Werewolves in London (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 3)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Wait. Why are we going to the hospital?”

  “There was another attack, but this time a couple found her and got help. She’s been in surgery half the night, but she’s apparently coming around and Abbott wants to talk to her. Her odds of survival are slim.”

  Peyton felt her stomach drop. “Another attack? Where?”

  “The subway or whatever they call it.”

  “The tube.”

  “Yeah, that. Come on, Sparky. Haul ass.”

  “Okay. Give me another five minutes. I just got into the bathroom. Bambi doesn’t exactly know how to share.”

  Radar gave the room another critical look. “Apparently, she doesn’t know how to put shit away either.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Radar shrugged and walked back to his room.

  Peyton shut the door and went to finish her preparations. She swiped a bit of mascara on her lashes, gave a quick pass with the eye shadow and blush, then gathered her hair and wound it up into a bun. Grabbing her suit jacket, she swung it on, then sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on her socks and boots.

  Grabbing her wallet and badge, she shoved them in her pocket with her room key and left the room, hoping the maid wouldn’t be too upset to see Bambi’s clothes all over everything. Tank and Radar met her at the elevator and they rode down to the lobby together.

  Peyton gave Tank a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Pretty good. I was exhausted. How’d you sleep?”

  Peyton shrugged. “Same as usual.” She nudged Tank with her elbow. “Does he snore?” She pointed at Radar’s back where he stood before them, staring up at the floor numbers.

  “He can hear you,” said Radar without turning around.

  Tank shook his head.

  Peyton snapped her fingers in disappointment. She was hoping he snored. It would give her such good material. Another thought occurred to her. “Boxers or briefs?”

  Tank choked out a laugh, but Radar turned and glared at her.

  She held up her hands innocently as the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened. They found Bambi sitting at a bistro table, eating a scone. She beamed a smile at Peyton. “Sorry, only instant coffee. I was pretty sure you weren’t interested.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass. Is that a scone?”

  “Yep, apple. Thought I might as well try the local cuisine.”

  Peyton wandered over to the breakfast table and surveyed the fare. Besides tea and instant coffee, they had milk and orange juice. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and grabbed a scone, biting into it as she wandered back toward the group.

  “Aren’t you getting anything?” she asked Radar.

  “I just want coffee.”

  “They have tea?”

  “Is that in any way the same thing, Sparky?”

  “No, but I’m trying to put a happy spin on things. You might try it.”

  “And you might try not aggravating me every freakin’ minute.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  Tank wandered back to them carrying a paper cup with a tea bag string hanging out of it.

  “See, Tank’s adaptable. You should be too.”

  “Good morning, my American compatriots,” sang a male voice from the lobby.

  Peyton turned and saw a pressed and polished Caleb Abbott coming toward them.

  “I hope you slept well and have overcome your jetlag.”

  Bambi bounded to her feet. “I slept wonderful. No problems at all.”

  Radar and Peyton exchanged a wry look.

  “Excellent. Well, I don’t know if your chief here has informed you, but we had another attack last night. The young woman was found by a couple on the tube and she’s in hospital right now. She had surgery last night, but she’s starting to come around. I’d like to question her as soon as possible.”

  “Is she aware enough to question?” asked Radar.

  “Yes, although she can’t speak. The assailant cut her vocal cords when he slashed her throat, which is obviously a problem now, isn’t it?”

  Peyton grimaced.

  “But the doctors assure me she’s lucid, so we’ll have to devise a way to communicate.” He glanced around. “Have you gotten something to eat?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” said Radar, “let’s head out.”

  Carrying her glass of orange juice and her scone, Peyton hurried up beside Caleb, tugging on his tweed jacket sleeve. “Is there any place we could get some real coffee? Radar’s going to be a bear until we get some into him.”

  Caleb barked out a laugh. “I forgot. You Americans and your coffee. Yes, I’ll take you to Pret a Manger. It’s similar to your Starbucks. Or I could just take you to Starbucks. We have that too.”

  “No, let’s try your Pret-a-whatever.”

  He laughed. “We just call it Pret ourselves. Quicker and less pretentious.”

  She smiled at him in return.

  He had a larger car today, something close to an SUV back home. Peyton breathed a sigh of relief and willingly sat in the middle between Bambi and Tank as they drove to the hospital. Peyton was surprised that Radar didn’t drill Caleb on the case the entire way. Instead he asked questions about London.

  What’s the population?

  Approximately 8 million.

  How often do you get snow?

  Rarely and when we do, good lord, the city shuts down.

  How big is the actual city?

  About 600 square miles.

  How many districts are there in the city?

  They’re called boroughs and there are 32.

  True to his word, Caleb took them to Pret for coffee. The interior boasted an entire wall of cooling units with ready-made meals stacked in neat rows. They all claimed to be made from organic products and nutritious. The coffee was real, which was about all the Americans cared about at that point. Carrying their paper cups, they piled back into Caleb’s SUV and drove off.

  They arrived at the hospital and Caleb parked the car. He opened the back door and offered Bambi a hand. Bambi took it, giving him a sultry look. He also offered Peyton his hand, but his eyes were focused on Bambi. Peyton jumped down without assistance, shaking her head.

