by Tegan Maher
We gathered at a table in the back and ordered lunch. It was a shifter thing; all meetings generally started with food, likely because it allowed folks to get a feel for one another. And also because we all loved to eat.
Reina was outspoken, while Donald spent most of the time listening. He was friendly enough, but a bit reserved. I suspected he was taking our measure.
I explained the situation, though they knew most of the details already. Since I had a physical description, I gave them that. "I have a clump of fur, but not enough to share for the scent.
"We've already been to the scene, Reina said. "After the human took a shot at him. We picked up the scent."
Donald nodded. "As did we," he said, his expression stony. "We weren't willing to wait while you continue to flail. And what are you going to do about the human hunter? He was in our territory last night."
I took a deep breath. "Aside from arresting him, there's nothing I can do. He has permits and is legal."
"Then arrest him," Reina said. "We don't have much to worry about, but our larger brothers and sisters do."
At that moment, Sean Castle himself swept in the door. "I believe I may alleviate some of your concerns," he said. "I've taken steps to deal with the human so we may settle the situation without interference."
"And what dog do you have in this fight?" Liam asked.
Sean ran his tongue over his teeth, then replied, "Perhaps you've forgotten that I founded this town. I was against humans moving into it, but there wasn't much to be done about it. Now that they're here, I take it personally when one of them"—he met the eyes of everybody at the table—"or any of you, come to harm. One of my dearest friends, and her friend, were recently poisoned, so I'll be running a dual investigation."
My thoughts turned to Zach. "What steps have you taken to deal with Zach McClure?"
"Don't worry, Sheriff. No harm will come to him. I'm simply utilizing some of my connections to disrupt those permits you spoke of. I believe the red wolf is an endangered species and by sometime late today, you'll find the forestlands that extent throughout the county, are now considered a federal park, managed at the county level, under direct supervision of the sheriff. Hunting is, of course, restricted."
I raised my brows and took a deep breath, then exhaled. "I have to hand it to you, Sean. When you move, you move big."
He smiled, and that deceptive boyish charm was back. "Is there any other way to move, Sheriff?"
Zach was gonna be pissed seven ways to Sunday, but I was relieved. I'd no longer have to worry about his safety, or that of my shifter communities. For that matter, I wouldn't have to worry about stray bullets hitting a human. I'd also be free to shift and hunt for this guy as I saw fit.
"And what are your plans for dealing with this man when you find him, Sheriff?" Liam asked.
"He'll be subject to pack law," I said. "My plan is to capture him and turn him over to my parents. We need to know why he's doing this, and make sure he's a singular concern rather than part of a bigger picture."
"And if one of us runs against him while hunting or in human form?" Donald asked.
I paused, considering, then gave the only real answer I could come up with. "Defend yourselves as necessary but avoid engagement and contact me if possible. We claim first right in this case as he is a wolf."
The general rule, put into place to avoid vigilante justice or prejudice was that people who committed crimes were dealt with within their own ruling government.
Reina nodded once. "Your parents have proven themselves to be fair. We're fine with that, and respect that you've called the communities together."
Donald snorted and looked at me with disdain, but everybody else nodded and agreed with her.
"Thank you. And thank you for coming together. I don't want anymore deaths."
"Nor do we, lass," Liam said. "Nor do we."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE MEETING HAD JUST ended when my cell rang, and a sense of dread settled on my shoulders. I knew who it was before I even looked at the caller ID, and was afraid I knew why he was calling, too.
I slid my finger across the screen to answer. "Hey Sam."
"Hi Cori." He sounded like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "We've got another body—a man this time. Another runner found him on the other side of the woods right off the trail. I haven't been able to get much out of her because she's in shock, but I doubt she'll have much to offer, anyway."
"Damn it. That area was cordoned off for a reason. Where are you?"
"About a hundred yards north of the rope swing."
I knew exactly where he was talking about; I'd swung off of that rope into the lake hundreds of times as a kid; every time I ran past it, memories of those times flashed through my head. I had a feeling they weren't going to be so pleasant after that today.
"And Cori?"
"Yeah, Sam?" The note in his voice notched my concern up about five levels.
"He's naked. Not a stitch of clothes to be found anywhere."
"Oh, shit," I said. "I'll be right there."
"Another one?" Alex asked, worry creasing his brow.
I gave a sharp nod and ran my hand over my face. "Apparently two people didn't see all the bright yellow and orange tape closing off the area. And unless I miss my guess, he was a shifter of some sort. Buck naked."
His face went white. "That's not good, Cori. The peace within the pack and with other supernaturals is tentative right now. This could start a war."
"I'm aware," I said as we climbed into my Jeep. "So let's find this guy. Time for you to do your thing, Mr. Specialist." Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye as I buckled up, I said, "And what exactly is your thing, by the way?"
"My thing is that I'm precognitive. And a little bit psychic. And I can do most of the basic spells others can."
"Oh." That did stack the odds for me at least a little.
"And I can tell you right now, your Mr. McClure is fixin' to be extremely unhappy with you."
