She didn’t bother turning on a light as she moved through the house. She grabbed her keys from the table in the foyer, set the alarm, and locked the door behind her.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Irritated, Colton swiped at the phone shrieking on his dresser. He was a heavy sleeper and tended to ignore the phone or shut off his alarm clock. Becca had suggested that he keep his phone on the other side of the room, so that he’d have to get up out of bed to answer it. The strategy worked, though nothing could make him like it. He glared at his reflection in the dresser’s mirror, scowling as he noticed his hair sticking up in every direction.
He saw the caller ID on the phone’s screen and groaned. The soft moonlight streaming in the window allowed him to see well enough to take down the address and particulars of the case. Turning back toward the bed, he noticed that Becca wasn’t there. He assumed she was feeding the kids.
After he dressed, he crept from the bedroom. He found his wife on the couch in the living room, one arm curled around Emily, the smallest of the kids, as she nursed. She looked up at him when he stopped in the doorway.
“Call?” She kept her voice soft.
“Yeah. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone on this one.” He saw that her eyes looked tired. Maybe he should call his mother, see if she could come lend a hand with the kids for a few days to give her a break. That’s a good idea. He made a mental note to call on his mother sometime today.
“It’s okay, honey. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some.”
“I think I will grab a mug. That sounds good.” He leaned over to give her a kiss and brushed a hand across Emily’s silky hair. He hated leaving his family in the middle of the night, but had accepted that fate when he’d taken the police officer’s oath, and that was something he was very serious about.
He went into the kitchen and filled a travel mug with coffee, double-checking that the lid was screwed on tight. One time when he’d failed to do this, the cup fell out of the holder in his truck, and spilled all over the floorboard. Since then, he’d taken no chances.
Passing by the living room, he called out, “Love you. Get some sleep.” With that, he locked the apartment door behind him and climbed into his truck.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Though she lived farther away, Lacey arrived on the scene close to downtown well before Colton, thanks to her fast car and her love of speed. Two cruisers sat nose-to-rear at the curb, and an EMS van was parked sideways, taking up two lanes. She could see that the uniforms were working to mark the crime scene with yellow police tape as well as directing traffic away from the area.
In the dimness of predawn, the red and blue strobes on the ambulance and squad cars spun a sickly mixture of light on the storefronts lining the street. Lacey approached the ambulance with care, keeping a sharp eye out for any evidence that might be in the street.
A young brunette sat on the bumper of the vehicle, wrapped in a white blanket of soft cotton. Her once-pretty face was pale and marred with marks just beginning to swell and bruise. Tears mixed with blood and ran down her cheeks.
Lacey flashed her badge, hoping to catch the victim in a state of mind conducive to an interview. The woman’s eyes had not yet begun to glaze over with shock.
“I’m Lieutenant Anderson. Can you tell me your name?”
“Angelica.” Her voice trembled on the whisper, her bruised and split lips barely moving.
Lacey bent down to meet her eyes. “I know this is difficult, but I want you to tell me what happened.” She took out her electronic tablet.
The victim took a deep breath. “I was walking to the subway. I just live a few blocks from here.” She extracted one arm from the blanket covering her and waved in the direction of numerous apartment complexes toward the north. “I always catch the early train, so I can get to work earlier than I need to. I don’t like to be late.”
Lacey nodded in understanding. The remains of the woman’s tattered clothing and her overall demeanor told Lacey that Angelica was likely a responsible young person. “Then you were headed for that station there?” She indicated the street corner where stairs led down to the subway tunnels.
“Yeah.” Angelica swiped a hand across her face as if trying to wipe away the memory of the attack. “This man, he jumped out of the shadows and pulled me into the alley. He was so strong! And he...he ripped my clothes, and then he started biting me! I thought maybe he was a Wolf.” She lowered the blanket enough to bare one shoulder, where vivid bite marks still oozed blood. “I tried to fight, but he was too strong for me.”
“We’ll get that all cleaned up for you,” one of the EMS workers told her.
“First I need a PERK done on her.” Lacey snapped at him, referring to the Physical Evidence Recovery Kit that would gather any evidence from the victim. This kit would allow for recovery of blood, semen, hair, and even skin from under the victim’s fingernails, assuming she had scratched her assailant at some point during the attack.
“Already got one started,” the man told her. “But we’ll do better to get her to the hospital, finish it up there.”
The loud sound of a truck caught Lacey’s attention, and she glanced over her shoulder as Colton parked his vehicle next to her car. Gently, she laid a hand on Angelica’s uninjured shoulder. “They’ll take good care of you. A PERK is stressful, but necessary. It will help us catch this jerk. I’ll come see you in the hospital, okay?”
“Sure.” Her voice was still shaky, and her eyes had begun to cloud over in an unseeing stare.
Lacey caught Colton as he strode in their direction. She wasn’t sure how the victim would have reacted to yet another man close to her so soon after the attack. Especially a man who was also a Wolf. Together, they went to the alley, flashing badges at the uniform standing guard near the police tape. They signed the log, then ducked under the barrier to inspect the alley, slipping latex gloves onto their hands.
