The Shifter's Conspiracy (Paranormal BBW Werewolf Romance Novella)

by Laurent, Cassie

  Out on the sidewalk, desiccated, fallen leaves crunched beneath my flats. I walked out to Bowery and hailed a cab, knowing it was the only chance I had of getting to the station on time. Finally, an empty cab pulled over to the curb and I jumped in, quickly giving the driver the address of the station.

  I looked out the window at the city streaming by before my eyes. It was cold out, but the sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky. Everything looked crisp and clear; my mind felt sharp and attentive. This was a good sign. I felt that there was good news on the horizon. Inside, I hoped that I’d walk into the station to the news that I’d been added to Agent Chamberlain’s team.

  These pleasant thoughts evaporated from my mind almost instantaneously as the cab came to a standstill. We’d hit a patch of traffic around 28th Street. The engine idled, but we went nowhere. I leaned up in my seat, trying to get a look out the front window, trying to see over the cars in front of us to get an idea of how backed up things were.

  The cab driver turned on his radio to a station giving an update on the morning traffic. Delays on the Long Island Expressway, the Holland Tunnel was an absolute nightmare, etc. All the typical New York messes that really only affected commuters coming into the City. Then I heard those dreadful words:

  Accident in Midtown. Expect delays for the next hour as city officials redirect traffic…

  Shit. I guess I should have taken the subway after all. And there was no point finding a train now; either way I’d be getting there at about the same time. I pulled out my phone and checked my e-mail; nothing important, just typical departmental stuff. I went over the Post website to read a bit of news and kill the time as I waited for traffic to begin moving again.

  That’s when I saw the headline: Two More Women Disappear, Total Rises to 28.

  Inside the station, everyone was busy. A strange tension filled the hallways and offices. Words were spoken in hushed whispers. These recent developments were obviously the reason, but people were loath to discuss it too openly. The mere fact that we seemed powerless against this phenomenon put the whole department on edge, everyone from the lowest detective right up to Commissioner Davis.

  I walked briskly to my desk, my heart dropping as I saw another pile of folders someone had dropped there. Some things never change, I guess. Maybe it was stupid to get my hopes up about being put on the FBI’s task force.

  I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and checking my email one last time to see if I’d been given any sort of notification. Nothing. I guess I wasn’t joining the team after all. Reluctantly, I picked up the folders off of my desk and headed over to the scanner. Not too long afterward, Eric walked by with a cup of coffee, flashing a menacing grin as he slowed up to talk to me.

  “Didn’t get put on the case, huh?” he asked slyly, taking a sip of his coffee as he waited for my answer.

  I greeted him with silence, not even willing to look him in the eye. Part of it was pride, part of it was annoyance. I don’t know why he felt like he always needed to rub in my misfortunes.

  “Well, I’m not surprised. It’s not like you were qualified,” he said, turning the knife a little more.

  He knew how much I’d wanted this.

  “Whatever, Eric. I’m not in the mood for it.”

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me. We’re in the same boat. I got the e-mail this morning. Can’t say I’m too surprised though. Well, I’m surprised about me not getting on the team, not about you really.”

  “I didn’t even get an e-mail,” I said softly.

  It was a sign of how inconsequential I was, not even important enough to warrant a rejection letter. I looked up at Eric only to find Agent Chamberlain walking toward us, his face looking slightly impatient, but I had no idea why. We made eye contact and I looked back down at the scanner, slightly embarrassed and ashamed, especially after thinking back to the dream I’d had about him last night. Ha, what a fantasy that was.

  “Tess, what the hell are you doing?” asked Agent Chamberlain.

  I began to launch into my spiel about the 2014 Digitization Initiative when he cut me short.

  “Put that down. I’ve got something to show you.”

  “OK,” I said, genuinely surprised. What could he possibly want?

  “Young man, please finish this up for her,” he said curtly, looking down at Eric and motioning to the stack of folders sitting next to the scanner.

  “That’s not my job,” said Eric, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “No? What is your job?”

  “I… uh…”

  “That’s what I thought. That Digitization Initiative sounds important, you’d better get on it.”

  “That’s really not my job. I’m gonna go to my Lieutenant about this.”

  “Oh? Because as I understand it, you’re the second youngest detective in the department after Tess. And Tess has more important things to do. So, this is your job now. But please, tell your Lieutenant to confirm with me. I’d be happy to talk to him.”

  Eric looked dumfounded. I gave him a menacing smirk of my own as Agent Chamberlain tapped me on the arm and led me over toward the elevator. Truthfully, I wasn’t too sure what was going on, so maybe it was best not to get too cocky just yet. Still, I couldn’t help myself from turning back for another quick glance just before heading around the corner of the hallway, just in time to catch Eric fumbling with the buttons on the scanner.

  “Tess, we’ve got very exciting news,” said Agent Chamberlain as he pressed the button for the eighteenth floor. The doors closed and we were moving upward.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, Dr. Geiss has been analyzing that data all night and we think we’ve got something pretty substantial. A hair salon over in the West Village.”

