Blind Wolf Bluff: Shifter Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 3) Page 5

  She righted the chair and followed Blain to a table someone had filled with sealed evidence bags that were awaiting analysis. Normally, those would remain sealed, but these were special circumstances. A tech opened a bag with gloves and allowed Blain a quick sniff.

  Blain lifted his head as she approached and pointed to the bag containing a cigarette butt. “It holds the same scent that I discovered at the crime scene last night.”

  Sean, who had been at his desk, joined them at the evidence table. “Even if we could find the person who matches this mysterious smell, it wouldn’t be admissible in court.”

  “Nonhuman court,” Blain corrected him. “I informed the Alpha of the Vanguards of the possibility that the killer might be a shifter.”

  “You what?” Sean and Sonya asked simultaneously in hushed voices.

  “Look, this case is walking a fine line between two species. If this killer is a shifter, and that’s a big if, then you’ll need all the help the shifters can offer. It’s not like Eric isn’t already familiar with the case.” Blain frowned. “But before we start pointing fingers, I’d like to clear those working at the scene first to make sure none of them are closet shifters. We could be chasing shadows for nothing.”

  “We can’t have the pack acting as vigilantes either. Human law supersedes pack if there are humans involved.” She agreed with Blain’s reasoning, but who knew what Eric was thinking or doing at this moment? He might not be as sensible.

  “There’s nothing for them to use on a hunt. I’m the only one who can recognize the scent at the moment. I’m the only one who can ID this mystery shifter.” Blain pushed the evidence toward her.

  Sonya fingered the bag with the cigarette butt. “It’s not admissible, but it will assist us in prioritizing.” After three deaths, they had mounds of samples, things to test, scrambling for any piece of evidence they could find.

  She handed the bag back to the tech. “I’d say this is next on the list to process.” She turned to the others. “If there’s any DNA, maybe we can make a match and go from there.”

  Sean winked. “Good call.” He lifted his empty coffee cup in salute before crossing the office to the tech area.

  “Blain?” Sonya moved to see his face better.

  He sat quiet, as if lost in thought. Was he having doubts about helping? “Choosing to do the right thing isn’t always the easiest path to tread.” He hung his head. “I feel like I’m betraying my people.”

  Sonya rested her hands on his broad shoulders. The strength and sheer power of his body finally registered with her touch. Hard muscles lay under those clothes. Not just a pretty body to look at, but one honed to kill. “Nothing is conclusive.”

  She hated to see him hurt. Wanted to ease his worry, however she wasn’t the kind of woman to give false hope. This case could be difficult for both of them. Him with his people and her with bad memories.

  “All the public needs is a rumor before the fragile trust between our kinds is shattered again.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  With her hands, she turned him to face her. “Facts of this case aren’t public. Our team is solid. Nothing will happen without a press release and William will wait for confirmation before announcing any information. None of us can afford any mistakes. This case is too close to home for a lot of people.”

  Blain sat straighter and touched the table supporting the other bags of evidence. “Help me with these other samples?”

  “Sure, let me get a pair of gloves.” But her cell phone went off before she could grab any gloves. She pulled it out and recognized the number as the police chief’s. She glanced in William’s direction before answering. He wouldn’t like her and the chief speaking without being included. “Camp speaking.” She listened to the police chief with a sinking heart before hanging up.

  Crap. There wasn’t any good way to give bad news.

  “What’s wrong?” Blain rose from the chair, concern clear on his face.

  How could he tell she was upset? Micro-density shifting whatevers in the air?

  She glanced at William, who watched them from his desk. “Another girl has gone missing.”

  William’s frown deepened. “Take Blain. Report back when you know if it’s connected. We’ll discuss why the chief of police is calling you instead of me after.”

  He went back to examining his paperwork, which—in Sonya’s opinion—was why William would never achieve the promotion he craved. Leads, like these, were what solved cases. Not memos or reports.

  She grabbed Blain’s hand and dragged him out before William changed his mind. She’d solve this case faster with William out of the way.

  “How do we know she’s linked to this case?” Blain pulled on his jacket as they entered the elevator.

  “We don’t, but I’m tired of playing catch-up with this bastard. We need to be more aggressive. I asked the chief to call me with any missing person’s reports that met the MO of the killer.” Anything was better than waiting for the next body. “This girl isn’t in the city limits, though.”

  “Road trip?”

  “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not as long as I can stick my head out the window.”

  She stumbled over the threshold of the elevator.

  He chuckled. “Werewolf humor.”

  “Great.” She smoothed her hands over her jacket. That was what they needed on this journey. Werewolf humor.

  “How long of a drive?”

  “Two hours.”

