Page 10 of Hell’s Half Acre

“They close at four and the staff normally goes home by six. So I would say it happened sometime in the last four hours. Not sure why they called y’all in, unless someone wants you to take statements from a ghost.” Rory laughed as if he thought that was funny.

Sorcha glanced to the ghost that was standing right behind Rory, making a face at the detective. “If only they could talk.”

Which they could, but only Luke could really communicate with them. Sometimes she heard them, but her powers were piddly compared to his.

“Shall we?” Rory jerked his chin toward the body as he pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket.

“Sure.” Though, to be honest, she wasn’t really wanting to see another body today. The last one had been pretty grisly.

This one…

They passed two cops who were vomiting into bushes. Thank God it’s not me this time. She still couldn’t believe that had been her reaction on her first day at Infernal Affairs. As a veteran detective in New Orleans, she’d seen her fair share of nasty crimes.

Yet every now and again, there was always that one that hit so hard, it made everyone feel like a rookie again.

As they neared the decapitated remains, she understood what had their stomachs upset. The poor man had been laid out spread-eagle on the ground. In a weird way, it reminded her of a sacrifice, except he was fully clothed in a T-shirt and jeans.

“Where’s the head?” Rory asked the Medical Examiner who was taking photographs.

The expression on Luke’s face said that he might know, but he didn’t answer.

While Rory talked to the ME, Sorcha headed toward Luke. “What are you thinking?”

A tic started in Luke’s jaw. “Trophy hunting.”

That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Pardon?”

Luke sighed. “That’s Lawson Myers. I’ve known him for…hell, I don’t know. Centuries.”

She scowled at the body that looked like any other random male she’d ever seen. “How do you know who it is?”

“The scent. He’s a werewolf. Member of the Order of Blackthorn and the second-in-command for our vampire friend, Antoine Dufresne.”

Still that didn’t explain the missing head. “So what is this? There can be only one?”

He gave her a peeved glare. “It takes a lot to kill a werewolf, Sorcha. They don’t go down without a massive fight, and I don’t see any signs of one.”

“You sure? There’s a lot of blood here.”

“I know how canines fight. In both human and animal form. There wasn’t a fight. It’s like he knew his killer and was caught off guard with a single killing blow.”

A bad feeling went through her. “They’re not setting you up again, are they?”

He shook his head before he narrowed his gaze. “Hey, Torres?”

The police officer who was walking past them paused. Not much taller than her, Torres had short black hair and a chubby face that reminded her of an adorable toddler. “Hey, Luke. What’s up?”

Luke closed the distance between them. “Who was first on scene?”

“Me and Johnny, why?”

“Do you know who requested us to be here?”

Torres shrugged. “No idea. It looks like a straightforward homicide to me. I haven’t seen anything that makes this an IA case.”

Sorcha widened her eyes at that disclosure. Okay, that was peculiar.

As Torres went about his business, Sorcha pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed Bernadette who answered immediately.