Jodie Carr was in the third and largest of the bedrooms.
She was lying atop a queen-sized bed, the blankets tangled around her bare legs and her shirt and skirt darkened by sweat. Her breathing was uneven, her face an unhealthy shade, and there was puke all over her chin and the sheets.
I swore softly and called it in, then walked over to the bed. This close, she smelled of the urine and vomit that stained her and the coverlet - hence the sour smell. It was a wonder she hadn't choked to death.
After carefully pulling her onto her side, I lightly slapped her cheek, trying to get a response. I didn't know if she'd taken drugs or whether this was merely alcohol induced, and I had no idea how to treat either. Still, thank God I hadn't listened to the idiot downstairs and just left.
"Who is this?" a deep voice said from behind me.
I jumped and swung around, my fists clenching automatically.
Blake stood at the end of the bed, his arms crossed. His form seemed more solid than it had been up on the island. Perhaps it was easier to send his psyche into known areas.
"Her name is Jodie Carr," I said, then added, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Checking up on your progress. Why is this Carr woman in Adrienne's bed?"
"You tell me."
He glanced at me, gray eyes hinting at the anger that wasn't yet showing on his flat features. "Why would I know?"
"Well, she's been sharing the apartment with Adrienne for more than a year, and the pack does own the apartment." I hesitated, but couldn't help adding, "Or does the chief dog not know what goes on in his own kennel?"
His eyes narrowed to slits, and the sense of danger was suddenly very palpable. "Adrienne made no mention of sharing, nor was this person ever here when Patrin or I visited," he said, in a tight, edgy voice that suggested he knew - or guessed - a whole lot more than he was willing to say.
Which was an interesting reaction. Why would he hold back anything if he was so desperate to find his granddaughter? And if he didn't actually know anything about his granddaughter's living arrangements, then why would Adrienne hide Jodie's presence from her father and grandfather? The obvious answer was that she didn't think either would approve.
I glanced down at the woman on the bed, and I realized she was human. That might be one very good reason for the caution. But there could be another.
"Is Adrienne gay?"
His head jerked back so fast anyone would have thought I'd punched him. "No! Why would you even think that? She's my granddaughter."
"And being your granddaughter precludes the possibility of being gay, does it?"
"She is not one of those."
Again, his voice held an edge that was almost desperate. So, he mightn't know - or rather, might not want to know - the truth, but he guessed it all the same.
The fact that the mighty leader of the Jenson red pack was also homophobic was no great surprise. That had been apparent from his reaction to Rhoan over the years. But it must have been hell growing up in his family, knowing you were the one thing he hated. No wonder Adrienne had kept her sexuality such a closely guarded secret.
"Paramedics," another voice called from the other room.
"In the last bedroom down the hall," I yelled, then stepped around the bed, out of the way. Blake moved with me, his form shimmering, dropping in and out of focus.
A man and a woman came into the bedroom. She looked straight through Blake, not even acknowledging his presence. Which meant it was only me who could see him.
Lucky me.
I flashed my badge and told them how I'd found her.
"Smells like alcohol," one said, as his partner set the bags down. He looked around the room. "You seen any empty pill bottles? Anything to suggest she might have taken something else?"
"To be honest, I haven't really looked."
He grunted and looked at his partner, who immediately began a search. No empty bottles were found in the bedroom, but an empty bottle of sleeping pills were discovered in the bathroom.
"Right-o," the ambulance officer said cheerfully. "At least we know what we're dealing with."