  “I hope the scents will be fresh.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he strode confidently to her car.

  “This might be a wild goose chase.”

  “Or the killer knows you’re getting close and is moving away from the city.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What is he doing?” The missing girl’s mother dabbed a tissue at the corner of her eyes as she pointed at Blain sniffing her front lawn.

  Not missing girl. Tracy. Her name was Tracy. She was seventeen years old. Younger than the other victims. Tracy had attended a pep rally last night and hadn’t come home.

  Sonya sat on a pristine loveseat in Tracy’s home. Her mother had served tea while answering Sonya’s questions. It was a nice neighborhood. Close to the school, surrounded by a little forest, and populated by middle-class families. Much like the one she and her sister had grown up in.

  “Blain.” Sonya hesitated, not sure how this lady might react to having a shifter on the case. “He’s smelling for unusual scents. He’s a wolf shifter working with us to solve this case.”

  “Like a hunting dog?” Mrs. Cormorant’s face brightened with a glimmer of hope. “He could maybe catch Tracy’s scent and track her?”

  Sonya nodded. “He’s very good at what he does.”

  The mother raced outside the house, clutching a sweater she’d grabbed off a hook by the door.

  “Shit.” Sonya raced after her. Blain wasn’t trained to deal with distraught family members.

  When she caught up with them, Sonya found Tracy’s mother holding out the sweater. “This belongs to my daughter. I haven’t washed it so her smell should still be on it. Could this help?”

  He gently gathered the sweater to his nose, inhaled, then handed it back to her. “Thank you. It will help.”

  “You can keep it for reference.” She was still holding it out.

  “No, it’s saved in my memory.” He tapped his head. “I have excellent scent retention memory.”

  Sonya had stopped behind Tracy’s mother, ready to intervene, but Blain handled the situation well so far. “Mrs. Cormorant?” Sonya asked.

  She stared at the sweater. “Please find my baby.”

  Blain wrapped his strong arms around the mother and held her against his chest. “We’ll do our best.”

  We. A simple word, but it struck Sonya hard. He’d meant what he said earlier today when he’d called her partner. She didn’t work well with others, but somehow, this shifter made it easy.

  Mrs. Cormorant p
ulled away. “Thank you.” She wiped her eyes. “I let you get back to work.” Like a woman carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, she managed to return inside her home.

  “Anything?” Sonya asked, still staring at the perfect little house.

  “Nothing pertinent to the case.”

  “How would you know what’s pertinent?” It came out sharper than she expected, but old wounds were being rubbed raw.

  Her sister had been seventeen…

  “Because I doubt you care one of the local cats is in heat and the dog across the street claims this yard as his.”

  She rubbed her temples. “God, I hate this job sometimes.”

  “You think they might shoot me if I asked them questions?” He was staring at the small town police officers who had been assigned to accompany them. Both stood by their vehicle, hands resting on their guns.

  “Maybe.” They could have waited inside their warm car instead of freezing their asses off. “What do you want to know?” She should do the talking. The last thing they needed was a police officer shooting a shifter working for the FBI. The press would have a field day.

  “The route the girl supposedly took home.”

  “You think her friends lied about where they went?” She’d been given the statements collected and had read them to Blain at the police station when they had first arrived.

  “We won’t know until I track the trail. The nose never lies.”

  “Where do you want to start?” She started toward their escorts.

  “At the beginning.”

  She stopped in front of the police cruiser.“Officer Jefferson, take us to where the pep rally took place.”

  She eyed Blain. For someone with no training, he had methodical thinking with clear steps. His different view of the world was changing the way she assessed cases.

  What a difference he could have made seven years ago when her sister had vanished.

  The ride didn’t take long—only ten minutes—but the roads didn’t have lights like most rural areas. A perfect place for a predator to hunt.

  At the high school, Sonya paused on the front steps and glared at the old brick building.

  “You smell angry. What is it?” Blain pause beside her and evaluated the area the way he did—his nose held a little higher than usual and his head cocked to the side.

  “Just bad memories. I hated high school. You?”

  “I never attended.”

  *

  Blain left Sonya in the uncomfortable silence that followed his answer. His upbringing was far from conventional. Even the best intentions from loving parents could go wrong. Neither Sonya nor he could change the past, so he didn’t see why he should dwell.

  “Show me where the rally was.” He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers toward her in invitation. He could find the location, but he wanted Sonya close. She kept a wall between them, except for this simple pleasure. He would use whatever weapons he had to break down those walls.

  She could take him by the elbow or have one of the officers guide him, but she grabbed hold of his hand every time he asked.

