“Actually, I have no idea how he knows any of that.” I snatched a slice of ham from the collection of sandwich ingredients Ethan was setting out on the counter. “But that’ll be the first thing I ask him, if he answers his phone.”

“Well, off the top of my head, I’d say someone told him.” Vic blew carefully into his Atlanta Braves mug. “But I’m sure that’s much too simple to be it.”

My father took another sip of coffee. “On the contrary, usually the simplest possibility is the answer, and it stands to reason that Andrew must have had contact with another werecat at some point in the past few months. He’d have to be pretty tough to have survived the initial sickness and first Shift on his own. And while unlikely, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that another stray took pity on him, rather than running him off or attacking him.”

My father’s response sent one of Andrew’s bobbing to the surface of my memory. You’re fucking lying, and we damn well know it. We.

“Son of a bitch, that’s it!” I dropped the spoon into my mug, and several drops of coffee splattered on the counter, but I barely noticed.

“What?” Jace looked up from the ham, cheese, and pickle slices he was layering on a piece of bread.

“Andrew’s not in this alone.” I plucked a pickle from his plate and gestured with it as I spoke. “New strays don’t come out of their initial transition mentally or physically strong enough to pull off the kind of major-league mischief he’s been up to. Not on their own.”

“You think he’s working with someone?” my father asked, green eyes alight with the new possibility.

“Yes.” I tossed the pickle into my mouth and spoke around it as I chewed. “I think he has been from the beginning. The same someone who got him through his first Shift and taught him how to survive as a stray.”

Ethan smashed his huge sandwich flat with one palm. “The rogue tabby?”

I shook my head. “Couldn’t be her. She’s following him, not the other way around.”

Vic frowned. “So, maybe she was helping him, and he went crazy and took off on his own, and now she’s trying to catch him and stop him.”

“But she’s a murderer. Why would one murderer try to stop another?” Jace argued, voicing a thought we’d surely all had—no one believed we’d find those strippers alive.

“I don’t think she wants any part of Andrew’s game,” I said, stirring my coffee again as I thought aloud. “She’s clearly no saint, but look at the way she’s killed the toms. No slashing, and no biting. No signs of violence of any kind, other than the whole neck-breaking thing. I don’t know why she’s kil ing them, but I don’t think it’s out of rage. But Andrew, on the other hand, is definitely pissed off, and I’d be willing to bet those missing strippers bear evidence of that, wherever they are.”

I paused and drained my mug. “And I have a theory about why Andrew’s done such a one-eighty. Why he’s suddenly so angry and violent.”

“Yeah.” Ethan shrugged. “He’s a stray.”

“But so’s Marc, and he’s never kidnapped anyone. He’s completely devoted to this Pride. Loyal beyond all logic. He’d give his life to save any of us, any day of the week.”

“Yes.” My father nodded decisively. Proudly. “He would.”

I smiled at him. “As far as I can tell, the difference between Marc and Andrew is that Marc has us. He’s what and who he is today because you and Mom took him in when he was sick, injured, and newly orphaned.

Because you made him one of us and gave him a chance. If the Pride had such a profound influence on Marc, at such a critical stage in his life—his initial transition—doesn’t it stand to reason that someone might have had an equally strong influence on Andrew?”

“A bad influence, you mean?” Jace said, snatching a spare slice of ham from Ethan’s plate.

“Well, yes.” I leaned back against the counter, where I could see them all. “I think whoever helped him through the scratch-fever—and taught him what he knows about us—also turned him into what he’s become.

And I don’t think it was the tabby. Based on the way she killed those strays, I don’t think she’s capable of that much rage.”

My theory explained, my opinion given, I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee, waiting for someone to speak.

My father looked impressed but also worried. “So, you think Andrew’s still with this bad influence, whoever it is? ” I nodded, and he popped several knuckles at once. Then he set his empty mug in the sink and stalked out of the kitchen and across the hall, leaving us all to trail behind him.

In the office, I set my mug on a coaster on the nearest end table and sank onto the couch. Jace plopped down next to me, and Ethan sat by him, still clutching his half-eaten sandwich. Vic settled onto the love seat opposite us.

At the desk, Michael was still clicking away. I leaned back to glance at him and found him chewing his lower lip as he worked. Which meant he was frustrated. Apparently he’d had no luck tracking down the explosions.

“You ready for me to cal Andrew?” I asked my father. While I stil dreaded the phone call, I was now eager to get it over with.

“I’m having second thoughts about that now.” He frowned, templing his hands beneath his chin. “If Andrew’s really working with someone else, I’m not sure I want to grant him this confrontation until we know who we’l actually be facing.”