"We've got a DB over on Fifth Avenue by the horse fountain," the dispatcher told him. "First uniform on scene said it looks like a werewolf attack."
"Got it. I'm on my way." Dante made a U-turn at the next intersection and headed toward the crime scene. He drove up Marshall Way and pulled to a stop next to a marked unit that was parked sideways, blocking off the roundabout where the horse fountain was the centerpiece. He lifted his chin in greeting to the uniformed officer standing sentry at the perimeter. "Joe," he said as the man lifted the yellow tape for Dante to duck beneath.
"Dante." The officer thumbed over his shoulder. "It's a real mess over there."
"Any {="1="1 witnesses?"
"Nope. It's pretty quiet around here. Some of the coffee shops and restaurants have been open for business for about an hour. If anyone was here when this went down, they're not talking."
"Figures, not that I can blame them. I imagine seeing a werewolf attacking someone is a scary thing." Even from where he stood, Dante could see evidence markers all over the scene. He walked over and stood at the edge of the crime scene, a small bricked area with a few round concrete picnic tables and large planters with yellow flowers in them. George, the council ME, was bent over the victim, and several criminalists were at work, taking pictures and collecting data.
Dante went over to a tech who was busy sketching the scene. Dante watched as he accurately represented the scene on graph paper while studiously ignoring the cop peering over his shoulder.
Someone walked up and stood next to Dante. He glanced sideways and saw the werewolf liaison from quadrant four standing there. "What brings you to my crime scene, Ash?" Dante asked.
"From the description, this sounds like it's my guy. So dispatch sent me instead of Tori." He raked dark blond hair off his forehead. "Crap. Even from here this looks bad."
Dante was glad Tori was getting some time off but he missed not being able to talk through the case with her as they walked the scene.
The ME glanced up from the body suddenly and motioned them over. They both took care where they placed their feet as they joined him. The closer to the body they got, the stronger the smell of bleach and ammonia became. "You smell that?" Dante asked Ash.
"Yeah, I do." He huffed a sigh. "Damn it."
Dante hunkered down and looked at the body, or what was left of it. It was a man, his head turned to one side, the neck clearly broken. His clothing lay in tatters around him, and blood smeared nearly every inch of his skin. The torso was ripped open, a gaping, bloody hole where organs should have been. This reminded Dante of one of the early scenes in his career on the Special Case squad, about a year ago. He looked over at the ME. "Please don't tell me the suspect ate part of this poor guy."
Ash squatted down and gave a few sniffs, wrinkling his nose before standing back up.
"I can't say, because that would involve supposition on my part," George replied, as persnickety as ever. He took off his latex gloves and dropped them near the body, then grabbed a small cylindrical container from his shirt pocket and pulled off the cap. He shook a toothpick out and stuck it between his teeth, then replaced the container in his pocket. "What I can tell you," he said with teeth clenched around the small wooden stick, "is that all the internal organs are gone. They were ripped out, not cut, and from the amount of blood in the thoracic and abdominal cavities, I'd say the victim was still alive when this all started."
God. The poor bastard had been eaten alive? Dante shared a look with Ash. "If this is the same rogue that's been turning people," Dante said, "why would he kill this guy instead of turning him?"
"He's succumbed to bloodlust," Ash murmured. "Shit."
Dante glanced from the werewolf liaison to the ME and back again. "Bloodlust?"
Ash drew in a deep breath. "It's a fine line we draw, those of us-like shapeshifters and vampires-who have a taste for humans. If we deny ourselves too long, we can go into a frenzy when we finally do get a bite. Or if we've been indulging too much, it basically shuts down our body's response to satiety."
"Leptin levels drop and ghrelin levels rise," George added. "The release of cholecys … " He trailed off and sent Dante a chagrined look. "Sorry. Geek {Sod.speak. Let's just say that our brain doesn't tell our stomachs that we're full. So we feel hungry all the time."
