“The drugs,” Mitch said with a tired wave of his hand as if shooing away a fly. “He burned too many bridges with our alpha and the pack elders, so they excommunicated him from the pack. His friendship with me was all that kept him from going feral. Hewasn’tferal, though,” he snapped. “But you couldn’t tell anyone that. It takes a long time for a lone wolf to turn, and if they stick around other shifters a little, they can keep it at bay. Hell,youknow,” he said, gesturing toward me.
“I do,” I muttered.
“The pack’s pretty set in its ways. They all are,” he added bitterly. “Most packs have laws against lone wolves and ferals. The problem is, if they accepted these people, they wouldn’t be at risk of turning feral. It pisses me off because this was preventable, for God’s sake.” He pounded his fist on the hood.
“Mitch, I’m very sorry about all this,” Cameron said.
The man snorted and walked around to the driver-side door. “It’s okay. I had a feeling this was how I’d find him.” He looked from Cameron to me. “I really do thank you, though. I appreciate that you found him. Do, uh, well, do I need to pay you? I know I said?—”
“Absolutely not.” The very thought of taking money from him made my skin crawl. “This was one person helping another.”
“Thank you. I’m gonna head out. I have a funeral to plan.”
He got in his truck and drove off, leaving us standing in the parking lot.
Without another word, we climbed onto my bike and drove back to the safe house. By the time we got there, some of the shadow of the meeting had passed, though I wasn’t sure it would ever truly go away.
“Did you understand anything on that report you were reading?” I asked Cameron once we were inside and the door was locked.
Cameron held her finger and thumb a smidge apart. “A little.”
“And?”
“He was pretty bad off,” she explained and flopped onto the couch. “Report says he was malnourished and dehydrated.”
“Not surprising,” I said as I took a seat beside her. “Ferals have a hard time taking care of themselves. It’s sort of like when a dog or raccoon goes rabid, except shifters have some of their mental faculties intact. It’s why they look like wild animals even in their human form.”
Frowning, she pulled her phone out. “There was something else on the report I couldn’t understand. I took a quick picture of it while you and Mitch were talking.” She turned the phone around and showed me the image.
I stared at the photo of the coroner’s report. After trying to read it, I shook my head in bewilderment. “How the hell can you understand that? It looks like gibberish to me.”
Cameron chuckled. “Well, I always wanted to be a journalist, but I was also a bit pragmatic about the finances of that. For a while, I had a double major in college—journalism and nursing. That got to be too much for me, and it turns out I’m not a big fan of cleaning up blood and shit. I dropped it after a few semesters to focus on my passion. It helped me learn some stuff, though.”
“Well, Nurse Torres, what does this say?” I asked with a grin.
She zoomed in on the picture. “This was in the toxicology report.”
I stared at the word she was pointing at:a-Dimethylphenethylamine.
“Cam, I can’t even pronounce that, much less tell you what it is.”
“It looks familiar, though.” She frowned, then chuckled to herself.
“You look like you’ve had an idea.”
“I knowexactlywho would know what this is.” She swiped out of her photo gallery and scrolled through her contacts.
“Who? Your high school chemistry teacher?” I laughed.
“Close,” she said as she hit the call button.
A few moments later, her friend Lesley answered the phone.
“Oh my God, where thefuckare you, Cam?” she demanded as soon as she answered. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m fine.” Cameron grimaced. “I’m actually working with the police for a story.”
“That doesn’t explain why you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” She sounded both worriedandhurt.
