High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4)

by Jennifer Harlow

  I lean across to peck his lips. “I love you too.”

  This time he kisses me. Really kisses me. Another of his toe curling, ambrosia from the heavens, caresses I don’t know how I lived without until this point. “Just think about what I said, okay? I meant every word.” He smiles again, then sighs. “Come on, Agent Alexander. You’re late for work.”

  “Good thing I’m sleeping with my boss then, huh?”

  Carl, Nancy, Agent Chandler, and our new werewolf pals have all beat us into the office this morning. At least we’re in time for the morning meeting in the conference room. Not sure if that’s a good thing though. The way they look at us, or in Chandler’s case how he refuses to, I can tell they all know what happened last night. I have the strongest urge to just get it out there. To shout, “Yes, we had sex! Lots of sex! Multiple times in multiple positions! Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex!” but do refrain. Instead, I plaster on my nicest, sweetest smile. “Good morning!”

  “Morning,” Adam says.

  “Glad you could finally join us,” Chandler responds with a scowl directed my way.

  “It was my fault,” Will chimes in. “I lost track of time.”

  “I’ll bet,” Nancy chuckles.

  “We’re here now,” says Will. “So, what did we miss?”

  “We found the remains of Werewolf Doe last night,” Chandler informs us.

  “Well, what was left of him,” Carl adds. “The meat was literally ripped from his bones. Arms, legs, torso, head decapitated and missing chunks like they…”

  “Ate him,” Jason cuts in. “They more than likely did.”

  “Lovely,” I say.

  “He was found in a shallow grave like the rest of them,” Carl says. “But his clothes were completely intact, like he removed them himself.”

  “Gives credence to the theory he was a werewolf too,” I say. “They invited him out for a moonlight run then for whatever reason they turned on him.”

  “That would be consistent with the remains. Werewolves change back to human form when they die—they’re no longer linked to the magical source—but as with the leg, he already showed signs of healing in multiple places,” Carl explains.

  “And he reeked of ectoplasm,” Jason adds. “He was a werewolf, no question.”

  “What about an ID?” Will asks.

  “Several of his teeth were missing so dental won’t work,” Carl says. “His fingerprints and DNA are filtering now, but if he’s never been arrested…” He shrugs.

  “Then let’s hope he was a bad mammajamma,” Adam says.

  “Well, Carl and I can do our…thing,” I suggest. For whatever reason, if I touch Carl while he’s using his empathy gift, my own connects with his and we can actually see through the victim’s eyes in his or her last moments. That’s how we caught the succubus so quickly.

  “No, I tried on my own,” Carl says. “He’s too long dead.”

  “You should have thought to do it the day we arrived with the leg,” Chandler says.

  “You didn’t think of it either,” I snap back.

  “Well, it’s moot now,” Will says. “So what else do we got?”

  “Of the eleven bodies we’ve recovered so far, eight have wounds consistent with werewolf attacks,” Chandler says. “We have IDs on all but three of the eight, including Werewolf Doe. Doc puts the first victim in the ground about six years ago. Judging from the pattern we’ve established, they killed about twice a year.”

  “So we’re missing bodies,” I point out. “Four.”

  “Oliver spent the last two nights searching that park,” Carl says.

  “Then he won’t mind going tonight as well,” Will says. “These people deserve to be found. They need to be found.”

  “The ones you’ve ID’d since last night,” I say, “what do we know about them?”

  “Jackson Markus had four arrests for heroin possession and no fixed address, and Enrique Martinez appears to be an illegal from Mexico. His fake passport and driver’s license were buried with him.”

  “Any indication Werewolf Doe was a transient as well?” Will asks.

  “His blood work showed no drugs or alcohol in his system, but that doesn’t mean much with a werewolf metabolism,” Carl says.

  “He’s still an outlier,” I point out. “Him and Imelda. They’re the keys, I can feel it.”

  “We read your report,” Chandler says. “You learned nothing to indicate her abduction was anything but random like the rest of the victims.”

