I didn't sit. "Why did you pull Jason in?"
"He has defensive wounds on his body consistent with the crime."
"You don't actually believe that Jason was involved in that," I searched for a word, "slaughter, do you?"
"He's a werewolf and he's got defensive wounds," Dolph said, "if he didn't rape our vic, then he raped somebody."
"You're here to observe, Lieutenant," Zerbrowski said, but his face said plainly that he would have rather been anywhere than sitting here, telling Dolph to mind his own business.
Dolph started to say something, then stopped himself by force of will alone. "Fine, fine, Sergeant, carry on." Those last two words held more heat than a forest fire.
"Wait," I said, "did you say rape?"
"We found semen at the first murder site," Zerbrowski said.
"The crucifixion?" I asked.
"No," Dolph said harshly, "the woman who was ripped apart."
"Semen doesn't mean rape at a scene like that, just that he enjoyed himself. It's sick, but it doesn't necessarily mean true sexual contact. I saw the body, there wasn't enough left of her to know whether he touched her like that, or not." I had a thought, an awful thought. "Please tell me you don't mean the head."
Zerbrowski shook his head, "No. Scattered over the scene."
It was almost a relief. Almost. "So why did Dolph say rape?"
"There was a little more left of the second female vic," Zerbrowski said.
I looked at him. "I don't remember being notified about a second attack."
"You didn't need to know," Dolph said. "You were right, I called you in on the first one, but I didn't make the same mistake twice."
I ignored Dolph as best I could and looked at Zerbrowski. He mouthed, "Later."
Fine, Zerbrowski would fill me in when we had some non-Dolph time. Fine, great. I couldn't do anything about the psycho shape-shifter we had running around town, not right that second, but I might be able to do something about the current disaster.
"What did Jason say when you asked where he got scratched up?"
"Said a man doesn't kiss and tell," Zerbrowski said, "even I thought that one was lame."
I looked at Jason. He shrugged, as if to say, what was I supposed to say. He knew me well enough to know I wouldn't want him talking out of school. He was right on that. I so didn't want Zerbrowski and Dolph to know. Hell, I didn't want anyone to know. But my embarrassment wasn't worth Jason getting locked up.
I sighed, and spoke the truth. "The scratches aren't defensive wounds."
"He's cut up, Anita, and we got the Polaroids to prove it," Zerbrowski said. "Dolph noticed some scratches at the first scene. They're gone, but now he's got fresh wounds."
"I cut him up." My voice sounded bland, because I was fighting to sound bland.
Dolph gave a sound that was more snort than laugh. No words were needed to say he didn't believe me.
Zerbrowski said his out loud, "Shop it somewhere else, Anita, we're not buying."
I raised the sleeves on my shirt and showed my own healing scratches. "When I was afraid I'd hurt him more, I scratched myself."
Zerbrowski's eyes went wide. "Jesus, Blake, you always this rough?"
"You'll never find out Zerbrowski."
"If that was a yes, then I'm okay with that." He almost touched some of the deeper scratches on my arm, then stopped and almost touched the scratches on Jason's arms. "I hope the sex was good."
Jason looked down at the tabletop, and did his best impression of an aw'shucks look. He managed to look coy and pleased with himself all at the same time.
"That's answer enough," I said.
Jason flashed me a grin that made his baby blues sparkle. "Whatever you say, mistress."
I gave him a very mean look, that didn't dim his enjoyment one bit.
Dolph pushed away from the wall to peer over the table at my arm. "I don't buy this, Anita. Maybe you scratched your own arms up on the way here to give him an alibi."
"The scratches aren't that fresh, Dolph."
He started to grab my arm, but I stepped out of reach. "I don't want to be manhandled again, thanks anyway."
He leaned across the table at me, and Jason began to ease his chair back, as if he didn't want to be in the middle.
"You're lying," Dolph said. "A shape-shifter heals anything but silver and wounds from another monster, real quick. You taught me that, Anita. He should be healed by now, if you really were the one who hurt him."
"Wouldn't that same logic dictate that if the scratches were from the female victim then they'd already have healed?"
"Not if they come from the second victim." Dolph slapped that bit of information down as if it were a blow, and in a way it was.