Full Blooded (8 page)

The door swung open.

My apartment was more than a helpful distraction.

It was a fucking showstopper.

My breath hitched in my throat. The devastation was complete. The apartment looked exactly how I’d imagine a frat house would appear after a night of disruptive partying by an army of hooligans bent on total destruction. There wasn’t a scrap of furniture in my living room left standing. The only nice thing I owned, an antique sidebar, which used to run along my living room wall, was now lying in a heap of broken wooden chunks.

I must’ve barreled into it from the side. A few times. Now it resembled a collapsed cardboard box, all the broken bits lying haphazardly at odd angles.

The rest of my furniture was scattered around the apartment. Literally. It was like a grenade had exploded my life into complete chaos. My gaze landed on my shredded couch. Stuffing erupted from the cushions like fluffy intestines, and both armrests were completely mangled. I must have pushed off hard, because the couch was clear across the room.

Damn
, I liked
that couch.

“I’ve never seen a place trashed this badly in my entire career,” Ray said smugly. He stood just behind me once again, peering over my shoulder at the wreckage.

I ignored him and scooted my bags inside the door with my foot, displacing debris as I went. Then I started to pick my way around the room. The police had dusted for prints and there was residue everywhere. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t going to find any suspicious fingerprints. I rarely entertained.

I headed straight across the room to the sliding glass doors that led out to my tiny balcony. Sheets of plywood stood in place of the glass. Huge shards of broken glass scattered the floor
inside
, right by the opening. Yeah, Marcy.

I unlatched the doorframe and slid it open. It still worked, which was surprising. I must have hit it cleanly, since only the glass had shattered. The frame was intact.

I stepped onto my small balcony.

I’d chosen to come out here first for two reasons. One, because that’s what Ray would expect me to do. A good cop investigates the entry point of the crime scene first, and even though Ray was not buying my camping story, I still believed he thought this was a true break-in. A break-in I had something to do with, but still a break-in. I also believed Ray thought I’d been home when the attackers came, and had sub-sequently fled, thereby leaving behind my much-needed keys and purse.

The second reason? I wanted to see if any incriminating evidence lingered so I could try and get rid of it quickly.

Ray stepped onto the balcony with me, crowding us both. “Hannon,” he said. “There was a car in the parking lot with significant damage to the roof. It was all scratched up with what appeared to be … claw marks. The diameter and size matched the gouges all over your floor exactly. It’s like they threw their fucking dog off the balcony when they were done. Except there was no blood. We should’ve been scraping a dead carcass off that roof.” He managed to sound accusing, like I’d been there to witness the dog-throwing. “But the techies told me a regular canine wouldn’t be heavy enough to inflict that kind of damage. The mutt would’ve had to be attached to a boulder to crush it that far in. The steel frame warped.”

“Hmm.
I didn’t hear about a car being wrecked,” I said in a distracted tone. I was casually examining the top of my railing for gouges. There should be some there, which would give some legitimacy to an animal launching itself off of here, but there were none. Marcy had swept the entire balcony.

“We also found evidence of grappling-hook marks and some rope, but not a single person in the whole building saw anyone shimmying up or down three stories. Pretty strange, don’t you think?”

“Yep. Strange.” I turned and headed back into my apartment, sidestepping a large pile of broken things on the way in. “It’s a mystery. You’d think at least one person would’ve spotted a body climbing up or down three stories.”

“That begs the question: how in the hell did they get their pet in here if they climbed a fucking rope? Now that would be a great circus act if you ask me.”

“Maybe there were two people. One who shimmied up and unlocked the door for the waiting dog owner,” I suggested winningly. I might as well go along with the probable scenario like a good P.I., since there was no arguing that an animal had been in my apartment. I had no idea what the fur samples would come back as, but I was hoping for “undetermined species.” Having it come back as wolf would be a pain in the ass, and would raise more questions than it answered. The human police would never in a million years think “werewolf,” but it was best not to raise any complicated questions.

“Crash
like that”—Ray indicated back to my shattered sliding glass door—“is bound to bring your neighbors over in a hurry. Not much chance to open the door for an accomplice, and then still have time to trash it all up like this.”

Without answering, I headed toward my bedroom. I passed my galley kitchen on the left, the only place my wolf hadn’t entered. The small space had been spared because my wolf had ignored it in favor of getting out of the apartment. I loved my tiny kitchen. It was clean and white, with black granite counter-tops and small stainless steel appliances. It had a large breakfast nook cut into my living room, set with a countertop, which gave the space a larger feel.

I stepped over what was left of a table in the hallway, all the knickknacks that used to sit on it destroyed. I maneuvered around some of the bigger pieces as I edged closer to my bed-room door, which was shut.

I held my breath and turned the knob.

Ray lurked behind me, taking every opportunity to size up my reactions.

The police had spent time in here. Fingerprint residue skimmed the top of my dresser and dotted all the drawer knobs. The police were gathering evidence to prove an intimate crime had been committed. Otherwise my bedroom looked unmolested.

I approached my dresser and pulled a drawer open, knowing Ray was still scrutinizing my choices. I scanned the contents, reaching in and lifting the clothing to do a thorough check. I closed the drawer and pulled open my meager jewelry box, which sat on top of my dresser. It contained only a few pieces of cheap costume jewelry. I was not a bling girl. I glanced in for a cursory check. Ray would expect it.

“We couldn’t find anything disturbed in here. It seems to be clean.” Ray peered over my shoulder as I closed the box. “You missing any jewelry?”

“No.”