  “The girl still doesn’t fit the pattern,” Will says. “Bea’s right.”

  “Of course you’d think that,” Chandler says.

  Will stares at his best friend, eyes slowly narrowing. “You’re right, I would because as far as I can tell, we have dick else. And I don’t hear anyone else coming up with sound theories.”

  “Well, maybe if everyone on the team weren’t too preoccupied—”

  “This helps nothing,” Jason booms. “We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think,” he asks, glaring at Will and me. “I want to find these fuckers and go home to my wife and kids before the next Ice Age, so we need to focus. No more infighting and no more fucking around.”

  God this man makes me feel about three feet tall and on the verge of being squished. Someone married this man? She must have a heck of a backbone or is certifiably insane.

  “Well, have you heard anything?” I ask. “This is your world. From what I gather a witch/werewolf hybrid is about as rare as a unicorn. None of your cronies have anything to add?”

  “I’m still waiting on a quarter to write back,” Jason says, “but according to the oldest pack leader living, there have only been three witch hybrids born worldwide, all male and all from one line in Germany. On the planet today there are two, both of whom still live in Germany and are under constant supervision.”

  “Why so few?” I ask.

  “Because before about 1930, any known werewolf hybrid offspring would be executed,” Adam explains with a grim expression.

  It doesn’t hold a candle to mine. My mouth drops open and teeth clench. “That’s barbaric!”

  “That’s survival,” Jason counters.

  Jesus Christ. A chill snakes down my spine as his cold as his arctic eyes. A hundred years ago Will’s and my children would have been smothered in the cradle without a second thought or worse by this man sitting across from me. And I didn’t like him to begin with.

  “But now they’re just monitored,” Adam adds. “They can never join a pack, their parents either, but they’re allowed to…exist.”

  “Oh, because you deem it so?” I spit out at Jason. “How magnanimous of you.”

  “We’re veering off topic again,” Carl cuts in.

  “He’s right,” Chandler says. “The politics of pack policy discussion should be tabled for now. So the gist is no pack is aware of our female hybrid, correct?”

  “As I said before, from those who have returned my calls and e-mails, no,” Jason says.

  “That they’re aware of,” I say. “I can’t exactly see anyone lining up to disclose that sort of information to you.”

  “Or she like could have been bitten or whatever and didn’t know she had to like register,” Nancy adds.

  “Both valid theories,” Will says, “but they won’t help us locate her. We go with what we have: the park and the victims. Where are Rush and Wolfe?”

  “Asleep at the hotel with Andrew. They were at the park all night,” Carl says. “The doc too. I was just about to join them.”

  “Then go. Get some sleep,” Will says. “Anyone else who pulled an all-nighter too. The locals can continue excavations without us for a few hours with the bodies Oliver already marked. There’s nothing to do until he rises and does another sweep.” He stands. “The rest of us will process whatever evidence remains and continue gathering information on the victims. Dismissed.”

  Jason and Chandler’s noses scrunch up almost in unison with displeasure at this order, but like a pimp Wi
ll ignores the other Alpha males and strolls out. That’s one way to put the bastards in their places. I follow close behind into the lab next door. “Can you believe the fracking nerve of that bastard?” I ask.

  “You weren’t helping matters, you know,” Will chides.

  “They invite themselves on our case and do fudge all but judge us. And what is that crap about murdering babies? You know it was directed at us.”

  “It wasn’t,” Will insists. “And even if it was, who cares? I never wanted to join the pack anyway, even before I met you.”

  “But you heard them. They’re still going to keep tabs on you and our children forever. One slip, and they’ll kill them.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “It could! And what if our children want to join the pack? They’ll be told they’re freaks among freaks. Abominations. I—”

  “Hey,” Will says, pulling me into a hug. He just holds me for a few seconds, all but sucking out whatever poison just infected me in that meeting. I’m working myself in a frenzy for nothing. We don’t even have kids yet, and I’m already overbearing. Here I thought Will would be the overprotective one. “Maybe you should go back to the hotel too. I didn’t exactly let you get much sleep last night.”