We made our way to the scene. The rain had let up and the sun was shining. That meant that in about twenty minutes, it was gonna be so humid we'd be breathing our water. The site was about half a mile from the last, but this time the body had been partially hidden in a bush.
Sam was standing guard at the caution tape and lifted it for me, sweat beaded on his brow. A ring of looky-loos dressed in casual summer clothes were standing at the perimeter, so he waited until we were yards away before speaking.
"The guy obviously didn't have any ID on him and we don't have anybody reported missing yet. Stan's down trying to find a vehicle that may belong to him, but the ladies' auxiliary is hosting a public picnic down by the gazebo to raise money for the fall festival. There are dozens of cars in the lot."
I heaved a deep sigh. "Of course there are." Because Fate hated me. I had no idea what I'd done, but I was going to start being nicer, maybe volunteer at the soup kitchen or something. I'd done a short stint at the animal shelter but was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to adopt them all.
I squatted down and pushed the branches and leaves aside to find a youngish looking male: tall, dark hair, chiseled physique. Unlike the other victims, he had some battle wounds, but was intact. There were bite marks on his throat—unless I missed my guess, cause of death would be broken neck.
Bracing myself, I pulled in a lungful of air through my nose. He was a wolf.
My hackles rose, and rage coursed through me at what this man had endured. I snapped a quick pic of his face to send to Dani, and to Sully, who would either recognize him or send it to the other leaders. We needed to get him identified, and for the sake of inter-species politics, I wanted full transparency and a spirit of cooperation from the get-go, now that we'd agreed to work together.
I groaned when I realized this was three—the magic number for a person to officially be tagged a serial killer. There was no way the FBI wasn't going to be crawling right up my backside, and the Trackers along wit
h them, if I didn't solve this soon.
Footsteps sounded behind me and I pinched my lips together. It was Zach. "I thought you could use some coffee," he said, handing me a cup. "Sorry, Sam. I didn't think to get you one."
The older man smiled. "Well, I can't say as I blame you; I'm not nearly as pretty as she is. I'm a better fisherman, though."
I snorted. "You should be, as much as you practice."
I took a sip of my coffee, then a longer slug when the first drink didn't burn my tongue; after the big lunch, I needed the caffeine.
Alex, who had gone further up the path to see if he could pick up a scent trail, clothes, or any readings of either the victim or the killer, returned and glanced briefly at Zach before turning back to the scene.
"No prints or any other evidence the killer came from that direction," he said to me, stepping off the path and toward the body.
"He was likely hiding near the trail waiting for the guy," I said as he slipped around behind the bush.
"I'm going to see if Stan needs any help. Maybe somebody saw something," Sam said noting the tension even though Alex didn't seem to. "We're trying to, keep this off the radar as much as possible, though with the picnic, that's wishful thinking."
"Thanks Sam," I said, bending down to take a closer look at the body.
"Colleen was tied up at a family reunion but said she'd pull the team together and be here within thirty," he said. "I held off on calling the emergency squad until she gets here. No need to attract any more attention than we have to."
"Speaking of attracting more attention," Zach said to Alex, "you must be new." He stuck out his hand. "Zach McClure. Wildlife Control Specialist. And you are?"
Alex glanced at his hand, but left it hang. "Here to help the sheriff," he said without looking at him again.
I furrowed my brow; I didn't know him well, but that seemed uncharacteristically rude. However, I didn't step in and make the introduction. If Alex didn't want his name out there, it was his right.
"Thanks, Sam," I said, "Let me know if you find anything."
As he walked away, Alex squatted down beside the guy's feet. "Different MO altogether."
"Yeah. But why change it up now?"
He bent down and pulled the limb back, then turned to Zach, who had moved closer.
"Should he have access to the scene, Sheriff?"
I actually felt bad for Zach right then, but now that we had shifter involvement, things were more complicated. By necessity, Colleen knew about us. She'd been brought into the loop twenty years ago when she'd drawn blood from a car-accident victim and realized something was off. She was neither stupid not predisposed to be prejudiced, and it was a good thing to have somebody on the inside.
But the rules of the game had certainly changed and Zach's information needed to be filtered, especially if
Casting an apologetic look at Zach, I said, "He's right, Zach. I'm sorry, but things have changed. Small-town rules no longer apply, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
He glowered at Alex, then looked as if he were going to argue. I held up my hand and shook my head. "I'm sorry, Zach."
He paused for another heartbeat, then turned on his heel and stomped away.
"That went well," I muttered once he was out of earshot.
Moving a limb with a pen so he could get a closer look, Alex said, "I told you he was gonna be in a snit."
"Yeah, but you didn't tell me it was gonna be because you threw him off the scene."
He shrugged. "He shouldn't have been on the scene."
I couldn't argue with that, because he was right. I'd just figured playing nice would enable me to filter his info and keep track of him better. There I went thinkin' again.
I stood back and examined the area from a broader perspective, drinking my coffee and rolling everything around in my head. We had the when, where, and how. Now we needed the who and the why. "So what's your take on it? I've been over every detail of this case a hundred times and can't find a single thread to start picking."
Alex was quiet for a long moment while his eyes roamed over the paw imprints in the soft soil. "I don't know. A wolf with a score to settle?"