“What we
can’t figure is, why didn’t they come back here first? Crimes like this, personal space gets hit first. Kind of like slapping someone in the face. If they wanted to hit you hard, they come here. Cut up the sheets, stab the mattress, shred your underwear. But it’s all clear.”

I walked toward my bed. “I have no idea, Ray. With a loud crash like you said, they only had limited time to do any significant damage. Guess they just couldn’t get back here in time.” I slid open the tiny drawer on my completely fixed bed-side stand. It was only big enough to hold one small paperback book, or a leather case full of a useful syringe. A stupid mistake I was paying for in spades. I closed it and I ran my hand over my pristine covers. Marcy’s work was flawless.

Ray crossed his arms and grunted. The scene didn’t match the typical scenario for a crime like this, and it pissed him the hell off. He also understood I was seeing it for the first time, which I was.

Perfect.

I was famished again, my stomach already knotting in on itself. I was also exhausted in the extreme. I was done with Ray and the dance for the day. I strode purposefully back to the living room with him predictably traipsing after me. I spun around in the middle of the chaos, all business. “Okay, Ray. Do you have any leads? Anything concrete you’d care to share with me? If not, I’ll get you my statement tomorrow. I’m calling it a day. I’ve got to clean up this mess and I’m tired and hungry. You’re not going to want to be here in another five minutes, because my cooperation time with the police is officially over.”

“We’re working
a couple angles,” he hedged. “I’m going to need a full disclosure of all your contacts, specifically anyone you’d suspect capable of doing damage like this. Then I’ll need the name of that mysterious boyfriend of yours. I’d like to ask him a few questions.” Ray shot me a smirk. “When and if he shows up, of course.”

“That’s fine, Ray. I’ll fax mine over tomorrow and talk to James. I’m sure he won’t have a problem chatting with you. Is that it?”
James?
Well, I guess I couldn’t exactly date my brother. Men were minimal in my life and the thought of James and Ray having a real face-to-face made me smile. James it was.

Ray headed toward my door on his own, but I wasn’t at all surprised when he turned back around with another smug grin on his face. “Oh, and the horse tranq full of shit we found in your bathroom cupboard? We’ll need your full explanation on that.
In writing.
It’s still at the lab, but once it comes back and we tag it, your ass is mine, Hannon.” He left without looking back.

Of course they would find the syringe! That was Ray’s big coup de grâce. Why he’d gone a little easier on me once we’d gotten inside. He thought his dramatic exit would bring down the house, that the crippling news of them finding suspicious drugs would leave me quaking. And I had to hand it to him, horse tranq wasn’t actually too far from the truth. Dr. Jace had spent a good chunk of his career perfecting a sedative strong enough to prove effective on werewolves. The lab reports would likely contain a laundry list of ingredients, all with doses high enough to effectively knock out not just one horse—but a dozen.

I’d put a call in to my father. Dr. Jace would need to invent a medical necessity for my having it, some rare disease requiring heavy sedatives, and fax the info down to the precinct. That sounded feasible. The needle had never been used, which would be easy enough for the lab to see, and even if they suspected it was illegal, it wasn’t like I shot up every night, since there was just the one dose. But Ray was still going to make a big deal about it. Like a thorn stuck in my ass. I sighed and turned, considering my living room and the mess surrounding me. “Okay, now what?” I said out loud to a roomful of my broken possessions. Sadly, nothing responded.

I spent the rest
of the afternoon cleaning and stacking as much as I could into various piles. My walls were going to need some major repairs. Big chunks were missing where things had smashed into them. I couldn’t even think about the floors without weeping. The gorgeous hardwood was so deeply scarred it would be a miracle if it ever looked the same.

When I finished, I made a couple of phone calls, then devoured every scrap of food in my kitchen, which amounted to an assortment of cheese, crackers, pickles, and microwavable entrees—before falling into bed. Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow.

I slept like a newborn.

When I opened my eyes it was noon the next day.

Fuck.

I hustled out of
bed and showered quickly. While still slightly damp, I yanked on a pair of jeans and a black cotton top. I tugged my long black hair back into its customary ponytail and slipped into a pair of soft leather flats. I always went to work casual when I wasn’t meeting with clients.

Marcy had briefed me yesterday in a short phone conversation about the schedule for the rest of the week. I had several cases requiring my attention today. It seemed the office had received an interesting call from a prospective client yesterday morning, and a response on my part was necessary as soon as possible. It felt like I’d been gone for weeks, not days. Sleeping in had not been on the itinerary.

I’d also chatted briefly with my father before bed. He informed me that he’d positioned several trusted wolves around my neighborhood, several blocks away. The plan today was business as usual. Molly Hannon had to convincingly pick up where she’d left off on Friday if we had any chance of keeping a lid on my shift.

I
was glad for the distraction of work, because lingering on my change would drive me batty if I was left to my own devices. My wolf had been quiet in my mind since returning home, but the plain fact that I’d become a full-blooded werewolf was going to alter my life completely—my current reality would eventually become unrecognizable. I wasn’t ready. Truth be told, I was ill prepared for any of it. I’d lived as a human for the past twenty-six years. I had no idea what it meant to be supernatural. But since I’d left the Compound seven years ago, I’d taken each day as it came and today I was going to do just that. So help me.

I grabbed my errant purse, the one I had to scrub down last night so it was usable, and slung it over my shoulder. I wove my way through the path I’d cleared to my front door. Once I got outside, I made a cursory glance around the lot. There was no evidence of the car I’d crushed. There weren’t even any bits of glass or stray pieces of chrome lying around. That was a little disappointing. It would’ve been interesting to see the damage. Crashing out of a three-story balcony was impressive by anyone‘s standard.