"Not straight away,” he cut back. “There was time enough to say what had to be said."
Yeah, like I'm sorry. I love you. Stuff she'd ached to hear and to say. But she supposed, in this instance, he was right. Her age wasn't a good excuse for keeping silent about what she'd seen, nor was her anger at him. She'd known, even before he'd raided her mind for answers, that something was wrong at Rosehall. She just hadn't realized how wrong.
But it was hardly fair of him to accuse her of not talking when he was guilty of the very same crime. “There was time enough for you to ask, you know. But you never could do that, could you? Taking was always easier."
"It takes two to talk, Savannah."
"People,” Ronan interrupted. “Argue later. Let's find what clues there are to find before that storm hits."
She glanced at Ronan and saw the hint of censure in his eyes. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You're right. I'm sorry.” She glanced at her watch. “Doc Carson should be here any minute. Steve, you want go meet him, and fetch a tarp while you're there? It'll at least protect the body and the immediate area around it when the storm hits."
He nodded and headed off down the path. She pulled on some gloves and glanced at Ronan to ensure he'd taken the shots of the body's position. When he nodded, she knelt and carefully lifted Denny's right hand.
"There are abrasions along the knuckles,” she noted. “He hit something pretty hard."
"Hopefully, Candy.” Cade shifted a little. “Look at the jaggedness of the genital wound—it looks ripped more than cut."
"Maybe she was in a hurry."
He looked at her. “Or she used something other than a knife."
She closed her eyes for a minute, battling the surge of sick images that rose at his words. “A blood frenzy."
It happened only rarely in the werewolf population, but it was the one event that had led to the still common human myth that werewolves became insane killers every time the moon bloomed full. Truth was, though the desire to hunt was an instinct every wolf possessed, it was one very well controlled. It had to be, because while wolves might be stronger and faster, the human population had always vastly outnumbered them.
But just as there were humans who snapped the bonds of sanity and rationality to become killers, there were also wolves. Those wolves were the ones who hunted. And humans, with none of the natural cunning of a wolf's normal prey, were an easy target.
Cade looked around. “If this was a blood killing, then it didn't happen here. There's no sign of a struggle. Denny might have been a kid in lust, but even he would have seen the frenzy come over her eventually."
"Yes.” She hesitated, remembering the clairvoyant images. “But she did have a knife. She drove it through his spine."
Cade's eyebrows rose, but he didn't comment as he rolled Denny onto his side. The knife wound was there, just as she'd seen.
"The smell of the blood must have sent her into the frenzy,” he commented.
Ronan walked up behind her and took some shots. “If this was a blood killing, why move the body and try to make it look like the others? It would have made more sense if she'd let us think this killing was unrelated. That alone suggests the frenzy wasn't all consuming."
"There are some blood takers who learn to control it over time. Or at least long enough to get somewhere where they can't hunt humanity."
"That still doesn't explain this,” she said, waving a hand at the way Denny was positioned.
Cade scratched his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe she was ordered to make Denny look like a ritual killing, but the frenzy started getting the better of her. Or maybe the approach of the hiker forced her to retreat or risk being discovered."
"Either way,” Ronan said. “There's going to be DNA evidence, at least, on his body."
"And it will be at wherever this murder actually happened.” She glanced up as rain began to sprinkle on them. The patch of sky visible through the trees was as black as coal. “That storm is about to hit. We'd better get looking. Ronan, you'd better wait for Steve."
He nodded and handed her his spare camera. She and Cade rose and began a thorough search of the immediate area. When they found nothing, they broadened the search. About ten minutes later, the wind dropped, leaving the forest in an expectant hush—at least until the rain began to pelt down. The icy drops of moisture hit her hard, chilling her skin and slithering past her neck and down her spine. She shivered and flicked up the collar of her jacket, but it didn't seem to help much. The splats of water against the leaf-covered ground sounded as sharp as gunshots, and despite the cover of the tree canopy, the world had become gray.
"Over here,” Cade called, his voice sounding close even if she couldn't see him through the trees and the wet gloom.
She made her way toward the sound of his voice and found him squatting over a muddy footprint and a torn patch of ground just in front of a bunch of rocks that formed a small cave.
She knew the cave. Most wolves who grew up in Ripple Creek did. Thanks to the council's views on the whole sex before marriage thing, it was often in places like this that teenage wolves first began exploring their sexuality. Certainly, she and Ronan had explored desire in a place very similar.
Someone needed to oust her dad, she thought sourly, and start getting some common sense back into the community. Then maybe a kid like Denny wouldn't have been forced to use a place so perfect for his murder.
"The struggle started inside the cave,” she said, her gaze following the scuff marks, “and continued out here."