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“Tell me everything.”
As Jedrik recounts the story, Andrik appears with rubber gloves for us to put on. When he’s finished, I’m stunned. Who would go to such lengths and murder one of the alphas?
Staring at the body on the table, I rack my brain for his name as he seems vaguely familiar, but come up short. Thankfully, Andrik doesn’t keep me guessing. “His name was Matthew. The fucker was an asshole and didn’t belong in Verity’s pack, but it doesn’t mean he deserved this.”
“Matthew, as in the frontrunner, Matthew?” I question. They share a glance, but give no response. Stubborn alphas. I don’t let their silence deter me, though it does grate on my nerves. Eventually, they’ll come to the conclusion we’re all on the same side. “Do we think this could be motivated by his ranking with society?”
Andrik sighs. “At this point, anything is fair game to assume.”
And that doesn’t sit right with me.
“Are you going to examine him or not?” Jedrik snaps. “We’re wasting time.”
I turn my attention to him to find him already staring at me. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair tousled from running his hands through it so many times. “Whoa, are you feeling okay? Here, let me examine you.” I take a step toward him, reaching to feel the temperature of his forehead, but he smacks my hand away with a growl.
“Don’t. I’m fine.”
Even Andrik raises an eyebrow at his twin like he’s only now noticing the state he’s in. Understandable with a dead body at your feet.
A bead of sweat runs down the side of Jedrik’s face and he swats it away. “Clearly you’re not,” I insist. We’re in a refrigerated room. No man should be sweating in this temp.
“I’m fine,“ he repeats and takes a step away from me. “You’re covered in her scent, you know. It’s basically leaking from your pores.”
Is that what this is? A jealousy thing? I can’t hold my grin back and that’s when Jedrik snaps.
Andrik intercepts him before he can tackle me. “Fucking hell, Jed. Stop it. What’s wrong with you?”
“I can answer that,” I respond when Jedrik doesn’t say anything. “Verity’s heat triggered the start of his rut. I have to admit, I’m extremely surprised you’re here dealing with this and not with her. Not many alphas can withstand the effects.”
“I respect Verity too much to do something she might not want. She needs to give me the okay to be with her when we’re both lucid and not feeling the pull of our designations. Let’s focus on the task at hand before the vultures come back with their cameras.”
The fact his statement so closely echoes my own to Ryland a few hours ago shows how alike we really are. I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine. Once he pulls his head out of his ass anyway, because I’m not going anywhere. Ryland lit the fire under my ass to fight for Verity like I should’ve from the start instead of pushing her away.
The rubber snaps around my wrist as I pull the gloves on. The first thing I do is a visual inspection of the body. “There doesn’t appear to be any obvious signs of a struggle.” I lift his meaty hands to get a closer look. “No dirt or tissue under his fingernails, but just in case, I’ll scrape them for any evidence. Other than his obvious black eye, I don’t see anything that would lead me to believe he knew he was going to die.”
Reaching into the medical bag I brought with me, I pull out a pair of scissors and get to work removing his clothes. This way, I can see any damage hidden underneath. With the fabric out of my way, I prod his body, running my fingers over his bones, feeling if any of them are broken. Ribs, collarbone, neck, jaw, skull. That’s when I feel something.
“See something?” Andrik questions as I place my hands under his head and lift. The hair on the back of his head is matted with blood and dirt.
“I think we found our killing blow. Mind helping me turn him over so I can see it better?” Being a doctor means having a strong stomach, but there’s something about feeling cracked bones on someone’s skull that could make even the toughest man a little queasy. “The amount of force needed to do this…” I murmur as I use the scissors to trim the hair around the wound. “Did it in one clean blow and bam, it was lights out.”
“So the killer is strong,” Jedrik comments, coming to the same conclusion.
“Very likely, but anyone in a fit of rage could have enough adrenaline,” I respond.
Andrik blows out a breath. “Which doesn’t help cross anyone off our suspect list.”
I level the two of them with a serious look. “There’s no way he didn’t bleed with this size of a head wound. How large was the blood pool?”
“There wasn’t one that we could see, but there were marks in the grass from where he was dragged, meaning he was killed elsewhere,” Jedrik says. “Now we’re searching for a killer, murder weapon, and a location.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Andrik asks.
“Well, I’m not a coroner. I specialize in healing the living, but judging from the indent of the wound, I’d say you need to keep an eye out for an oddly shaped murder weapon with a pointed edge. Something heavy too. Maybe if you can pinpoint who gave him the black eye, you can piece together more of the last moments of his life. Right now, though, I’m ruling his death as blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”
“Time of death?” Jedrik questions.
“Strictly going off the fact that the muscles in his face are growing stiff as we speak, rigor mortis only now seems to be setting in. I’d say no more than two hours ago. But I can take the temp of his liver to try to narrow it down.”
