Dark & Dangerous: A Collection of Paranormal Treats

by Julie Kenner

  Signaling a right turn, she pulled onto the service road. “Not yet, but we’re working on it. None of the local gun shops sell that kind of ammo. We’ve even checked the Internet. No silver bullets, though I have found several Web sites that sell bullets with silver tips. These were entirely hollowed out silver, expensive as hell. Custom jobs, handmade.”

  She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know. Yet Nick appeared lost in thought. Finally, he gave her a sideways glance. “What did your people discover when they talked to Jason’s friends?”

  “You read the report. You saw. We learned nothing. Jason was an ordinary guy. He worked hard and played hard. He was intense.” In every aspect of his life.

  Nick went silent again. He fiddled with the radio, finding a classical station that played soothing music. Allowing this, though she hated anyone to touch her radio, Amanda waited for him to say more. He didn’t. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Did you learn anything else?”

  He blinked. “No. Chet told me everything he knew.”

  “Not enough.”

  “No.” He flashed her a grim smile. “But this was only one night. I’ll learn more.”

  She couldn’t help but notice he said “I,” not “we.”

  “Where to?”

  He glanced out the window, noting the signs directing them to I-30. “You’re the driver, you tell me. Let’s go someplace where Jason might have hung out.”

  “This is it for Fort Worth.”

  “Seriously?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a small city. Mostly we hung out around Sundance Square, near downtown Fort Worth. But we drove over to Dallas a lot, too. Deep Ellum and Lower Greenville are happening places. And Jason really liked a couple of bars in Addison, which is sort of Far North Dallas.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “That’s an hour from here, or more.”

  “So.” He pointed at the luminous clock on her dash. “It’s early yet.”

  She had to be at a task force meeting at eight in the morning. And, if Nick planned to take part in this investigation, so did he.

  “I—” Her cell phone rang, loud in the quiet car, even though it was tucked into her tiny purse on the floor in front of him. It was nearly midnight. This call couldn’t be anything good. “Could you hand me that?”

  He did and she answered, flipping open the phone. It was Gordy, sounding both furious and exhausted. “Another murder. Eighth Street, over by the hospital. How long will it take you to get here?”

  “We’re on our way.” She closed the phone and reached in back for the bubble light. “Hang on,” she told Nick. “There’s been another killing. This time you can see the killer’s handiwork, up close and personal.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “WHOQUESTIONED Jason’s friends?”

  Amanda barely moved her attention from the road. She’d slapped her bubble light on her roof and gripped the steering wheel hard. At sixty plus miles per hour, she needed all of her concentration for driving.

  “I’m not sure. We all work each suspect. Some of us talk to family members, others to friends. Everything should be in the report. We can check at the station in the morning.” She spared him a quick glance. “Why? I get the feeling you haven’t told me everything. What else did you find out?”

  “This club Jason joined. That bothers me.”

  “You think it’s like a cult?”

  He shrugged. “Could be. Either way, I have a feeling it was involved with the murder someway, somehow. What also bothers me is that no one mentioned this before.”

  “If Chet told some other officer, he didn’t report it.” Now that Nick mentioned it, Amanda did think the omission was odd. Worse, if any of the other victims had belonged to this same group…

  Nick shifted. “We’ll check the file. I want to talk to this uniform, whoever he is.”

  “I agree. If someone was stupid enough to let a lead like this go, Gordy needs to know.”

  Ahead, they saw what looked like a dozen flashing lights.

  “Here we are.” They pulled up behind an extraordinarily long line of police cars.

  “Must be a slow night,” Amanda commented as she pushed open her door. “Lots of uniformed looky-lous.”

  Lifting the yellow crime scene tape, Amanda located Gordy across the sea of uniforms. In the bushes, one cop was upchucking his dinner. She winced. More than once, when viewing the carnage that the killer made of his poor victims, she’d nearly lost it herself.

