Chapter Twenty
Short Tempers, Secret Crushes, and Serious Case Updates
Nick
Serena scowls at the car in front of us as she drives me to Sloan’s place. “We’ve looked at this from every fucking angle. I can’t have a cold case on my record, Nick.”
I nod sympathetically, letting her get it out of her system.
“How can we have too much evidence and none of it leads anywhere? The crime scenes literally looked like the evidence version of Scrooge’s Money Bin. But instead of being valuable, it’s just a rotting pile of shit,” she yells.
I scrunch my nose. “That’s not a picture I wanted in my head.”
“I don’t care. That’s what it feels like, and that’s what you need in your head,” she huffs.
“I’m just saying, if you hoped that picture would trigger something in our minds, I doubt…”
“Shut up, Nick. How are you so calm about it? This is bad for you, too. Why aren’t you angrier? I just see you moping around the precinct every day. Where’s the anger? Be angry, Nicholas.”
“I am. Believe me, I am. I don’t have the energy to show it, okay? I’m exhausted,” I confess. Because, unlike her, I have two full-time jobs and two killers on the loose.
She sighs. “I know it’s bad. But we’ll find the killer,” she nods firmly. “We’ll solve this.”
I nod back. We have to. There’s no choice. I won’t let another killer roam around in my city for years like the Vigilante Wolf Hunter. Fuck, it can’t be a good sign that I’m using that name now, too.
“Are you sure you want me to drop you here? I can drive you back to your place after you’ve picked up Mickey, if you want,” Serena offers when we’re closer to Sloan’s place.
“No, no, it’s fine. Sloan will drop me, or I’ll take a cab,” I wave her off.
I’m not going too far, anyway. Elliot lives a short walk from Sloan’s, a fact that I’m going to keep a secret for as long as I can.
Elliot is not ready for Sloan yet, at least not the version he’ll get now that she knows about us.
Besides, we’re having a little team meeting here because it was time someone else hosted for once.
Sloan is just getting in with Mickey when we park in front of her place. She saunters over to the car.
Serena’s breath hitches. I turn to find her eyes wide and jaw hanging open. I bite my lips to stop smiling and elbow Serena. She recovers quickly.
I get out of the car to give an excited Mickey some scratches.
Sloan walks around us to talk to Serena. She doesn’t even look that good right now, all sweaty in her tank top and running shorts. Then again, I doubt I’ve ever thought of her as anything more than annoying and evil.
“Hey, is Nick using you for free labor?” Sloan asks.
I roll my eyes and tune them out, giving all my attention to my good boy. He would never talk smack about me. “Who was the best boy today? Yess, you! Because you’re always the best boy!”
After a minute, I turn to find Serena stepping out of her car, looking shy. I take a second to identify the expression on her face because I’ve never seen her look shy before.
Should I be stopping this, whatever it is? But wouldn’t it be more fun to see how this plays out? Who am I to tell two grown women if they should interact with each other or not? Or visit each other’s homes, because that’s what Serena is doing right now.
I follow them in, Mickey in tow.
Sloan’s home is the perfect extension of her personality. Loud, warm, comfortable, and bursting with mismatched bright colors.
“Coffee?” Sloan asks Serena once she has settled on the bright yellow couch. “I can make tea too, if you’d like that instead,” she offers.
“Can you?” I ask, confused.
“Yes, Nick, I drink tea, too. Sometimes,” Sloan says primly.
“I’ll have the tea then,” I challenge.
Sloan narrows her eyes at me.
“Coffee is fine for me,” Serena says meekly.
“Then you’re having coffee too,” Sloan says, already walking toward the kitchen.
I sit down next to an awkward-looking Serena. Mickey is slumped in one of the thousand dog beds in the living room, enjoying the show.
“You think I’m being too obvious?” Serena asks.
I can already imagine Sloan’s ears perking up at the hint of drama. “You’re fine. Tell me about the hunch you were talking about before you went on the tirade about the case,” I nudge her.
“Oh, right, so this is such a long shot, but I was thinking, the two victims are not related at all, right? They’ve apparently never met.
But they could have. The second victim was dating your friend’s sister.
And all of you are friends with the werewolf show’s producer.
” I tilt my head, my heartbeat picking up.
“What if they met at one of the show’s parties or something? ”
I internally blow out a relieved breath. “I asked Isabel if they’ve ever been to one, remember?” Of course, I did. Confirmed it with Cami and everything. But it’s still scary how close Serena is to the truth.
“Fuck,” Serena says sharply. “I completely forgot that,” she groans.
“It’s alright, dude. We can use everything right now. No hunch is bad,” I assure her.
She nods.
Sloan walks in with a tray of three mismatched mugs. “Coffee’s here,” she announces.
I pick a mug and take a sip.
“So, how are the murder cases going?” Sloan asks, acting completely innocent as if she doesn’t have all the updates and didn’t just eavesdrop on our entire conversation.
Serena sighs. “Not good,” she mumbles.
Sloan hums sympathetically. “There was so much evidence at the scenes, it basically looked like the money room of that cartoon show with the ducks,” she says.
“That’s exactly what I said,” Serena says, perking up.
They smile at each other.
