by Gwen Knight
“Our medical examiner is pulling in. If she clears you to go down with her, I’ll allow it.”
Wyatt nodded, then rocked back on his heels and let his gaze roam the rich landscape as his thoughts meandered. Without another word, the sheriff loped off to greet a well-dressed woman, whom he could only assume was the medical examiner. He eyed her lush curves beneath her pleated suit, his mouth tugging at the corner.
“Wyatt Turner, this is Dr. Elizabeth Morrison. Elizabeth, this is Wyatt, our resident alpha.”
Dark brown eyes assessed him, her mouth a grim line. “Shane informs you that you would like to come down with me.”
“If you want to know who did this or not, then I need to go down.”
Shane and Elizabeth shared a glance. “Sheriff?”
He shrugged. “If it’s the same unsub as the last one, the DNA tests will prove it.”
“I’m sorry, unsub?” Wyatt questioned.
“Unidentified subject,” Dr. Morrison confirmed without glancing at him.
“But if Wyatt can pick up a scent and track it—”
Wyatt’s mouth twisted. “I’m not a fucking bloodhound.” Nor would he hand one of his own over to the local police. Werewolves had their own laws to abide by.
Elizabeth swung back around, her nose scrunching as her gaze raked his length. “All right. I’ll take you down with me. But know this, I don’t care if you’re an alpha. You do as I say, got it?”
Wyatt unleashed the brunt of his stare on the overbearing woman before him. He loosened his hold on his wolf and allowed the beast to peek out of his eyes, long enough for the color to blanch from the medical examiner’s face. “Whatever you say, princess.”
Rage colored her neck. “I don’t think you understand—”
“Nor do I care,” he informed her. “Alpha means I don’t play the role of lackey. I’ll take you down with me, and you’ll do as I say.”
Fury flashed through her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Uh, guys?” Shane muttered as he stepped between them.
Without warning, Wyatt strode toward the edge of the gorge and dropped over the side without a rope.
“Mr. Turner!”
The medical examiner’s face was the first to pop over the edge. Chuckling to himself, Wyatt shrugged. “Any moment now, Doc.”
From above came the sound of urgent curses as she slid into her required safety gear. Wyatt took the opportunity to investigate the body before anyone else rappelled down. At first glance, he knew the woman hadn’t been killed here. A brutal attack such as hers tended to leave evidence, of which there was little. The bitter stench of death attacked his nose, but missing from it was the coppery tang of blood. Their victim had been moved after death.
From above, he’d seen the garish marks that marred her torso. Down here, there was no doubt in his mind what creature could have made such a gash. Werewolf claws were thicker and longer than a bear’s. These gouges were bone deep, and most certainly not from a bear. Fortunately for his pack, the scent wasn’t one he knew.
Wyatt studied the poor woman, his attention coming to rest on her face.
Sweet Lord.
He’d seen some disturbing things in his life, but the two gaping holes staring back at him rendered him silent. The fucker had cut out her eyes. Wyatt cursed and whipped a hand through his hair as he thought about the repercussions.
It seemed James had been correct, after all, and as the only alpha in the state, the responsibility would fall on Wyatt to find this psycho.
Yeehaw.