Ash looked at the carnage. "Not just hungry. Ravenous. So we kill again. And again, the taste for humans becomes an addiction we can't fight. We don't want to fight." He rubbed his chin and met Dante's eyes. "I've been close to that condition, man, and it's a hard thing to turn away from. The sense of power you get, taking someone's life, is a heady feeling. I can pretty much guarantee that all our guy can think about now is when he's going to get his next meal, when he's going to feel that way again."
This was bad. Very bad. "So we have a starving werewolf on the loose? Great." Dante stood and glanced around. He itched to investigate further to see if the killer had left his signature. "What's your TOD, doc?"
"I put time of death around two, three hours ago, just before sunrise."
Dante shot Ash a surprised look. "That's kinda pushing it, isn't it?"
Ash shrugged. "It was still dark, plus there was a full moon out last night." He paused, his face darkening. "Aw, hell. I hope that doesn't mean we have more than one vic."
Dante turned to the ME. "Were there any other victims?"
"Not that we're aware of," the ME said. "The senior tech said so far there's no evidence of anyone else on scene, but then again, there's little evidence that the attacker was here, either."
"Except for this guy," Dante said with a dry look at the victim.
"Yeah, except for that," George replied. "As usual, he used bleach and ammonia." He gestured toward Ash, who was wiping his nose with a plain white handkerchief. "I know it bugs you that you can't pick up on his scent."
"Hell, I won't be able to smell anything for at least a day." Ash took in the crime scene. "Is it okay if I take a look around, doc?"
"Yeah, I'm done here." The ME motioned for the morgue attendants to come forward. Looking at Dante, he said, "They'll take the body back to the city morgue, where your ME can have a look at it. I'll get my report over to him ASAP."
"Thanks, George." Dante moved out of the way and walked the scene with Ash. At the southwest edge he stopped and knelt down to look at something curious.
"What is it?" Ash hunkered down as well.
Dante pointed to a row of dead leaves lined up on the bricks beneath one of the large planters. "Look at that."
"Six in a row, just like my other scenes." His phone rang and he stood and pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Asher." He paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the call. "Yeah, I'm here right now."
Dante stood and watched Ash's face.
The werewolf liaison's "What?" was shocked and hard-voiced. He listened with a clenched jaw. "I'll be there as soon as I wrap up here. Give me half an hour or so." He shoved his phone back into his pocket and told Dante, "There's another victim up in the north quad. Rivera's on scene now."
"Two in one night? He's escalating."
"No kidding." Ash shook his head. "I shoulda known he wasn't finished. He was simply storing energy."
"Or that break really fed his addiction." Dante walked Ash to their parked cars. "He started going into withdrawal, and so last night was a … feeding frenzy." It almost made him sick to his stomach to phrase it that way, seeing as how the "food" had been some poor bastard's inner workings. And there were plenty of unknowing humans in this town who could be this monster's next meal. They needed to stop whoever was doing this and fast.
{andok at "Damn it." Ash huffed a sigh. "Rivera said the killing up north happened about seven hours ago."
"So … dinner and then breakfast?" Dante asked.
"I guess." Ash paused by Dante's truck. "Let me know if you find out anything else, all right?"
"You got it." Dante watched the werewolf liaison walk to his flashy red-with-black-racing-stripes muscle car. Dante had his own sporty car he wanted to buy. Maybe he'd finally get one when they put this case to bed.
He climbed up behind the wheel and started his truck. The diesel engine rumbled to life, and Dante backed up several feet before making a U-turn and driving away. He'd made it about halfway to the station when his cell rang. He answered with a terse, "MacMillan."
"Hey." It was Tori. She sounded alert, her voice bright and energetic. The extra sleep had clearly done her some good. "Rand told me you asked me to call when I woke up, so … here I am, calling."
Well, what do you know? Her brother had actually delivered the message. "How're you feelin'?"
"I'm fine. Those meet and greets really take it out of me. I don't know why. But I'm not planning on doing much of anything today." She paused, then asked, "Did you want something in particular, or did you just want to chat?"
"Oh, we have plenty to chat about, believe me," he said. "But not over the phone. What I wanted was to remind you about dinner tonight at my place. Steaks on the grill, and maybe a ride if the horses will tolerate having a werewolf around."