“What if it was Joshua?” Lindsay whispered as if she’d read my mind.

“Why would he kill his own mother?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer. Lately it seemed he’d gone out of his way to stay away from me. But that was expected, normal. After all, he was a preteen. They were prone to mood swings. And getting adjusted to having a new adult in the house took time. There’d been no sign of instability, no sign of hostility. At least nothing out of the ordinary. Every teenager got cranky sometimes.

Could a ten-year-old child really kill his mother? Could a child live with that kind of guilt for years? Would a child who had killed his mother even feel guilt? How would he hide what he’d done from everyone?

“Erica, I started to tell you something the night of the party,” I said, intentionally shifting the conversation. I wasn’t comfortable with the direction my thoughts had drifted.

Erica nodded. “Of course, Josh,” she said, ignoring me. “We should’ve thought of that possibility sooner.”

“Your cat’s dead,” I said.

Erica didn’t respond. Didn’t blink an eye. “Christine, have you noticed anything unusual around here?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Anything. Anything at all.”

“I’ve noticed ... neighbors getting wasted and dancing around their front yards in the middle of the night. Having affairs because they hate their husbands. Becoming lesbians because they’ve been heartbroken one too many times. But I’m thinking that’s pretty normal stuff.”

“No, you’re right. That is pretty normal stuff, compared to—” Erica cut herself off. “I’m thinking more like finding dead animals at your doorstep?”

“Yes. Why?”

“That’s it.” Erica slapped her flattened hands on the table. “They’re gifts. For Jon. A plea for forgiveness. It makes perfect sense, and it explains why we suspected Jon in the first place.”

“Huh?” I said, not following.

Lindsay agreed with a nod. “He knows the truth. We smelled the deceit.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“He’s protecting his son,” Samantha explained, her pretty ice-blue eyes full of understanding. “Jon has been protecting Joshua all this time.”

“But why? Why would Josh kill his mother?”

“I’m guessing it was The Change,” Samantha said, shaking her head. “He probably couldn’t help himself.”

“What change?” I was so fricking lost. Would somebody explain it in simple terms? “What about the shelves falling? The dog cable?”

“An accident, I’m guessing,” Lindsay said.

“Adam built some shelves in our house, too. They fell,” Erica admitted. “The cable was probably left by Jon. He might’ve been trying to secure Josh.”

“Secure Josh?” I echoed.

Samantha pulled a pill bottle out of her purse, studied it, then dropped it back in. “How terrible for Jon. To lose his wife and then face the stigma of a police investigation. Not to mention, I’m sure he was terribly worried about what would happen to Josh if anyone discovered the truth. And here, I thought I had a lot of stress to deal with.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

Samantha, Lindsay, and Erica exchanged glances. Finally Erica spoke, “There’s something you don’t know about us. All of us. You see, we’re not exactly what you think we are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were right.” Samantha emptied her purse onto the table. I counted five prescription bottles. “I am addicted to prescription drugs. Lindsay is sexually confused. And Erica hates her husband and is sleeping with a younger man. But that’s not the worst of it. Not by a long shot.”

I held my breath, knowing I was finally going to have the answers I’d been searching for.

Samantha folded her napkin and, after dry-swallowing a handful of pills, clasped her hands in her lap. “I started taking Xanax years ago. For anxiety. Then I added Valium to my daily diet. And sleeping pills. I couldn’t handle it anymore. The stress. My husband is a demon, and I do mean that in the most literal sense. If you have any doubt, just look at my children.”

Demon spawn? They were a little loud, slightly wild, but hardly the offspring of the devil.

“And I have my reasons for resenting my worthless husband,” Erica said. “He’s a dragon. Because of his hair-trigger temper, he hasn’t been able to keep a job for more than a month. And he won’t try anger management therapy.”

“My run-around, cheating ex-boyfriend was a fae. I’m telling you, they cannot be monogamous. It’s simply not in their blood. I know that now. And we”—Lindsay motioned to Samantha, and Erica—“are werewolves. So was Michelle. You saw us. With Samantha.”

