Electric Storm(82)

The tape wound around a dozen trees, the space at least thirty feet across. There had to be only shreds remaining of that poor soul.

“The other body is for you.”

“Me?” Raven almost got whiplash turning to look at him and nearly missed a step. Those hard cop eyes of his watched her for any nuance, searching for answers...or guilt?

She very deliberately relaxed her posture. Scotts’ stiff body language and all-cop attitude scraped her skin the wrong way. Something was very wrong. “Explain.”

“This.” He pulled out a plastic bag. Inside rested a letter, the surface half-matted with blood. One word jumped out at her. Her name. The letter was addressed to her specifically.

“The note was found pinned to the poor bastard’s back with an eight inch blade.” He hesitated before handing over the letter. “He’d been alive when it was done.”

Evil saturated the note; she could feel it reaching for her, ready to drag her into hell. Dread clamped hard on her chest. The killers knew her name. Since she worked hard to keep her life private, it had to be those damned newspapers. “Body first, then the letter. Show me.”

“Come.”

The breeze sliced through her, stealing her breath. Floodlights barely fought back the invading darkness. People milled about, their sideways glances slamming into her back. She registered their looks then dismissed them. Though disturbing, they weren’t the ones who sent that slice of unease deeper. There was a presence that lurked in the air that seemed to be stalking her.

The body lay sprawled face down under a pool of lights three yards away. Large. Male. Mid-thirties. Malnourished if the clear lines of his ribs were any indication. And not an inch of flesh remained free of mutilation. The police left the body untouched for her. Raven drew up short. “Why do I have a feeling you’ve already decided my fate, and I’m being marched to the gallows?”

“Look at him. Read the letter.” The gruff voice held no warmth.

The chill in the air wrapped around her skin and burrowed into her flesh. The branches smashed ominously against one another, the sinister sound like a clank of a skeleton as it dragged itself toward her. That haunting image of her past rose so vividly, she couldn’t force herself closer, couldn’t bear to see him try to speak, begging her for help.

Surprisingly, it was the stench of congealed blood clogging her nose that reassured her. With the vile taste coating her mouth, she pushed forward and breathed lightly in hopes of keeping her lunch. She needed to see everything. She didn’t have time to be weak.

The pressure in her chest eased. The analytical part of her mind shoved aside the horror scattered across the forest floor. She had a killer to find. “What happened to the flesh?”

“They skinned part of the body, then cauterized it with a blow torch to prevented him from healing too quick.” Scotts looked at the darkness as if unable to bear gazing at the ravaged body.

Raven tightened her lips and crouched, unwilling to miss anything because of her squeamishness. Pus and blood continued to ooze in spots while others were crusted over. Some areas appeared waxy. She shooed away the flies, noticing the recently hatched larvae busily eating away the evidence. “A shifter. You can tell by the new skin growth. He tried to heal.” She shuffled closer, noticing the fingers. “Claws or nails were torn out of his body.”

She picked up a stick and lifted his hand closer. Twigs and leaves stuck to his fingertips. She couldn’t imagine the pain. “He was crawling toward something when they stuck the knife in his back.” She glanced up to see Scotts looking at her. “He was heading north. Away from the road. Away from freedom.” Toward the shredded body. Only one thing would make a shifter do that. Pack.

Without a word, Scotts stuck the letter in her face. The comforting tobacco scent she associated with him was sharper, more blunt, and anything but peaceful. She obediently read, knowing she wasn’t going to like what she found. “Let’s play a game of cat and mouse. We skinned the kitty, see if you can catch us before we capture and devour your little mouse. We look forward to the chase.”

A tremor shook her hand, and she shoved the letter away, wishing she could push it out of her mind as well.

She cleared her throat. “They must have grabbed a weak shifter. If we don’t catch the killer, they’ll do this again.” She nodded to the corpse. “From the pronouns in the note, there’s more than one killer.”

“And they also have your name.”

She couldn’t take her gaze off the body, the crushed bones and the collapsed side of his face that resembled nothing more than raw beef. His determination haunted the air as did his despair when he realized it was too late.