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“I guess it could be a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. If another alpha scented Verity, it’s possible they went into a rut rage.” It’s rare and tends to only happen with violent-inclined alphas, but it’s happened before.
He shakes his head. “Seems too clear cut for that. If it was rage, I think we’d be seeing more signs of an altercation.”
A sigh escapes me. “You’re right, but I’m at a loss, Bro. Until we know more...”
He nods, not having to say more.
Mr. Emerald, who still looks quite ashen, finally pulls himself together and surveys the scene squeamishly. “What are we to do with him? Someone should get Dr. DeLuca.”
So, this Emmett guy has a last name. DeLuca. Now why does Verity call him Emmett?
Jed lightly taps my arm, and it snaps me out of a growl. Not the time, Andrik.
Mr. Emerald brings up a good question, though. Preserving his body and the crime scene is not something I’ve even considered yet. We’re isolated out here, and with thunderstorms in the forecast over the next several days, getting any kind of help will take a while. No, we’re on our own with this one. What if the killer strikes again?
“The doctor is currently taking care of Verity. She’s not feeling well.” I keep my explanation brief as there’s not a doubt in my mind this man is sworn to tell the show everything like the rest of the staff, and I don’t want the other alphas to know what’s happening with her. Especially if she really is in an early heat.
“Once he’s finished, he’ll have to examine Matthew. He’s the closest thing to a coroner out here.”
The caretaker nods. “Of course, sir. But, erm,” he pauses, his mouth twisting slightly, “how will we... store the body? I imagine he’ll deteriorate before the proper authorities are called in.”
All too soon, a slew of people emerge from the front of the manor, Mrs. Violet leading the charge. As soon as she spots Matthew, she gasps and clutches her chest, bursting into tears. “Oh my,” she exclaims.
Chapter 35
Jedrik
Tears stream down Mrs. Violet’s horror-stricken face and, in a similar reaction to Mr. Emerald, she brings a hand to her mouth as she gags. I swear it’s like these idiots don’t understand how DNA works. If only we had something to rope off the crime scene.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn, stopping them from doing something stupid like trampling through where the body was dragged and ruining the impression. Mark takes a step too close, camera glued to his eye, and I lose my patience. “Someone grab the tug-of-war rope from the recreation room. And put that fucking camera down, Mark.”
The man in question balks at me and opens his mouth to sass back. A warning growl rumbles from my chest that has him ducking his gaze, backing down rather quickly, but seems he can’t drop it entirely when he asks, “What? Isn’t it better to document the evidence?” There’s a certain glee surrounding him that has me studying him harder. The breeze floats his beta scent toward me, which has taken on an overly clean and crisp note, adding an edge to his sour plum scent that’s normally not there. Is he enjoying this?
I make a mental note to tell Andrik about it later when we’re not surrounded by vultures.
Mrs. Violet manages to collect herself enough to murmur, “We may need the footage later.”
When she turns toward us, I realize her eyes are bloodshot and her sweet pea scent has turned heavy. I’ve never seen her lose her composure like this before. Hell, she almost seems a tad more distraught than she should. Like she has a vested interest in the dead person. It could simply be that she actually cares for all of us on her show, but I’m not buying it.
One more person added to my mental checklist.
I also hate that she has a point. Having video evidence means we can review it later in case we missed anything. It’s why crime scenes are so well documented.
And the thing is, until we know more, and at this point we know exactly nothing, everyone is a suspect. Everyone. The only people I trust are Verity and my brother.
“Fine,” I relent. “Just don’t contaminate anything. Once Mr. Emerald is back with the rope, no one goes past it until Dr. DeLuca can observe the body.”
“Matthew,” Mrs. Violet corrects. “His name is—“ sniffle, ”—was Matthew.”
A few minutes later, Mr. Emerald returns with an even better rope than I’d hoped for. This one is thinner and seems like the cords they use to tie boats to the dock with. He even brings camping stakes for me to affix them to. “You’re well prepared.”
He gives me a bow. “Of course, sir. I like to have everything one could ever need in case of an emergency. Never know when you might need to restrain someone. With us being so remote...”
He trails off, but he doesn’t have to continue. I grasp his meaning and it’s something I’ve already thought of. Who knows how long it will be until proper authorities arrive. Andrik and I are the only ones with experience, which means we’ll have to take point on this case. And hope it doesn’t happen again.
Mr. Emerald shifts his flashlight over the body and a glint of something on Matthew’s collar captures my attention. “Stop! Do that again,” I request as I kneel, leaning in as close as I dare to get a better look. Are those... sparkles? Why would he have glitter on his collar? Unless...
Fuck, was Rosey with our victim before his death too?
