Chapter One
Her shoes had blood on them. Rayna stepped out of the puddle of what she’d thought was water and grimaced before shaking her foot.
The putrid odor coming from the alley made her want to vomit. Rotting flesh, the coppery tang of blood, and the scent of human waste triggered her gag reflex. Holding her breath helped ward off some of the smell, but the images of the girl strewn across the alleyway would follow her into nightmares for weeks to come.
The blaring wail of rescue vehicles grew louder. Steeling her nerves to see everything she could before she was forced to leave, she stepped closer to the body for a better look.
“You do realize you’re standing in blood, right?”
Rayna jumped at the sound and glanced down. She was indeed standing in another puddle. Was it blood? She stepped back but landed in another small pool of—something. It was hard to avoid stepping in whatever it was all over the broken pavement. It was everywhere, the black sludge thick as it spread across the ground.
She frowned at the dark splotches now smearing the edges of her sneakers. Something thick and meaty stuck to the toe of her shoe, and she scraped her foot across the ground, dislodging the chunk of lord-knows-what hanging there, and felt her stomach turn over again.
“Why are you walking through my crime scene, Ms. Ford? Not to sound cliché, but you’re trampling on my evidence.”
She knew without looking who was behind her. His condescending tone of voice told her it was Garrett. She turned her head to look over her shoulder to confirm it. He didn’t look happy either.
Of course, it might have been that he looked as if he’d just crawled out of bed. His white button-up shirt had more wrinkles than a Shar Pei pup, his tie was crooked, and his suit jacket was just as wrinkled as his shirt. His black trousers weren’t much better. He also suffered from one serious case of bed-head. His dark locks were tousled and thrown askew. A day’s worth of stubble marred his handsome face, and she cringed when she saw fire in his tawny brown eyes.
She straightened her shoulders and turned to face him. “The same reason you are,” she said, using the same clipped tones he’d used with her. “To try to find out who’s behind all the murders happening in the city.”
“Bullshit,” Garrett laughed. “You’re after your story. You couldn’t care less who or what it is as long as your name gets put on the front page of the newspaper.”
“That’s harsh, Garrett.”
“It’s also the truth.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which made his shoulders look impossibly wide, and studied her for long minutes before a tiny smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Tell me, Rayna, I’m curious. Are all reporters vultures, or is that just something you’ve mastered?”
Rayna felt the jab like a fist to the gut. She stared at him, seeing the contempt in his eyes, and wondered why he hated her so much. Just because their little affair went sour wasn’t a reason for him to go out of his way to offend her every time she saw him. He was the one who decided it was over, not her, but that didn’t stop his prickly stabs when she crossed his path, which meant she was getting insulted on a weekly basis.
She studied his face, wondering how they ever managed to carry on a half-decent conversation. He was still the same egotistical asshole he always had been. Smug, cocky, irritating. And way too damn easy on the eyes. The fact that she still enjoyed looking at him only made her ire at him more intense. No matter how big an asshole Garrett Kincaid was, her treacherous pulse raced just a little faster every time she saw him.
Ignoring his barbed comment and the way her pulse was beginning to race, she smiled. “Well, someone has to report what you guys fail to release to the public, Detective Kincaid.”
“So making yourself at home during a formal investigation is your way of what? Doing your civic duty? I should have you arrested for crossing the police line.”
“You could,” she said, “but you won’t.” She hoped like hell he wouldn’t. The last time she’d crossed the police barricade, he’d hauled her all the way to the police station before letting her go. Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t repeat that bit of drama.
“And what makes you so sure I won’t?”
She smiled at him and tilted her head to one side. “Because if you arrest me, that means you’ll have to spend hours dealing with me, and we both know the sight of me infuriates you for some unknown reason.”
He heaved a heavy sigh and glanced around the alley before facing her again. “What are you doing here, Rayna?”