My gaze snapped back to Samantha’s eyes. Ice-blue. “There’s no such thing as werewolves,” I said.

“Oh yes, there is,” Lindsay said. “You’re not only sitting at the table with three, but you’re living with one, too.”

This was crazy. Insane. Silly.

A joke. Had to be.

I stood. I sat back down. I stammered. Finally, I was able to speak. “First you tried to convince me that Jon killed his wife. Now you’re telling me he’s a werewolf?”

“No,” Erica said. “Jon’s not the werewolf, although he isn’t what you’d call human, either. Josh is a werewolf.”

“What are we going to do about Josh?” Lindsay asked, genuine concern pulling at her brows. “We can’t take this to the police. You know what will happen.”

“No, we can’t. You’re right about that.” Erica’s gaze swept around the table. “We have to keep it to ourselves. We know the truth at last, and we can let it rest. It’s the best thing for everyone. It’s what Michelle would want. He’s made it through his first Change. He isn’t dangerous anymore.”

Was I buying this?

Hell, no.

Not at all.

Were these people all crazy?

I just wanted them to leave. Now. My skin was feeling creepy-crawly. My insides were twisted into knots.

“Christine, you’re looking a little pale,” Lindsay pointed out.

I stood, bracing my hands on the tabletop. My knees were soft, my head a little swimmy. “I think I need to go lie down.”

They all stood at the same time and filed toward the door.

Lindsay was the last to leave. She touched my arm, and I twitched, some instinct inside of me jumping at the contact. “If you want proof, come outside tonight. Midnight. It’s a full moon. You’ll see for yourself.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

I shut the door and vowed I wouldn’t get anywhere near a door or window after eleven tonight.

Of course, I broke that vow.

At exactly midnight, I stepped out onto the deck. And I watched the three women who were slowly becoming my friends change into wolves.

After swallowing the contents of my stomach a few times, I staggered back inside and stumbled right into Jon’s arms. I flung myself as far from him as I could, then turned to face him.

“Did Josh kill his mother?” I blurted.

Jon didn’t answer right away. He looked torn, guilty, conflicted.

I saw red.

“Jon, you know I’ve sensed something wasn’t right about this place since I arrived. I’m telling you right here, right now, that you owe me the truth.” Folding my arms, I took another step backward, afraid I might do something impulsive if I didn’t put some space between us. I couldn’t ever remember being so angry, so hurt. “If you can’t trust me with all your secrets, every last one, I have to leave. That’s all there is to it.”

His jaw clenched. “Please, sit down.”

Reluctantly, I followed him into the family room and sat.

He sat opposite me, on the ottoman, elbows resting on his knees, body angled forward. “I take it you know about Lindsay, Samantha, and Erica?”

I nodded. Couldn’t say the words yet. It was all too freakish to speak aloud.

“Then you know werewolves exist.”

“But what does that have to do with Josh?”

“What I told you about Michelle having trouble getting pregnant was true. After trying for years, we adopted Joshua, knowing he would become a werewolf someday. I thought we could handle his first turning without help. I was wrong.” He gritted his teeth and stared down at the floor. “I’ll regret that mistake for the rest of my life.”

Werewolves. Changing. What the hell? Was I having a nightmare? Was this all a big joke? I felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit’s hole and landed in some kind of freakish Wonderland that not even Lewis Carroll could have cooked up.

“What happened?” I asked as I struggled to sort through what I was hearing, thinking, feeling.

“During a werewolf’s first turning, the wolf instinct can be very strong. Too strong. Joshua was young. He couldn’t control it.” A tear slipped from Jon’s eye. “My wife.” He dropped his face into his cupped hands. Didn’t speak for a long time. I didn’t know what to say. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to turn Josh in, knowing what would happen to him. I knew, too. We couldn’t... . I couldn’t... .”