"Training? You brought a trainee in on my murder case?"
I stared up at her. "I don't tell you how to do your job. Don't tell me how to do mine."
"You haven't done a damn thing yet. Except for your assistant throwing up in the bushes."
An unhealthy flush crept up Larry's neck. Embarrassed when he was almost too nauseated to stand.
"Larry wasn't the only one upchucking in the weeds, just the only one without a badge." I shook my head. "We don't need this shit." I brushed past Freemont. "Come on, Larry."
Larry followed, obedient to the last.
"I don't want any of this leaked to the press, Ms. Blake. If the media gets hold of it, I'll know where it came from." She wasn't yelling, but her voice carried.
I turned. I wasn't yelling either, but everyone could hear me. "You have an unknown preternatural creature that uses a sword, and is faster than a vampire."
Something flickered across her face, like maybe I'd finally done something interesting. "How do you know it's faster than a vampire?"
"None of the boys tried to get away. All of them died where they stood. Either it's faster, or it has some amazing mind control."
"It's not a lycanthrope, then?"
"Even a lycanthrope isn't that fast, and they don't have the ability to cloud men's minds. If a lycanthrope came in there with a sword, the boys would have screamed and run. There would have at least been signs of a struggle."
Freemont just stood there looking. It was a very serious look, like she was weighing and measuring me. She still wasn't happy with me, but she was listening.
"I can help you, Sergeant Freemont. I can help you figure out what did this, maybe, before it does it again."
Her quiet, confident mask crumbled around the edge for a second. If I hadn't been staring at her neutral brown eyes, I'd have missed it.
"Shit," I said, loud. I walked back over to her and lowered my voice. "That's it, isn't it? These aren't the first killings."
She glanced down at the ground, then met my eyes, jaw sort of thrust forward. Her eyes weren't neutral now; they were just a little bit scared. Not for herself, but for what she'd done, or not done.
"The State Highway Patrol can handle a homicide." Her voice was the gentlest I'd heard it.
"How many?" I asked.
"Two before. A couple of teenagers, boy and a girl. Probably necking in the woods." Her voice was soft, almost tired.
"What's the M.E. say?"
"You're right," she said. "It was a blade, probably a sword. The monsters don't use weapons, Ms. Blake. I thought it was the girl's ex-boyfriend. He's got a collection of Civil War memorabilia, including swords. It seemed pretty cut-and-dried."
I nodded. "Sounds logical."
"None of his swords matched the blows, but I thought he'd ditched the murder weapon. I didn't think..." She looked away from me, hands shoved so hard into her pants pockets I thought they'd split the cloth. "The first scene wasn't like this. They were killed with the first blow; it pinned them through the chest into the ground. A human being could have done that." She looked back at me as if wanting me to agree with her. I did.
"Were their bodies cut up beyond the death wound?"
She nodded. "Disfigured faces, her left hand missing. The one that had worn the ex-boyfriend's ring."
"Were their throats cut?"
She frowned, thinking, then nodded. "Hers was. Not much blood either, like it'd been done after she died."
My turn to nod. "Great."
"Great?" Larry asked.