  “What about it?”

  “Every single woman on our list has checked in there. We’ve contacted the owner and confirmed appointments for all of them in the last two months.”

  “Wow. I hadn’t thought of that. That’s clever.”

  “Yes. Much less prone to error. A popular bar? Not surprising many of the girls would have been there. But the same hair salon? That’s a bit too coincidental.”

  “Yeah. No kidding. I really hadn’t considered it.”

  “Neither did we—but Dr. Geiss’s algorithm picked it out almost immediately. That’s the power of technology for you.”

  “Right.”

  “By the way, I don’t want you to discount your own insights completely. Those two girls who went missing last night, we checked in on them first thing this morning. Both have been to the hair salon. And both have the same body type as the other women who’ve disappeared. It all conforms to our working hypothesis.”

  “Which is what?”

  “That we’ve got some kind of serial activity, whether it be an individual or some sort of organization of individuals working in collaboration.”

  “So what’s our next move?”

  “First, we’re going to meet with Dr. Geiss. She has a few more gleanings from the data that she wants to brief us on. Then you and I are going down to that salon to talk with the owner and some of the stylists there. Very casual. We just want to see if they’re spooked by our presence, if they’re uncomfortable during questioning.”

  “Agent Chamberlain,” I said hesitantly. “This might sound like a dumb question, but… am I officially on the team? No one ever told me for sure.”

  He laughed lightly, turning to look me in the eye, showing me a slight glimmer I hadn’t seen before, breaking out of his usual placid professionalism and seriousness.

  “Yes. You’re on the team. And call me Elias. We’re colleagues now.”

  CHAPTER 7

  ———

  When we stepped out onto the streets, is was just after 11:30 AM. The sky was still pristine and the autumn sun was warm on my face as we walked over to the garage where Elias kept his car, unmarked, of course, so as not to draw attention.

  But it drew attention in other ways. H
e drove a brand new Mustang, black, polished and spotless. If the looks were subtle and sophisticated, the engine was anything but; the car absolutely roared as Elias shifted into first and let out the clutch, skidding as he turned the corner out of the garage, flying across Midtown toward the West Side Highway.

  I always loved driving down the West Side Highway; there was something free and open about it. Traffic was usually heavy, but you could drive faster here than anywhere else in New York City, nestled as it was on the westward edge of the island of Manhattan. The views were spectacular—especially today. The brilliant sun sparkled like diamonds on the water of the Hudson River, magnifying and multiplying its radiance as its light reflected off the small waves that gave the water its shimmering texture.

  It was always windy over here next to the water, the land flattened and free from the domination of the many skyscrapers that cluttered the City, breaking down the winds of the Atlantic, forcing their power along side streets and alleyways. Out here, the sun and the wind were allowed to run free.

  I gazed out the window across the river, staring at the towns of Weehawken and Hoboken. Right now, I felt fine, lazily lounging here, letting the senses be taken over by the resolute majesty of this part of the City. The sun streaming in through the window made the confines of the car warm and comfortable, providing a perfect complement to the scenery outside.

  Elias, for his part, said nothing. I could almost sense that he, too, had a special place in his heart for this part of the City. There’s something to be said for silence in times like these, for simply enjoying the world around you without the need for comment or analysis or even introspection.

  I kept stealing glances over in his direction. To my mind, the view to my left from the passenger seat was just as intriguing as the one beyond the clear, hard glass of the car window. When he smiled at me this morning… Oh, I could hardly put words to what I felt. To see him break his constantly serious demeanor gave me an insight into what he was. Something strange and beautiful lay within him.

  But there was hesitance in my heart when I had these thoughts. And not just because I knew it was wrong to entertain romantic notions about a coworker. There was something genuinely terrifying about Elias, something wild and untamed and fearsome in his nature, something hidden beneath that calm and collected everyday façade.

  I was pondering what exactly this hidden layer was when my thoughts were interrupted by spoken words, words I didn’t catch because my mind had wandered so far away from the present moment.

  “What?” I asked, trying to hide the fact I hadn’t been paying attention. “Sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

  “You’re going to take the lead on this one. Have you ever done that before?”

  “No. They barely ever let me out of the station,” I said, sarcasm shining through despite my attempts to remain professional.

  “OK. The important thing to remember is to be thorough. Maintain your cool, listen intently. Don’t push too hard. Try to act in a way that makes them want to tell you everything they know. Smile a lot. You don’t want them to feel threatened. I’ll jump in if things go awry.”

  “OK. I think I can handle that.”

  “Good. I think you can, too.”

  We parked a few blocks away from the salon; Alluring Cuts, was the name. It sounded foreboding, subtly dark and secretly cruel. But really, that wasn’t the case.

  The inside was bright and friendly. The owner, Silvio Raducci, a flamboyant Italian man came out to greet us, more than pleased to answer any questions we might have. He led us into the back of the salon, into a private room so as not to concern the other customers.

  He offered us espresso, which we declined. He got up to make himself one then joined us, sitting on a couch facing across from us, his legs crossed lackadaisically as he gave us a charming smile.

