“She won’t tell.” A low growl entered his voice. “Midas found her in one of the women’s shelters where he volunteers, recognized her as gwyllgi, and brought her home with him. It’s been a week, give or take, and you’re the first person she’s allowed to touch her.”
Abuse recognizes abuse was what I thought, but what I said was, “Let me know if I can help, in any way.”
“I’ll do that.” He slowed a dozen or so feet upstream from where Bonnie had been standing when we first arrived, and grimaced. “There.”
Kicking off my sneakers, I hiked the hem of my jeans up to my calves. About to wade in, I startled when Ford scooped me up in his arms with a wide grin that told me he thought he was quite gallant.
Though he might very well be, I was on the job, and I wasn’t about to explain to my boss how I solved a crime without my feet ever touching the ground. The Prince Charming routine only worked on girls with stars in their eyes, but all of mine had long since fallen, and no amount of twinkle from him would put them back.
Bracing a palm on his broad shoulders, I used him as leverage when I snapped my hips to execute a twist that flipped me out of his grip. I hit the water in a crouch, soggier than I would have been had he left well enough alone, but admiration sparked in his eyes that made the damp worthwhile.
I wasn’t interested in a boyfriend or a booty call. I had to focus on me, on proving myself a worthy successor, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate a handsome man sizing me up like he might consider both, or either.
“You’re quick,” he said, and it came out as a growl. “And flexible.”
“I run, and I do yoga.” I stood and splashed out to meet him in the ankle-high water. “Gotta have an edge.”
“I would pat you on the back for landing that move, but your edge is so sharp it might cut me.”
Rolling my eyes, I sloshed past him to what had drawn his interest before my moves distracted him.
Tangled in a tree limb was an arm chewed off at the shoulder, making it look as though the grasping hand had tried holding on until help came. We were here now, but we were too late.
“Scout the area,” I told my all-too-invested shadow quietly. “Tell me if we’re expecting company.”
Ford made his way to me. “Want me to call this in?”
“Not yet.” I took out my phone and snapped pictures from every angle before wading on. “I want to see what we can find before more evidence gets washed away.”
I had no beef with the cleaners, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I had to get this right.
Tipping the brim of an imaginary hat, he nodded. “You’re the boss.”
Not yet I wasn’t, but it still had a nice ring.
“The water is usually deeper than this by a few inches,” he murmured. “There must be a blockage.”
For our sake, I hoped the creek was a victim of our recent dry spell and not something worse.
“There’s another one.” I picked my way across the slippery rocks and found a foot, its heel wedged between two rocks. “Two separate victims.”
Thanks a lot, hope. You continue to fail at your one job.
“First was Caucasian,” he agreed. “This one looks Hispanic, maybe Indian. Hard to tell in this condition.”
Crouching for a better angle to snap a photo, I pointed. “See the design across the top of the foot?”
“Henna, right?” He scratched his jaw. “Atlanta has a large Indian population.”
“Henna tattoos are popular with non-Indian women too.” I thought of a kiosk on the opposite end of the mall that offered henna, as well as other temporary tattoos, to anyone with an hour and twenty bucks. “We need to nail down any meaning associated with the design. It might give us a lead on how or where the victims were selected by the killer.”
Please don’t let them all be gwyllgi.
Not that I wished this epic heartache on anyone or any faction, but three deaths? Even in a pack the size of the one in Atlanta, it would equal a catastrophic loss.
We found more victims as we traveled upstream, pieces of them anyway, and the freshness degraded with every yard. I had a bad feeling about what we would find at the apex, but I got no sense from Ambrose that the person or creature responsible was still in the area. That was something.
As I catalogued each hand, toe, finger, and foot with my phone, I kept wracking my brain for a species that might fit the profile I was building, but I didn’t have enough information. I was getting ahead of myself. Again. There was no time to slow down, not with a killer—or killers—on the loose.
Argh.
Ford made a choking noise behind me, and I turned to find him covering his nose with the neck of his tee.
Thankfully, my senses weren’t as keen. “I don’t smell it yet.”
“You will.”
We kept documenting as we went, as much to keep track of our macabre findings as to pinpoint their locations, and then I spotted the reason for the low water. A dam made of torsos in various stages of decay stretched across the modest creek, causing the water to overflow its banks on the far side while it trickled on ours.
Shock numbed me even as I said, “I count seven.”
“Eight,” he rasped, his flirty coping mechanism as broken as his voice. “Look there.”
A girl, maybe seven or eight, lay tucked between two women’s bodies, as though they had tried to protect her, even in death.
“The victims are all women.” Wishing I had enjoyed the clean air more while I had it, I had no choice but to breathe in the stench of decomposition. “You can put in that call now. We can’t touch this without cleaner oversight.”
Calling it an obstruction felt wrong. Paranormal or normal, they had been living, breathing, laughing, crying people until whatever did this hunted them down and killed them.
Throat tight, I followed procedure and shot Linus an update. I could have called, maybe should have for the sake of expediency, but I was too raw. I worried a tremble in my voice or catch in my breath would betray the doubt threatening to rise up and swallow me whole.
I’m not enough. I’m not enough. I’m not enough.
I never had been. Not even for my own family. These poor souls were mine now. I was all they had left, and I would stand for them.
For the past year, as I scurried in the wake of the POA’s tattered cloak, I had champed at the bit for this: a shot at proving myself, a case of my very own, an opportunity to shine. Now that eagerness tasted as sour as the air in my lungs.
The POA was not the coddling type, but I would dump this case in his lap in a heartbeat if he were here, and he would let me. Justice before pride, always. If I let myself start to doubt, there would never be an end, and that alone got my fingers moving over the screen.
We have more victims.
The pause between me hitting send and him replying never ceased to amaze. He rarely slept for reasons above my paygrade, and so he replied within seconds.
>>How many?
The number has yet to be determined.
Until all the pieces fit together again, we could only guess, but eight was a start.
>>Can you handle it?
A tremor shook the phone in my hand. Yes.
>>Are you certain?
Nerves jittering, I forced myself to seal my fate. Yes.