Page 9 of Butterfly Assassin
“The second one though…”
Frank indicated and pulled into one of the few parking bays for their building. Their offices were located inside the City police limits and parking was scarce. “He did have what looked like betting receipts in his pocket.”
“You think he might have been at one of Smith’s fights?” He’d been found roughly half a mile from victim number three. It’d make sense for Smith to rotate the venues of his fights.
Again, no witnesses.
“It’s one possibility.” Frank shrugged as he switched off the engine and turned to face Michael. “One that we have absolutely no proof for, though.”
“Fuck, I know.” Michael growled in frustration. “And the killer’s a shifter. Surely one of the alphas must have an idea if a member of their pack’s doing this? Whoever it is must end up covered in blood. Shifters have crazy-good senses; someone must have smelt it. No?” He glanced at Frank for confirmation.
“You’d think. Maybe they’ve just closed ranks?”
Michael grumbled as they entered the station and headed to their offices on the first floor. After the pack wars, things had changed significantly with the forming of the alpha council. The council liaised with the police far more than shifters had before then. Michael wouldn’t go as far as saying they had a great working relationship, but they did communicate better these days.
On the whole, the packs followed human laws—none of them wanted to end up in Krillick Hall, the shifter prison. Michael had been there a few times, and the place gave him the creeps. He could only imagine what it was like for shifters. But he wouldn’t hesitate to send someone there if they broke the law.
He had nothing against shifters per se, but they had a huge advantage over the rest of them. If they chose to exploit that, then Michael would do his damnedest to bring them to justice. And tearing someone’s throat out qualified. There was no case for self-defence—the victims had all appeared unarmed. With a shifter’s superior speed and strength, it would’ve been easy enough for one of them to subdue a human and then call the police to take over. Brutally murdering them went far beyond that.
They’d been silenced.
His and Frank’s desks sat at the back corner of the room, and Michael sank into his chair as soon as they reached them. The rest of the office was empty, the other detectives out and about. The SCTF was relatively small, but Michael liked it that way. They reported directly to Detective Chief Inspector Max Arlington, who, in turn, reported to his boss, and that was it. The chain of command was short.
Pulling out a folder from his desk drawer, Michael opened it and spread the photos out on the surface of his desk. The crime scene photos of the first two murders stared back at him. He tapped on the first and snagged the accompanying autopsy report. “According to Peters, the first victim had his throat torn out from left-to-right—so the killer was right-handed.”
Frank sighed. This wasn’t the first time they’d been over this. “And the second victim was killed by someone left-handed. We know this, what’s your point?”
Michael tossed the report back onto his desk and leaned back. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He ran both hands through his hair, idly thinking it was probably time for a haircut. While he liked his hair a little longer on top, Arlington gave him the stink eye whenever it got beyond what he considered a reasonable length. Swivelling in his chair, Aaron faced Frank. “Does that sort of thing even matter with a shifter?”
“What do you mean?”
“When they half-shift and use their claws.” Michael made slashing gestures with both hands. “Is one hand more dominant than the other? Or can they be ambidextrous?” He frowned. “I mean it’s not the same as if they were holding a knife, is it?”
Frank stared at him, mouth opening and then closing again. “We need to ask someone about that because I have no fucking idea.”
“No, me neither.” The thought had only occurred to him on the way home. Surprisingly, it wasn’t something they’d had to consider before. “The other theory, of course, is that there are two different killers out there.”
“Hmm.”
Michael clasped his hands behind his head. “That would mean two shifters are involved in this. And if Smith is ultimately behind it all, can you see him having two of them on his payroll? I mean, if he had that kind of muscle, wouldn’t Miller and the others have heard about it? They’ve been watching him for months.”
Frank tapped a pencil against the edge of his desk. “Yeah. Even if no one wants to point the finger, things like that have a way of leaking out. And besides, it doesn’t feel like there’s two, does it?” He pointed at a photo of the second victim. “No weapon found on him, no defensive wounds…”
“You think they knew their killer?”
Do I?
They’d discussed this already, but Michael still couldn’t make his mind up. “Either that or the sight of a shifter coming at them—claws and teeth out—paralysed them with fear.” He couldn’t stop the shudder. Michael was fortunate, he’d only experienced a shifter in half-shift once in his time at the SCTF, but it wasn’t something he’d ever forget.
Rationally he knew they were built differently to him. Under the skin, their DNA wasn’t fully human. But on the outside, they looked it. The moment he’d been confronted with the truth, in live-action format, not photos or TV—that was when it fully sank in that the criminals he pursued could kill him far more easily than he liked to think about.
No weapons needed.
Working for the SCTF required a total rethink of how they approached suspects. Keeping one’s distance was paramount. There was no rushing in and trying to overpower a shifter—not unless you wanted to risk a run-in with razor-sharp teeth and claws.
All members of the Shifter Crimes Task Force were licenced to carry firearms—standard issue Glock 17 pistols.
They also carried high-powered Tasers.