If that were the case, the guy was gonna screw up at some point. Looking at our victim, I thought it was possible that maybe he just did.
"Are your spidey senses picking up anything?" I asked.
He arched a brow at the term, but shook his head. "Only a few vague impressions. Regret. Anger. I think this guy knew the killer."
"Yeah, I thought maybe that was the case because of the way he killed him. Quick, but there was a fight. And he wasn't messy."
"Well, if this scene is like the others, we're wasting our time looking for anything." He tore his gaze away from the prints that he was examining, then took a step further into the woods. I followed him for a few yards, and we came to an area where the growth was trampled. Clumps of fur were scattered about, and the ground was scarred with claw marks.
I bent to examine a piece of the fur. It was the same shade of gray-black as the wolf that I'd encountered—and that Zach had taken a pot-shot at—the night that Tabitha was killed. Other tufts were tawny, and I assumed they came from our victim.
Frustration washed over me; this man may not be dead right now if Zach hadn't poked his nose it that night. I pulled in a couple of deep breaths, reminding myself that he didn't know what he'd done.
There was a trace of chilliness in my voice when I said as much.
"You can't beat yourself up over it. There was nothing you could have done differently, so let it go."
I pushed it from my mind as well as I could and turned my attention back to the task at hand. I stood in the middle of the clearing and breathed in deeply, but again, all I got was a faint male werewolf scent, along with all of the other scents that one would expect. The rain had washed away anything useful.
Honestly, the pack and the FBI worried me far less than one other factor: how long before the Trackers took interest, if they hadn't already? How long before they sent one of their men to take care of things, and probably me, while they were here? It's not like those people discriminated. To them, we were all aberrations.
I had to do something different. I needed to hunt him in the form best suited for it, and I needed to do it that night.
The coroner and ambulance pulled in just a few minutes later and had the scene processed in fifteen minutes. Colleen stopped to talk to me as they were loading the body up.
"Cause of death is pretty much what you'd think. My guess is broken neck. Wolf, probably, same as last time. Just an educated guess, but he's been dead for about twelve hours, which would put the time of death at around four this morning."
Which means they probably met and the fight started earlier than that. "That's much earlier the first two victims," I said, trying to put a scenario together that made sense. "Most people don't run in the middle of the night."
"Most humans don't," she said.
I nodded, picking up what she was saying. Maybe he was out in wolf form, doin' a little howling at the moon when he was attacked. "Appreciate it, Colleen."
She squeezed my shoulder. "We'll get him, Cori."
I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back from my forehead. "I really hope so. I'm getting damned tired of people dying in my town."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I CALLED SAM'S CELL to see if they'd had any luck finding our guy's car. They'd managed to narrow down it down to ten vehicles and were heading back to the office to run the plates. Hopefully, the vehicle was registered to the victim so we could match a picture to the face.
Sully had replied to my text; he didn't know the guy, but had sent it on along with my number.
I'd just put the Jeep in gear when my cell rang. I shifted back into park and plucked my phone out of the cup holder. It was a local number.
"Sheriff Sloane."
There was a pause at the other end, and I'd just pulled my phone away from my ear to see i
f I'd lost the call when a tentative female voice said, "Sheriff? This is Mandy ... Amanda Baxter. Tabitha's best friend."
"Hi Amanda." I mouthed Billy Braxton's roommate to Alex, then continued. "What can I do for you? Did you remember something?"
Another long pause. "Kind of. I don't know if it means anything—I really hope it doesn't—but Billy's gone, and there was something I didn't tell you."
I heard her take a deep breath and decided to wait her out. My patience was rewarded when she continued.
"There was a guy who got crude with Tabbie at the diner a night or two before she was killed. Billy was in there bringing her a fresh shirt because she'd spilled coffee down the front of hers." Another pause. I could tell she was struggling with whether to continue or not, so I gave her a nudge.
"Then what happened, Mandy?"
"The man was drunk and said something about a wet-t-shirt contest, and that Tabbie would surely win. He smacked her on the ass right as Billy was walking in, but she just blew the guy off. Billy was pissed. He snatched the guy by the shirt and yanked him clear out of the booth. Like, I couldn't believe he was that strong. Tabbie had to pull him back, and the guy laughed and called Billy a punk for letting a woman tell him what to do."
My heart sank. Werewolves weren't known for their laid-back attitudes at the best of times, especially when it came to their family or their mates. That was a double slap to him; first the guy laid hands on his girl, then he insulted his manhood. Frankly, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd lost a finger or two on the spot.
I forced myself to return to the conversation; once Amanda had started talking, she was like a broken faucet; the words just kept coming. "Honestly, I'm glad Billy was there because the manager was out back helping unload a truck and she was in the front by herself. Well, except for the other creepy guy—the old dude who runs the strip club—and he's just as bad about gettin' handsy as the stranger."
My temper flared; she was talking about Bob Bleigh. I'd had problems with him before; he was a self-entitled drunk who treated women like they were property. He'd been punched by so many husbands, boyfriends, or just strangers who'd popped him for being a douche that we'd started a tally on how many times he called to complain that he'd been assaulted.