creature,” Anca murmured. “Her color is quite extraordinary.”
I noticed she didn’t call Bonnie a dog, but I let it slide. “Who knew they came in white?”
Not me. Probably not Bonnie either. Albinism—or was that amelanism?—occurred in all species, right?
“The cleaners uploaded their preliminary report on Shonda Randall,” Reece interrupted, unaffected by the cuteness. “You’re not going to like this.” He shared his screen with all of us. “Saliva and hairs found on the body indicates the killer is a warg.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I don’t like that.”
The booming gwyllgi population had all but shoved the three warg packs who used to run the streets out of the city. One pack, the smallest of the three, hung on by keeping their membership exclusive. The two larger and more aggressive packs had been forced to the outskirts. They weren’t happy about it, but they couldn’t fight Tisdale for more territory and win.
The Atlanta gwyllgi pack held more land, boasted higher numbers, and had diversified into security among other specialty fields to financially support their current size and stockpile funds for future growth. They were more than a pack, they were a local institution.
“This could be retaliatory,” Lisbeth mused. “Mendelsohn is the youngest and the hungriest.”
“He’s also the horniest,” Milo chimed in, fresh from his unmuting. “Deric would have to stumble out of his harem and put on pants long enough to notice he’d been driven from his territory first, then he’d have to sober up before he could orchestrate this. Even then, he isn’t known for his violence against women. Why kill this one?”
Deric Mendelsohn was a young alpha, just shy of thirty. Bloodthirsty? Yes. He ripped out his father’s throat to claim the title not six months ago. According to gossip he was too busy knocking up every unmated female in his pack above the age of eighteen to care he had lost prime digs in the city.
That Deric. Super classy guy.
“The Clairmonts get my vote,” Anca said. “Ayla is clever enough to see the power vacuum Tisdale’s reign has left among wargs in Atlanta. However small the territory, she may hope to step in and claim it.”
“They would never be able to defend it,” Bishop argued. “They don’t have the numbers, and they’re afraid to get their manicured hands dirty. They establish dominance via savings balance, for pity’s sake.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” I exhaled through my teeth. “That leaves the Loup.”
Garou, a title, not a surname, was alpha of the Loup Garous. His great-great-great-whatever grandfather thought loup garou sounded edgier than warg. Guess when your hobbies include mugging, stealing cars, and running drugs, branding is important.
“They’re thugs,” Lisbeth said, “not homicidal maniacs.”
“They’re plenty homicidal.” Anca snorted. “Their murder-for-hire numbers hit triple digits last year.”
“We hit them back,” I reminded her. “Hard.”
Five of their members were rotting in jail. Two more had received death sentences.
“The Loups are all about the bottom line,” Reece added. “Gender and age don’t mean anything to them. They take special requests for cause of death, charge a nice fee to get specific too. Nine kills costs, big-time, so what’s a few bucks more to make them memorable?”
“Where’s the link?” Anca interjected. “What’s the motive?”
“We haven’t seen the cleaners’ reports on the Perkerson Park bodies yet.” I held up a hand when the protests started. “We can’t afford to get ahead of ourselves.”
Until I received confirmation in print, we had two murder scenes, not one serial killer.
Without IDs on all the victims, we couldn’t run full backgrounds on them, and we had no way of knowing how, or if, their lives had intersected.
“For all we know,” Milo added, “this was a Loup hit on a competitor.”
“Until you’ve got evidence to support your theory, keep it within these four walls. We do not need to piss off the pack with unsubstantiated hypotheticals.” An itch started on the back of my neck, but it was only Bonnie. Ears perking under my notice, she scooched closer to me. “Who wants to draw straws for the dubious honor of interrogating Garou?”
“You’re the one who wants to be the next POA,” Lisbeth singsonged. “How much do you regret your life choices right about now?”
A great many things I had done in my life were regrettable, but not this. “I need volunteers for patrol. I’m not going to make it out there tonight.”
“I’m game,” Lisbeth chimed in. “I need to get in my steps anyway. The EDJ kept me stuck in my cubicle.”
“Count me in too.” Milo yawned. “My evil day job isn’t