holding her breath. She wanted them to make up, wanted