  They entered the hospital, much like any hospital one would see in the U.S., but a security guard in the lobby made them produce their badges. They were directed down a hallway behind the security desk and to a bank of elevators.

  They rode one to the tenth floor and came out in a sterile white reception area with a counter before them. A young woman manned the counter and once again Caleb produced his badge, informing her they wanted to see Amelia MacDonell. She picked up a phone and called someone.

  While they waited, Caleb turned to Bambi. “Is this your first time in our city, Agent Redford?”

  “No, my parents used to bring my brother and me once every couple of years. I did a semester abroad here when I was in Stanford.” Her look grew reflective. “Much like our victim, Rianna Cooper.”

  The nurse hung up the phone and Caleb spun back around, offering her an affable smile. “Doctor Khouri will meet you at room 1042.”

  “Thank you.” Caleb motioned down the hall and they followed him.

  A middle aged man with black hair, a black beard, and wire-rimmed glasses met them at the door to a room. Monitors and machines ticked and beeped in the background. He held out his hand to Caleb.

  “Good morning, Inspector.”

  “Good morning. You must be Dr. Khouri?”

  “Yes.”

  Caleb introduced his American counterparts and they all shook hands.

  “Ms. MacDonell is unable to speak,” Dr. Khouri told them. “Her vocal cords were damaged in the attack. Besides we don’t want to cause anymore bleeding. Her condition is very delicate and I don’t want her unduly upset.”

  “We understand,” said Caleb. “We’ll be careful.”

  Dr. Khouri shook his head and leaned closer to them, dropping his voice. “I’m only allowing
this because I’m not certain she’s going to make it. I want you to have any information you can to stop this butcher.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Khouri,” said Caleb. “We appreciate your help.” He hesitated. “I do have a question, however. Was there any sign of sexual assault?”

  “None. And more disturbing, there was no sign of struggle. She didn’t have time to fight back.”

  “Thank you again. Will you be coming inside with us?”

  “Yes.”

  Radar turned to his people. “We don’t all need to crowd inside. Tank and Bambi, you wait here.” His eyes lowered to Peyton. “You come in, but keep your mouth shut unless I ask you to say something.”

  Peyton thought of a stinging retort, but this didn’t seem like the time to let fly. A young girl was probably dying beyond this door. They entered the room, the smell of antiseptic thick. The girl lay in the white bed, small and frail, a mass of tubes and wires running from her to the machines on either side of her bed. She had golden blond hair, spreading across the pillow, her hands folded on her stomach, a thick bandage around her neck. She was intubated and the sound of the breathing machine echoed loudly in the room.

  Caleb and Dr. Khouri moved around the left side of the bed, while Radar and Peyton took the right. Caleb leaned over the girl and offered her a reassuring smile. Large blue eyes pivoted and pinned him.

  “I’m Inspector Caleb Abbott of Scotland Yard, and this is Special Agents Moreno and Brooks of the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your attack last night.”

  She tried to nod, but Caleb placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “We know you can’t speak, but I thought perhaps you could blink once for yes, twice for no. We’ll only ask you yes or no questions. Do you think you can help us that way?”

  She blinked once.

  “Yes,” said Dr. Khouri.

  Caleb smiled at her again, then nodded at Radar.

  Radar moved into her line of sight and the eyes shifted to him. “I’m Special Agent Moreno, Amelia. We’re trying to catch this man and we need your help. Can you tell me if you saw your attacker?”

  She blinked twice.

  “No,” said Dr. Khouri.

  “Okay. You were waiting for the train to come?”

  One blink.

  “Yes.”

  “You were sitting down?”

  “No.”

  “You were standing?”

  “Yes.”

  “He came up behind you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you never got a glimpse of him?”

  “No.”

  Radar scratched at the back of his neck, letting out a frustrated exhalation. Peyton touched his elbow. “Can I try?”

  He held out a hand and stepped back.

  Peyton moved up beside the young woman, carefully taking a seat on the edge of the bed and reaching for one of her hands. Amelia immediately tightened her hold.

  “Hi, Amelia. I’m Peyton. You’re doing great.”

  Amelia’s fingers squeezed. Peyton clasped her hand between both of her own.

  “Anything you can remember about this man will help. I know this is hard and an awkward way to communicate, but we have to try.”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Do you remember anything about this man, maybe a smell, something he said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Was it a smell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he smell unwashed?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about cigarette smoke?”

  “Yes.” Amelia’s grip tightened.

  “Did he grab you around the neck?”

  “No.”

  “Around the chest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember any distinguishing marks on his arm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he wearing shirt sleeves?’

  “No.”

  “Bare arms?”

  “No.”

  “Jacket?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember the color?”

  “Yes.”

  Peyton patted the back of her hand. “You’re doing great, Amelia. Was the jacket brown?”

  “No.”

  “Black?”

  “No.”

  Peyton knew an attorney might call this leading a witness, but Amelia looked pale and there were dark circles under her blue eyes. The girl needed rest if she had any chance of healing. “Was it green, Amelia? Khaki green?”