“I’m a reporter, Garrett, and another dead body equals news,” she said smugly. She dug her voice recorder out of her bag, turned it on, and flashed him a saccharine smile. “Tell me, Detective Kincaid, what do the residents of Bluff’s Point need to do to keep themselves safe from the Night Stalker?”
“The Night Stalker?” He gave her an appalled look. “Christ, Rayna. Don’t go printing that stupid shit in the paper. If you give this creep a name, it’ll only give him more reason to hunt.”
“He’s going to do that, anyway. How many are dead now, Garrett?”
He stared at her.
“Well?”
“Five.”
“Exactly. There’s a serial killer in Bluff’s Point. It’s my job to tell anyone who will listen what this guy gets off on.” He didn’t look too pleased with that fact. She ignored his stare and extended her arm, holding the voice recorder out to him, and asked, “Was the victim sexually assaulted?”
He ran a hand over his face and looked over his shoulder. The alley was starting to fill with officers, the choppy static of voices coming through the radios filling the air. He ran a hand through his hair, then turned back to face her. “We’re not playing this game tonight, Rayna. You’ve got all the information you’re going to get. I’m tired, and the whole department has been all over my ass for letting you get even a foot near these crime scenes, and you being here tonight isn’t going to help my case any. They think I’m letting you in on official police business, and we both know that’s not true, so…I want you out of here.”
“Oh, come on, Garrett,” she said, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. “Give me something to report on, and I’ll leave.”
“Go home, Rayna.”
She watched him for a long moment before turning back to the body. Her stomach tried to revolt again at the sight. The poor girl had been nearly torn apart. Luckily, it was dark enough that the bits and pieces that looked like torn clothing would let her mind think it was, but deep down she knew better.
The girl’s chest was ripped open. The stench of blood and other things rolled her stomach and made her dinner sour and threatened to come back up. She’d been holding her breath before Garrett showed up. The verbal sparring with him hadn’t afforded her that luxury any longer, and she could smell the death clinging to the girl and the rotten waste in the alley.
Resisting the urge to cover her nose with her hand, she sucked in a sharp breath through her mouth and said, “This looks like an animal attack. Is that something new, or has the police department been keeping secrets again?” She turned away from the body, putting her back to it, and took a few steps closer to Garrett. “The public has a right to know these things. How many dead women will it take before the real story finally reaches them?”
Rayna knew she’d crossed the line the moment Garrett’s handsome face contorted. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as anger washed over his features. She took a step back when he advanced on her and grabbed her arms.
“You just don’t know when to let go, do you? This isn’t a game, Rayna. People are dying. Women. Do you want to be next?”
“I won’t be if you’ll tell me what I need to look out for! Why all the secrets, Garrett? What is it the police don’t want us to know?”
He stared down at her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath on her face; smell the clean, fresh scent of his skin. The heat from his body scorched her flesh where he touched her, and she realized too late she’d leaned into him, their bodies now flush. His gaze never faltered, the anger she saw on his face slowly sliding away, and he tilted his head just enough to make her think he was going to kiss her. To her disappointment, he didn’t.
The anger returned a moment later, but the fierce look in his eyes had changed, replaced with something she’d never seen within him before. Fear. He was scared. She could see it as he stared down at her, feel it in the way he held his body and in the small tremble in his voice. But scared of what and why? She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and tried to ignore how good it felt to have him so close. “Talk to me, Garrett.”
His gaze traveled her face, sweeping across her features before landing on her lips. “Go home, Rayna,” he said softly, letting go of her and stepping back. She felt the loss immediately.
“When will the official police report be available?”
He turned and walked away, saying over his shoulder, “You’ll be the first to know,” without a backward glance. She was left standing among the flashing lights of rescue vehicles and the stagnant smell only a dirty alley could produce.
Rayna studied his retreating form. Since when did Garrett not give her something to go on? He might hate her now since she wasn’t sharing his bed, but he always threw her some tiny bit of information just to get rid of her. “I guess the honeymoon really is over,” she said to herself.
