Page 12 of Wild Wolf
"So you got mad when she turned you down," I said, putting the pieces together.
"I didn't get mad. But I was likewhat the fuck?One minute she's down to fuck, the next minute she's not.”
"It's her prerogative to change her mind.”
"No shit,” he said flatly.
"So, let me get this straight. You took her to the beach, you made your move, she turned you down. You basically called her out on her previous promiscuous behavior. She got mad and stormed off. Is that how it went down?"
Austin looked stunned that I had called it so spot on. "Yeah. Something like that. That's not a crime. I didn’t kill her. You know that. You said you got a witness.”
"How about you give us a DNA sample, and we can rule you out as a suspect?"
"Fine by me. I got nothing to hide.”
"It's just a simple cheek swab," I said as I pulled a collection kit from my pocket. I snapped on nitrile gloves, broke the seal on the kit, pulled the cotton swab from the plastic tube, then swiped the inside of his cheek. I put the sample back in the tube, sealed it up, and labeled it.
I told Austin we’d be in touch and not to leave town.
JD and I walked back down the hall to the elevators. He pressed the call button, and we hung out for a minute. The TV was on in the lounge, and several students relaxed on couches, looking hungover.
"What do you think about that guy?" JD asked.
"I think he’s an asshole, but I don't know if he killed the girl. I don't know how Scruffy could mistake him for a werewolf, but we don't know what Scruffy was on. He could have been whacked out of his mind on some type of hallucinogen.”
“What mind he has left,” JD muttered.
The bell rang, and the elevator doors slid open. JD and I stepped aboard and plunged down to the lobby. We hurried across campus to the Founders’ Court, where we had parked. We hopped into the Porsche and left the rich Georgian architecture behind.
At the station, I logged the evidence, then we chatted with Denise at her desk for a bit. The gorgeous redhead was always a refreshing sight.
"Have you seen this?" she asked. Denise pulled up a clip of Paris Delaney on the station’s website. "She's still pushing the whole werewolf thing.”
Denise pressed play on the clip.
"The medical examiner has ruled out a leopard as the cause of death in the Ophelia Grace investigation. The finding has increased speculation about a werewolf attack among the local community. Some claim to have seen the mythical creature in the flesh." The segment cut to a scene with a young gentleman wearing a black rock 'n' roll T-shirt. He had a face full of acne. "I just saw a werewolf last week. The creature jumped over my back fence, ran through the yard, and leapt over the other fence. He was big. Maybe 8 feet tall. Part man, part wolf. Walked upright. I grabbed my phone, but the thing moved quickly. He was gone before I could take a picture.”
"And you think that's what killed Ophelia Grace?” Paris asked.
"Had to be. Couldn't be anything else. People think I'm crazy, but I've seen it with my own eyes.”
Paris addressed the camera. "Speculation abounds as zoo personnel struggle to corral the remaining animals on the island. Officials assure us that no predatory animals are at large in the community, and all of the big cats have been accounted for and returned to their proper homes. I'm Paris Delaney, and you heard it from me first.”
I just shook my head, dug my phone from my pocket, and dialed the blonde reporter.
She answered after a few rings. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“What are you doing?”
”Right now? I’m heading out to interview another witness. Why? What do you have in mind,” she said in a mischievous voice.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Reporting this nonsense.”
“Because it’s my job.”