  “So, how can I help you fine officers? Is officer the right term? I’m sorry, I have absolutely no clue about these sorts of things,” he said, cheerfully and somewhat playfully.

  He didn’t seem to be taking the encounter particularly seriously, but he also didn’t seem like someone who had much to hide, at least nothing relevant to the abductions case, anyways.

  “Well,” I started off cautiously. “Mr. Raducci…”

  “Please, call me Silvio. I positively hate being called a mister of any sort.”

  “Silvio,” I said, correcting myself. “I’m going to read off a list of names. If you can just confirm whether they were ever patrons of the salon and whether you knew them personally.”

  “Can I see the list?” asked Silvio.

  I looked over at Elias and he nodded in confirmation. I handed Silvio the list.

  “Let’s see,” said Silvio, putting a finger to his lips as he took the list. “I know her, her, her… Yes, I’ve met all these girls before. Half of them I’ve styled personally. She in particular has a great head of hair. Very sassy.”

  “You’re aware this is in relation to the ongoing investigation of the abductions that have been so prominent recently. Is there anything about your relationship with them that we should know about?”

  “Relationship? Honey, I’m a stylist.”

  “I mean, did they ever tell you anything questionable? Did they have any dark secrets that would make sense of their sudden disappearance?”

  “I’m a stylist, sugar. I know all their secrets, at least the one’s whose hair I did.”

  “Anything abnormal?”

  “I wouldn’t say so. Typical boy issues. That sort of thing. A few of them were quite slutty, if I may say so. Wouldn’t surprise me to see them going home with a stranger, if you know what I mean,” said Silvio with a wink.

  “Right. Other than that, any sort of emotional issues you were aware of? Outstanding debts? Drug use?”

  “Are you asking me to break stylist-stylee confidentiality?”

  “Umm…” I hesitated.

  “It’s a joke, sweetheart. No, they were really pretty normal girls. You know, dancing, clubs, drinks. Partying on the weekends, but nothing nasty, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing any different from 90% of the young women in this city.”

  “I see.”

  “That’s basically all I know. Remember, I don’t know each of these girls personally, so you might want to talk to some of the other stylists. They might have some dirt you can use.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Elias, entering the conversation for the first time. “We’ll call you if we have any questions.”

  “I certainly hope you do call,” said Silvio, giving a flamboyant wink.

  Elias rolled his eyes and then looked over at me.

  “Let’s get out of here, Tess. Thanks again, Silvio.”

  CHAPTER 8

  ———

  “Well, that was a failure,” I said cynically, my eyes trained on the ground as we walked out of the salon.

  “Don’t be hard on yourself. You did fine.”

  “But we didn’t learn anything.”

  “There wasn’t anything to learn. That guy didn’t know a damn thing,” said Elias as he walked beside me, his hands thrust into the pockets of his leather jacket, bracing against a gust of cold wind.

  “You’re sure about this? I know he was dismissive, but maybe it was just an act,” I said suspiciously, keeping my mind open to all the possibilities.

  “I’m positive. I have a sense for these things. He’s just a strange character, nothing more, nothing less.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Listen, do you want to grab a bite to eat? Frankly, I’m starving and the cafeteria back at the precinct station serves some of the worst food I’ve ever had in my life.”

  I laughed. Yes, the food was horrible; that much was undeniable.

  “Sure, I could go for something. There’s a pretty famous deli just around the block actually. Well, kind of famous, kind of an insider secret.”

  “That sounds good. What’s the name? Maybe I’ve heard of it.
”

  “Arturo’s.”

  “Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m game to check it out,” said Elias.

  “It’s the best. You’ll love it.”

  When we got to the deli, I was grateful for the warm air inside. It was cold outside, even for late October. A gregarious, portly man stood behind the counter ready to take our orders. I was surprised that there were actually several open tables given that it was right around lunchtime.

  “I’m going to make a quick phone call,” said Elias, heading toward the back of the restaurant. “Order me whatever you get.”

  He walked off without another word and I ordered two hot Italian subs, which sounded absolutely perfect on a day like this.

  I went and sat at a table toward the front of the restaurant by the window overlooking the street. I stared idly at the people walking by outside, pondering the case and realizing just how hungry I was as I waited for our food to arrive.

  To be honest, I was pretty annoyed at how the questioning at the salon had gone. Did this mean we were back to square one? Where the hell do we go from here? I guess Dr. Geiss could review the files again, but if there was anything substantial I assume she would have mentioned it in the briefing earlier.

  Once again, I found my mind wandering back to Elias. I was in awe of him, how confident and self-assured he was, especially with respect to the interview we’d just conducted. How could he be so sure? He said he trusted his senses, his instincts. Was that something I could learn? Or was it inborn?

  I thought about this question, but also started wondering where he’d gone. I looked toward the back of the deli but couldn’t see him from the angle of my chair. The food was going to be here soon and if he was going to experience the full magic of an Arturo’s sub he’d better get back here and eat it while it was still hot.