Sighing, she glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to type up her report—sketchy as it was—and get it to the newsroom for the morning edition. Turning off the voice recorder, she stuffed it into her bag, looked around the alley one last time, then turned and walked to her car. She had all the information she needed tonight. For whatever reason, Garrett didn’t want to play anymore.
* * *
Garrett stood at the end of the alley and watched Rayna’s car pull out onto the street. The taillights flashed, painting the night bright red before blinking out. When she rounded the corner and left his line of sight, he turned and walked back to the victim, staring down at her. The blood around the girl’s body spread across the pavement in a large black puddle. The sight made his teeth ache. He could taste it on the back of his tongue, smell its stench in the air, tainted and stale.
He could also smell Rayna. Her scent hung heavy in the air and caused other parts of his body to ache. No matter what he did to chase her away, she was always there.
He’d been the biggest ass he knew how to be around her, and still, she haunted him. Nothing he did got rid of her, and he knew it would get her killed eventually, but staying away from her completely would only kill her faster. The body lying at his feet proved that fact. Thankfully, Rayna hadn’t been able to link all the victims together yet, as he had. They all shared the same characteristics. He didn’t even have to ask to know this woman was in her late twenties with brown hair halfway down her back, wore a size six, and had graduated from Hamilton College.
Just like Rayna. Just like all the victims.
Footsteps caught his attention, and he turned his head to watch his partner, Chad, approach.
“Is she gone?”
“Yes. Less than three minutes,” Garrett said, looking back down at the body. “Reynolds still tailing her?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Tell him not to let her leave his sight until I tell him otherwise.”
“And how long will that be?”
“Until we catch whoever is doing this,” he said, nodding his head toward the body.
“You know if the Chief finds out you’re having her followed, he’ll fire all our asses.”
“Then I suggest you cover your tracks so he doesn’t find out. She’s in danger whether anyone wants to believe it or not.”
“Is that the only reason you have her on twenty-four-hour surveillance?”
Garrett looked up and frowned. Chad’s face was alight with laughter, and a twinkle of amusement shone in his eyes. “I broke it off with Rayna for a reason, Chad.”
“A reason you’ve yet to explain.”
“I don’t have to explain my actions to anyone.”
“No, you don’t, but any fool can see you’re still in love with her, which begs the question: why in the hell did you break up with her?”
Garrett scowled and turned, walking away from the victim and from the truth Chad had so eloquently stated. Five months of lying to every person he knew, and not a single one of them believed him. No matter how many times he denied it, his friends saw through his carefully constructed lies. Did Rayna? Did she know the very sight of her caused his chest to ache and his body to respond as if she’d touched him? That her scent stayed with him for days, and he lost sleep watching her silent, dark apartment just to make sure she was safe?
No. She couldn’t know. He purposely treated her like dirt anytime he saw her. Why would she know he was in love with her? How could she know that leaving her tore his soul into a thousand pieces and caused the wolf residing within his flesh to try to claw its way free to claim her as his own?
Chapter Two
“How do werewolves sound for our next big story?”
Rayna turned her head at Mitch’s voice. Her newsroom partner for the last two years apparently had a bloodhound’s nose. The fact he’d found her tonight proved it.
As usual, his suit was crisply starched, and his light brown hair was arranged perfectly. Of course, a few unruly wisps curled around his ears and made him look years younger than he actually was, but it didn’t detract from his appeal. He was nice-looking, in that boy-next-door kind of way.
He slid onto the stool next to her, and she raised an eyebrow. “Werewolves? I’m not writing for the trash mags, Mitch.”
He laughed. “Neither am I. I’m serious.”
“Of course you are.” She waved her hand to dismiss his comment. “Werewolves are all the craze nowadays.” She smiled when the bartender slid her drink in front of her, and she took a sip while Mitch ordered one of his own. “So, how did you find me?”
