Buried

CHAPTER 37 | 235 degrees f

📎 A/N. Hello my lovelies,

I hope you all had a great weekend and are ready to face the brand new week!!!

This chapter is dedicated to @EliciaHyder - check out her new story The Soul Summoner, you won't be disappointed.

For those of you following the Rugby World Cup... Go the All Blacks!!!!! And Scotland ... you were robbed!!!!

I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you do, don't forget to vote :-)

Thanks for your continued support.

❤ ℳ

PS. This chapter is unedited. If you spot any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know.

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Kaitlyn had managed to get home, unpack and had carried out a quick search of their best lead yet before Murphy arrived. To say she was excited was an understatement. She was that much closer to her father's killer - she could almost taste it.

When she had first seen the photo of Francis Giordano, she was confident she had seen his likeness before. At first, why he appeared so familiar eluded her. It didn't however, take long to remember why. Francis was one of the faces in the grainy video of Elijah with the other Werewolves in New York. The one that had found its way into the possession of the Boston Globe reporter.

"I assume that you have his address?" Kaitlyn asked as she jumped into Murphy's Escalade.

He grimaced as she slammed the door behind her. "Yes, and why do women feel the need to be so heavy-handed with car doors?"

Kaitlyn clicked her seatbelt into place and glanced across at him with a bland expression. "Probably the same reason men need to leave the toilet seat up," she said, "can we go now?"

They pulled up outside of an impressive colonial style two story home in Lexington. A prestigious and upmarket suburb of Boston.

"He must be making a killing at selling houses," Murphy remarked as they got out and headed up the narrow path that led to the front door.

"According to what I could find," said Kaitlyn ensuring that her voice didn't carry, "our new Immigrant has a string of offices across the state. He's one of the big hitters in the industry. I was actually expecting something a little grander."

Kaitlyn rang the doorbell and took a step back.

"Remember," warned Murphy gruffly, "if he starts anything, I want you to clear out and leave it to me."

"Yes, dad."

Murphy had only managed to emit a low growl from the back of his throat before the door was opened by a woman whom Kaitlyn guessed was the wife. She plastered a disarming smile on her face and flashed her badge at the woman, careful to keep her finger on the letters FBI, as well as make sure the other side of her wallet was hidden from view. Kaitlyn had pocketed it before the woman had a chance to take a proper look.

"Hello," Kaitlyn began, "I'm Inspector Quinn, this is my colleague O'Neill and we are special investigators for the District Attorney's office. We were wondering if we could speak to Mr Giordano?"

"He's at a Real Estate conference at the moment. I'm his wife, Linda, can I help you?" asked the woman, her eyes a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"We can't divulge too much information with regards to an ongoing investigation, but the DA's office has been looking at some criminal activities of a particular dog breeder here in Massachusetts. We understand your husband was a recent victim to one of his dogs who had been let loose."