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1
NOLAN
My office, my life—hell, my whole world—revolve around the one case I couldn’t solve. Sure, I hide the murder board behind evidence from an open investigation so no one can see my failure. But I can visualize every pinned photo and paper scrap tacked to it. The entire office thinks I’m the carefree and cocky wolf marshal who’s gunning for promotion. No one else searches for the murderer who killed the Tucker family and my brother because everyone thinks he did it.
I know better.
Lowell wouldn’t have hurt his mate, Hazel Tucker. He certainly wouldn’t have slaughtered her entire family. There’s also the impossibility of how he couldn’t have ripped himself apart. The wolf marshals deemed it outside their jurisdiction since Lowell was one dead shifter outnumbered by five murdered humans. The human police didn’t care. My little brother—the only person who loved me despite my secrets—was just another dead monster to embody the horrors our community represents for them.
“Bankston,” my captain snaps. “Daydream about your latest romantic conquest on someone else’s time.”
Painting a wolfy grin on my face because it’s the cliché that’s expected, I lean back in my creaking chair far enough that a human would tip over, lace my hands behind my head, and hit her with a super-smolder shifter stare. “You jealous, Zaleski?”
She rolls her eyes so hard that I’m surprised she doesn’t strain something. “Don’t flatter yourself. There’s been another murder, and it’s got your boy’s M.O. all over it.”
Shit. The coffee I pounded earlier sours in my gut. I straighten and go deadly serious in an instant. I’m working the high-profile serial killer case that’s left a trail of dead shifters across the country. I can’t tell if it’s a career-making opportunity or a curse. “The vic in this one?”
“A couple of deer shifters.” She raises a hand to keep me from popping off questions. The captain knows me too well. “I realize the vics aren’t predators so they don’t fit your profile, but it’s your guy.”
Every major pack and possible power player in the shifter world has been hit—starting with my brother’s murder—but none of the victims came from prey species. “How do you know it’s the same killer?”
Her face goes green around the edges. “The vics were torn apart.”
The same as Lowell and his fiancé’s family had been. I fight the urge to glance toward the covered board. “What else can you tell me?” I don’t bother with notes as I’ll review every report, every photo, every witness interview I can get.
“It went down less than twenty miles from where that bobcat shifter murder happened two weeks ago,” she says. “Predator then too. Not a pack leader as your profiling mentioned, but that vic was a well-respected elderly female. The dead deer shifters were the daughters of the herd’s buck. Both fall under your category of vics whose loss would be considered a devastating blow to the community.”
A devastating blow to the community. Lowell’s death left one of the biggest wolf packs without leadership when the resulting shock ended his father’s rule.
His father.
Not mine.
Not that anyone outside our family knows that dirty secret. It would ruin us all. Without the alpha, factions sprang up, internal wars erupted, and the entire city suffered for it. “So either this is a copycat murder,” I say, “or our perp’s narrowing the killing field geographically.”
The captain shakes her head. “Your boy’s slipping. Mistakes will make it easier for you to finally catch the bastard. The local authorities don’t have the resources for this so I’m sending you to represent HQ.”
I start gathering what I’ll need for the trip—reports, recorder, spare batteries and phone signal boosters since electricity and connections are spotty everywhere outside the big cities where humans, shifters, and magic slingers cohabit peacefully. Allegedly. No one likes to talk about prejudice when infrastructure like power, water, and sewer rank so much higher. “Where?” I ask.
“Syn City.”
No. Dropping into my seat, I try to keep my expression neutral, pulling out the poker face I’ve used to clean the meager pockets of patrol and lockup officers at five-card stud. But it doesn’t work on her, and I don’t want to explain why I have absolutely zero desire to visit the entertainment mecca of the supernatural world. “Their syndicate doesn’t allow shifter law enforcement.” Or any law enforcement outside some crazy winged avengers who are mortal daughters of Furies—as in Greek mythological legends come to life. “No way will they let me stay there.” Gods, I hope I’m right.
“Both murder scenes are in the backwoods of nowhere. You can’t conduct a complex investigation while staying in some local yokel’s barnyard. I called in favors and got you a diplomatic pass since Syn City closed their borders to all outsiders given their recent incident.”
“Great.” I can’t very well blame my heinously bad luck at being allowed into a town I don’t want to visit on some kids who almost died and a country music superstar’s mysterious disappearance. The news blasted: Country Music’s Golden Boy Vanishes, Musician Hero Sacrifices Himself to Save Children, and Syn City No Longer Trusted to Keep Visitors Safe. No one could’ve missed those headlines exploding in every media source the week before Syn City shuttered.
“Look at the bright side, no tourists means fewer people to get in your way.”
My problem isn’t the gawking sightseers there to watch roller derby and concerts. No, it’s one of the stars—the younger sister of Lowell’s fiancé and my once fated mate who I could never make mine. Sadie Tucker.
“Our Atlanta office can’t house me?” I’m man enough to keep the whine out of my voice. Mostly.
“Atlanta isn’t close enough. Besides, I hear Syn City has all the tech you could dream of. The magic there supposedly amplifies it.”
Yeah, the deity cities always have the best toys. I scan my office, searching for any last-ditch plea to get out of this jam. “We can’t trust Syn City’s syndicate not to have their own agenda. Any hotel there will have zilch for privacy, and we can’t risk the confidentiality of the victims—”
“Zip it, Bankston. You’re going. That’s final.” She glances at the closed office door, and suspicion finally sparks that should’ve been spinning since she shut it on her way in. “I need you out of headquarters for a couple of weeks until the heat on your use of force investigation dies down.”
