Page 59 of Hell’s Half Acre

“Please do.” He got out and pulled the tie from his hair, then waited for Sorcha to join him. Together, they crossed the street to where the police were canvassing for witnesses.

Luke headed up the stairs and across the porch to the open door.

No sooner had he stepped inside than he froze.

This wasn’t a SCAD student or a human victim at all.

“Luke?”

He glanced down at Sorcha. “The vic’s another werewolf.”

Chapter

Ten

Sorcha froze at the anger in Luke’s tone. “A friend of yours?”

“No. But I know the scent. Different pack than Lawson’s. One I don’t know.”

Bracing herself, she followed him down the hallway to the kitchen where blood was smeared all over. It was bad.

And on the floor, near the body was a large pentagram painted with the vic’s blood.

The werewolf had obviously fought hard to stay alive and someone had made a mockery of his death.

She hated to see anyone lose their battle to stay alive. Especially like this. This fight appeared to be on par with Luke’s and his brother.

There were slash marks on the body that looked like he’d been raked with a pitchfork.

Sorcha knew they were from the claws of some feral beast Luke was probably on a first-name basis with. Even if he didn’t know the pack, he usually knew something about these matters.

To her dismay, Kyle “Creepy” or “Conspiracy” Craley was the on-site ME. With a tan button-down shirt and navy khakis, he was an adorable boyish man in his mid-thirties. A mop of dark curly hair draped becomingly into his dark brown eyes.

But it wasn’t his looks that caused Bernadette to call him “Creepy” Craley.

That nickname stemmed from his obsessive conspiracy theories and fear of any germ of any kind. Given that fear, it made no sense whatsoever that he’d pick one of the most disease-ridden careers on the planet. The only thing she could imagine worse for someone with germ concerns would be those who pumped out septic tanks.

In fact, he currently wore an industrial-grade, full-face vapor respirator. On a normal ME, she’d be afraid of some life-threatening airborne contagion that was there to infect them all.

On Kyle, it was just a Tuesday. Even in this heat, he was covered from head to foot in airtight plastic wrap. He didn’t have on the normal gloves they wore at a crime scene.

Oh no. His gloves were thick nitrile and went all the way to his elbows, where they were secured by bands so tight she wondered how he had any form of blood circulation to his biceps.

“He must have been hell to deal with during COVID.”

Luke burst out laughing at her words. A lot harder than the comment warranted, but it made her smile to see such an uncharacteristic reaction from her partner. “You have no idea.”

Kyle waved as he saw them and came closer. He glanced over his shoulder to see where the others were before he spoke to them in a low whisper. “Space aliens.”

Sorcha blinked in rapid succession as she silently repeated those words. Was he serious?

Of course he was.

Vintage Kyle.

“Pardon?” she asked, wanting clarification.

He leaned in closer. “Think about it. Two missing heads… I’m thinking they don’t need the bodies. It’s probably some human brain research they’re doing. Maybe experimentation. I don’t know. I’ll let y’all see my other report once I get everything tested and examined.” Winking at them, he headed back to the body.