“It wasn’t that hard.” He stood when the bartender handed him his drink. He nodded toward an empty table, then crossed the bar. Rayna followed him, pausing to let a group of giggling girls pass before sliding into the booth. “I had Daniels follow you when you left the office.”
Rayna grinned and turned her head, scanning the crowded bar. “I didn’t see him.”
“He ducked out after calling me.”
“Figures.” She took a sip of her rum and coke, then asked, “What was so important that you had to track me down for it?”
“Your friend Malcolm St. John sent you a package.”
Rayna groaned. “Great. And here I thought my shitty day couldn’t get any worse.” Mitch pulled a yellow envelope out of his jacket pocket, and she rolled her eyes before holding out her hand.
When he handed it to her, she saw her name scrawled across the front in elegant script and, in the top left-hand corner, the name Malcolm St. John. Just the sight of his name left a bad taste in her mouth. Seven months of his harassing phone calls, a new telephone number, and one restraining order later, he still insisted upon finding ways to contact her to tell his story. A story he’d yet to divulge. All she ever got from him was, “Come visit us, and I’ll make you famous.”
Sighing, she shook her head and looked down at the package. “I’m almost scared to look. This man is starting to be a serious pain in my ass.” Knowing Mitch wouldn’t leave until he’d seen what Malcolm’s latest scheme was, she flipped the envelope over.
The tape was already ripped off. She looked up and stared at Mitch.
“What?” he said, grinning. “I only had a peek.”
“At my personal mail!”
He snorted and nodded at the envelope. “Maybe, but that’s not important at the moment. Malcolm’s bizarre behavior just got interesting. Take a look.”
Rayna emptied the envelope, laying the contents on the table. There wasn’t much in it. A single sheet of paper and three photographs. Her eyes widened when she looked at one of the photos. “Well, the man has a sense of humor, at least,” she said, reaching for one. “That’s reassuring.”
The first photo showed a man in some sort of spasm. He was on the ground, his body contorted in pain. He was naked, his back to the camera, and Rayna could barely make out the rigid protrusions along his spine. Bony shards stuck out from under his skin. He looked ghastly white, one arm outstretched as if asking for help.
The next showed the same man, only this time, his body was covered in a thin layer of dark hair. The side of his face was visible. The forehead looked wider; his nose and mouth were elongated and protruding from his face. His teeth were bared, sharp, and gleaming in the moonlight. A shiny substance covered his skin and seemed to glow in the filtered light.
The last photo showed the same man on all fours, his neck outstretched, face pointing to the sky. His mouth was open. Sharp teeth were bared, and something dripped from lips that no longer looked human. His eyes glowed brilliant yellow-orange; the hair along his body had thickened, and his torso was broader. His body still looked somewhat human, but Rayna could tell something was happening to him. It looked like a shape-shift from any good horror movie she’d ever seen.
She had no clue why the photos were sent to her.
“What is Malcolm up to?” she asked. “A handful of fake pictures aren’t going to lure me to him any quicker than his other attempts.”
“Why do you automatically assume it’s fake?”
Mitch reached for the photos, and she laughed. “Uh, probably because werewolves don’t exist, boy genius.”
He threw her a look and sifted through the photos, examining each one carefully. She watched him for a few seconds, then remembered the note that had accompanied the pictures and reached for it.
Dear Ms. Ford,
I’ve spent the last seven months trying to bring my community to your attention with no luck. I felt it was time to share a glimpse of what we have to offer. I hope the photos pique your interest enough to warrant a few minutes of your time. We desperately need your help. Please reconsider my offer to visit us and help spread our story. I’ll leave the communication between us up to you, as you’ve asked me not to call. My number is on the back of the first photo.
Kindest regards,
Malcolm St. John
“Well, what does it say?”
“What?” Rayna said. “You didn’t read it?”
He blushed and grinned at her. “No. Once I saw the photos, the note didn’t even dawn on me. So, what does he want?”
“The same as always. The photos were just to pique my interest.” She reached for the pictures again. “Although, I’m not sure how this is related to what he wants.”