  The background noises were light in the small town. They reminded him of Alberg, the small town next to the bootcamp. Smells of old popcorn and soda highlighted the football field, mixed with dirt and dry fall grass. No snow here like in upstate New York.

  One of the officers led them to the bleachers where Tracy had sat with her friends, then returned to the warmth of his vehicle. The wind bit at Blain’s exposed skin, but after weeks of training outdoors, he barely noticed.

  Sonya, on the other hand, did. She shivered as they walked the bleachers and field. He heard her teeth chattering. “Why don’t you get the car and follow me as I track her scent trail home?”

  “You found it already?” She was genuinely surprised and it stung.

  “Found it as soon as we got here. I’m searching for the shifter scent from the other crime scene.”

  She drew closer. “Did you find that?”

  “Not yet, but there’s lots of ground to cover and you’re turning blue.”

  “Never mind me. I’m a big girl, Blain. I can take care of myself.”

  “No doubt.” His caring didn’t mean he thought her weak, but her discomfort distracted his wolf nature. If she wanted him to focus, she needed to dress warmer or sit in the damn car. “I could use some coffee to keep me warm,” he lied.

  Her scent changed from prickly to soothing balm of concern. “Come in the car with me to warm up.”

  He could think of other ways to warm up Agent Camp, but he didn’t think she was ready for him to melt her icy exterior. Every day, he would chip at it slowly so she wouldn’t shatter. “I’m used to being outdoors all night in this type of weather. Go ahead. I work faster this way.”

  She sighed and he could picture Sonya rolling her eyes, but she left.

  Blain crossed to the other side of the football field behind the equipment shed. Tracy’s sweater helped him find her scent here quickly. She’d snuck back here with her friends to smoke a joint. The smells were jumbled, though. He needed to shift to wolf form and do another pass to see if he could find a trace of the shifter’s scent from yesterday.

  If the killer was a shifter, it changed the rules of the hunt. Another shifter would know about smells and tracking. It was instinctual. The killer could be hiding his trail among the humans. Hence why shifting was necessary, but Blain had no idea how exposed he was. Like the school behind him—there could be students watching him right now. Undressing here to change shape was too risky.

  The wind rustled the branches of the nearby forest to his right. He would go in there and change form. Hopefully nobody would call animal control. That was embarrassing every time.

  He took each step carefully, opening all his senses to the onslaught of information—the rustle of dry leaves as he walked, the dead quiet of small critters hiding in their nests, and the creak of tree trunks as the wind tugged on their branches. Unfortunately, branches on the ground didn’t make noise, so like the Hot Wheel, they could trip him. Those and rocks, or holes.

  Fuck.

  He pulled out his folded cane and snapped it open to prevent breaking his leg. He hated the thing. He might as well wear a sign on his back with blind and helpless painted on the surface.

  Somehow, he managed to find a nice thicket of bushes with no thorns. He crouched low to hide and had the top button of his jacket undone when the scent hit him.

  Chapter Eight

  Careful, Blain fell to his hands and knees, searching for the source of this scent. A twig scraped across his cheek. He wiped away the blood with the back of his hand. As he continued inching forward, his hand landed on a broken piece of glass, but he stayed on his hunt. Focused. His wolf and he were one.

  There.

  He stopped and lowered his nose. Cigarette stench. He shook his head at the acidic burn.

  “Blain?” Sonya’s call sounded faint and distant.

  “I’m over here,” he shouted back. “I found something!” Shit, he didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene further, but in his tracking, he’d become disoriented.

  He could hear Sonya’s heavy breathing as she ran in his direction. “Blain, I’m not a fucking hound dog. Where are you?”

  “You’re closer.” He could hear her stomping through the undergrowth with all the skill of a city dweller. “Marco,” he called out.

  Her steps of faltered. Silence his response. She sighed and he could imagine her with her hands on hips, shaking her head. She called out, “Polo.”

  He pursed his lips, nodding with approval. There was hope for her yet. His wolf was too playful to be drawn to someone who wouldn’t play back. He waited.

  “Blain?”

  He waited some more.

  “Marco?” she called out.

  “Polo!”

  She hurried in his direction. “What did you find?” She whispered into his ear. Her body brushing against his as she knelt next to him.

/>   “A cigarette butt that smells like our werewolf.”

  She gasped. The crinkle of a plastic followed as she pulled a bag and gloves from her pocket. She plucked the cigarette butt from the ground and sealed the bag closed. “I can’t believe you found this just with your nose. You’re amazing.”

  “I wanted to continue following his track but I’m not sure about procedure and crime scene stuff.”

  “Well shit, neither am I. This is the first time I’m trying to solve a case this way.”