by Paige Tyler
Another look passed between the big cops before Trevor, Connor, and Hale all seem to pass some kind of unspoken signal to Trey. Only then did he nod.
“We noticed something at the body dump this morning that makes us think the person who dragged the body there wasn’t a normal human. Don’t ask me to explain what that something was because I can’t tell you, and you wouldn’t believe me if I did. I simply need you to trust me.”
Samantha almost said to hell with it. If they didn’t want to tell her anything, why should she tell them anything? It was her butt on the line if her boss found out. But then she looked at Trey and realized there was no way she could say no to him. He was like her own personal brand of kryptonite.
“Okay.” She leveled her gaze at Trey. “Same deal as before. I’ll tell you everything I have on the Butcher, but you personally owe me a favor.”
Trey’s mouth edged up, the twinkle in his eyes making her a little weak in the knees. “You know, you still haven’t collected on the first favor I owe you.”
She smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll just keep collecting them so I can use them all at once.”
He chuckled, the husky sound doing crazy things to her pulse. Beside him, she caught the smiles on his teammates’ faces.
“Deal,” Trey answered with a dip of his chin. “One favor for anything you have on the Butcher right now and anything you might find on him in the future.”
It wasn’t a shock he’d try to weasel a little extra information out of her, but she’d already made up her mind to tell him as much as she could. Partly because she had a thing for Trey and partly because she already believed there was something strange going on with this serial killer case. She had no idea what it might be, but it could explain why they had so many victims and still no serious clues about who the killer was or why he was mutilating them.
“I guess I should start by admitting we don’t have a whole hell of a lot on the killer, even with all the emphasis the chief is putting on the task force,” she said. “What I can tell you is that this guy is no random slasher. Most of the cuts on the bodies were professional and surgical in nature, without a single sign of hesitation or doubt. On top of that, I found signs of arteries and veins being tied off prior to some of the amputations, along with indications that some of the victims were still alive when the killer did it. Believe it or not, keeping someone alive while you dismember them is actually rather difficult.”
“And sick,” Trey muttered. “So what you’re saying is that we’re dealing with a doctor of some kind. Or at least someone who went through a good portion of medical school.”
“Which means we’re not talking about a small pool of potential suspects,” Connor added with a frown. “Especially if we include everyone who was kicked out or dropped out of med school.”
“It definitely isn’t a short list,” Samantha agreed. “Unfortunately, the situation is even more complicated than that. Like I said. Most of the cuts were clean and precise. But there were others, namely the ones at the neck and wrists, that were quite ragged. They were basically hack jobs.”
That earned her a grimace or two from Trey and his friends.
“So what are you saying? That there are two killers working together?” Trevor asked, clearly surprised. “I never heard of serial killers teaming up.”
Samantha shrugged. “Me, either. I wish I could say for sure there are two killers, but I can’t. Some people on the task force think there are, while others insist it’s one guy and that the less precise cuts are because he loses control and goes completely psychotic.”
Trey grimaced. “Any connections between the victims yet? Or how the killer selects his targets?”
When she admitted the answer to both of those questions was no, Trey and his teammates were clearly surprised they hadn’t identified any of the victims yet, much less establish a serious connection between the men.
“So far, the only thing we can say for sure about the victims is that they’re all in their late twenties to midthirties, in good shape, over six feet tall, and weigh more than two hundred and thirty pounds,” she said. “And before you ask, no we’re not sure if this is significant in some way or simply a coincidence.”
Trey and his teammates seemed more than ready to keep grilling her for information about the case, but just then, all four of them got odd looks on their faces, then turned as one to face the door. Samantha was just about to ask what the heck they were doing when she heard footsteps in the hallway. A few moments later, her boss walked in with two of her coworkers.
“Samantha.” Her boss eyed Trey and his teammates curiously from behind his wire-rimmed glasses before looking at her. “We were walking by and heard you talking to someone. I didn’t realize anyone from the task force was still here.”
How many more people were going to try to squeeze into her office? The room had been crowded before with the four large cops, but now it was nearly claustrophobic. “These officers aren’t with the task force. They’re here to tie up a few loose ends on a case from back in June.” Before her boss could ask which case, she quickly made the introductions. “Officers, this is Louis Russo, the chief medical examiner. And this is Hugh Olsen and Nadia Payne, two of my fellow assistant MEs.”
Her gray-haired boss immediately reached out to shake hands with Trey and his teammates as she continued with the introductions. Hugh merely nodded stiffly in greeting while Nadia offered them a cool smile. No surprise there.
While Samantha loved working with Louis, who was a brilliant pathologist, a willing mentor, and completely above the politics that sometimes made working in the ME’s office a pain in the butt, she couldn’t say the same about Hugh and Nadia. They were both smart and capable at their jobs, but spending so much time among the dead had made them cold and detached. Almost like they didn’t know how to interact with the living anymore. The only time either of them pretended to care was when Louis was around to see it. To say they’d been pissed when Louis had assigned Samantha to the Butcher task force was putting it mildly. The way they saw it, this was the kind of case that could catapult their careers to the next level and put them directly in line for chief ME when Louis left. The fact that there were people actually dying out there thanks to this psychopath didn’t seem to register with them at all. Hugh, in particular, had campaigned heavily for the assignment, and when Louis gave it to Samantha, he’d nearly exploded. Since then, he never let a chance to bash Samantha pass him by. Nadia was more circumspect about it but equally bitter. Luckily, Louis never listened to their crap.
