Page 25 of Night Call

“Please!” a woman cried, followed by wails and screams. “Please, my son! Let me see my son!”

Pember swallowed, keeping his head down as he approached Maya and Duncan.

“Bloody hell,” Duncan said, pulling his coat tighter around himself. “It’s a bit intense, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” Maya replied, dropping behind Duncan’s shoulder. She scanned the crowd, looking weirdly excited. “A few people have already started to take their shirts off. If they shift it’s gonna be a problem.”

They huddled behind the van, trying to avoid the various items being lobbed past the cordon. Lily and Blake hurried over from their position by a marked car, both holding clipboards above their heads to prevent themselves being hit by projectiles.

“They’re settled Romas,” Blake huffed, pulling Lily next to him. He held up an arm to shield the beta from an incoming takeaway cup. “They’re one of Albania’s largest wolf packs, settled in the UK for the last decade. They want to claim the deceased, but say the police are dishonouring tradition by keeping him in situ.”

Pember dropped his gaze to the tarmac. Out of respect? Shame? He couldn’t be sure. He’d never seen a proper large-scale pack before, which was more of a reflection on the UK than anything else.

Wallace nodded. “Ah. Hence the growing crowd.” He turned to Pember. “Even more reason to get this done quickly and efficiently, alright?”

Pember nodded, his gaze trailing up to Blake’s face. There were dark circles under his eyes again, and his expression was pulled back to its icy facade.

“Full forensics and photographs?” Wallace said, giving Blake a pointed look.

Blake shook his head. “A pathologist is on the way, so no swabs yet. Minimal disturbance, photographs only. Start at the shopfront. The entrance to the flat is around the side. Response officers forced entry, but I want you to fully document all access and egress points. Minimal disturbance, Wallace, understand?”

Wallace nodded. “It’ll just be me and the lad going in initially. So long as you’re alright with that, Pem?”

Pember nodded, slipping off his coat. Maya hopped from foot to foot as she fidgeted with her long, dark ponytail. “I can come with you, Wallace. If Pember wants to sit this one out?”

Pember frowned, but didn’t bite back.

Wallace shook his head. “Baptism by fire. That’s what I say.”

Maya huffed. “Yeah, but… there’s learning on the job and then there’s a fucking murder scene, Wal. Go easy on him, yeah?”

Wallace’s gaze shifted to Pember. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

Pember nodded. “Of course, but if Maya?—”

“Excellent,” Wallace said, cutting him off. “Duncan, help Pember get dressed and I’ll meet you over by the entrance.”

Duncan nodded, handing him a white scene examiner suit and a pair of blue shoe covers. Zipping up the suit, Duncanhelped him pull on several sets of latex gloves. Pember’s gaze slid to Maya, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

“Ready?” Wallace said, squeezing his shoulder.

Pember nodded and followed him towards the house. It all became white noise as the din from the crowd grew even louder. It seemed their appearance in the white suits was escalating the unrest and sending the group into a frenzy. He was vaguely aware of Johnny and Tay moving within the crowd, trying to stop the betas from shifting. But all Pember could do was shut out the noise as he gripped the camera and focused on Wallace’s back.

The door to The Cod Father was already open, the smell of grease and vinegar slamming into his nostrils. The shiny metal bar was immaculately clean, with sauces and condiments all lined up in a neat row. Chip papers and vinegar bottles were ready and waiting to be used, and for all intents and purposes nothing was amiss.

That was, except for the thick rivulets of blood oozing through the gaps in the tiled ceiling. It had already congealed into thick, brownish globs that peppered the tiled floor. Despite only being a few hours old, the metallic stench permeated everything. His inner wolf actually squirmed, and he pressed a hand to his belly to calm the sensation.

Wallace indicated for him to start taking photographs, which he did without question. As they worked their way through the shop and around the side, they quickly found the door that led up to the second-floor flat. It was, as expected, smashed to smithereens.

“What do you see, lad?”

Pember frowned as he adjusted his face mask. His gaze skimmed over the splintered bits of wood and glass, eventually falling on the door handle. “The locking mechanism is still in place,” he said, bending down to photograph the protruding bar.

“Which means?”

“That the door was locked at the time of, or after the murder?”

Wallace’s cheeks rose behind his mask. “Indeed. It’s not our place to investigate, but what can we infer from that?”

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