  “And give them anymore ammunition? Hell to the no.” I extract myself from his arms. “By the power of Greyskull, I will be the one to find these wolves.”

  He kisses my nose. “I believe you. Just please, play nice with Jason. He’s a powerful ally, but God help us if we get on his bad side.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I peck his lips. “I’ll continue on Imelda. Maybe interview the rangers again. Werewolf Doe is all yours and your new best friends. Play nice for the both of us.” One more peck and I side-step out of the room before I lose my willpower. Points to prove, werewolves to catch. Today’s the day. I can feel it in my bones. Of course I also felt it yesterday…

  There’s a copy of last night’s report in the near deserted conference room. Adam smiles sheepishly before slinking out. Nothing we didn’t cover in the meeting. What…oh, fudge. I forgot to write my official report on Imelda. They had my notes, and I really didn’t find anything, but my fellow bureaucrats thrive on our paperwork, so I have to waste time reviewing my notes and typing it up. I’m actually shocked Chandler didn’t chide me when I walked in the door. He, along with the others who filter in and out of the conference room, have decided to go the passive aggressive route instead, glaring or in Nancy’s case staring in an attempt to have me provide the X-rated details of last night. That particular honor is reserved for April only. I’m dying to call her and give her the literal blow-by-blow recap later. She’ll help me solve my morning after pill dilemma as well. I have seventy-two hours to decide. More pressing problems to sort out right now. I need the frak out of this trailer before I start screaming at people. “I’m off,” I tell Nancy in the lab. Time to fill in some gaps.

  The ranger service still hasn’t sent over the schedules, so my first stop should kill two birds with one stone. Appalachia Summit State Park has been closed since we arrived, so I have to flash my badge to the State Trooper to be allowed down the road. The press descended like vultures the day after we arrived. I count seven news vans, and I think Paula Zahn, Nana’s favorite, is among them. They shout questions and shove cameras and microphones at my window as I pass. No sound bites from this gal, through Nana would flip if I were featured on Dateline. It’s her guilty pleasure show. I used to like it too until I started this job. My days are filled with crime, I don’t need my free time tainted with murders as well.

  It seems the whole of the North Carolina State Police and forensics squad are camped out here as well. Three forensics van, close to a dozen squad cars, the ME’s van, two ambulances, even a fire engine. I have to park on the side of the road itself and walk past uniformed officers and forensic analysts changing out of white space suits. One such astronaut holds the door to the Ranger station for me as he leaves and I enter. Ranger Rick stands center stage by a large map tacked onto a bulletin board surrounded by men and one woman dressed for a hike but all sporting badges and guns on their belts.

  “…no, they searched this quadrant already,” Rick says, pointing to the map. “If it’s got lines across it, it’s been covered. They said to focus on this area today.” He taps a blank spot on the map. “According to the FBI, there might be another body there. They haven’t been wrong yet.”

  “How many more do they think are out there?” the woman officer asks.

  “We don’t know,” I answer. All heads pivot my way. “Best guess, at least four. We’re assuming they’ve been active for six years with two kills a year, but that’s really just an educated guess.”

  “Is it true this is a cult thing?” another officer asks.

  “That’s one avenue we’re investigating. And I’m sure no one’s said it, but I just want to thank you all for the hard work you and your fellow officers have put in on this case already. I know it’s cold and kind of treacherous out there, but with each body we uncover we come that much closer to finding these monsters. You should feel proud for what you’ve done and are doing here.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the woman says.

  “No, thank you.” I catch Rick’s eyes. “Um, Ranger Mills, if you could spare a few minutes?”

  “For you? Anything,” he says with a smile. “I’ll catch up when I’m done here. Just watch out for poison ivy. There isn’t a person here who isn’t covered in it.” The searchers all nod as they pass me out the door, which I return each and every time. One should always show respect when it’s due. When the last one files out, I smile at the ranger. He appears as exhausted as I feel with dark circles under his eyes, limp hair, and rumpled uniform. “So what can I do for the FBI now?” he asks with a yawn.