“Well, he wanted your attention, Ford, and I do believe he has it.”
His laughter caused Rayna to roll her eyes. “I’m not that hard to impress, Mitch.”
“Not in general, you’re not, but when it’s a story, you won’t take anything but the best.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” she said, grinning. “I’ve not won all those awards by taking on every piss-ass story that came along. Being selective is what’s gotten me where I am.”
“True, but you haven’t produced anything other than the serial killer in months.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
“Come on, Ford. What’s it going to hurt? The worst that can happen is we’ll get a nice little vacation away from the city.”
Rayna sighed. He was like this every time she heard from Malcolm.
“It’s the perfect set-up,” Mitch said. “We get paid downtime. Malcolm has practically begged you to tell his story.”
“I don’t care. I’m not doing it. Malcolm is crazy. Anyone who would stalk a reporter, just to have his name in the paper, can’t be right in the head.” Mitch looked away, his ears turning red. That little tell was enough to make her heart thump, more so when he gave her a sheepish look and stared down at the pictures. He wasn’t telling her something. “What did you do, Mitch?”
“What makes you think I’ve done something?”
“Because your ears are red. You’re lying to me about something. What is it?”
“My ears are red?” He lifted his hand and felt his ear before looking at her.
“I can see it in your eyes, too. What did you do?”
He sighed and looked toward the bar. When she kicked him under the table, he yelled, “Ouch,” before he turned his attention back to her. “Fine,” he said. “I might have shown the pictures to a few people.”
“What?” she said, panicked. “To who?”
He ducked his head and mumbled, “Clive.”
Rayna’s eyes widened. “Mitch!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up. “When I saw the envelope, I opened it. Clive walked by and saw the photos.”
“This can’t be happening.” Rayna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to.” She opened her eyes when he didn’t answer her, and his cheeks reddened. “Damn it, Mitch! He wants me to go, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. He said to tell you to take the case or else.”
“Or else?” She suddenly had a very bad feeling. The look on Mitch’s face only made it worse. “Or else what?”
He sighed and leaned across the table. “Come on, Ford, don’t be so pissed. We haven’t had anything worth reporting in months, other than the Night Stalker. Harper’s sorry excuse for a newspaper is selling faster than they can print them. Clive wants something to sell our paper.”
Rayna laughed, but nothing about the situation was funny. “Harper sells stories about aliens and demon-spawned babies! That’s not real news.”
“I know, but Clive said if that’s what it took to get people to buy our paper, he’d print it.”
Her head began to throb, a dull ache pounding between her eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
She shook her head. “Tell me that when we’re surrounded by lunatics who think they can turn into werewolves.”
He laughed. “Come on, Ford. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“This has nothing to do with adventure.”
“Sure it does. You can’t get more adventurous than werewolves.”
She glared at him. “Werewolves don’t exist, Mitch.”
“How do you know?”
She snorted a laugh. “Have you ever seen any roaming the streets?”
“No, and you won’t either. If you were a supernatural creature of myth, one who people would fear if they knew you existed, would you really go around shouting to the world that you were one of the monsters?”
“Mitch, there aren’t any monsters in the world. It’s make-believe crap they used to sell movies and books.”
“Yes, but most of that crap is based on legend.”
“It doesn’t make it true.”
“Maybe not, but this is still a great story.”
“How so?”
“An entire town that thinks they’re werewolves?” He laughed and tossed the picture down in front of her. “Think about it.”
She did. She thought about her career going up in flames. She thought about being the laughingstock of the entire newsroom. She thought about hanging Mitch up by his toes and feeding him to rats. Very large rats.
“Look, I’m not asking you to believe Malcolm,” he said. “Just don’t discount his claim because you don’t believe him.”
