Last of the Shapeshifters

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

SASHA

“What you got for me?”

Sasha looked up from her notes, and saw the superintendent standing in the doorway. “I got a bit of hair. Looks more like fur, actually. I sent it off to the lab so we’ll know tomorrow, assuming they don’t bury it.”

“They won’t. I’ll put in a word. They’ll probably have it analyzed by the end of the day, so call them, don’t wait for them to call you. That’s a rookie mistake.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sasha leaned forward. She still hadn’t properly cooled down despite being in an air-conditioned office. The desert heat had a way of seeping into your body, into your bones, and left you feeling like a glowing heating element.

“Hot today?”

Sasha flared. “Do I look that bad?”

“Yes,” he said. “You look like you got very drunk last night, too. I take it you outdrank the boys in the squad room?”

“Damn right I did,” she said. She sighed. “Boss, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’d say we probably have a homicide on our hands.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I mean, unlocked door, and—”

“Charlie Kinnear never locked his door. I once walked that beat, you know.”

“Did you see the photos of his body? They’re in the computer already.”

“I did,” the superintendent said. He looked sad for a moment. “Could have been an animal.”

“Nothing was disturbed in the house, and there was food still left in the trash.” She shook her head. “It’s unlikely. Why target him? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Who knows? Maybe somebody has a nasty pet we don’t know about. People do crazy things. I saw photos of people in South Africa with hyenas as pets!”

“I don’t think that is it.”

“What about the call about that big dog? Mrs. Clark, was it?”

“Shaky. Responding unit saw nothing.”

“Maybe the uniforms scared it off.”

“Could be… but it feels like we’re missing something. The hair I got will clear it up. It doesn’t belong to the vic.”

“Charlie had no hair.”

“Exactly. It’s grayish, though. Felt soft, you know? Had a spring to it. Probably from the lining of a jacket, to be honest.”

“Nobody owns fur out here, detective.”

“Well, maybe. Maybe not. But that's all I’ve got.”

“No prints?”

“Everywhere, but you know the drill, boss. It’s a house. Prints are everywhere.” She shrugged. “We’ll find out soon if any of them don’t belong to Charlie. I don’t think he had many houseguests.”

“No, he didn’t. So, not an animal attack then?” The superintendent almost sounded disappointed.

“I’m just not buying it. There’s no local wildlife that could do… that to a man. A coyote, maybe? But I’m skeptical. I just don’t see it. Splatter pattern implies great force, tremendous, really. There was blood on the ceiling. That’s not some coyote biting. It… it reminded me… you know what, never mind.”

“No, say it, Monroe.”

“I dunno. Like—” She held her hand out and formed it into a claw and then swiped it through the air, at a slight upward angle. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Something like that.”

Her superintendent snorted. “Don’t think a man’s nails are capable of that.”

“Prosthetic, maybe.”

“What, some homemade Freddy Krueger glove?”

Sasha shrugged. “I’ve heard of weirder things.”

“Just wait until forensics gets back to you and leave the fanciful speculation.”

“Yes, boss.”

He sighed, and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “God damn it. Did you talk to Sands?”

“Yes. He said he heard a scream. Said he sleeps with his window open, which is stupid of him. Should know better having been a Salty Springs lifer.”

“A scream?”

“Coming from Mr. Kinnear’s house.” Sasha’s hope that the poor man had been killed in his sleep had been dashed after she’d interviewed Sands.

“Don’t put out word yet that we might be dealing with a homicide.”

“Why not, sir?”

“Work the case a little more. We don’t need to stir up a panic… not if we don’t have to. I don’t need another f*****g thing right now.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “With all due respect, sir, you shouldn’t be worrying about politics on a murder case. We have a body, and we need resources. I need backup on this, and you need to make it official. I want access to the state lab.”

“Don’t put it out yet,” the superintendent repeated, enunciating each syllable slowly. “Work… the… case.”

“I’m working it, damn it,” Sasha snapped.

“Make it fast, Monroe. I want this thing sorted. After that meth house incident, and the couple of bodies we’ve got this month, we don’t need any more bad press.”

Sasha looked back down at her notes without replying.

“Monroe?”

“Yes?”

“Button up your shirt, would you?”

Her pride ruffled. All the men had their shirts unbuttoned at the top. “Why?” Sasha asked, looking her boss dead in the eyes. “All the fellas have their shirts unbuttoned. It’s hot.”

“Christ almighty,” O’Neill said, rubbing his forehead again. “Women these days.” He wandered off.

“You’re damn right,” Sasha muttered under her breath. She was not going to let any man, even her boss, tell her how to dress. If the male detectives could unbutton their top buttons, then damn well so could she.