  Gordy saw them coming and met them halfway. “The M.E.’s here. He’s done his bit and wants to head to the morgue. I don’t think I could get him to hold off much longer.”

  Amanda lifted a brow at that. “Don’t tell me the CSI guys are done already?”

  He shrugged. “Just about. They’re still taking pictures.”

  Nick spoke up. “Enlighten me.”

  Gordy gave him a long look. “You’ve seen the file.”

  “Yes, but humor me, please.”

  When Gordy glanced at Amanda, she kept her own expression bland.

  “Each victim is killed by a single gunshot wound. One silver bullet, lodged in the heart. But this guy likes blood. He cuts them up first, then kills them.”

  “Torture.”

  “Right.”

  “Because the blood won’t flow once the heart stops pumping.”

  “Right. The killer savages the body while the victim’s still alive.”

  “Savages?”

  Gordy gave a helpless shrug. “That’s the best way I can think of to describe it. He rips them apart, limb from limb. Hell, you know all this.”

  “Yeah, I do. He leaves the body in one place, except for the head.”

  “The heads are all missing.” Gordy’s expression was grim. “Every single one of them.”

  “Trophies.”

  “That’s what we think.” Making a dismissive sound, Gordy turned away. “We don’t know what he does with them.” He walked away before Amanda or Nick could comment.

  “Ready?” Amanda touched Nick’s arm, drawing his gaze.

  “You want to take a look at the body, right?”

  He nodded, following as she led the way. Several of the other cops greeted her with a wave or a nod, then looked at Nick, and their expressions shut down.

  “You ready?” She touched Nick’s arm, trying to prepare him—and herself, if she was honest—for the sight ahead.

  Like all the others, the victim had been dismembered. The sight wasn’t pretty. Nick found himself watching Amanda for a typical woman’s reaction, then remembered she was a cop. Blood and horror were part of her daily routine.

  Amanda gave the victim a cursory glance before facing the CSI guy.

  “Name?”

  “No ID was found.”

  This was not unusual, though sometimes the killer left the victim’s wallet intact. “Personal effects?”

  “None whatsoever. No coins, no bills, nothing.”

  Nick spoke up, his voice intense. “You got a decent set of prints, right?”

  Charlie Tate, head crime scene analyst, frowned. “Who the hell are you?”

  “He’s FBI.” Amanda looked for Gordy, spotting him talking to two suits on the fringes of the scene. “Part of our team now.”

  From the tightening of his jaw, she could tell Charlie didn’t like it. “Feds.”

  “Prints?” Nick prodded, ignoring the way Tate said feds as if it was a curse word.

  “We’ve taken them, like we always do.” Charlie lifted his head, his gaze defiant. “I’m sure they’re running them now. We should get a match soon.” He looked at Amanda and grimaced. “No one’s called in a missing person yet. I’m hoping this guy lived alone.”

  Amanda cursed, kicking her toe at the ground. “He was someone’s kid, Charlie. I’m sure he’ll have a parent grieving over him. Anything unusual?”

  “No. Nothing. Same as all the others.”

  “Damn.” Amanda looked at Nick.

  “Let
’s go.” Nick touched her shoulder. “I need to check something out.”

  Suddenly weary, Amanda let him lead the way to her vehicle.

  Back in the SUV, Nick waited until she’d buckled herself in. “We need to go by the station.”

  Amanda blinked. “Okay. Mind telling me why?”

  “To review the file. I want to see why Chet’s lead was never mentioned. And, once I find out who interviewed him, I want to talk to that person.”

  That made sense. She did, too. If someone on the team had missed a clue as important as the one Nick had gotten his first time out, then the person deserved to be kicked off the task force.

  Once back at the squad room, she made her way through the area, waving at Officer Hernandez, who was taking a report from a young Hispanic boy. Crossing the normally bustling room, she remembered how much she’d hated working nights.

