Fang and Claw

by Markie Madden

  She patiently began the task of starting the report, something that was required for any call no matter the details. The computer backed it up every so often, in case of power failure, and anyone in the building with proper credentials could access it from the database.

  This fact made it more conducive to inter-departmental sharing. Lacey had been with the police department for over a century, and remembered the complications when paper reports had still been filed. Each department was fiercely protective of reports under their jurisdiction, and when cases merged across two or more departments, report possession became a major issue.

  The outgoing department head or lieutenant would have to counter-sign a form allowing the report to leave his section, while the incoming boss had to do the same on the other end. Of course, computers and databases could still be hacked, and were on occasion, but the Dallas police department had one of the most up-to-date security and firewall systems in the nation, possibly rivaling that of the Pentagon or NASA.

  She was mid-way through the report when Colton returned. As she’d never requisitioned a second chair for her office, he was forced to stand in front of the desk. She finished up the section of notes before looking up at him. “The smell of cinnamon mean anything to you?”

  His nose twitched for several seconds. “Other than a bakery? Or spiced cider?”

  Lacey leaned back in her chair. “The vic reported a smell of cinnamon or ginger on the perp. That doesn’t sound much like a Wolf.” She didn’t bother to mention what Wolves smelled like to her.

  “No, you’re right.” His forehead furrowed in thought. “What kind of Immortal smells like cinnamon?”

  “I don’t remember.” He had walked to the stingy window of the office, but turned back at her tone.

  “You mean, you don’t know?” He sounded like he was trying to correct her.

  “No, I mean I don’t remember.” She let a touch of frustration out in her voice.

  “So it’s tied in to whatever you were trying to think of earlier?”

  “I think so. It’ll come to me, sooner or later.”

  “You want me to start the book?” He referred to the assault report, still called a case “book” even though it never saw any paper.

  “No, I’ve already got it. But you could set up a board.” She cocked her chin at the wall opposite her desk, where a large black screen was mounted.

  “You got it boss.” Her eyes narrowed; was that sarcasm dripping from the word ‘boss’, or was she mistaken? He gestured to the door. “Let me get my tablet and I’ll get it up.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  He stalked out of her office, fuming inside. Sure, she gets to do the easy part, he thought. I can see it now, from here on out, she’s gonna treat me like an AIDE! Damn it, I’m a full detective, why do I get all the grunt work? He retrieved the tablet from his tiny cubicle in the bullpen, then looked in the direction of the break room. What the hell.

  He stuck the tablet in his pocket and reached for his coffee mug. Unscrewing the lid, he went across the bullpen and into the cluttered area of the unit’s break room. Droplets of coffee and tiny grains of sugar littered the counter top. Colton reached for the coffee pot, yanking it from its warming plate harder than he’d intended to.

  One whiff of the dark brew was enough; immediately, he poured it down the sink and rinsed the pot. Putting grounds into a fresh filter, he placed the carafe back on the warmer and hit the button that would allow filtered water into the machine. While he was waiting for the machine to finish brewing, he helped himself to another powdered donut, devouring it in just a few bites, licking sweet, white confectioner’s sugar from his fingers.

  He returned to Lacey’s office. She was again engrossed in her laptop, the keys clipping cheerfully under her fingers. She didn’t look up. God, you’d think she doesn’t even know I’m here! Not seeing another flat surface in the room except for her desk, he set his mug on the small table just inside the door, where Lacey always kept her car keys and other odds and ends.

  Turning the big, black screen on, he turned to his tablet and began transferring the “book” from his it to the screen. At the moment, it contained a brief report from the EMS team in the field, Lacey’s almost finished assault report, and his own notes and impressions from the scene. Later on, it would also include lab reports, mug shots of potential suspects, and the sketch artist’s composite from the victim’s description.

  At the moment, there was very little in the way of arranging the information, so he skimmed over the partial report that Lacey was still working to complete. Colton saw that she had added the victim’s impression of a smell similar to cinnamon or ginger as an exact quote. She’s a stickler for details, that’s for sure, he thought. She might not even be that bad to work with, if it weren’t for that ugly...incident back in Greece.

  Though Wolves were included as Immortal persons by humans, as adults they did age, but at a rate much slower than anything the humans had encountered before; the humans often regarded them as Immortal along with other species who never aged. Of course, their children grew at a very rapid rate, until they hit adolescence and became independent.

  Wolves had almost instinctual ancestral memories that could be traced back many hundreds of years into their past. Though Colton hadn’t been born yet, the pack of his ancestors had been the one to destroy Lacey’s coven. It was something of an embarrassment for his pack today, a vicious blood feud so old that no one even knew what had started it.

  With the humans forcing anger management classes on all Wolves before they could work alongside humans, violence committed by Wolves had gone down. In recent decades, the classes had become mandatory for any Werewolves attending school, including grade schools and universities.