  “We’ve been running you ragged, huh?” I ask.

  “I haven’t slept more than an hour or two since I found that damn leg. I tried to get Winsted out here to help, but he’s still sick. Thank God Taylor gets back today. He can take over hand-holding duty. I swear, about half the people here have never set foot in a damn park before.”

  “Present company included,” I say.

  “That why I haven’t seen you in days?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “A damn shame. Not to talk out of turn, but your fellow agents leave something to be desired in the friendly department, especially the blonde one and your bloodhound.”

  “My who?”

  “Sorry. That’s what we’ve been calling Agent Montrose since, you know, he’s found so many bodies.”

  “No, it’s…very accurate.” More than you know. “Just between us, we think he’s a little psychic, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

  “Anything’s possible, right? I mean, if you told me last week we had some fucked up cult chopping people up in the name of Satan or whatever in this park, I would have laughed in your face.”

  “It is pretty unbelievable,” I concede, “especially since it all happened under your nose.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “So you really didn’t hear anything once in six years? Nothing suspicious at all?”

  “I have been asked that question by three of your guys, two of the state investigators and myself once every hour. You have to understand, they did this shit in my backyard. I want to find them more than anyone else here. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how this happened for so long. How they pulled this off. People keep asking about howls and animal carcasses, but we’re in the fucking woods. There are going to be dead animals. How was I supposed to know humans did it instead of animals? And I know I’m a suspect, which quite frankly, pisses me the fuck off. I’m working my ass off for you people when I’m not supposed to even be here, and despite what Agent Montrose says, you think I’m an accomplice.”

  “You are one of only three who work here. And, to be honest, it is odd after years of them being active here, you saw nothing, knew no
thing. We have reason to believe they were here every month for at least six years. How long have you been stationed here?”

  “Eight. Since I got hired.”

  “And your colleagues?”

  “Taylor’s been with the service for fifteen years, Winsted about seven. Taylor was assigned here about a year after me and Winsted six months after him, but he’s a floater. He rotates around three parks as needed.”

  “What can you tell me about them?” I ask.

  “Not a hell of a lot. We just see one another when we pass the baton. This is a small park, only one guy on duty at all times.”

  “Based on what you do know, do you think either of them—”

  “Could be in a cult? Hell no. Winsted’s afraid of his own damn shadow, and Taylor is a bible thumper. I can’t imagine either of them involved in mutilation and organized murder. Hell, I can’t imagine them getting a damn parking ticket.”

  “Just because someone loves Jesus doesn’t mean they’re not able to take bribes for looking the other way,” I point out.

  “Last summer Taylor’s church went to Africa for a month to help build houses or some shit. He’s a do-gooder. I’d believe Jesus himself was involved before Kyle.”

  “What about Winsted? What makes you say he’s a wimp?”

  “There’s two types of rangers: the bold and the beautiful. Rangers have the highest injury and mortality rate of any law enforcement agency. People come here to grow pot, to bury bodies, you name it. We have to fight man and beast.” Sounds like being a F.R.E.A.K. “Now, I love nature. Always have, but I applied because I needed a job. I’ve grown to love it, especially busting people and saving lives. Winsted, though, he’s more beauty than bold. He took this job to commune with nature. He has a Masters in Botany of Ecological studies or whatever. He’s always doing these experiments or cataloguing plants. Even makes his own new agey salves, and they’re damn good. I mean, he does the bold stuff, otherwise he’d be fired by now, but just judging for our few interactions, and how his wife treats him, if he is involved it’s passively. Like if he did hear howls he’d be too shit scared to go investigate. I mean, his wife all but grabs my crotch at my Christmas party, and Adrian just rolls his eyes. I think I could have laid Patsy down on the floor and screwed her right there and then, and Adrian wouldn’t have batted an eye. His wife still cuts his damn meat for him like he’s a fucking child. So, out of the three of us…yeah, me. But it isn’t.”