The scene of the attack was evident by the shreds of clothing strewn about. A crime scene tech was placing the larger pieces of cloth into brown paper bags, while another was taking photographs of the evidence and the plastic yellow markers from different angles. The foul smell of over-ripe garbage filled the stuffy air.
“Let me see that.” Lacey demanded of the tech. She handed over a scrap of material that appeared to be part of a blouse. Blood stained the fabric, already turning to a brownish color as it dried. Lacey turned the cloth in her hands.
“Definitely torn.” Colton commented as he looked over her shoulder. “I wonder if any of that blood’s his.”
“We’re going to find out.” Lacey handed the fabric back to the tech, who sealed it in a bag with evidence tape, and filled out the case information.
Lacey sat back on her heels and studied the scene. A few drops of blood spattered the concrete, and she felt all the fine hairs on her neck stand on end. Something isn’t right here, she thought.
“Hey!” Colton’s voice jarred her from her thoughts. He turned to the crime scene tech. “You got a pair of tweezers or something?”
She dug into her kit and handed him the long instrument used to collect hair and other evidence. He nudged Lacey aside, ignoring her warning snarl, and plucked a tiny bit of tissue from one of the blood droplets. They examined it up close. It didn’t quite look like skin, and besides being covered in blood it was also dripping what looked like clear slime. “What is this?”
“I don’t know.” Lacey handed him a small plastic bag the tech had given her as she spoke. They sealed the tissue in the bag. “But I’ll bet the lab will be able to tell us.”
“Something’s not right about this whole scene.” Colton gave voice to her earlier thoughts.
“I thought the same thing.” She used a cotton swab to take a sample of the blood stains. “But I just can’t quite figure out what.”
“Well, sexual assault is super rare among Wolves,” he told her. “We usually mate for life and are very loyal to our mates.”
; “True, but rogue Wolves do happen.” Lacey knew from experience that this was true. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the alley scene as if from an outsider’s perspective. As her gaze passed over delivery entrances of stores and businesses, she noted security cameras over a few doors. “I really don’t think it’s a Wolf, either. There’s something about it, something that’s teasing the edges of my memory. Something that I can’t quite identify.”
“Maybe if you stop thinking about it for a while, it’ll come back to you.”
“Maybe. We’ll work it as if we’re looking for a Wolf as the victim claims, but we’ll keep open minds as we get more information.” She glanced over her shoulder at the crime scene techs as they left them to their work and walked back to the street. “I’m going to go interview the vic at the hospital, see if I can get more out of her. I’m sure she wouldn’t be very cooperative if you were there, so why don’t you go see if any of those security cams in the alley actually record, then head to the office and send me over a sketch artist.”
“Got a preference?”
“Not really,” she replied, her mind already outlining the questions she would soon be asking. “Send whoever’s available.”
“No problem.” He took out his electronic tablet. “Share?”
With a flick of the finger, she transferred in an instant the details of her initial interview to Colton’s tablet, grateful once again for the technology; she had horrible handwriting and often couldn’t read her own written notes. Composing them electronically was far easier when it came time to write reports.
“I’ll catch you in the bullpen when I get back.” Lacey waved at him as she watched the ambulance drive away. The light of dawn peeking above the horizon was beginning to irritate the skin on her face. She was glad to get back into the blessed darkness of her vehicle to make the short drive to Medical City hospital.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Colton settled his over-sized frame in the cab of his pickup, mouthing a continuous tirade of inventive curses mixed with low growls. None of the security cameras close to the area of the attack were capable of recording the alley; their sole purpose in being there was so that the people inside could see who was ringing their buzzer. Figures. Everyone thinks they’re the ONLY ones in the universe! Protect thine own and to hell with anyone else!
He could feel his muscles tightening and the thick hair on his arms was standing up. He trembled with the effort to rein in his temper, and the truck shook as he slammed the door shut harder than he’d meant to.
“Make us all look bad,” he snarled as he started the engine. “Some asshat assaulting women minding their own business. We’ll see about that.”
With a roar, his truck lumbered into traffic, and he turned the radio up to an ear-shattering volume. It was one of the tricks his therapist had taught him during his required anger management courses. It did seem to help him soothe his anger, when he remembered to use it, which wasn’t often. Facing the snarl of morning rush-hour traffic, he knew he needed the distraction.
When he arrived at the station, his temper had quieted to a slow boil. Rather than using the phone at his desk, he stopped by the Special Victims Unit, located on the opposite side of the building from his own Major Crimes unit. He knew that he’d be pretty much guaranteed to find one or more of the sketch artists in SVU, as much of their time was devoted to helping that unit identify their unsubs.
He was correct; he found three of the police department’s most talented artists loitering in the SVU break room.
“It’s a wonder anyone around here can find one of you when you’re needed.” His tone was a combination of stern and joking.
“The coffee machine in Forensics is broken,” the lone woman of the group informed him. She was a short, petite brunette named Kelly who was extremely talented, not just in her drawing, but in getting a vic to open up and recall details. It was a good skill in her line of work. “We gotta have our java!”
The two men nodded agreement, holding up huge mugs of steaming liquid.
“Anderson needs one of you over at Medical City.”