An hour later, Sasha had nowhere to turn, and no conceivable avenue for further investigation. The prints from the door knob and the house all belonged to old man Charlie, and she’d have to wait until the end of the day for the analysis of the hair fibers.

At half past ten in the morning, it had already been a long day, and Sasha still had the rest of it ahead of her. She heard a grumble in her stomach, and decided she’d take an early lunch. One of the benefits of being a detective now, she supposed.

DYLAN

Dylan Macready cradled his cup of coffee, breathing in the steam that wafted upward from it. The air was dry as hell, and his airways felt as though they were lined with dust and sand. He had walked around the small town of Salty Springs all morning. It had a considerable sprawl to it, especially when considering that it had such a small population.

“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and full, waving at the waitress. The older woman with a hard scowl and leathered face walked up to him, coffee pot in her hand, a jaunty carelessness in her step. She was wearing an oversized grease-stained sleeveless blouse, tucked into high-waist jeans, and with the top button undone.

“More coffee, stud?” Her voice was deep and raspy, like she’d just smoked a hundred cigarettes in a single sitting.

Dylan ignored the question. “Why are there so many police officers around?”

“Sorry, darling?”

“Cops. I went for a walk today, and couldn’t go two buildings without seeing one.”

“This is Salty Springs, darling,” the woman said didactically, as though that explained everything.

Dylan looked up at her. “Tell me about it.”

“About what?”

“Salty Springs. Come on, sit down. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Where have you been all my life,” the waitress said with a smile. “What do you want to know?”

Dylan looked at her, confused for a moment. “Why all the cops?” he asked again.

“It’s Salty Springs.”

“You already said that.”

“You new around here? I haven’t seen your pretty face before.”

Dylan gave her a smirk. “Guilty.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you. This here, this town, it’s got problems up the wazoo. Hence the cops. But it’s also a nice place with families and history.”

“What problems, mostly?”

“Drugs. Alcohol.”

Dylan nodded. He’d heard about it before.

“The drugs are the worst. Kids hooked on meth. They smoke that filth. Got a few houses around here that cook it all up. Used to be really popular, back in the nineties, but then it died down for a while. Seen a resurgence lately, though.”

“For such a low population,” Dylan said. “Don’t you find that weird?”

“Officially, that number you see on the sign outside town is right. Unofficially, it’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Lots of people coming here over the years, especially recently since the drugs started up again.”

“Yeah?”

“Real bad types, too. g**g members, trash. You name it.”

“Thanks for the chat,” Dylan said.

“I’m billing you another cup of coffee,” she said, getting up with a grunt.

“Won’t argue.”

“And I thought you were going to ask me why this town was called Salty Springs.”

“What if I had?”

“I’d have told you to go down the tourist office and read a fuckin’ brochure.” She took a breath, and then paused, narrowing her eyes at him. “Don’t smirk at me like that, young man. You think I haven’t seen a looker before?” She disappeared into the kitchen.

Dylan grinned. They say it’s not where you go that sticks in your memories, but who you meet.

He returned his thoughts to the reason why he had come to Salty Springs in the first place. He’d read about sightings of a wolf in the desert, and that was what had piqued his curiosity. It was as out of place as a bear in the desert, he mused. With the downtrodden town being the only place worth going for hundreds of miles in all directions, it was as safe a bet as any that this was where that wolf was heading.

He had been drawn here, anyway. His gut instinct had told him so. Something here was pulling him, and had stretched out somehow across the globe. He’d caught scent of it a while back, and had followed the trail since.

The wolf. At least, he thought it was the wolf.

But his instincts also told him there was something else here. Something more that was pulling him, as though he were on an invisible tether being guided by some ethereal hand.

He frowned, and pushed his lips together. The square lines of his jaw stood out in harsh relief. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his stubble was thick and dark on his face. He caught his reflection in the window. He looked gruff and rugged, a little unkempt. Not unusual for someone who had made as long a journey as he had.

His green eyes seemed to pierce themselves in the reflection, and for a brief moment he felt as if he were not looking at himself, but someone else… something else.

There was a mystery to be solved here. He felt it not just in his gut, but in his heart.

A long time ago, he had learned to trust his instincts. They had guided him this far. He was sure he was in the right place.

Soon he would have what he wanted. But whether he would be better off for it time would still tell.

Glancing out of the window, he saw another police cruiser roll by. If he was going to investigate around town, he’d have to do so carefully with all these cops around. There were more eyes looking out for unusual things than he had expected, and it wasn’t just because he was a newcomer to town that he would be considered very unusual.