He tugged on my bottom lip, making me groan a little before he stepped back.
“Go get ‘em Chief. If you need me, you know my number.” He turned and jogged up the beach, his long legs eating the distance, catching up with Myra to mooch a ride.
I watched him for longer than I should.
“Delaney?” Jean called.
I reluctantly turned. “You got Frigg lined up?”
“Yep. But you should see this.” Jean stood in front of the door I hadn’t closed, scanning the interior.
I strolled over.
“What?”
She pointed. “Does that look like a shell to you?”
I dug around in my jacket, and Jean handed me a pair of latex gloves without me asking.
“This must have been what it spit out. You get a picture of it?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I leaned in, one hand on the seat, the other carefully plucking up the object.
“Is it a crab claw?” Jean asked.
“Looks like. It’s been chewed on.” I turned the claw which had an obvious chunk missing.
“Crabby buddy was interrupted in the middle of a meal?” she asked.
“I guess.” Crabs were scavengers and would eat anything. Including other crabs.
But something told me that wasn’t the whole story. Something told me there was a lot more to this. The car, the crab, this claw.
I just didn’t know what it was.
Chapter Three
I was runningthe make and model through the databases, and Myra was at her computer looking for any supernatural connection to the car that had fallen out of the sky earlier today.
It was just the two of us in the station, and the quiet was a nice change. Good weather, especially early in summer, drew people outdoors and away from calling the station complaining about things like missing welcome mats and X-rated chalk art.
My phone rang. I picked it up without looking at the screen.
“Chief Reed.”
“Delaney, how delightful you finally answered your phone,” the only Valkyrie in town said.
My eyes went wide, and I wondered if I could get away with “fumbling” the phone and “accidentally” hanging up on her.
“Hey, Bertie.” I pitched my words toward Myra who ignored me. “Sorry about missing your calls. It’s just been so busy.”
I pulled a yellow pad out of my desk drawer and wrote HELP ME in big block letters on it.
“Has it?” she pressed.
Any answer I gave her was a trap.
