A creaky-looking wooden table and several chairs were squeezed into one corner, and in the other, a small kitchenette. The door leading to the bathroom was at the other end of the tiny house, on the left side of the bed. Which was my side. Heaven only knew I’d need plenty of cold showers to get through the night without giving in to the delicious temptation that would be lying beside me. “What can you tell me about the night your son disappeared, Mrs. Symmonds?” Ethan said, throwing his sports bag on the bed beside my case. He’d packed light. I’d packed heavy. Lots of layers was now my motto, whatever the actual temperature. Mari took a shuddery breath, and exhaled it softly. She was a small, pale woman with even paler hair. Not an albino, because her eyes were brown, but she still possessed that almost ethereal delicateness albinos often had. It was rare for a cat shifter to give off that sort of vibe, because they were usually the independent, don’t-you-worry-about-me types, but maybe it was simply the stress of the situation.