The moment Hugh and Nadia figured out they weren’t going to be able to undermine Samantha—or hear anything about the serial killer case—they both left her office, mumbling something about needing to catch up on paperwork. Louis left soon after they did, asking Samantha to stop by his office before she left for the day so they could go over whatever she had learned from the Butcher’s latest victim.
Thirty seconds later, Connor, Hale, and Trevor headed for the door, too, saying they’d be waiting out by the truck. And just like that, Samantha found herself left alone with Trey. It occurred to her then that it was the first time that had ever happened.
“Not very subtle, are they?” Samantha asked with a soft laugh.
Getting to her feet, she moved closer, mesmerized by the way his presence still seemed to fill the room even with only the two of them in it. Samantha found it impossible not to stare up at him. To say he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen was an understatement.
“No, I guess they aren’t,” Trey murmured, gazing down at her, his low, sexy voice drawing her in even closer. “Sorry we chased off your coworkers like that.”
“Did you hear me complaining?” she countered. “Anything that gets me out of talking to Hugh and Nadia is all good in my book.”
Trey snorted, his lips curving into a smile. Samantha had an overwhelming urge to rub her face
against his like a cat just so she could feel that scruff on his chiseled jaw against her skin.
“Yeah, I couldn’t help but pick up on the bad vibe between you and those two,” he said. “If you want to use up one of those favors, I happen to have a few friends in the federal government. I could have them sniff around their background, see if Hugh cheats on his taxes or Nadia hacks into their neighbor’s Netflix account.”
Samantha was too caught up in Trey’s blue eyes to answer right away. Sometimes they seemed darker in color, like the sky at night. Other times, they reminded her of the sky on a sunny day. She wondered if it was possible for eyes to change color like that, to lighten and darken with one’s mood. Maybe she should ask for permission to lay on his chest for a few hours to study them just to see if she was right.
But while lying atop Trey certainly sounded like fun, Samantha realized maybe she needed to start with something a little less familiar.
“If I’m going to use up one of my favors,” she said softly, keenly aware of Trey leaning in even more, then closing his eyes and inhaling. Like he was trying to breathe in her scent. “It wouldn’t be for snooping into either of their backgrounds.”
“What would you use it on then?” he asked, lifting his gaze to hers. Oh yeah, his eyes definitely darkened a bit more, like the ocean in the middle of a storm.
Inspiration hit then, and Samantha didn’t even pause to wonder if she should do it or not.
“I’d use it to have you take me out to dinner,” she said before she could come to her senses and chicken out.
From the way Trey gaped, Samantha could tell she’d thrown the big cop for a loop. Fear and doubt immediately started creeping in, making her think she’d royally screwed up. Maybe Trey was one of those men who was more comfortable doing the asking instead of being asked. She didn’t like to think someone who was clearly so strong and confident would be insecure over something like that. But maybe she’d read him all wrong.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” he said, and she was relieved when she saw a spark of interest there in those mesmerizing eyes. Like he suddenly found a game he unequivocally liked.
She stepped closer, smiling as his eyes darkened again. “Actually, I’m using one of my favors to have you ask me out. That way, I can be progressive and traditional at the same time. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
He grinned, his expression making her pulse skip a beat. “Definitely not. I’m a huge fan of progressive traditions. Dinner tomorrow night work for you?”
She had to force herself not to pump her fist in excitement. “It does.”
“Good. Should I pick you up at your place? Say seven o’clock.”
She nodded, then watched in disappointment as he turned and headed for the door. Not that seeing him from behind was a bad view or anything.
“Hey,” she called before he disappeared into the hallway. “I didn’t give you my address.”
Trey paused long enough to give her another one of those smiles that turned her knees to Jell-O. “At the risk of sounding like a stalker, I already know where you live.”
He was out the door before Samantha could say whether it made him seem like a stalker or not. But in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could complain very much since she already knew where he lived, too.
Chapter 3
When Trey got the call from his commander/pack alpha at five o’clock in the morning telling him to get to the McCommas Bluff Landfill, he’d assumed it was going to be another body dump. And when he’d pulled up the map on his phone and realized the landfill was only a couple miles from the Trinity River site where they’d found the body a few days ago, he’d been even more sure. So he was a little stunned when he reached the front gates of the landfill and didn’t see a single member of the press or the normal collection of morbid gawkers who liked showing up at any scene that might belong to the Butcher. Trey found it hard to believe the DPD could have kept something like this quiet. No matter how hard they tried, word always seemed to get out.