“I’ll take winner,” Kelly said. “Loser takes it!” The men groaned as they set their cups on the counter and squared off with one another. Colton was beginning to wonder if they were going to duke it out when they raised their right fists to one another.
Gary, the taller of the two men, shook his blond hair and threw a cocky smile toward Colton, then smacked his fisted right hand against his flat left palm. “One, two, three!” The other man mimicked his actions.
“Rock smashes scissors,” Kelly cried with glee.
“Best two out of three,” Gary insisted.
“No way.” Kelly shoved him out of her way and took her place in front of Thomas, whose fisted hand still hovered in mid-air.
The game was repeated, and at the count of three, Kelly left her hand flat while Thomas’ was still fisted.
“Yes! Paper covers rock!” Kelly crowed as she took her mug and turned to leave the small break area.
“Wait a minute,” Gary called. “How did you know he would do ‘rock’ again?”
With a musical laugh, she told him, “Thomas always does rock. I’ve never seen him do anything else.”
“Then you cheated! That ain’t right!” Still chattering, the two headed toward the elevator, leaving a bewildered Colton staring open-mouthed at Thomas.
“What was that all about?” Colton managed to ask the question as Thomas tightened the lid on the cup he had just topped off.
“Rock, Paper, Scissors?”
Colton shook his head. “What in hell is that?”
“It’s a kid’s game. Ask Anderson, maybe she’ll know.”
“As if.” He snorted in amusement. “She doesn’t have any kids!”
“She’s over at Medical now?”
“Yeah, she was going to do a follow-up with the vic. The attack just happened about an hour ago.”
“Good, she’ll be fresh.” Thomas meant the victim’s memory would still be sharp, increasing his chances of getting good details from her. “Adios,” he called over his shoulder.
Colton shook his head in amazement as he returned to his department and sat at his desk. Every time he thought he had figured out the humans and their interactions with each other, something like this silly ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ thing threw him a curve ball. Who even thinks up stupid crap like that, anyway?
He pulled out his tablet, and sent Lacey a short text message: Thomas on his way. Then, cursing the desk chair for being so damn uncomfortable, he pulled his laptop in front of him. Laboriously, the machine clicked and clacked and then flashed the notice that it was booting up. He hated technology; why was it that the humans were always trying to improve on good old pen and paper? After all, your ink pen would either work or it wouldn’t, and would never give you any lip.
With a loud sigh, he wracked his brain trying to remember where the hell the IT guys had stuck the blank report file. It seemed like every time he turned around, they were doing more ‘upgrades’ to the computer system, and though they claimed the upgrades would lead to a more user-friendly format, it seemed like they did it just to piss him off. Finally finding the correct icon, he clicked it and settled in to begin his report.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Lacey rolled her shoulders as she prepared to step inside the hospital’s emergency room doors. She hated hospitals, and always had to steel herself whenever she had to interview a witness or victim inside the hallowed, sterile walls. The humans, with their limited olfactory sense, would never notice, but it didn’t matter how much disinfectant was used on walls and floors, it still smelled like blood.
She was sired, for lack of a better term, by an ancient coven. She had to think long and hard to remember her human life before she had been ‘Changed’. Even though she’d started surviving on animal blood long before the Undead Registry had been passed, she had consumed human blood. She compared it to humans addicted to heroin or me
thamphetamines; it was a craving that could never be satiated.
No matter how many times she might step through these doors, or others like them, that first whiff was always the strongest. Her stomach growled as if in anticipation. With stoic resolve, she strode right to the nurses’ station and slapped her badge on the counter. A small shoulder kit held all the things that she might need to use to collect evidence from her victim.
A young and harried-looking patient care tech looked up with the unfocused look of someone sleep-deprived. She had a mass of golden hair piled into a high bun. Several tendrils of hair had escaped the pins, and she swiped away the locks with an impatient wave of her hand. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and heart-shaped lips. Her eyes tracked from the badge to Lacey’s face and back again before her eyes sharpened in focus.
“Oh! They said I should be expecting...someone.” Her unvoiced thought might have run along the lines of “someone human”. She leaned away from Lacey in unconscious recoil. Lacey was unperturbed. This was a reaction she’d grown accustomed to seeing in humans unexpectedly exposed to her. “You’ll be wanting Exam Room 6.” She pointed in the general direction of the emergency room wards, though Lacey was familiar enough with the layout to know right where to go. “I think the doctor might have just gone in.”
“Thank you.” Lacey’s polite statement was as automatic and unconscious as the young human’s fear response had been, and was as bland as a computer voice.
With long strides, she moved down the dull gray hallways, her boots making no sound on the scrubbed and polished tile floor. People bustled about, some visitors, others were obvious medical staffers going about their duties. All those approaching Lacey head-on discreetly moved as far away as the hall would allow. This, too, was something she was well used to seeing.
Before she rounded a corner in the direction of room 6, she heard the shrieks. High-pitched and shrill to her sensitive ears, it was the sound of a woman in sheer terror. Nurses in scrubs hurried past her, some even brushing against her, in their haste not even noticing what she was. They descended upon room 6, where her victim was to be examined. She picked up her pace.
Fang and Claw Page 4