Ollie nodded to the tech to cover the body again, and we backed away as the coroner guys unfurled a body bag.
As we walked out of earshot, I tried to get answers. “Who found her?”
Ollie pointed at the apartment. “A neighbor. They came out to toss some trash in the dumpster and found her there, torn apart.”
“He’s sticking to these types of areas for his attacks,” I said. “Poorer places.”
Ollie frowned and shook his head. “The body we found on the jogging trail wasn’t from a poor area. The victim was an accountant.”
“You aren’t listening, Ollie,” I said, pulling him into the shadows and lowering my voice. “She wasn’t poor, but the jogging trail circled a rundown part of town. I was gonna call you later, but I did an analysis of the attacks and the areas I’ve canvassed as well as the areas where people have seen a guy who matches the description of our feral.”
Ollie’s eyes narrowed as he digested what I was saying. He nodded for me to go on. “What did you find?”
“It looks like he’s spending hisleisuretime, for want of a better word, in the better portions of the city—business areas, nice neighborhoods. But his killings and attacks are happening in the poor spots. Or areas that border poor places, like the parking garage where Cameron was attacked.”
“What about the newspaper office?” Ollie said. “That’s right downtown.”
“I thought about that,” I said. “What if that was a fluke? Maybe this guy was biding his time downtown, caught sight of Cameron, and decided to go for it? Might not have actually been going for her specifically. Maybe she matched the look he’s going for, and it was a coincidence he attacked the same girl twice?”
“Flimsy,” Ollie commented. “Possible, though. It is obvious he’s targeting women who look like her. Whether it’s actuallyherhe’s going after or just a type isn’t clear yet. Did you notice howmuch worse this was, though?” he asked, nodding back down the alley where the coroner team was loading the bagged body onto a gurney. “It makes me think heisgoing after Cameron.”
“The others were cleaner kills,” I said. “From the crime scene photos you gave me, anyway. Why would this time be different? This guy doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Maybe he got carried away this time.”
“The difference is, I put a police detail on Cameron. They’ve been watching her every move since you asked me to put them on her tail. If he’s tried to get to her, he’d scent out the cops watching. I think this”—he pointed at the gurney as the men rolled it away—“was more a crime of frustration. He can’t get to his actual target, and he’s taken his frustration out on this poor woman.”
It made sense. The first kills had been women who looked like Cameron. Maybe he’d been trying to find her, had some false starts with the wrong women, then finally laid hands on his actual quarry only to be run off. Now he was having trouble sealing the deal. It sent a cold chill up my spine.
“ButwhyCameron?” I asked.
Ollie shrugged and jammed his fists into his jacket pockets. “That’s what you’ll need to find out.” He eyed me speculatively. “Does it usuallytake this long to hunt down a lone wolf?
“No,” I admitted. “The problem is twofold, though. For one, he’s spending time in a city, which in itself is strange as hell. This guy is almost using the sheer amount of humanity in Toronto as camouflage. I’ve only caught his scent once, and that petered out fast. Too many smells to really track him that way. Second, most of the time, the identity of a feral is known. I can search for debit or credit card usage, but that’s not happening.
“He’s got to be feeding himself somehow, but other than where I got the picture, there hasn’t been a string of robberies,” I went on. “You told me yesterday that none of the typical theftsreported had anyone of his description involved. It’s like…” I trailed off, an idea occurring to me.
“What are you thinking?” Ollie said eagerly. “I can see the wheels turning in that head of yours.”
Frowning, I leaned against the building and crossed my arms. “Well, I thought about him maybe eating everything in his wolf form as a possibility.”
“Ugh.” Ollie grimaced. “That’s rough. My wolflovesit, but my stomach is always a little upset when I shift back.”
“Right,” I said. “He’s not buying or stealing food. He’s most likely not eating solely through hunting. Where the hell’s he getting food? He’s also spending tons of time in one part of the city, but hunting in another. What if”—I looked at Ollie—“the rumor is true?”
“What rumor?”
“The serial killer story. The one you said the cops were talking about. A killer who’s using an attack dog as a weapon?”
Ollie’s eyes went wide. “Wait.” He shook his head. “Are you saying?—”
“I think someone ishandlingthis feral. They’re somehow controlling or commanding him, using him as a hunting dog.”
“That’s…” Ollie put a hand to his forehead. “That’s fucking crazy, Nate. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to control a fully feral shifter?”
“I know,” I allowed. “It’s risky as shit, but it’s all that makes any sense.”
Ollie leaned in even closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “If this is true, then whoever is using him is desperate or dumb. It would be like trying to keep a great white shark on a leash. Even if they have a way of keeping him under control, it won’t last long. Eventually, this guy’s feral nature will take over. He will finally snap and bite the hand feeding him, or go on a rampage through the city. Maybe he’ll stop being wary of thepolice escort and go for Cameron, consequences be damned. Whoever is doing this is walking on a razor’s edge.”
As he spoke, the mental image of the feral ran through my mind. A slobbering and raging man cutting through the police escort, rushing toward Cameron, her screams echoing in my head. Unconsciously, I clenched my fists, my hands nearly vibrating at my side, a muscle in my jaw twitching as I ground my teeth together.
