did this.”
What, not who, Colin noticed. He’d seen the body earlier, and he knew exactly why his captain was suspecting that the killer hadn’t necessarily been human.
“I’ll do my best,” Emily promised.
McNeal grunted. Then, “Colin, come here!”
Colin glanced back over his shoulder, carefully avoiding Emily’s stare. He’d deal with her later.
McNeal motioned toward the door. “Show her the vic.”
He sauntered up the steps, brushed his body lightly against hers as he passed. “Hope you’ve got a strong stomach.” It was all the warning he’d give her. He didn’t think she’d be able to handle the body inside too well. Colin could still smell the stench of vomit from the first two green cops who’d found the victim.
He led her inside, past the gleaming parquet flooring in the foyer, past the spiral staircase, and straight to the body.
Or what was left of it.
“Oh my God!” She sucked in a sharp breath. Stumbled to a stop near the puddle of congealed blood.
He glanced at her face then. The color had bleached away. And her eyes, so big, so wide, were full of horror.
The impulse to touch her, to comfort her, rushed through him. His hand lifted.
She fell to her knees beside the body.
His fingers balled into a fist, dropped to his side.
A faint tremble shook her. She stared at the man’s body. Gazed at his face, at the eyes that were wide open, staring at the ceiling in abject terror, at the mouth that was contorted in a final, silent scream.
Then her focus shifted to his neck, to the neck that had been ripped wide open.
“I-I need to see Captain McNeal.” She rose to her feet, swaying for a moment.
Is the guy human? His teeth snapped together as he bit back the question. It was his damn case. He needed as much information as he could get, and he didn’t want the doc and the captain keeping him in the dark.
He had a killer to find, and whether the guy was just a crazy-ass human or something more, he needed all the information about the perp he could get.
He lifted his hand, motioned for McNeal, and watched as his captain hurried across the room.
“Ah, Colin, can you excuse us for a minute?” He reached for Emily’s arm.
Colin stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his move. “I wanna hear what she’s got to say.” His eyes met McNeal’s.
A muscle flexed along McNeal’s jaw. “I’ll let you know the doctor’s opinion—”
Not good enough.
Emily pushed past him, stopped beside the captain.
Colin slanted a quick glance at her, then said, “I wanna know what the Monster Doctor thinks.”
She jerked, a slight but telling movement.
So did the captain.
McNeal’s eyes narrowed. “How much do you know?”
“Enough.” Most folks didn’t know about the creatures that lived right next to the humans, didn’t know about the dangerous world that existed in the shadows.
People thought monsters lived in horror movies. Thought that life was about birthday parties, Christmas trees, and summer vacations.
But he knew better. Hell, he’d lived most of his life in the darkness that everyone else feared. He knew the smell of evil, had seen firsthand just how perverted the world could be.
Yeah, he knew about the monsters.
After all, he was one of them.
McNeal glanced around at the other cops. At least five other officers—three men, two women—were in the room. He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen.
Emily nodded her understanding and led the way to the white swinging door.
No cops were inside. The kitchen had already been cleared.
McNeal waited until the door swung shut behind Colin, then he growled, “This doesn’t go past the three of us, got that, Gyth?”
Colin nodded.
“Good.” McNeal leveled his stare at Emily. “Well?”
“He was human.”
A grunt. “Good. At least I don’t have to worry about the ME finding two hearts inside the guy….” He blew out a hard breath. “After a couple of times, those explanations get harder to make.”
Yeah, he just bet they did. Colin kept his attention on Emily. “So, Doc, any ideas about what might have done that to him?”
She nibbled her lower lip for a moment, then said, “It could have been an animal attack, maybe a dog—”
But the captain was shaking his head. “The owner of the house has one of those fancy security systems with cameras trained on the doors. We’ve got a picture of the perp—a guy in a black hood who was smart enough to keep his damn face hidden—and there’s no animal with him.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“So what do you think, Doc?” Colin pressed. “What kind of thing could have done this?”
Her head cocked to the side and she studied him with that too-knowing gaze of hers. “Well, Detective,” she finally murmured, “the way I figure it, there are three prime suspects.”
He didn’t speak, just waited for her.
She held up one finger. “A vampire.”
A second finger. “A demon.”
Third finger. “Or”—she stared straight into his eyes—“a shifter.”
“A shifter?” McNeal whistled softly. “What kind of shifter would do that?”
Her shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “A bear. A panther, any kind of wildcat really, or…a wolf.” Her green eyes were still on him. Watching, weighing.
Judging.
With an effort, Colin managed not to squirm.
McNeal made a faint hmmming sound. “Is there any way to tell for certain?”
“The ME might be able to tell if it’s a shifter.” She pulled off her glasses, polished them absently on her shirt.
Colin blinked. Oh, he liked her without the glasses. She looked softer, sweeter, like—
“He can look for
