Next to them, also standing tall, arms behind their backs, and chins tilted, were two equally handsome, broad-shouldered policemen. It was summer, so their uniforms consisted of short-sleeved black shirts—tight around wide biceps—with diamond lapels, and black trousers. Hunt and Benham had removed the stab vests they’d been wearing when she’d seen them earlier. They all had thick belts, complete with cuffs, Tasers, and phones. Boots were solid and big, their cap peaks shiny.
All four men studied her with curiosity, interest, as if she were a novelty.
Surely they’ve seen a female DI before.
She nodded curtly and shoved her hands into her trouser pockets. “Sergeants.”
They were silent.
Henry stood, his chair scraping on the hard flooring. “DI Tatum, thank you for coming up so quickly.”
“No problem, sir. Have you found something in the forensic report from the first case?”
“The answer to that question is yes and no.”
She frowned.
“What I mean is,” he went on, “I know something about the first case now, but not from forensics.”
“What? Where from?”
He gestured to the four men. “Sergeants Hunt, Benham, Grant, and McWilliams have come to me with information.”
“And?” she asked, impatience growing.
“Sensitive information.” Henry’s frown deepened.
“I have signed the Official Secrets Act, sir.”
“I know, which is why you are perfect for this case.”
“I don’t understand, why would I need to have signed the Official Secrets Act for a run-of-the-mill murder?”
“This is anything but run-of-the-mill.” Henry paced left and right, his hands clasped behind his back the same as the four sergeants. “This is going to explode everything you thought you knew about the police force, criminals, hell, humanity itself.”
She swallowed, her throat tight. Henry wasn’t known for his sense of humor or practical jokes. His deadly serious tone was too deadly serious for her liking.
“I think you should explain, sir.” She cast a glance at the officers. They were stock still, their attention fixed on her. There were no smiles now from Cooper Hunt or Elijah Benham. Though again she got the feeling she was being heavily scrutinized, they were waiting for her next move, her reaction to whatever Henry was about to reveal—whatever they had told him.
“Sir, please just say it. I can handle the worst the streets of London throw my way, I’ve proven that over the years.”
“You have.” Henry stopped pacing and pointed to the officers. “And you need to know I respect that, and if this isn’t something you can handle then—”
“Sir.” Irritation swarmed over her. “Please.”
“The attacks,” Cooper Hunt said, his voice low and deep and seeming to rumble off the wood-paneled walls. “Are of an unusual and deeply disturbing nature.”
“I wouldn’t dispute that.” She rocked back on her heels and raised her eyebrows. When were they going to tell her something she didn’t know?
“And we believe,” Elijah Benham said, “they were perpetrated by something other than a human being.” Yes, a definite American twang going on.
“An animal.” She nodded. “The shredded skin and the mangled faces, could be claws and teeth, yes I’d of thought that. I was half hoping forensics would throw up some canine DNA.”
“Not quite canine,” Cooper said, “more like wolf.”
“Wolf!” She bobbed her head slowly. “Okay, makes sense. Bigger than a dog, vicious, could be a pet that’s escaped.” She turned to Henry. “Have we checked with the dangerous animal register? Has one escaped? Zoo? Privately owned?”
“It didn’t escape because it was never captive,” one of the other officers said. He pressed his hand on his chest, and a slight smile tugged the right side of his mouth. “Sergeant Ben Grant, ma’am.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She nodded curtly. “Explain yourself, Ben.”
He stepped forward and removed his peaked hat, ran his hand over his glossy dark hair, then set it back into place. It was a very informal action considering he was with senior ranks, but she’d let it slip for now. Besides, he was a seriously handsome man, disarmingly so.
“You see,” he said, “there are wolves who pass through London, but they’re only wolves some of the time.”
“And what are they the rest of the time?” She cocked her head.
“Human.” He studied her with the same orange-hued eyes as his colleagues.
“Human.” She snorted. “What, like werewolves? Change at full moon? Howl and shit like that?”
“No, ma’am, not like werewolves, like shifters.”
“Shifters,” she repeated, the word sounding ridiculous coming from her mouth. She turned away. He was too damn good-looking. It was distracting.
Shifters. She’d heard of shifters, of course she had, but only in books and films. They weren’t real. They were made up, like goblins and dragons, trolls and fairies.
“It has been brought to my attention,” Henry said, “this shifter has a rogue genetic makeup, one that gives him the taste for human blood and a passion for witnessing human death.”
“A bloodlust,” Ben said. “He or she can’t control themself.”
Corey took her hands from her pockets, and held her palms up. “Sir, really? You’re acting like they’re real. Shifters are not a thing.” She paused. “This is not an actual line of investigation.”
“Sadly, it is, and they are real,” Cooper said, turning and gesturing to the window. “And they’re out there, not usually for any length of time in London, admittedly, because it’s where we are based, but a rogue one, a mutant, wouldn’t care about us.”
“And you think this shifter, this half-person, half-wolf being is responsible for the two murders on my caseload?” Her head was spinning. It didn’t make sense. Why was her superintendent, a well-respected, sensible, down-to-earth bloke going along with this? She snatched her phone from her pocket. Checked the date. No, it wasn’t April the first.
“That’s exactly what we think.” Elijah folded his arms, his fingers digging into his bulging biceps. “I’ve seen it before.”
“You have?” Now that surprised her. Maybe she’d get some evidence to back up these crazy claims. “Where?”
“Here, in the city.”
“In London?
“Yes, a long time ago.”
“So we need to get the case files, study them.” She nodded at Henry. “I’ll get onto it. There must be a better, more plausible explanation.”
“Than what?” Henry asked.
“Shifters.” She frowned. “A better explanation than shifters, for goodness sake.”
“You can dig about,” Ben said. “But you won’t find the files.”
“Why not?” This was getting stranger by the second.
“It was too long ago,” Elijah said. “Centuries.”
She rubbed her temple. “But you said—”
“I think you should take a seat,” Henry said, pointing to a straight-backed chair.