She was screwed. She could feel it like something sour in the bottom of her stomach. Her boss, Clive, would give her no choice in this. Pleading with him as she’d done in the past would be useless. Her instincts were dead on most of the time, and something told her he wouldn’t budge on this. She had no choice anymore. Crazy or not, Malcolm had sealed her fate with those damn pictures. “When does he want us to leave?”
“As soon as we can.”
“Figures.”
Mitch picked up the pictures again, looked through them, then tossed them back in front of her. “Look, I have to go. Don’t be pissed.”
“Oh, I’m more than pissed, and you’re going to pay for this dearly.”
He laughed and stood up. “It’s a date then, Ford. Just don’t wait too long for my punishment.”
She glanced up at him. “You’re not going to enjoy it, Mitch.”
“Sure I will,” he said, grinning. “I get to go to work tomorrow and tell the entire office we’re going away together. No punishment under the sun can diminish my delight in that.”
His laughter rang out over the noise of the nearby tables, and a few people turned their heads. She watched him walk away, then leaned back in her seat and stared down at the letter again. “Malcolm, you clever old bastard, what the hell are you up to?”
She reached for the photos and examined each one in turn. They were taken in the woods, from what she could tell. The man sat in a large dirt circle, surrounded by trees. She could see a few people in the background, eager looks on their faces.
Although she knew the pictures were fake, she had to admit they looked pretty damn real. Movie stills, maybe? She flipped the pictures over. There was nothing printed on the back. “They could have been printed off the computer,” she told herself.
Turning the pictures back over, she looked at each one again, trying to see if anything looked out of place. A movie camera or a light, maybe… something. There wasn’t anything other than the man and the people in the background.
Looking at the people in the pictures, she focused her attention on each one. Did all these people think they were werewolves, and if so, what made them think it? Mass delusion? She sighed. Mitch was right about one thing. Werewolves or not, she had a story here. This many people thinking something so absurd was a reporter’s dream.
She glanced up when feminine giggles caught her attention, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw Garrett and a group of his detective buddies make their way to the bar.
As always, Garrett’s presence made the room seem smaller. The air thickened, and her pulse raced as she watched him. He wore jeans and a long-sleeve, light blue shirt, the material clinging to his muscled arms and chest. He looked damned fine, in her opinion. His panty-melting smile flashed as he ordered a drink. She knew he’d asked for a beer in a long-neck bottle, ice cold, without even hearing him. That’s how he liked them.
She sighed and leaned back in her seat. Why the man still affected her like she was a teenager with a crush was beyond her. Just the sight of him made her want to throw herself at him and damn the consequences. The fact he’d thrown her away like yesterday’s garbage didn’t even diminish the effect he had on her. Sure, it hurt like hell, but she couldn’t get her fickle heart and her stubborn brain to agree on anything when it came to him. Asshole that he was, she couldn’t stop wanting him.
A young blonde slid into the seat next to him, and he flashed her a smile that spoke of things she’d no longer have. It caused her stomach to cramp. Painfully. The girl said something to him, and when he laughed and leaned down to whisper into her ear, Rayna turned away, staring down at the table. It’d been five months since he’d broken up with her, and not a day went by that she didn’t think about him; even though he never had a kind word for her, she searched for him just to see him. Being in this particular bar proved it. She was a glutton for punishment, apparently.
She took a long sip of her drink and tried not to look back over at him, staring at the pictures in her hand instead. Maybe Malcolm’s invitation wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Bluff’s Point was a small town, and running into Garrett weekly was enough to drive even the sanest people crazy. Why she still wanted him after the way he treated her was a mystery she’d never figure out, but watching him flirt with someone else tore her heart out.
Glancing back over at him and watching him laugh with the unknown woman sealed her fate. She had to get out of this town. Away from him. Her heart could only take so much.
Lifting Malcolm’s note, she read it again and looked at the back of the pictures until she found the phone number. Grabbing her cell phone, she slid out of her seat and headed to the back of the bar, trying to find a quiet place to talk and ignoring the fact that she’d seen Garrett watch her walk away from her table.