  A lot of the rookies were out on patrol, paired with one or two seasoned cops who claimed to like working graveyard. She pushed in chairs, clearing a path to her cubicle, and located the file exactly where she’d left it, on top of the stack of paper in her in-basket. Handing Nick the binder, she ran a hand through her hair and grimaced. “Knock yourself out. I’m gonna see if the night crew made coffee. You want some?”

  He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly eleven.”

  “So? Are you planning on sleeping any time soon?”

  “You have a point.” He sighed. “Sure, I’ll take a cup. Black.”

  Black. Of course. Personally, Amanda had to use two packets of sugar and enough nondairy creamer to turn the coffee a vanilla color before she could stomach the stuff. Hot tea was much more to her liking, but making it took too much time at work, so she only drank it at home.

  When she brought Nick his mug, he looked up and frowned, waved her closer. “Come look at this.”

  She set his cup down on the desk next to him. Sipping from hers, she moved behind him to peer over his shoulder. “What?”

  “Chet’s here.” He tapped the paper. “I’ve made my own list of people who are listed as Jason’s buddies, but there’s nothing about this club. Nothing at all.”

  “That’s strange.” She placed her mug on her bookcase. “But then maybe not. I talked to several of Jason’s friends myself. Not a single one mentioned Jason joining a club. I wonder why.”

  “Ominous omission.”

  “Yes. Let me see that.”

  He slid the binder to his right. Taking it, she went to the guest chair next to her desk and sat. Nick leaned back and watched her.

  A quick riffling through the pages showed her what her gut already knew. “Nothing. You’re right, damn it.”

  Regarding her, his gaze was direct and steady. “We need to find out more about this club. This might be the first big link to the killer.”

  “We’ve got to notify the team.” She reached for her phone. “And Gordy. I should call him first.”

  “No.” He placed his hand on top of hers, hard. “Not yet. Let’s pursue this lead and see what we find out. If this club does turn out to be important to the case, then we’ll tell everyone else.”

  “Why wait? I don’t like hiding things.”

  “I think there’ll be more people who will talk to me. If Gordy sends someone else in…”

  Damn. She blew out her breath in frustration. “Earlier I might not have believed you. After tonight…I don’t know.”

  As though he finally remembered he had it, he reached for his coffee and drank deeply, taking several quick gulps of the still-steaming liquid.

  Blindly, she mimicked him, both hands around her own cup as she sipped. “You’re asking a lot.”

  “I know. Give me two days.”

  “Two days? Feeling pretty confident?”

  “Just let me have a shot. I want to catch this guy even worse than you do.”

  “I don’t know about that. I cared about Jason, too.”

  Nick didn’t comment.

  Amanda looked at the file. Flipping through the paperwork, she finally reached the section marked Jason Templeton. “Let’s make a copy of this.” She stabbed the list with her index finger. “All Jason’s friends. We can start with them.”

  Nick glanced at her. “I’m doing the questioning.”

  That rankled. But he was right about one thing. She wanted this killer bad. “Fine.” She kept her tone dry, matching his. “No problem. As long as you don’t start keeping secrets from me.”

  His expression gave nothing away. “Two days, Amanda.”

  “Two days.” She laughed self-consciously. “If you think you can perform miracles, I’m all for it. But no extensions. If we haven’t found the killer in two days, I’m telling Gordy what we’ve learned about the club.”

  Nick held out his hand. “Deal.”

  She slid her fingers in his, liking the comfortable firmness of his handshake. “Deal.”

  “Where’s your copier? We need to make a copy of this.”

  She led the way to the copy room, leaning against the door frame watching while he made the necessary copies. Her cell phone rang. Out of habit she checked the caller ID, her heart skipping when she recognized Gordy’s number.

  “Please don’t let him be calling to tell me there’s been another murder.” After uttering the fervent prayer, she answered.

  “We’ve ID’d the body.” Gordy’s voice triumphant. “And you’re not gonna believe who it is—was. Ryan Humbert. We interviewed the guy several times, most recently after Jason Templeton was found.”

