Page 78 of In Prey We Trust

LustyLibrarian: I’m fine, Fitzgerald. I know it’s not prudent to cause a fuss, given the circumstances.

CSpot: But are you both okay?

TigerWoody: Yes, love. Baby Girl and I are fine. But this… problem… is lying in her dorm, in her bed, and it’s been cleaned and staged. No accident.

EmoBatMan: The Captain and his crew are on their way and I messaged Henrietta. Luckily, that oaf in charge is never here, so she’s in charge in an emergency.

TigerKing: *snort* At least we know she won’t want to make a big deal. This will stay under wraps because she’s a puppet.

TigerWoody: I’m going to do a little forensic shit in here. See if there're clues before anyone gets here. I’ll send a picture of the face for Chessie to run through my programs.

CSpot: I’ll try to I.D. her, babe.

TigerWoody: Over and out, dickheads.

I close my eyes, working to suppress the hyperactivity coursing through my veins because of the adrenaline. Baby Girl needs me to focus because she looks ready to keel over. Taking her hands in mine, I tug her over to the desk on her roommate’s side of the room and plant her in the chair. “I’m going to look the body over to see if there’s anything Aubrey can submit to his friends at the museum. We know they won’t call the Sibbies, but if I can narrow this down, we’ll know who to aim for.”

She nods quietly and I go back to the corpse, intensely glad it’s fresh and we didn’t walk into decomp stench. I snap a picture of the face first, sending it to Chessie, then I let the tiger’s eyes bleed in. The change sharpens my vision and I hover over the uniformed body to examine it. It’d be easier if I had gloves, but if I find something, I’ll use claws to avoid prints.

“Should I… see if there’s anything we can use to preserve… things?”

“Good idea, Baby Girl. But cover your hands before you touch anything not out in plain sight. It makes sense you might leave prints on a chair, but not on drawers or inside of stuff. Remember what they do on the mystery shows, right?”

That gets a small chuckle and I smile to myself as I continue my way down the torso. Dolly rummages quietly, and I hear a sound of satisfaction when she must find something useful. I’m about to turn around, but then I see them: two long blond hairs caught in the buttons on the sleeve of the girl’s jacket. The body has short black hair, so it’s not hers.

This is the clue we need to find out who the fuck is killing students, and I found it.

“Baby Girl, what did you find over there? I need something to carry this.”

She walks over, holding up what look like tubes from a lab. “Will these work? This Kinsley chick had lots of lab stuff last time, so I knew looking around might lead to shit we could use.”

I nod, giving her a proud smile as I take the capped vial. “Perfect. Keep a watch for the calvary while I do this, okay?”

Her face is a little less pasty than before, but her spark is still gone. She just nods and walks back to the desk, sitting quietly. I don’t blame her, but I also don’t like it one bit. Shaking my head, I go back to the body, sliding two claws out to pluck the hair off the cuff. It takes a little doing to get it in the tube and sealed, but once I do, I stuff it in my pocket. Having our own evidence is crucial and I trust the Council’s flunkies about as far as I could throw the dragon.

“Fitz?”

“Mmm?” I reply as I go back to searching for more clues.

“Who is she? Do we know yet?”

I sigh, looking over my shoulder at the guilty expression on her face. She thinks they killed this student because of her, but I doubt that. It’s far more likely they were killed for no reason at all except to inspire fear. Just like her bullying friends, psychopaths and sociopaths like to play with their food. If they didn’t kill this girl to mess with her, they’d be killing someone else for another reason. My father taught us that from the time we were cubs, with his capricious whims and frequent tirades that lead to bloodbaths.

At least I have a fucking reason when I tear someone to bits.

“No, we don’t. I sent Chessie a picture and—” My phone dings and our eyes meet. I stand, backing away from the corpse as I check the screen. “Oh, fuck. This isn’t good.”

“What? Who is it?” Dolly shoots to her feet, hurrying over to see what I’m looking at. Her skin goes white again and I have to hold her arm when she sways a little.

The fucking dead girl is her absent roommate that Aubrey’s been researching as the poisoner—and now she’s dead in Dolly’s bed.

This is so not good.

“Fitz Khan, we’re only two weeks into our guest stay at this institution!”

Henny is fluttering around like a chicken who sees the sky falling. I have no idea how the Irritable Iguana handles her; it’s annoying just to witness. Huffing, I look over at the Captain and Holliday as they carefully wrap the body in plastic. They seem to know what they’re doing—something I should ask the Flying French Fry about. Everything the two of them have done looks familiar from Dolly’s mystery shows, and I’m a little impressed.

But then, who the fuck knows what that poetic prat had them do this summer?

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