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“Like the fact that the attacker only attacks with his right.”
The three of them turned to Dex, who was still crouched down beside the victim. He pointed at the victim’s neck. “All three victims had their throats slashed from left to right. Plus, according to the case file, none of the victims had any other scratches on them, which is pretty implausible.”
“How so?” Hudson asked curiously. Nina brought up the forensic reports of the previous victims, studied them and nodded her agreement.
Dex continued. “All three victims had been standing at the time. For a Felid to have reached their necks, especially with someone as tall as Ortiz, he would’ve had to get on his hind legs. How did he manage to strike each victim with his right, yet not leave any scratches at all anywhere with his left? Even if he’d knocked them over, he would’ve had to have left some mark on at least one of them. Do you know how many times Cael clobbered me with his left paw during play when we were growing up? Nearly every time. And even with his nails clipped, he left a hell of a lot of scratches.”
“He’s right,” Sloane agreed, aware of Dex staring at him, complete surprise on his face. “It’s pretty damn strange that our attacker left no other serious wounds or even scratches. It’s too clean. What else do we know?”
Nina scrolled through the notes on her tablet, her grim expression not boding well. “Recon’s interviewing the guests, but so far no one witnessed any suspicious activity or saw the chairman arguing with anyone. There was live music going on at the time and despite a supposed attack from a Felid this size, no one heard a sound. There’s a long list of enemies, but it’s to be expected from a man like Ortiz. Intel’s running them through Themis now. His wife says nothing was stolen from the office. His wallet and keys were still in his pockets.”
“At this point, we can probably rule out theft gone wrong,” Dex pitched in.
Sloane carefully mulled over everything he’d learned so far, but he was no closer to piecing anything together now than he had been when this mess started. The only reason they knew their perp was a Therian was due to the slash marks consistent with a Felid attack. Sloane surveyed the room, taking note of all the guards and HPF officers lingering about. “How’d he get past all the security?”
“Good question. Do you think it could be an employee?” Dex offered. “Or someone dressed like an employee?”
“Dex might be right.”
Cael approached them with Rosa at his side, and as soon as she was close, she motioned for Sloane and Dex to join them. “Thanks. Let me know as soon as y
ou get anything new.”
“Absolutely,” Hudson replied, his blue eyes observing Dex keenly. “Dex, nice to see you again.”
Wait, what was that? Was Hudson flirting with Dex? Sloane glanced over at his partner and the dopey grin on his face. Well, if he was, Dex was enjoying it. Not that Sloane cared. If Dex wanted to risk his job by hopping into bed with Hudson, that was his problem, though Sloane should at least make an attempt to steer his partner away from danger. He grabbed Dex’s arm, hauled him to his feet, and led him to Cael and Rosa. Dex didn’t say a word, but his arched eyebrow indicated his humorous surprise. What Dex found so amusing was beyond him. What’s more, he didn’t care. They walked off to one side away from all the other agents and hired security.
“What have you got?” Sloane grunted, ignoring his partner’s stupid grin.
Cael tapped away at his tablet before handing it to Sloane. It was a list of everyone who had been in attendance at the time, from guests to employees, including which were Therians and their confirmed classifications. “The guest list is small. We’re lucky it was a brunch and not an evening event. There were only twenty-five guests, with three times the number of employees. Mrs. Ortiz has used the same security firm for the last ten years, plus a few HPF officers working overtime. So far, no one’s seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Only three of the fifty guards employed by Mrs. Ortiz are Felids, and they were in Mrs. Ortiz’s company the whole time, confirmed by several guests. She did hire an offsite, high-end catering company—Thalia’s Kitchen Events & Catering on Fifth and West Thirty-Third. The staff is still being interviewed at the moment, but so far no Felids. They’re also all present and accounted for. I doubt whoever killed Ortiz would stick around.”
Sloane nodded, going through the list before handing it back to Cael. “In other words, we’ve got nothing. Has Intel run Ortiz through Themis?”
“They’re working on it now,” Rosa replied.
A Recon agent came rushing toward them. “Agent Cael, Agent Santiago, one of the staff says he has some information that might help.”
Cael gave the agent a nod. “Thanks, Russo.”
Finally, they might have something. Tracking Therian perpetrators was difficult but there was always something—a hair, a fiber, saliva, a tooth—something left behind during a violent encounter when a Therian’s instinct was at its most animalistic, despite the Human inside. It took a great deal of control to strike the right balance. These attacks were too controlled.
They followed Agent Russo out of the office and down the stairs through the drawing room into the dining room. A dark-haired waiter sat in one of the dining room chairs. When he saw them approach, he jumped to his feet and made his way over, stopping abruptly when he saw Sloane. A sneer came onto his face, his sharp eyes scrutinizing. At the end, he turned to Dex.
“I’ll talk to you,” he said with a haughty sniff, looking Dex over.
Dex’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His partner obviously hadn’t been expecting such a blatant display of discrimination so early in the game. He’d better get used to it. Dex opened his mouth, when Cael discreetly shook his head. With pursed lips, Dex addressed the waiter.
“Sir, you stated you had some information involving the victim?”
“Yeah, I know who killed him,” the waiter replied with confidence.
“You saw what happened?”
“No, not exactly. There was this Therian freak—” The waiter cut himself off when he saw the disapproving look on Dex’s face. Sloane had to admit, the rookie had a pretty intimidating perhaps-you’d-like-to-rephrase-that-before-I-beat-you look. “Uh, I mean this Therian. He was a bartender with the catering company, and he was acting all weird and nervous. He was Unregistered.”
“How do you know?” Dex asked.
“He was wearing a turtleneck and kept fussing with it. It wouldn’t be the first time Mrs. Ortiz used a company that hired Unregistered Therians. She thought she was doing good. So much for that.”