  “Ryan Humbert.” She repeated the name. It sounded vaguely familiar. She searched her memory of Jason’s friends, trying to place him or see his face. Finally, she gave up and grabbed the sheet of paper from Nick and searched until she located the name. “You’re right. Ryan Humbert was one of Jason’s friends.”

  “Yeah.” Gordy’s bark of laughter was utterly without humor. “Was being the operative word. Now he’s dead. There’s a connection here somewhere, and we need to find it.”

  A connection was the understatement of the year. Amanda kept her face neutral, while she desperately tried to find the correlation.

  Looking up, she met Nick’s gaze. In his dark eyes, she saw a mirror of her own resolve. They were missing something, something big. How quickly they figured it out might be the factor that saved—or cost—another innocent life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN AMANDA relayed her conversation with Gordy to Nick, he swore and left the copy room. She kept pace with him as he headed for the door.

  “The connection has to be that damn organization Jason joined.” Frustrated, Nick heard the growl in his voice and winced. Even though his self-control was excellent, moments of stress always brought the need to change close to the surface.

  Amanda looked at him sideways. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. But if this is what I think it is, every second counts.”

  “What do you think this is?” Her voice, the detached, rational sort of cajoling used by cops everywhere, made him wonder if she knew what Jason had been, what Nick himself was. Time to share, he thought savagely. They were partners. If she knew and was thinking along the same lines as he, that was good. If she didn’t, then now was a good time for her to learn. He felt a flash of fury, then deadly calm. They needed to settle this once and for all.

  “Get in the car.”

  “Do what?”

  “The car. Now. I’ll drive. We need to talk. This is important.”

  She swore, but handed him the keys and headed for her SUV. “It better be.”

  Unlocking the doors, they both got in. He waited until she’d buckled in before he started the engine. If he remembered right, down the street he’d noticed a city park. Nice, neutral ground for them to share information.

  As he shifted into Drive, she turned in her seat to face him. “What’s up, Templeton?”

  “Nick.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she conceded. “Fine. What’s going on, Nick?”

&
nbsp; He pulled into the park and drove into a slot by a picnic table under some spindly trees. Sensing her frustration, he kept his movements deliberate as he killed the engine and pocketed the keys.

  “Nick…” Her voice contained a warning.

  He would have given her a fierce smile, but until he knew, he had to keep this serious. “Amanda, earlier you said Jason had changed. Please tell me exactly what you meant.”

  Though she looked outwardly calm, he saw a touch of belligerence in the lift of her chin as she searched his face. “What the hell’s up with you? You’re freaking me out.”

  “No, I’m not. Cut the crap. You’re a cop. You’ve made detective and you’re not even thirty yet, are you?” At her nod he managed a smile. “I know better, Amanda. You don’t scare so easily.”

  At his words she glanced away. She rubbed her arms up and down, as though she were cold. Then she looked him full in the face, her forehead creasing in a frown. “Okay, Nick Templeton, FBI agent. You asked for it.” She took a deep breath.

  He waited, pretty sure he knew what was coming.

  “Jason was a werewolf. And since I’ve shared with you, now it’s your turn. Are you a werewolf, too?”

  The term made him wince. “I hate that word. So I was right. Jason shifted in front of you.”

  She crossed her arms. “You didn’t answer the question. Are. You. A. Werewolf?”

  “Shifter.”

  “Just answer me, damn it. You are, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Now she flinched. “Damn.”

  At her disgusted look, he rushed on. “How you feel about that doesn’t matter, not now. That’s personal. We can deal with it later.”

  “Personal?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to get that out of the way, so we could discuss this case like two investigators. We’ve got to focus on the job.”

  “I agree, though I don’t see what you—or Jason’s—abilities have to do with it.”

  She was still thinking too close to home. Personal. But the case wasn’t. “Amanda, I think all the serial killer’s victims were shifters. I think someone out there is hunting down and killing my kind.”

  He watched her expression harden. She went from dazed and uncomfortable to focused detective.