Page 64 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade
The phone on Brett’s desk rang, the sound echoing through the room. He tried to answer only to end up hitting the wrong button and hanging up on the person on the other end.
“I hate these phones,” Brett said. “They’re older than me.”
The age of the phones wasn’t the problem. The guy trying to work them was.
Stratton liked Brett. He was a stand-up guy who, when not being the chief of police, was the head enforcer of Jeffrey’s wolf pack. That meant Brett was the one called in to do the heavy lifting when it came to pack rules and violations. He was also charged with keeping Jeffrey safe, not that his help was required in that area.
Jeffrey was a very capable alpha, even if that looked somewhat questionable when he was around his wife.
The phone rang again.
Stratton sat up in his chair, punched the lit-up button on the bottom of the phone, and then lifted the receiver, handing it to Brett.
“Thanks,” said Brett, taking the phone. He greeted the caller and was quiet a moment. “You’re sure? Right then. Thanks, Doc.” He hung up, his gaze swinging to Stratton. “That was Dr. Hartshorn. He’s done with the bear autopsy.”
Stratton continued to lean forward. “Necropsy.”
Brett cocked his head to the side. “What?”
“An autopsy on an animal is called a necropsy,” stated Stratton as he sat back in the chair and brought his foot up, crossing his ankle over his other knee. “What did he find?”
A tic started in Brett’s jaw. “I’m starting to see why it is you annoy Jeffrey so much.”
Shrugging, Stratton watched his boss carefully. “What did Donte have to say?”
“He doesn’t think whatever killed the bear was human,” said Brett, sounding tired. “He thinks it was supernatural.”
Stratton’s gut clenched. “I’m starting to think the bear attack and the deaths the county over are related. You?”
“I think we’ve got something big brewing, again,” said Brett, rubbing his hands over his face.
Stratton nodded, understanding Brett’s meaning.
“Doc mentioned the brain was missing from the bear,” offered Brett, before swinging his monitor around to face Stratton. “If I’m reading the autopsy reports right from Mill Hollow, the brains were missing from the human victims as well. Along with some body parts. What are your thoughts? Because I think we both know you’ve seen your fair share of dead bodies and weird shit.”
Stratton leaned forward, reading the reports. The full-body diagram had numerous marks and notations on it. As Stratton looked it over, a sinking feeling began in his gut. He instantly noticed the similarities between the victim and those of the monsters he and Drest had spent so many years hunting. The very ones his cousin was still out there tracking in hopes he could find one that might lead him to Rachael and his child.
With a measured breath, he glanced at Brett. “Are there photos?”
Brett eyed his open door and nodded. “Get that.”
Stratton shot out of the chair and closed the door, turning down the blinds as well. He returned to the chair he’d been in, sitting on the edge of the seat.
Brett did his best to pull up the photos quickly, but his tech limitations slowed things. When he finally got them to open, they did so in rapid succession. Even with the fast pace they were appearing, Stratton took it all in. His mental filing cabinet did its version of flinging open, allowing him to access the information there with ease. As he did, he lowered his gaze, taking a second to collect his thoughts and his words before he spoke.
“You know what did this, don’t you?” demanded Brett.
“I’m not sure,” answered Stratton.
“Bullshit,” snapped Brett. “I was there after Dana was attacked by Dragos in the woods. I know what you can do. You looked at those dead ghouls and knew in a second who and what had killed each of them. You noticed tracks at the scene, and so many other things that, had you not been with me when I got the call from Travis about Jeffrey and Dana needing help, I’d have wondered if you were there—if you were part of the attack. That’s how much detail you knew from just glancing at the scene.”
Stratton raised his head slowly, doing his best not to be offended.
“What are you?” questioned Brett.
“Fae,” responded Stratton with a measured breath. “You know that already.”
“Yeah, I know that much, but only because I found out with everyone else out at the Van Helsing estate when Marcy was attacked,” said Brett. “Butnoneof that explains what you can do at a crime scene or how it was you brought that Seward guy back to life. What kind of Fae are you, exactly?”
