CHAPTER ONE
“Dad, can I have thirty bucks?” Luka asked, holding his paw out to his father. Al sighed. “Again? Why?” Luka shrugged. “Frezz and I are going to the movies and we wanna get some dinner first.” “What happened to the thirty I gave you yesterday?” Luka took the money and walked out the door, calling out over his shoulder as he went. “Movie tickets aren’t cheap!” Al rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop, frowning slightly. Recently there had been a string of murders within a five mile radius. He was positive it was the work of a new crime lord, settling in and removing as much of his or her competition as possible. The victims themselves were all known drug dealers and gang thugs, all working for various drug lords. What was bothering Al was the way they were killed. Each victim had been stabbed in the stomach, their intestines removed with almost surgical precision, then strangled with the removed intestines. When he called the morose tiger in charge of the autopsy, Dr. Hayworth, he had learned that “these poor bastards weren’t stabbed to death, they were asphyxiated.” Whoever was doing it was good, really good. Each victim was still very much alive as he or she was gutted and strangled. Al sighed, sitting back and rubbing his eyes. He had been at every single crime scene, all seven of them, and hadn’t found a single bit of evidence. The police chief had called him into the office, telling him not to worry. “We’ll get this guy, Al, don’t beat yourself up over it. The sonuvabitch will fuck up sooner or later and you’ll be there to catch him.” Al had smiled and nodded, pretending to agree, but on the inside he was filled with doubt. He abruptly stood, snapping the laptop closed and going into the kitchen, opening the pantry and grabbing the ground coffee. Andrea had been worried about his caffeine intake, but she was in Miami with some old friends. He made a fresh pot, his nose twitching as the familiar and comforting scent filled the kitchen. Maybe the chief was right. Maybe he needed a vacation, get away from the case for a while. Go to France or Greece or even Iceland…the sudden ringing of the phone cut off his train of thought. He glanced at the caller ID, and was surprised to see UNLISTED NUMBER at the top of the screen. Their phone number was private, so that no one that didn’t know would be able to call. It was probably a telemarketer, Al sighed, the bastards always managed to track you down. He picked up the phone, rolling his eyes as he hit the talk button. “Hello?” he said. “Who’s calling?” He heard shallow panting. Just as he was about to hang up, there was a scream of fear and pain, followed by horrible, gurgling, choking sounds. Then, a thump. “Who is this?!?” he shouted. “Are you all right?” Then there was a soft chuckle. “Hello, Detective Alistair Romanovich. Go to apartment 36D on Oak Drive. I’ve left you a little present.” Before Al could respond, the phone disconnected with a soft click. He stared at the phone, then raced out the door leading into the garage, pausing only to grab his badge and police issued Glock. He leapt into his car, the keys in the ignition where he kept them whenever he parked in the garage. He sped out into the street, already yelling into his phone. “This is Detective Romanovich! I have a possible homicide at apartment 36D, Oak Drive! Send two units and secure the location, no one else goes in or out until I’m there!” He arrived five minutes later, the requested officers already in position. He glanced at the uniformed fox standing guard at the door. “Anyone try to go in or out?” “No sir,” the fox responded, “and everyone inside is being ID’d in the manager’s office by Officer Kemp.” Al nodded at the cop as he walked in. “God job.” He sprinted up the stairs to the third floor, where two officers were waiting for him outside the apartment. They were nervous and bothering to hide it. Al knew why. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Unholstering his gun, he flicked off the safety and padded silently to the door. “Take either side of the door,” he murmured. “Wait for my signal.” They nodded and flanked him. Al curled his tail around one leg to keep it out of the way, then kicked the door open, turning a quick three-sixty as he entered. It was small, and the other two officers quickly confirmed his initial suspicion. No one was there, aside from- “Oh my fucking God!” one of the officers gasped, shoving past the detective and pushing his head out the window. Al heard retching as the officer vomited out the window, followed by a brief splattering sound. The other officer merely stared, mouth open, his gun falling from his limp and trembling paws. The officer stared in horror at the scene that Al was trying to analyze, trying to focus on the facts and ignore the slaughter. The victim was a young wolf, probably about 19-25 years old. The fur that wasn’t soaked and matted with blood was pale grey. His eyes were gone, removed with a hideous precision. They had been placed in a small china coffee saucer. The wolf’s mouth was open in a silent howl of agony, blood dripping down his neck. His tongue had been sliced off at the back of his mouth. It had been placed next to the saucer, a small pool of blood spreading under it. This, Al noted with grim certainty, wasn’t the worst the wolf had been through. His body was slit from the waist to the collarbone, pale bone visible through the blood and gore. The intestines were knotted tightly around his neck, paws bound in the same way. Al snapped a few photos of the corpse with his phone, then of the room, and finally of the saucer. Forensics would make a more detailed sweep of the room, but he wanted to look at these himself. He hissed slightly, ears flat against his head. This was what he had feared. The killer had branched out, targeting civilians. He glanced behind him. The two officers were huddled against the wall, looking everywhere but at the body. “You two. Go downstairs and find the nearest bar. Get something strong. Tell the chief or anyone else who asks that I relived you of your duty here.” They looked at him with gratitude and left, their footsteps echoing down the stairs. The room and the hallway fell silent as Al knelt down, looking at the grisly parts on the bedside table. He started to look away, the swung his head back around, staring at the saucer. A folded piece of paper was sticking out from under it. Al carefully removed it, using a tissue to keep it uncontaminated. He flicked it open, and then quickly scanned the note written on it. His tail started to flick, and he sprinted from the room, not bothering to shut the door. Silence fell once again in the dead wolf’s room. His severed eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.