He spared a quick look at Emily. She was gazing at the trees, a faint furrow between her brows.
“I want to check that place out,” he told her, and pulled his gun from the holster at his hip. “Stay here.”
He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed, just took off, moving slowly, stealthily across the street. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was just too damn tired, but he had to check the place out.
Because his instincts were screaming at him, and he never, ever ignored his instincts.
The faint scent of cigarettes teased his nostrils as he crept closer. Yeah, someone had been here all right.
But why?
The moonlight barely trickled past the trees, but he’d always had excellent night vision. Another little shifter side effect. So he could easily see the ground and the bent grass where someone had knelt, where someone had watched.
A growl rumbled in his throat.
His fingers tightened around the butt of his gun and—
A twig snapped behind him. He spun around, gun drawn, leveled, aimed, and ready to fire—
Right between Emily’s eyes.
“Dammit!” He lowered his gun. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”
Her gaze followed the movement of the gun, then slowly lifted back to his face. “Yes, but I’m not a dog. I don’t generally ‘stay’
when I’m told.”
He realized the doctor was annoyed. Good. Matched him perfectly. “Future reference note,” he muttered, quoting her earlier words back to her, “when I give an order, there’s usually a damn good reason for it. And next time, you’d sure as hell better listen to me.”
Her lips tightened. “I thought you might need some help.”
“What?” Jesus. He was the cop! He didn’t need the mind doctor to back him up.
And he was a shifter—that fact alone meant he knew how to guard his own ass.
She muttered something beneath her breath, something he didn’t quite catch but sounded a lot like “asshole shifter.”
“Shit. Just stay behind me, all right?” He wanted to check out the thick patch of bushes up ahead. He strained, trying to listen for any telltale sound that might indicate the watcher was still there. But he heard only the call of crickets, the faint rustle of the leaves in the breeze.
He crept ahead, keeping his gun up. Emily’s soft footsteps whispered behind him.
With his right hand, he pushed back a mass of bushes. Saw only dark earth.
He looked up, gazing straight ahead. There was no sign of anyone else. He couldn’t hear anyone, and he had damn good hearing.
Looked like their watcher was gone.
Pity. He would’ve liked to have found out exactly why the sonofabitch was hanging outside the doc’s place.
He spun back around, frowning down at Emily. In the darkness, he knew she couldn’t see much of him, probably little more than the rough outline of his body. “You got any enemies I should know about, Doc?”
With his enhanced vision, Colin could see every detail of her face and body. He could easily recognize the sudden tension on Emily’s face.
“Doc?”
She swallowed. “No.”
He’d interrogated enough perps to know when someone was lying to him. But he decided not to push her. Not yet.
Colin pushed his gun back into its holster. “Well, looks like one of us managed to catch someone’s attention.” He stalked back to the circle of bent grass. Kneeling, he inhaled and caught the same stale scent of cigarettes he’d noticed earlier.
Someone had been hiding in the darkness, watching her or him. But why?
He sure as hell intended to find out.
But first—first he was going to discover just what sort of enemies the mysterious Dr. Drake had.
Chapter 3
“You wanna do what?” Danny McNeal shot forward in his worn leather chair.
Colin stared levelly back at him. “Hey, you’re the one who brought her in.” He paused, then said, “Now that the doc’s in the game, I want to keep using her.”
McNeal rubbed his right hand over his gleaming head. “I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with here, Gyth.”
Oh, he had a pretty good idea.
“So what, one night you ran up on a vampire or a demon in the park? You saw they were real and now you think you’re some kind of hotshot who can go out and fight these things?”
Not exactly.
“Well, I’ve got news for you.” McNeal was glaring at him now, bushy brows lowered. “These things will eat you up and spit you out—literally.”
Not without a hell of a fight. “I know what I’m doing,” Colin told him, struggling to keep his voice level. He didn’t think the situation was a game, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to reveal his true nature to the captain.
Been there, done that, with shit for results.
McNeal grunted and spun his chair to face the small window in his office. The captain didn’t have much of a view. The window overlooked the back alley and two nearby buildings. But if you strained, you could just make out the green grass of the park in the distance.
“Have you got a report yet from Smith?”
He’d been in the medical examiner’s office all morning. “She’s not done with the autopsy yet, but her preliminary judgment is that Preston Myers was attacked by an animal.”
McNeal turned slowly back to face him. His fingers drummed on the arms of his chair. “We know that’s not the case.”
Yes, but proving it would be a whole different matter. “She thinks the vic was attacked by a dog or a wolf.” Colin tossed a manila envelope onto McNeal’s desk. “But judging by the bite radius, I’d say it could just as easily have been a vampire.”
“Shit.” McNeal squeezed his eyes shut. “Why couldn’t this ass**le have stayed out of my town?” He huffed out a breath, cracked open his eyes, and studied Colin. “You think Dr. Drake was right? You think this bastard will kill again?”
Colin nodded. He had no doubt that the killer would strike again. The crime scene had been a bloodfest; that much rage, that much hate—no one could stay in control with that dangerous mix brewing inside.
Yeah, he’d kill again. Unless they stopped him.
“She’s got the credentials,” McNeal muttered. “The press will buy that we’re bringing her on as a profiler.” He leaned forward, grabbed a newspaper from the edge of his desk, and waved it in front of Colin. “Did you see what those idiots printed today? The guy’s had one kill and they’ve already given him a name.”