“Two shots to the chest,” Chief Lincoln said, gesturing to where the body lay covered by a sheet. “The cashier yelled for help and a jogger came heard her. They took the victim out of the cart and tried to do CPR, but it was too late.”
“So, the body was still … fresh?” I asked with a wince.
“Apparently,” Chief Lincoln answered, acknowledging me with a slight nod. Under different circumstances, I would have found it amusing how nonplussed he was at finding me in the proximity of one of his crime scenes. Was it such a common occurrence that he didn’t mind? I doubted that. It made more sense that Nick had already explained my presence before I’d joined them.
Granted, I wasn’t sure just how that explanation might have gone, seeing as Chief Lincoln had no idea what the SPA was and probably thought witches were confined to the pages of a Harry Potter paperback.
“It’s tricky to pin down an exact time of death, of course, but if the victim was still warm to the touch. I can see why they would try to revive her,” Chief Lincoln. “In any case, it looks like it might not be our puzzle to put together.” He gestured at the man I’d assumed to be an SPA agent. “The FBI sent an agent and he’s saying this is going to be their scene. Apparently it matches the MO of a serial killer they’re trailing. Although I haven’t heard of this so-called shopping cart killer.”
Chief Lincoln paused, still staring at the faux-FBI agent. “I also don’t understand how he got her so quickly. We barely called this in and he just appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.”
Nick slid me a nervous look.
“Helicopter, probably,” I said.
Nick nodded enthusiastically. “You know the FBI has the budget to make a dramatic entrance. Meanwhile, local PDs get hand-me-down gear and outdated computers, am I right?”
Chief let out a snort of a laugh. “Tell me about it.”
Nick inclined his head, clearly relieved by the quick save.
“To be honest, I won’t put up a fight if they want to take this case off our hands,” Chief Lincoln continued, dragging his gaze back to Nick and me. “We’re busy chasing down leads on a string of robberies and it’s taking all our focus right now.”
Nick frowned. “I hadn’t heard anything about that. What kind of robberies?”
As a PI, Nick followed the police report section of the local paper with religious zeal. He was also in the local station a couple times a week, gathering information on various cases his clients brought to him.
“We’ve been keeping it pretty quiet,” Chief said, rubbing a hand over his jawline. “But there’s been a rash of vending-machine robberies over the last three weeks. The perp wears a clown mask when they know there are security cameras in the area, so we’ve not been able to even get a basic description. That’s the main reason we haven’t gone public.”
“Vending machines?” I repeated. “How could that possibly be more important than a murder case?” I asked, genuinely shocked.
Chief Lincoln looked a little embarrassed. “Normally, it wouldn’t be, but the mayor owns most of the vending machines in this county and the next, so let’s just say we’ve been getting extra encouragement to solve the case.”
Nick grinned. “AKA, daily visits from the mayor, asking for a status update.”
“Bingo.” Chief Lincoln cringed. “It would help if his office wasn’t two buildings down from the station.”
“What, is he going to run out of Twinkies or something?” I asked.
“I’d say he’s more concerned about the cash,” Chief Lincoln answered. “Those machines rack up the cash faster than you’d think. They don’t get serviced every day, so over the course of a week or two it can add up, especially the ones by the middle and high schools.”
“Guess that explains the Mayor’s ginormous house up on the hill,” I muttered.
Chief Lincoln’s radio crackled and a dispatcher called in some coded message that got his attention. He held up a hand to us and stalked off, barking commands into the radio before gesturing at two of his uniformed officers and sending them out into action.
“What do you suppose that was about?” I asked.
“Reckless driver,” Nick replied, not missing a beat.
I laughed. “Right, I forgot you have the entire police handbook memorized. I still don’t understand why you went into private investigation when you could have been a cop. You clearly have a knack for the jargon, and you probably spend as much time at the station as some of the junior officers.”
“I doubt that,” he replied. “Ironically, I didn’t want a job where I’d constantly be in the line of fire. I wanted—or, want—a family someday and want to be around for them. That’s not to say police officers neglect their families, but I know what it’s like to grow up as a latchkey kid, and I want something different for my kids.”
It wasn’t lost on me that he’d chosen his profession to keep himself safe, only to end up being scratched by a beast that, for most people, was the stuff of nightmares fueled by late-night horror movies.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about having kids before,” I said.
He shrugged. “I guess I stopped bringing it up some time ago, probably before I even met you. To be honest, it was a dream I’d put on the back burner. But now…” he trailed off and raised his shoulders again. “Maybe it’s not so out there after all.”
“Because of Narissa?” I ventured, holding back a grimace.
Nick looked at me. “No.”
I waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, my stomach sank. Was my hesitancy over his new love interest causing a rift between us? I’d been so confident moments ago that if it came down to choosing me or the pack, he’d choose me, but now I had to wonder if he’d even choose me if it came down to me and Narissa.
Nick straightened and inclined his chin at the tall man standing off to the side of the remaining officers. “Let’s go talk to this so-called FBI agent. I think you might be right that he’s from the SPA. There’s no way the FBI would come out for something like this, at least, not so quickly.”