He got another surprise when he reached the backside of the landfill and saw only four vehicles parked on the side of the road. Typically, there’d be a frigging parking lot full of city, county, and state emergency vehicles at a scene like this. But other than the bulldozer sitting in the muddy field across the road, this part of the landfill was essentially deserted.
Trey climbed out of his truck, immediately spotting Connor, Trevor, Hale, and their other pack mate, Zane Kendrick, standing a few yards away staring at something on the ground behind a big pile of construction scraps. He’d only taken a few steps in their direction when he caught sight of two other people he definitely hadn’t expected to see here. For the first time, he began to think maybe there was something different going on.
“Corporal Duncan.” Deputy Chief Hal Mason stepped forward in the dim morning light to shake Trey’s hand. “I’m sorry for dragging you out of bed this early, but as you’ll soon see, this isn’t something that could wait.” Mason oversaw the SWAT team, along with several other specialty units within the DPD. And while he was fully aware that the entire team was composed of alpha werewolves, it was rare to see him in the field. The man was high enough up on the food chain that he didn’t go after bad guys himself, but low enough that he wasn’t expected to show up at crime scenes purely for publicity’s sake. “You already know Agent Carson,” he added, motioning toward Zane and the tall, slim woman with blond hair pulled back in a neat ponytail standing beside him.
Yeah, Trey knew her. And Alyssa, on the other hand, had no business being at any normal DPD crime scene—publicity or not. She was Zane’s mate and also an agent with STAT, aka Special Threat Assessment Team, the secretive joint FBI-CIA group that had the job of dealing with those things that went bump in the night. Things that very few humans ever had the opportunity to learn about until they were unfortunate enough to get eaten by one of them. If she was here, it couldn’t be good.
Or normal.
“I’m guessing this isn’t another Butcher body dump?” Trey asked as he and Mason moved over to join everyone else.
“No,” the deputy chief said. “At least we don’t think so.”
That sounded ominous.
Trey walked around the shoulder-high pile of construction debris, slowing at the sight of a black cat sitting there all prim and proper atop a pile of bricks. The cat looked back at him, impatience clear on her furry face. If the creature could talk, Trey was pretty sure she’d be asking what took him so long to get there.
Trey threw a glance in Mason’s direction to see what he thought about there being a pet at a crime scene. It said something about how jaded the deputy chief had become to the strange and unusual that he acted like the cat wasn’t even there.
Pulling his attention away from the cat, Trey turned to look at whatever was on the ground that had everyone’s attention, grunting when he finally caught sight of it.
“What the hell?” he murmured, stepping closer to the body lying among the rubble near a beat-up piece of plywood.
If Trey had to guess, the victim had to be in his nineties at least. Hell, for all Trey knew, the guy might even be a hundred years old. Then again, maybe the killer had left the body someplace really hot and really dry…like an oven. Because that was the only thing that might explain why the corpse looked like a mummy. The body was shirtless, the pants undone and shoved halfway down his legs to his knees. Other than being dried out and shriveled up like a raisin, the body appeared completely intact. Trey couldn’t even see any visible wounds on the man.
He definitely had to agree with the deputy chief. This didn’t seem like the Butcher’s MO.
Pulling a pair of rubber gloves out of a cargo pocket, he slid them on, then knelt down by the body, his medic instincts demanding he figure out how this guy had ended up like this. The moment he picked up the man’s wrist—and almost snapped off the hand
—he realized the nearly weightless corpse wasn’t just dry. It was desiccated. Peeling one eyelid back revealed nearly empty sockets. The eyes were nothing more than pea-sized kernels of hardened goo. And everything that was supposed to be behind the eyes was dried up to the point of being little more than gray dust. It was hard to even look at it without being sick.
Trey glanced at Alyssa as he straightened up and took off his gloves. “Do you think it’s possible he was tortured? Like whoever did this took an old man from a retirement home and stuffed them in a ceramics kiln or something like that?”
Alyssa shook her head. “If this is like the last body we found this way, we’re going to find out the victim is probably in his midtwenties or early thirties at the most.”
Trey looked down at the body again, trying to understand how that could be possibly be true. He couldn’t see it. “There have been others like this you said?”
“Two of them, killed about a week apart, both in Dallas,” she said. “The first one was found in a garbage truck parked at the Fair Oaks Transfer Station and the second was found in the middle of the DFW landfill. Our working theory is that the killer murders them somewhere else, then uses the nearest convenient dumpster to get rid of the bodies. If that’s the case, who knows how many others there are? We wouldn’t have found this one if the truck hadn’t accidentally dropped off this load of construction scraps in the wrong place and someone had to come out here to move it.”
Trey exchanged looks with his teammates before turning his attention back to Alyssa. “If you’re involved, I’m assuming you think whoever did this is some kind of supernatural.”
She nodded. “Our medical examiners are still arguing over the actual cause of death. Some are going with heart failure due to rapid loss of fluids and electrolytes. Others are sticking with some vague concept that the killer sucked the life force out of these people, whatever the hell that means. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. We need to stop this thing.”