So how could they be happening again, here in Ripple Creek, the exact same way? The press had never released all the details, so it couldn't be a copycat. Yet the murder—or at least, the first murder—was exactly the same. Right down to the mutilation of the ge**tals.
A shiver ran down her spine. Fear, she acknowledged. Fear of what was coming. Who was coming.
She frowned at the thought, but at that moment, death touched the air. She stopped, sniffing the faint breeze and tasting the scents entwined within it.
"A new death,” Ronan said, stopping close enough that she could feel his body heat. “The blood is still fresh."
She nodded. “The hint of sage and musk suggests the victim is male."
"Same as the first one."
She glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. The grim certainty reflected in his eyes echoed through her. They had themselves a serial killer, and with autumn giving way to winter and drawing in the cross-country skiing crowd, soon there would be far too many potential victims in Ripple Creek.
"Let's get up there before the scavengers do."
She followed the ever-thickening scent of death through the trees. The path became steeper, rockier, as the tree line began to recede. The clumps of snow become drifts that ran on and on, and the chill in the air was more noticeable. Yet, despite that, sweat trickled down her spine. But not from exertion. The past she'd run from was merging with the present, and all she could see in the near future was disaster.
She swiped at the moisture dribbling down her forehead and tried to get a grip on her overactive imagination. It was just a murderer—just a crazy person. The past wasn't coming back to haunt her. It was a weird coincidence, nothing more.
Maybe, that deep-down voice said. And maybe not.
"There're the egg-shaped boulders Matt mentioned.” Ronan pointed to the rocks off to the left hand side of the trail.
She nodded and made her way toward them. Beyond the stones, death waited.
Like the first victim, this man had his arms and legs stretched wide, his penis and scrotum sliced away, and his heart removed. For a moment, she closed her eyes, fighting not only the sickness that churned in the pit of her stomach, but the memories that came crowding back.
Even without those memories, it was doubtful that scenes like this would ever become easy, she thought, as her gaze swept around the stone circle that surrounded the mutilated body. She might have spent the last nine years as a ranger, but death was not something she'd visited often. Which was why finding someone so brutally and methodically killed still had the power to shock her.
"We have ourselves a nutter,” Ronan said, as he came to a halt beside her.
"That we have.” The question was did this nutter echo past events by chance or by design? “You want to secure the area and take some prelim photos? I'll call headquarters, and get them to call in the coroner."
"The doc's not going to be happy,” Ronan commented, as he swung the pack off his shoulder and took out the crime scene tape. “It's barely eight and Wednesday is his day off."
"Obviously no one told our murderer,” she snapped, then met his sharp glance with a wave of her hand. “I know, I know. I'm going to have to stop being so bitchy."
"Or go see someone about those damn dreams."
She nodded and got her cell phone from her pocket. Then she stepped out of his way and made her call. Kelly, who was both their administrative assistant and communications officer, answered on the second ring.
"Ripple Creek Ranger's Office."
"Kel, can you ask Doc Carson to head on over to Pike's clearing at the top of Red Mountain Road? Ike will be waiting for him."
"Will do. You've a visitor, by the way."
"Who?"
"A Mr. Jones from the Interspecies Investigation Squad."
Savannah swore under her breath. The IIS were an offshoot of the FBI, and by law they had to be notified whenever a human was killed on werewolf land. But she hadn't expected them to come running so quickly, nor did she really want them here. The men and women of the IIS had the reputation of riding roughshod over local law enforcement and had, in the past, caused a lot of bad feelings between the community and its police officers. She certainly didn't want that happening here in Ripple Creek.
"Tell him I'm coming in.” At least that would give Ronan, Ike and the Doc time to do a prelim examination of the scene and the body before the IIS charged in and took over. She glanced at her watch. “I'll be there in twenty."
"I'll tell him. I'll even offer him decent coffee."
Which, in Kel speak, meant the man in question was not only single but gorgeous. She smiled slightly, half wondering if just this once they should use Kel as a distraction. Hell, there were few men of any species that didn't take a second, third and fourth look when Kel walked by, so it might just give them a chance to do their job without IIS inference. But the way their luck had been running of late, Mr. Jones would probably end up preferring dark haired men rather than voluptuous blondes—and none of her deputies were inclined that way.