Okay, yeah, this is uncomfortable.
Thankfully, Serena leaves quickly after Sloan makes her exchange numbers because she needs Serena’s hairdresser’s info.
I watch the whole thing with mild scepticism.
But I know one thing for sure, I’m not getting in the middle of this.
Not until Sloan expressly talks to me about it.
Then I’ll be a good friend and listen to her about all her complicated feelings before incessantly making fun of her for claiming she has tea in her house.
And she’ll deserve it because she’s evil and has somehow wrangled me into making dinner for everyone.
One moment, I’m sitting on the couch complaining about the amount of dog beds here, the next thing I know, I’m in the kitchen with a ladle.
“I thought we were ordering in. That’s the whole point of these meetings,” I complain as I add more salt to the pasta sauce. “Otherwise, the whole thing could just be an email.”
“I think it’d need more,” Sloan says, taking a sip of her wine and completely ignoring me. She’s all relaxed, leaning back against the counter. I hate my friends.
I shake my head. “At least offer me a glass too,” I tell her. She turned off her polite host routine as soon as Serena walked out.
Sloan laughs, but gets me a glass of wine too.
The doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of Dominic.
“Oh, good, there’s food. I’m starving,” he says as soon as he walks into the kitchen.
“Grab a plate. Nick apparently makes great pasta. He has it on good authority,” Sloan winks at me.
I just sigh.
Bree and Cami join in soon after, and once our plates are ready, we get to work.
“You deserve to cook me dinner for at least a year for making me read the absolute filth that was those messages, dude,” Sloan says. I’m proud of her for keeping it in for so long. Other than the mildly threatening messages she’s been sending me every day, of course.
“Yeah, yeah,” I wave her off. “I talked to Matt yesterday, and he found nothing in the chats before twenty-twenty. Did you?”
“Nope, no identification details after that, either. Other than the victims’. Apparently, those two were the only stupid people there. No other direct discussions of killing werewolves either,” she says.
“I wish Nate had just talked to us about what he knew,” Cami sighs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could have happened? A talk from the Bureau and mild surveillance for a while? Talking to other humans literally got him killed.”
Dominic shakes his head. “You can’t talk logic with these fanatics. Once they’ve got the taste of extreme hatred, their thoughts are no longer sane.”
Cami nods. “Still sucks, though. Anyway, I went through Izzy’s phone. Nate never hinted at knowing about us or even mentioned the game. I hate you for the things I had to read, by the way,” Cami says.
“Noted. Bree?” I turn to Bree.
“Okay, so I started by tracking all the 911 calls made to report the deaths of our werewolf victims. You know, to find the people who were the closest to the them, at least physically. Then I looked at all the information about their families online. I have a huge list now, and I’m slowly getting the agents to check their alibis,” she says.
“Awesome, let me know if you need help with that,” I say. “This isn’t going to be quick.”
“That reminds me,” Dom chimes in. “My list of buyers of Valmeron and Myocardiner is now seven thousand hospitals, clinics, and medical stores long,” he announces.
“Fuck, that’s a lot,” Slaon comments.
“I was thinking,” Cami says. “You can probably filter it by irregular order. Basically, only looking at buyers who ordered larger-than-normal amounts more than once. These medicines have a long shelf life, so you can’t just look for irregular activities around the murders, but narrowing it to within the last three years should be fine. ”
“Huh, That’s brilliant, Cami,” I say. “Dom, do that.”
Dom nods and writes something on his phone.
“I think you’re right, this really could have been an email,” Sloan says after we’ve gone back to our food.
I wish these cases could be solved as quickly as they are on procedural television shows where everything is neatly tied together in one episode, then they move on to the next.
It doesn’t help that we can’t go about this through legal channels, and sometimes being sneaky is time-consuming.
When we’re done and get ready to leave, Sloan frowns at me. “How are you planning to reach home? You didn’t even ask anyone to drop you.”
Fuck, I thought I’d be able to walk away without attracting attention.
“Uh… I ordered a cab,” I say.
She looks confused. “No, you didn’t.”
“Alright, I’m walking,” I snap.
Cami’s eyes go wide. “We can drop you. Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.”
They look at each other, concerned.
Before they think I’m having a mental breakdown and schedule another intervention, I mumble, “I’m going to Elliot’s.”
As if lowering my volume will help against four pairs of werewolf ears. “We’re doing sleepovers already, are we?” Cami asks.
“That’s exactly how it went with Amy and me, too,” Bree says.
“And that’s why I didn’t say anything, just so you know,” I say. “You all are being dramatic again.”
They shoot each other weird expressions while Dom stands in the corner, looking awkward.
“Okay, no one’s going to be dramatic,” Cami says. “We can drop you at Elliot’s?” she offers.
Yeah, that’s not happening. “I’ll walk.”
“So, he lives close?” Sloan asks, her voice too curious.
This is a trap all around.
“Mickey,” I call the sleeping beauty. He reluctantly joins us near the door. “We’re leaving,” I announce and walk out. I’ll call them and apologize later, when there’s less chance they'll find out more information than they need to know.
Because whatever I feel about Elliot, I know I like him enough to protect him from the people in this house.