I followed him around the perimeter of the crime scene tape, having not been formally invited inside the scene. “Excuse me,” Nick said, tapping the man on the shoulder.
The man turned. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Nick Rivers and this is Holly Boldt. We’re consulting on this case.”
The man’s eyes were still shielded by his dark sunglasses, but his brows lifted in recognition. “Tyson Blair,” he said, extending a hand. Nick and I shook it in turns, introducing ourselves. “Agent Bramble told me to expect you, Ms. Boldt, but I’m afraid I don’t recognize your name, Mr. Rivers. Care to tell me your involvement in this matter?”
Nick shot me a sideways glance.
“He’s a wolf,” I interjected. “This is his pack.”
Tyson’s thick eyebrows lifted. “I see. Well, then allow me to extend my deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you,” Nick said.
“What were you able to find out?” I asked. Something about the restlessness of the officers waiting at their cars was making me nervous. What were they waiting on?
Tyson scanned the scene. “The SPA is going to have to take this one on. Whoever killed Breanne knew what she was. This wasn’t just a murder, it was an execution.”
Chapter 7
“What makes you think it was an execution?” Nick asked Agent Blair.
Without missing a beat, the agent gestured toward the sheet-covered body. “They used high-caliber silver bullets. Two shots. Neither of them would have been fatal shots if not for the silver. They’re nasty wounds, but I suspect a human would have been able to survive if given prompt medical attention. Whoever came after the victim knew she was a wolf and knew that the fastest way to kill her would be with silver bullets.”
My chest tightened. “That’s awful.”
“Just one more way this curse leads to death and destruction,” Nick muttered.
“Nick—”
He held up a hand and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m fine, Holly.”
Agent Blair looked at me. “Ms. Boldt, could I have a word?”
Nick took the implied alone and stepped away, going to speak with another officer.
“I’m going to assume he doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing here,” Agent Blair stated as I watched Nick go.
I shook my head. “Agent Bramble’s got me sworn to secrecy.”
“Good.”
I glanced up at him and wondered if he knew about Narissa. Was he a part of that investigation, too? Or was he simply the agent assigned to the area for cases like these? Maybe there was some kind of protocol for whenever a supernatural was involved in a crime? I’d have to remember to ask Agent Bramble for a list of allies, so I’d know whom I could speak to about what. She seemed the type who would have a detailed flow chart handy.
“Agent Blair—”
“Please, call me Tyson,” he interjected. “We’re colleagues now, it would seem.”
“Right. You can call me Holly, then.”
“I normally work alone, so it was a surprise when Agent Bramble informed me to keep you in the loop. Want to tell me what your connection is to all this?”
“Um, I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to say. To be honest, I’m new at this and my boundary lines are a little … fuzzy.”
“Mhmm.” Tyson looked down his nose at me.
“What are the next steps?” I asked, trying not to let my irritation at his attitude show. “Chief Lincoln said you’re taking over the scene. Should we be expecting more agents?”
Tyson’s stern expression broke as he waved a hand in the direction of the cluster of Beechwood Harbor officers. “As far as they know, I’m FBI and I have the credentials to take control of the scene. I’ll dismiss them and they should step aside. Now, depending on the department, it might take a little persuasion to get them to back down, but from speaking with Chief Lincoln, I don’t expect much debate. Sometimes the larger departments in major cities take a little convincing. Small towns are usually happy for the extra hands, though occasionally we run into some resistance.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what tactics they used to convince those who argued for control of a scene. Haven laws made it clear that humans were never to be purposefully harmed by magic, and the SPA was established to ensure haven laws were followed both in and out of the protected communities. Still, there were times when the SPA got so close to the line between helping and harming, they could kiss it. In my opinion, erasing memories and using mind magic on humans was extreme. It was necessary in certain cases, but as I stood there thinking of Tyson’s words, I wondered just how much it was employed. I also wondered just how much the effects of such magic were studied. It wasn’t like the SPA would use humans as test subjects to see the effects of mind magic over time. At least … I really, really hoped not.
I made a mental note to ask Agent Bramble about it once the current mess was handled.
“Nick and I spoke with the pack leaders a few minutes ago,” I said. “His name is Bruno. I don’t know his last name. Anyway, he told us he was going to make Breanne his mate at the pack’s next gathering.”
Tyson jotted it down on his notepad, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as the dark ink slid into the paper and seemed to disappear. I’d seen the spellwork before. My old case worker at the SPA had used the same type of spell to keep his notes private. I’d always figured Harvey was paranoid and I’d find all the terrible things he’d written about me, but as I watched Tyson’s scrawled notations sink into the page, I realized it must be agency issued. If the notepad was stolen or lost, no one would be able to see the detailed notes. Without the revealing spell, it would look like an empty piece of parchment. I also added that to my list of future conversations with Agent Bramble. It would be a useful skill to add to my repertoire.
“How did he seem?” Tyson asked, still writing. “Broken up?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Of course he was. His mate was just murdered.”