  Now, they were attempting to push it on pups at day care centers. He shook his head at the thought. They’re always trying to make us into something that we’re not. But I do wonder why she didn’t fight harder not to be partnered with me. How can I work with her and this huge white elephant in the room?

  His tablet beeped, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He saw that Lacey’s finished report had been entered into the system, so he touched a few buttons on the tablet, calling the information into his notes and from there onto the case board.

  He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and when he glanced behind him, he saw Lacey standing very close to him, her eyes focused on the board. Again, he felt a bit unnerved by her motionless manner. She rarely blinked, and stood, still as a statue, her hands clasped behind her back as she studied the information presented on the screen.

  “You got a way of sneaking up on people, don’t you?” A corner of his mouth turned up in a sneer.

  “I just walk the way I walk.” He couldn’t tell by her tone if she had meant to do it, or if it was truly just the way she moved. He shivered, his skin crawling. Vampires were no longer conscious of the need for personal space. At least the older ones weren’t. Maybe they should make Vamps take a class in manners. Yeah, like teach them out of the Emily Post primer or something. This thought amused him.

  To get just a bit more personal space, he stepped to the side and studied the board as intently as she was. Well, two can play this game, he thought with derision. If she doesn’t have to be friendly, then I don’t have to be friendly.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Lacey learned more from Colton’s behavior than she did from the notes on the board. He really doesn’t like me. Acts like I’ve just ‘Turned’ his mother or something. She wasn’t sure if she could get used to his prickly attitude, but didn’t want to break down and admit to Commander Wilson that she couldn’t work with him. In silence, she returned to her desk, leaving him to stare at the board.

  “Anything you can think to add?” Her voice broke the silence.

  “No, I added all my impressions before I sent the notes to the screen.”

  “Why don’t you go home, then? We won’t have anything more u
ntil Thomas gets us a sketch.”

  “What about you?”

  She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I’ve still got plenty of work to do, signing off on old cases.” Her implication was that a Vampire could go without sleep longer than a Wolf. “Besides, I don’t have a family waiting for me.”

  He shrugged, as if it meant nothing to him. “If you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, go on. I’ll text you if anything breaks.”

  Without a thank you or even a good-bye, he stalked from the office. That’s so typical from a Wolf, she thought. They treat common courtesy like it’s an outdated concept.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  She was deep into fixing yet another improper report on her laptop when it chimed, startling her for a moment. Calling up the notification, Lacey pulled the first lab report from the assault case. The ABO typing for the victim had come through. She was an AB- blood type. Lacey made a note of this in her laptop, then sent a copy of same to her tablet, Colton’s tablet, and the case board in her office.

  ABO typing was one of the first test results they ever got back in a case, as it took very little time to complete. The lab report also made note of two samples of blood that were O+, not belonging to the victim. However, these samples had come off the torn remnants of Angelica’s shirt, and didn’t necessarily point to a suspect.

  There was no way to tell if the sample was from the night of the attack, or had been there for several weeks. Or months. But Lacey added the information to the board anyway, adding a question mark next to the O+ blood sampling. If they found a suspect, it could be tested against the blood sample that law now dictated was taken from everyone who was arrested or brought in for questioning.

  She also marked that particular sample to go to the Combined DNA Index System, or CODIS. This database of collected and mapped DNA samples was from criminals, Undead, law enforcement, military, and many other professionals. Once DNA typing on their evidence from this case was fully sequenced, it would be compared to all other samples in CODIS. Often, this would lead detectives to a suspect, or a person of interest who needed to be questioned. Lacey doubted that this case would be so easy.

  She had tried to push the nagging memory to the back of her mind, and was able to ignore it as long as she was concentrating on editing the old reports. But when her attention was called to the lab report, the sense of deja vu returned.

  What is it about this case that seems so familiar to me? More often than not, an Immortal had a close family unit of other Immortals. When most of the people around you had limited lifespans, one tended to gravitate towards those who shared your fate. If Lacey had a family, she could have discussed the case in general terms, and one of her coven members might have recognized what she was trying so hard to bring forth from her memory.

  But Vampires could still be killed, if their bodies were too badly damaged; the symbiotic virus in their blood gave them rapid healing, but it could not reattach limbs or rebuild entire organs. Lacey didn’t have anyone. The incident in Greece had left her alone in the world, and the loss had been so painful that she’d vowed never to get that close to another again, whether they be Immortal or human. She wasn’t about to make herself that defenseless again. So instead, she lived alone, and threw up a barrier around herself that discouraged others, even of her own kind, from forming close bonds with her.

  She closed out the old reports and pulled up the book on their current case, going over what little information they had in an attempt to bring forth more of the memory that was nagging at her. She had the intense feeling that something about the evidence was familiar and known to her, but the harder she tried, the more elusive the memory became. Maybe I should take Colton’s advice and stop thinking about it. Then: Advice from a Wolf? She scoffed.

  As she closed the report book on her computer, David poked his head in the door. “Morning boss. They said you caught a case last night?”