  “Yes.” The fingers tightened.

  “Good. One last thing. Did you hear anything?”

  The girl started trembling and her eyes grew liquid.

  “Agent Brooks,” warned Dr. Khouri.

  “Just one more second, please, doctor.” Peyton pressed Amelia’s hands. “Amelia, did you hear a wolf’s howl?”

  “Yes!”

  A tear spilled over and raced down Amelia’s temple. Peyton felt her throat tighten and she looked at the doctor. “Have you called her family?”

  “They’re on their way from Leeds.”

  Peyton lifted Amelia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You did great, Amelia. Thank you!”

  The fingers tightened one last time.

  * * *

  Marco let his people leave before he pushed himself to his feet. Devan was already gone, having given his pronouncement. Rising, Marco walked out into the lobby and found Carly standing by her desk, waiting for him. He knew what he had to do. He had to fire her and he might as well do it now, but looking at her hopeful, oblivious face made him feel like he was betraying her somehow.

  Before he could summon up his courage, she held out her hand and offered him an envelope. He frowned as he took it.

  “I’m sorry, Captain D’Angelo. You’ve been a very nice boss and all, but I have dreams beyond this.”

  Marco narrowed his eyes on her. “What?”

  She clasped her hands at her waist. “I know this puts you in a bind, but I don’t feel I have any other choice. My future’s not here. I realized that the other day when Peyton visited.”

  “Carly, I’m not understanding what this is about.”

  “Oh.” She gave a laugh and pressed a palm to her forehead. “I’m so silly. That’s my letter of resignation.”

  “You’re quitting?”

  “Yes, I know it’s a shock, but I have to pursue my dreams the way Peyton did.”

  “Peyton?”

  “Yes, she went to work for the FBI. She’s doing great things, not staying here, being a secretary.”

  “Peyton wasn’t ever a…”

  “And like Peyton, I realize I’m meant for bigger things.”

  “You’re applying to the FBI?”

  She laughed again and slapped his arm. “No, silly, I’m applying to culinary school. I realize my talent for pastries needs to be answered, so that’s what I’m going to do.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I know this puts you in a bind…”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “You’re being kind, I know, but I hope you can understand.”

  “I do. Don’t think about it another second.”

  “Great.” She squeezed his arm with both hands. “I’m so excited.”

  “Awesome.”

  She grabbed her purse and swung it up on her shoulder. “So, I’ll see you in two weeks to pick up my paycheck.”

  Marco tilted his head. “Your paycheck?”

  “The two weeks of severance pay you owe me from today forward.”

  “Two weeks we owe you?”

  “Right. I start school a week from today. I’m so excited.”

  “So you’re not working here the next two weeks?”

  “No, silly, I told you, I start school on Monday and until then, I’m going with some girlfriends to San Diego for a vacation.” She headed for the half-door. “See you in two weeks for my paycheck.”

  “Carly, you’re supposed to work…”

  She stopped and turned to face him. “What?”


  What the hell. It’s not like she’d been working up until this point anyway, and now he didn’t have to fire anybody. He waved her off. “Go have fun in San Diego and we’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “Great. And thanks again, Captain D’Angelo. You’re a great boss.”

  Marco almost barked out a laugh at that one. As Carly left the building, he walked over to her desk and pressed the button for Jake’s phone.

  “Hey, Adonis, did you sleep with someone else that you’re not supposed to since the last time I saw you?”

  “Cute. You’re my secretary again.”

  “Why?”

  “Carly quit.”

  “You fired the poor girl?”

  “No, she quit to go to culinary school. You’re my secretary now until you get me a new one.”

  “Fine. I’ll start working on it stat, since we don’t have any cases to investigate.”

  “Leave it alone, Ryder.”

  “Hm, that’s advice you might have taken yourself.”

  Marco hung up without saying anything more, but as soon as he did, his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, hoping it was Peyton, but Abe’s number flashed across the display.

  “Hey?”

  “Hey there, my sweet Angel, how was your session with Dr. Ferguson?”

  “Fine.” He wasn’t going to talk about that with Abe.

  “I’m about to send my report over to Cho and Simons on their John Doe, but I wanted to touch base with you first.”

  “Forget it. Send it over to Central. Devan wants us to bounce the case.”

  “Hm.”

  Marco set Carly’s letter on her desk. “Hm?”

  “Well, it’s just there are some strange things about this case, Angel. Maybe you wanna come out and take a look.”

  “What’s strange?”

  “Easier to show you and then I get to see your pretty face.”

  “Fine, I’m on my way.”

  “I’ll be waiting with bells on.”

  Marco hesitated. The mental picture that popped into his mind was disturbing to say the least. He didn’t know how to respond. He never knew how to respond. Instead, he mumbled a bye and hung up, reaching for his cane.

  * * *

  Peyton stared at the fancy glass board in the conference room. Caleb had all five victims listed with time of death, location, and a photo spread across the glass. The video from Angela Evans’ murder was primed and ready to go in a corner, as were the pictures of the other victims.