Tyson frowned. “You are aware that in cases like this, the romantic partner is always suspect number one.”
“I guess,” I replied slowly. “But, it didn’t seem like he was putting on a show. He genuinely seemed upset, and I get the feeling he’s not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.”
“Noted,” Tyson said. “Anything else I need to know?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said, picking through the meager details I’d gotten for anything that may be of importance. “Nick would probably be the better person to talk to. I’m sure there are things the pack only shares among its members.”
He thought about that for a couple seconds, then gave a curt nod. “All right. What can you tell me about Nick, then?”
The question surprised me and I found myself at a loss for words.
“How long has he been a member of the pack?” Tyson asked, sensing my hesitation.
“Three months,” I said. “He was turned seven months ago, but it took a little convincing for him to join the pack. Especially this one.”
“Why’s that?”
I sighed. “It’s kind of a long story. What do you know about Sasha Pringle?”
I still hated the taste of her name on my lips.
“I’m familiar with the case,” Tyson answered.
“Good,” I said. “Ben, the one who cursed Nick, was her right-hand wolf.”
Tyson swore under his breath.
I gave a sharp nod. “Yeah. It was a disaster. When Nick was cursed, it wasn’t on the full moon, and his first turn was botched because of it. I had to do some pretty complex spellwork to get him back to being … normal. Or, at least, a normal wolf.”
I looked at Nick, still in conversation with the officer, and felt the familiar sting that needled me every time I thought back to that night he’d halfway changed, and he and Adam had found themselves in the crosshairs of a murderous werewolf. Thinking about how close I’d been to losing one—or stars forbid—both of them, made my stomach sour.
“Understandably, considering everything, he wasn’t ready to join Ben’s old pack,” I concluded.
“What made him change his mind?” Tyson asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. I think Adam, my boyfriend, had a hand in it. He’s a shifter, a large dog, big enough that he can take care of himself when running with a wolf.”
Tyson’s brows arched.
“He’s a really, really big dog,” I said.
“I’m a shifter myself, Holly. A bobcat. And even I wouldn’t dare to run with a wolf.”
I considered him. He was easily six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, and looked lean. Shifter’s beast form didn’t always match the specifics of their human body, but often there were some characteristics that carried over. Based on that, I had to imagine Tyson’s bobcat would be powerful and athletic. If he wouldn’t dare to tangle with a werewolf on the full moon, then what made Adam so willing to? Had something happened that made him change his mind about running with Nick? Was that why Nick had changed his mind and decided to join the local pack?
“Listen, all I know is the first two turns, Adam went running the woods with Nick. Nick trusted Adam to keep him out of trouble, and Adam knows the woods behind our house better than anyone. A few months ago, right after the change, they came back home in the morning, and Nick announced he was joining the pack. I didn’t ask what made him change his mind. It’s been a sensitive subject, as you just saw.”
Tyson nodded, but I could almost feel a handful of lingering questions rolling off him. “Does your boyfriend know the pack?”
“Only by reputation, as far as I know. Being a shifter yourself, I’m sure you understand there is usually distance kept between the two.”
“Usually, yes,” he agreed, closing his notepad. “You’ve been most helpful. I think I’ll speak with Nick and then call into headquarters. We’re going to need a team out here to take the body and
do some more investigating. Agent Bramble requested you call her as soon as possible. She wanted to come out herself, but she was pulled into an emergency meeting right after calling you. Tell her assistant who you are, and she’ll make sure you’re put through right away.”
“Is there anything else I can do here?” I asked.
“I’ve got it,” he replied. “Thank you.”
He didn’t wait for any further questions, but strode purposefully toward Chief Lincoln.
I still had a couple of hours until I was supposed to meet Adam for lunch, and I had a huge stack of potion orders to start preparing back at the manor. Despite that, I was glued to the cement, unwilling to turn away.
I dug my phone back out of my purse and dialed Agent Bramble’s private line at SPA headquarters. She’d know what I needed to do, and at the moment, that’s what I needed. If Agent Bramble was anything, she was a rudder.
As Tyson said, her assistant answered but quickly put me thought after I gave her my name. Agent Bramble picked up the line a few moments later.
“Holly, thank you for calling. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the scene myself. What can you tell me?”
I quickly relayed the information I’d gleaned from Agent Blair, and also the details of the conversation with Bruno. She listened, making the appropriate thoughtful noises at regular intervals. When I finished, the line went silent and I was about to check and make sure we hadn’t been disconnected when she spoke. “Very good. It looks like Agent Blair is on top of things. I’ll be sure to speak with him when he returns to headquarters and let him know that you are to be kept in the loop.”
“Does he know about Narissa?” I asked.
“It’s possible,” Agent Bramble answered. “I haven’t personally briefed him on the situation, but she’s a person of interest, and we don’t usually keep those names confidential. But, you have to remember, we’re analog over here. It isn’t like some fancy cop movie. So, unless he stumbled across her name in our paper files, he’s unlikely to know how she could be related to this particular case.”
One Bad Witch Page 6