  “Early this morning, actually. I’ve already updated the book.”

  He seemed relieved. “Well, okay. Let me know when you need me to do something.”

  “Does the smell of cinnamon mean anything to you?”

  He scratched his chin stubble while his eyes glazed over. “No, not really.” His slow, gravelly speech irritated her. “Should it?”

  “Never mind.” I don’t know why I bothered to ask a Zombie, anyway. “Go back to your work.” Though she wasn’t sure what work he did do when he wasn’t entering or filing reports for her. Lacey didn’t think she wanted to know.

  Her phone rang. “Lieutenant Anderson.” As she listened to the dispatcher, she took notes in her fractured handwriting, hoping she would at least be able to read the address. “Fine, I got it. Will you call Detective Colton? No, I sent him home for a couple hours. Thanks.” She took a moment to transfer her notes into her tablet, which had been just out of reach on the corner of her desk.

  This time, the call came from the heart of downtown, a home invasion of an apartment in one of the poorest areas of the city. I didn’t really expect to be wasting my time on silly little calls like this, she thought as she left the department. The sun was blazing now, and she was glad that her assigned parking space was in the middle of the parking ramp rather than at the top.

  She arrived at the scene and squeezed into a parking spot marked ‘official use only’ just as Colton was climbing out of his extended-cab pickup set on enormous tires. The sad-looking apartment building was one of the oldest in the city, its brick edges worn round by decades of harsh wind and dust. It was in a rough neighborhood that city officials always targeted during election months, promising to clean up and to restore the old buildings. But, of course, nothing ever came of their promises and the buildings continued to decline.

  “A home invasion?” Colton snarled in greeting. “They’re going to stick us on something like this? Really?”

  “The caller suggested it might have been an Undead.” She didn’t let on that she had thought the same thing. His response was a simple grunt.

  Lacey noticed the latching mechanism on the lobby’s outer door was not functional, another issue with the low-rent apartments in the neighborhood. “Slum lords don’t want to pay for security.” She pulled the unlocked door open and they stepped inside.

  “Don’t want to pay for regular upkeep, either.” Colton slapped a palm against the hand-written sign claiming ‘out of order’ on the elevator door. “What floor do we need?”

  “Eleven.” I sure hope the rent here is cheap. No security locks at the door and a non-working elevator. I’m sure that’s easy on the older people who live here. But many years of working the city streets had educated her on the vast differences between the wealthy and the poor.

  “Perfect.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Without a word, Lacey turned to the stairs. His boots made a hollow sound that echoed in a continuous pattern, making her ears ring. Colton kept up a constant tirade of grunts, pants, and curses under his breath. Finally, Lacey could tolerate no more. She stopped suddenly, halfway between flights, causing him to run into her before he could come to a full stop. “Do you mind? Would you keep your complaining to yourself?”

  He opened his mouth, then must have thought twice about what he’d been about to say. She continued up the stairs, not bothering to look over her shoulder to see if he was following her. The hollow reverberation of his odd dog-like gait was distinctive enough to Lacey’s ears. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to having him at my back, she thought with disgust, and just a little fear. She knew exactly what a Wolf could do to an Undead such as herself.

  It wasn’t hard to spot the apartment they were looking for. The door hung ajar and crooked on its hinges, the frame splintered at the door jam. A thin security chain hung from the door instead of the frame. Lacey slipped on latex gloves and knocked on the wall rather than the door.

  “Dallas Police,” she called out, pitching her voice to reach into the apartment.

  They saw a gray-h
aired woman appear at the crack of the doorway. She was middle-aged and was being careful. “Can I see your badges?”

  Lacey nodded to Colton, and they held up their identification for her to examine. They heard the sound of furniture being scraped against a wood floor.

  She opened the door. She was wearing a pink fuzzy bathrobe and well-worn and comfortable-looking white slippers. “I’m sorry for the mess,” she said, indicating the living room with her hand.

  It was obvious it had been ransacked. Besides the small dining room chair that had been pushed against the door to try to secure it, the cushions had been ripped off the couch and along with several small, decorated pillows, were scattered across the floor. Books from a built-in bookcase in the corner had been carelessly tossed to the floor. The wooden coffee table in the center of the living space seemed askew. The space had a homey feel and a scent of fresh, clean linens. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is my partner, Detective Scarber.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” The woman, who seemed to need something to do, offered.

  “No, we’re fine.” Lacey answered quickly before Colton could open his mouth. “What’s your name?” She withdrew her tablet from her pocket.

  “Oh, I’m Betsy Smith.” She seemed flustered, and sank down into armchair next to the couch. She looked pale and her short curly hair was sticking up in several places.

  “Okay, Betsy, I’m going to record this interview. Is that okay?” Betsy nodded in agreement. “Can you tell me what happened?” Lacey was ready to take notes onto her tablet, but also set it to ‘record audio’ mode. It was something she wanted to experiment with once back at the station, revisiting an interview in case she’d missed any details.