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Fear soured the sweet night air, amplifying the crowd’s response to Asa. They shied away, uncertain why their hindbrains screamed at them to run when he was such a handsome man. So polite and helpful too.
A perfect predator.
“Everyone, step back.” Clay waved Asa and me forward into a cleared space. “We need room to work.”
“Oh no.” I jolted with surprise. “It’s Dasher.”
The reindeer’s throat had been ripped out, its spine all that kept its head attached to its body, and blood spread across the pavement. Massive jaws had torn off hunks of meat, moss and duckweed coated its soaked fur, and a distinctive fishy smell battled against the reek of its disembowelment.
Slime, algae maybe, floated in hand-sized puddles. Like footprints, or pawprints, they led away from the scene, but they were evaporating. Water dried fast on asphalt. Deep South winters tended to run warm, and today had been downright hot.
“The police will be here in a minute,” I warned the guys. “Two officers are working the event.”
Samford had a police force of six, including the chief, and they would have heard the commotion.
Clay used his phone to film the scene, and the gawkers, while I snapped photos. Asa knelt beside the body, scenting it while examining it for clues. He didn’t get far before the crowd ejected two familiar cops who clearly weren’t vibing with having their scene trampled by frantic locals or stolen by slick out-of-towners.
“What the hell d’you think you’re doing?” Officer Waters bulled up to Clay. “This ain’t your jurisdiction.”
There went our best shot at tracking the beast responsible before the trail went as cold as poor Dasher’s body. Waters was like a dog with a bone once he sank his teeth into a case, and he wasn’t about to cede the limelight to Clay and Asa. We couldn’t afford to have him tag along with us, so we couldn’t afford to hunt.
“Officer Kerr.” Officer Downy nodded to each of the guys in turn. “Officer Montenegro.”
Ignoring Waters, which lit a fire under him, Clay shook hands with Downy. “Good to see you again, sir.”
“We apologize for overstepping.” Asa rose with inhuman grace. “Habit.”
“You can take the cop out of—” Downy tilted his head. “Where did you say your precinct was again?”
About to spin another lie out of thin air, Clay caught my subtle head shake and buttoned his lips.
“We’ll leave you to it.” I hooked an arm through his and tugged him after me, calling over my shoulder to the officers, “Thank you for your service.”
Asa took my hand, threading our fingers, but none of us spoke until we reached the shop.
The girls stood with their faces pressed to the glass, desperate for a glimpse of what was happening.
“Wait here.” I parked the guys beside my table and entered the shop. “We’re done for the night.”
“What happened?” Camber clung to Arden. “Why is the news van parking by the diner?”
The news van was a soccer mom ride with honor roll brags pasted on the bumper, and the reporter was also often the camerawoman. When Casey Evans’s husband was busy with the kids, she used one of those selfie sticks to record her pieces. She had already made her rounds down Main Street to cover the event. One of her sources must have had Casey on speed dial for her to have made such a quick U-turn.
“I’m not sure.” I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to scare her either. “The police are handling it.”
And I planned on making busywork in the shop so I could keep an eye on their progress.
Arden tucked Camber against her side when her friend turned pale. “Will they need to speak to us?”
“No.” I set a hand on each of their shoulders. “You two didn’t see anything.”
“I heard the scream,” Arden countered. “Do you think that matters?”
“We all heard the scream.” I nudged them toward the door. “I’ll lock up tonight. Just get home safe.”
Arden, this bolder version of her, was primed to argue, but she caved to Camber’s desolate stare.
“Come on.” She shepherded Camber onto the sidewalk. “You can stay with me tonight.”
