Chapter Two #2
“So, he couldn’t reach the assailant. They must have either left already or were standing far away. They got close enough to feed him the drugs, so he definitely trusted them, but he must have realized what was happening sooner or later. The drugs can’t be that fast-acting,” I think out loud.
“I mean, they’ve had a lot of practice by now,” she says.
I nod. “Let’s make sure they don’t get any more,” I say.
She frowns at me. “Meena is assigning you the case?” she asks.
“I think so? Why else would she want me here?”
“Dude, when are you going to work on this? Weren’t you just complaining about your workload?”
It’s cute that she’s worried about me when she doesn’t even know anything about my off-the-clock creepy activities.
Okay, that sounded dirty. My other unauthorized investigations.
Balancing two full-time jobs with a stalking gig on the side is getting a little too much.
But I’ll manage. Besides, sleep is for the weak.
I know if we continue this conversation, I’ll soon be telling her all about Elliot. About how I would rather just be in my car outside of his clinic or his home than anywhere else, even though he hasn’t done anything remotely suspicious in the last six months.
Not that I’m watching him all the time. That's stupid. I like to do random shifts because I can't afford to give up my beauty sleep entirely. Plus, my friends are demanding. Am I complaining about having a healthy, fulfilled life because it’s cutting into my creepy stalking time? Probably. Am I going to talk it out with people who’ll help me? Nope.
Cami tilts her head. “Hey, are you—”
“Good, you guys are already here.” We turn to look at the short, petite woman with the aura of a six-foot-seven wrestler.
I take it as a gift from whatever god was feeling generous enough to distract Cami and get us back to work. “Do we have an ID?” I ask Meena.
Meena nods and walks around the bed. “Harold Nolan. Worked as a trainer. Lived alone. Lost his wife recently,” she looks up at us pointedly.
“Wife died of an animal attack?” I fill in the blanks.
She continues her inspection of the body from a distance, ignoring my sarcasm. “The human police cleared him. So, he matches the profile of the previous targets,” she says.
“Why weren't we looking into him?” I ask because I can never leave well-enough alone.
She sighs like she’s tired. Of work? Of me continuously hounding her about the lack of manpower in the agency, and therefore the constant rise in overlooked cases?
We’ll never know. “We can’t have the same argument again, Nicholas.
We would have gotten to it eventually.” A mystery we’ll have to die with, probably.
I blink back at her.
Meena ignores me completely.
“When are we getting the toxicology report back?” Meena asks Cami.
Cami slowly turns to Meena. “At least a couple of days,” she says. “The body will go to Marcus by tonight. I’m just glad we got permission from his family to conduct our tests.”
Meena nods. “It’s easier now that we know it can be the work of a serial killer.
In the beginning, we had to make up lies about ongoing research to get them to cooperate.
Anyway, I’ll ask Marcus to speed up the autopsy.
” Then she turns to me. “I want you to take over the case. Do you have the bandwidth?”
“Yes, absolutely,” I say over Cami’s, “He really doesn’t, but he’ll lie to get the case.”
I direct a glare towards Cami.
Meena frowns. “Too much work at the LAPD?”
“No, it’s fine. I got this,” I assure Meena.
“We really need to find this person,” she stresses.
“We can't let someone have this much power. Who knows how they decide who gets to live and who doesn't? I don’t even care about the laws they’re breaking. We break over a thousand every single day. But we have rules we stick to. So, let’s catch this killer before they cause more chaos,” she says, her eyes intent on me.
“We will,” I say.
“Good,” Meena says. “I’ll send over everything we have on the case.
You’re the lead here, and I want you to take assistance from everyone.
I know you don’t like that,” she continues before I can argue.
“But this is not a request. You’re to involve every on-site officer in this case.
I just got another agent transferred here last week. Use him too.”
I nod begrudgingly. I work alone, a lone wolf if you will. But there’s no point in arguing with her right now. Besides, she’s too busy to keep track of my process.
She turns to leave, but then stops and looks at me again. “Oh, and Nicholas, the man had a dog, and we want to test him in case he ingested the drugs too. Can you get him from the impound and maybe keep him around for a while?”
“Are you asking me to adopt a dog for work?”
“I’m requesting you to help us secure evidence,” Meena says. Then leaves as quickly as she came.
“I guess I’m a dog dad now,” I sigh.
Cami laughs. “And you’ll be a good one. But please don’t feel smug about distracting me today. You’re answering all my questions to—”
Her pager beeps, and I smile widely.
She narrows her eyes. “You’re coming to the next brunch, or I’ll come to your house and drag you out,” she warns before storming out of the room.
I look at the body again. There are no signs of scratches or bite marks, so the dog isn’t feral. Maybe he was a really good dog dad but a shitty husband?
That tugs something at the back of my mind. I take out my phone and dial Bree.
She picks up immediately. “Oh, look who has time for his friends now,” she says.
“Do you and your wife rehearse what to say to people or something?” I ask.
“Yeah, we’ve got pre-picked openers for every reaction we’re aiming for. This one came straight from the ‘maximum guilt’ package,” she says, excited.
“You’re so weird,” I shake my head.
“You’re just jealous,” she says confidently.
Well, kinda. “Anyway, did you hear about the latest werewolf victim?”
“Yup, Cami texted me. What about it?”
“Cami said the paramedics dropped him off, and he lived alone. So, who made the call? Was it a neighbor or something?”
I hear keyboards clacking. As a 911 operator, Bree is one of the most smartly placed Bureau agents. It’s crazy how many possible werewolf exposures she’s singlehandedly averted.
“It was anonymous. A burner, probably. We couldn’t track it,” she says after about a minute.
“Did you hear the call?” I ask.
“Yup, the voice was modulated. Sounded like a woman. Do you think they’re getting cocky and wanted us to find the body right away?”
That doesn’t sit right with me. In all the previous murders, the incidents were reported by concerned family members or neighbors days after the murder. And it’s not like someone wouldn’t have reported this guy soon enough. People in LA can ignore a lot, but a missing trainer would stand out.
“Maybe…” I consider it for a moment. “Or maybe our killer just loves dogs,” I muse.
“Huh?” she says. “Dude, stop being weird when I’m on the eighth hour of my shift. Call me if you have something. And I'd better see you at the next brunch,” she warns before disconnecting the call.
Which one was that from? ‘Optimal threat’ package?
I hurry back to my car, wishing the entire way I could make dogs talk. The crimes my future dog baby could help me solve…