Page 36 of Wild Wolf
She stared at me and said nothing.
I dug into my pocket and left my card on the counter with a smile.
We left her reception area and walked back to the Porsche.
Jack muttered, "Does she look like a killer to you?”
"She looks like a sweet lady who lost everything," I said. "I'm not ruling her out.”
We climbed into the Porsche and drove to the warehouse district. It was almost time for band practice. One last session to tighten the set before the big Halloween show.
We rocked it out, then Jack treated the guys to dinner. The usual mischief ensued on Oyster Avenue afterward. As we drew closer to the big day, more and more revelers paraded around in costume. Some were pretty creative—aliens, zombies, knights in shining armor. Of course, there was an uptick in werewolf costumes with the recent media circus. Most of them were pretty bad—dudes in cheap latex wolf masks with synthetic hair and snarling snouts.
It was around 10:30 PM when the sheriff called with more bad news.
19
Red and blue lights flickered atop patrol cars. Splashes of color flashed against the modern designs of the Palm Haven estates—bespoke homes for the uber-wealthy.
The medical examiner’s van was on the scene, along with an ambulance—but it was far too late for that.
A curious crowd had gathered, and Paris Delaney arrived just as we did.
JD and I hopped out and followed the trail of chaos down a narrow path to the beach. Rows of luxury homes lined the white sand, each one had its own private access point. Infinity pools and elaborate decks. Barbecue grills and serving stations. Each home was a resort. An oasis on the water. But there was nothing idyllic about what happened on this beach.
In the soft sand, above the water line, lay another mutilated body. Ripped to shreds and eviscerated, the grisly sightwould turn the stomachs of the uninitiated. It could even make a seasoned pro wince.
Brenda hovered over the body, wearing her pink nitrile gloves, examining the remains. Sheriff Daniels looked on with a grim face. Dietrich snapped photos, the camera flashes bouncing off the white sand. Forensic investigators chronicled the scene.
Paris had followed us down the trail, trying to get as close as possible.
Obsidian waves crashed against the shore, and the nearly full moon glowed overhead, its pale glow casting enough light to see clearly.
The patter of Tango One thumped the air as it circled overhead. It spotted the crime scene with an otherworldly cool white beam that made the victim’s skin look even paler in the absence of blood.
She was another young girl in her mid to late 20s. Sandy-blonde hair, tawny eyes, a petite figure. She had been wearing a sports bra, spandex pants, and jogging shoes. The sports bra had pretty much been shredded. The white garment soaked up the crimson blood.
"What happened?" I asked the sheriff as we stepped to the scene.
"Your werewolf struck again," he said in a sardonic voice that didn't quite hide his frustration. “Either that or it’s a copycat.”
"Same radius on the bite marks on the neck," Brenda said. “Same clean claw marks. This time, it gutted her.”
"What's her name?”
"She had an ID stuck in a pouch on her phone case,” Brenda said. “McKinsey Raine.”
"Who found her?" I asked.
Daniels pointed to a mortified couple in their mid-40s standing nearby. "Homeowners. Heard a scream while they were on their patio. You’ll want to talk to them. I don't think you’ll like what they have to say.”
I stepped to the couple, Elaine and Tommy. She was a short, frumpy woman in her early 40s with auburn hair and brown eyes. Tommy was a little older with receding light brown hair that was heading toward gray. By the looks of things, he hadn’t hit the gym in a long time and had a little belly to show for it.
"Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.
"We were just sitting on the patio, having a glass of wine, enjoying the evening when I heard this bloodcurdling scream," Tommy said. "I looked at Elaine. It sounded like someone was in distress. I told her to stay put while I checked it out. I hustled around the pool and walked down the path to the beach, and that's when I saw it.”
"It?”
