Justice Calling(4)

“Because she was out picking mushrooms,” I said, stepping firmly between Alek and Harper. “Rose does that. She’ll be gone in those woods a week or so. It’s normal for her.”
“How would a poacher get her?” Harper choked out. “She shouldn’t have even been in fox form.”
She was right about that. Rose, her mother, ran a bed and breakfast on a ranch that was grandfathered into the River of No Return Wilderness.  She was an earthy, eccentric, and loving woman who took all sorts of shifter strays in. She liked to go camping in the wilderness every spring before the summer season brought in wildlife photographers, white water rafters, hikers, and all the other people the Wilderness attracted.
“I was sent here by the council,” Alek said and he shook his head, eyes narrowing speculatively at me. “That means foul play.”
“Hey, I was manning my shop. Plus I wouldn’t touch a gun even if it snuggled and made me waffles.” I glared at him.  “Oh, universe damn you. Now you are interrogating me. This is not cool.”
“My vision says you are the key,” he said, folding impressively muscled arms over his broad chest.
“Maybe you need your psychic eyes checked,” I shot back.
“Guys,” Harper said, sniffling. “Please. We need to find out how mom… oh god, I can’t say it. Just. Help me.”
I turned to her, taking the tea from her hands and setting it aside. She collapsed into my arms, shaking with renewed sobs. I couldn’t resist another glare at Alek, making it clear this was definitely his fault.
“Hey! Jade? Ciaran?” a male voice called out from back within the shop.  
Fuck. Game night.
“Ezee, Levi, we’re back here,” I yelled to them, then said to Alek as his hand reached for his gun, “ease off there, Dirty Harry. They’re furry friendlies.”
“Is anyone human in this town?” He asked.  He’d already sniffed at Ciaran and established he was safe since he wasn’t a normal.
“Steve,” Harper said, swallowing another sob and wiping her nose the now damp sleeve of Ciaran’s sweater.
“Harper? You okay? What’s going on?” The twins had made their way back to us.
Ezekiel and Levi Chapowits are Native American like myself, but Nez Perce, not Crow.  They’re fraternal, not identical twins, but they share a lot of the same features. Strong bone structure, above average height, thick black hair, dark eyes.  Beyond that, and being giant nerds, they are nothing alike. Ezee is a coyote shifter and wears designer knockoff suits he sews himself.  He teaches American History and Native Studies up at Juniper College.
Levi is a wolverine who wears nothing but cargo pants, work boots, and tee-shirts stained with the guts of the cars he works on in his shop. He wears his hair in a long Mohawk and has enough piercings in his face that I joke I could peel his skin and use it to strain pasta.
They both break the heart of every woman they meet, pretty much.  Not just because they are handsome, smart, and awesome, but because Levi is happily married to a crazy hippy artist and owl shifter named Junebug and Ezee is as gay as Neil Patrick Harris.
“Someone killed mom,” Harper blurted out.
“Fraking-a,” Ezee said. “That why there’s a Justice here?”
Trust Ezee to have noticed the tall hot guy and taken in the feather talisman in a glance.
“What?” Levi said. “Oh, hello.” He tipped his head to Alek.
Alek nodded back, finally seeming at a loss for words in the face of the twins. I was certain he’d start interrogating them soon enough, however.
“Where’s Rose? What happened?” Levi asked.
“Behind you,” I said softly.
A lot more curse words came from the twins as they looked Rose’s dead body over.
“I don’t see a wound,” Ezee said finally.
“We should get an autopsy. That’s what they do on TV.” Harper pulled the sweater tight around herself and stood up.
“Is your medical examiner shifter also?” Alek asked.
“No,” Levi said. “He’s with County. We aren’t big enough to have our own.” Levi also was a volunteer firefighter. That kind of multitasking happens when you live as long as shifters do and in a small town like Wylde.
I ran my hands over Rose’s body, swallowing bile as nausea wormed through me. I was manhandling one of my favorite people in the world. My eyes felt too tight and hot in their sockets and I realized I was about to cry. Shit. I never cry. Not in a couple decades. Not anymore.#p#分页标题#e#
I don’t know much about taxidermy, but I figured there would be seams, staples, something. I felt nothing but her fur, its longer russet hairs rough and the lighter undercoat thick and soft on my fingers.  I looked into her creepily realistic glass eyes and wished I could ask her what the hell she’d been doing in fox form and how she’d gotten caught.  It was possible whoever had done this had no idea he’d killed and stuffed a person.