Witch Wolf (Chaelisa)

Chapter 13-14

My cell phone rang from its place on the nightstand. I rolled over, blinking at the bright little window on the phone's face. I flipped it open. "Ten," I grumbled sleepily, and rolled my eyes toward the clock. "It's almost four o'clock in the morning. What the fuck?"

"Guess again, Manoban." Instead of Ten's voice, someone else's gruff voice grumbled in my ear. I sat up in bed. "Deputy Sheriff Witkins," I said, wondering why the hell he was calling me from Bam's phone. The only explanation I could think of was not a good one. "What happened?"

"There's been another murder," he said, then asked me if I remembered how to get to the Lee's. "For the most part," I said, leaning over and finding a pen and legal pad in the top drawer of the nightstand. I put the pen in my mouth, taking the cap off, speaking around it. "Give me the address."

"Go about two and a half miles past the Lee's," he said, "When you pass Cole Road, you're going to make a left onto Southeast Twenty-sixth Street. My men have got their lights on."

I kicked back the covers, tearing off the sheet of paper with the directions on it. "Deputy," I asked, "may I speak with Ten?"

"Yeah, but make it fast," he said. "The scene is getting cold." I bit back the retort that the scene was always cold by the time they called me in. "Hey, Lis," Ten said. "If there's not a steaming cup of coffee in your hands by the time I get there, Leechai, I'm going to kick you in the balls." I closed the phone, hanging up before Ten could reply.

My feet hit the floor as I stumbled around the room grabbing what I needed: shirt, jeans, bra, socks, shoes, and my shoulder holster. I went into the bathroom, relying on my night vision as I slipped the nightgown off, allowing it to fall to the floor.

I shimmied into the jeans, pulled the bra straps up on my shoulders, and slid the shirt on over my head. A crime scene at four o'clock in the morning—there's more than one reason cops despise bad guys. I plucked the directions off the bathroom cabinet, shoving them deep into the pocket of my jeans. I grabbed the shoulder holster, shrugging into it on my way out. I stopped in the living room, eyes flicking to the sleeping werewolf on my couch.

Sighing, I went into the kitchen and tore a piece of paper off the magnetic notepad on the fridge.

I hastily scribbled:

Sana, Had to go out. Be back soon... Don't touch anything.

There, that worked. I carefully slid the piece of paper onto the coffee table, listening to the languid sound of her breath. I grabbed my jacket off the chair. My keys jingled and I quickly muffled them with my palm, slipping out of the apartment as quietly as I could. I knew my apartment like the back of my hand. If Sana touched anything, I'd know. The fact that I'm a werewolf and could trace her scent if I tried hard enough also came in handy.

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I took I-40 to I-44 like I was going out to the Lee's home. The drive turned out to take a little over forty minutes. I followed the directions Witkins had given me. The paved road turned into gravel that made an obnoxious grinding noise beneath the Tiburon's tires.

Over the crest of the hill, nestled behind an old wooden fence surrounding a trailer home, the lights from two police interceptors cast a blurry blue and red haze out over the land. I guided the car through the open gate, parking next to one of the squad cars. The cops had left their headlights on and I watched as they helped one another string the black and yellow tape from the right side of a double-wide trailer to the wooded area on the southeastern part of the land.

I spotted Ten and Deputy Sheriff Witkins standing in front of the trailer. Ten saw me approaching and started heading toward me.

Goddess bless his little heart, he was holding a cup of coffee. "Here," he said, eyes sparkling. "I'd like to have kids someday, you know." I took the cup of coffee, taking a sip.