The Shifter's Conspiracy (Paranormal BBW Werewolf Romance Novella) (3 page)

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing really, I just need your opinion on something.”

“Well, make it quick. I’ve got a lot on my plate this morning.”

I led Shelly back over to my desk and brought up the images of the different girls. I didn’t know how familiar she was with the case. Like most people, she probably knew the names, but not the faces. That was good; it meant she would be more objective and honest with her answer.

“I don’t know what I’m lookin’ at,” she said impatiently.

“Just look at the pictures and tell me what you see.”

“I just see a bunch of young ladies. Nothin’ really jumps out at me.”

“Do they have anything in common?”

“Not that I can tell. Different hair colors, different complexion. I don’t see anything really.”

“What about their body type?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, they do all seem to have the same proportions.”

“Great. Thanks, Shelly.”

“You done? Can I go now?”

“Yes. Thanks again, you’ve been very helpful,” I said warmly.

I watched calmly as Shelly walked back to her desk, but inside my heart was racing. I was high on adrenaline. This could be a dead end, but for the moment it was something. I’d found at least one link that the girls all shared: a body type. What could it mean? Well, my initial thought was that we had a serial killer, or serial kidnapper. A specific body type would explain why he only went after certain girls and left others alone.

But who should I bring this lead to? Who could I trust? I knew it was potentially useful information, but I didn’t want to hand it over without being offered a chance to get more deeply involved in the case. For the time being, I decided I’d sit on the info and do more research to bolster my story. When the time was right, I’d bring it to someone else in the department.

Later that night I bumped into Frank in the elevator. We were the only passengers inside as the elevator rode down to the first floor lobby. I was still so excited about the potential lead that I decided to mention it to him, trying to bring it up as casually as possible.

“So, I think I’ve got a lead in the abductions case,” I said bluntly. Wow, talk about the opposite of casual.

“Yeah?” said Frank absent-mindedly. “I didn’t even know you were on the case.”

“I’m not… technically. I was doing a bit of research on my own.”

“What kind of research?”

“I’m compiling profiles on each girl based on social media use.”

“Social media?” asked Frank, genuinely perplexed.

“You know, Facebook, Twitter, stuff like that.”

“Ahh, I don’t use any of that junk.”

I fell silent. He didn’t seem very receptive. I pondered this, questioning myself, wondering if maybe I was being too rash bringing this information forward right now. The lead was shaky as best.

“So what’s the lead?”

“Excuse me?” I asked. I hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t quite hear him.

“The lead. You said you had a lead.”

“Oh. Well, from what I determined, it looks like all the girls are the same body type. Seems consistent with a serial killer or someone else with an obsession. It’s a specifiable pattern at the very least.”

“Hmm. That seems like it could be useful. And I think it aligns with what the case team has found so far.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re thinking serial killer. There’s going to be a department briefing tomorrow. I’d hold onto the information you’ve just told me until after that.”

“OK.”

“I also want to warn you that they’re bringing in FBI on this one.”

“What? Why?”

“Because the FBI has psychologists, experts in serial killers and crimes like this. Over twenty abductions? It’s starting to look like a fiasco for the department. You know that Commissioner Davis has political ambitions. He can’t let this thing get any more out of control than it already has.”

“Right.”

“They’re going to introduce the FBI agents tomorrow. It’s a small team, lean and efficient. Only three agents. Those agents are going to put their own task force together with people they hand-pick from the department. If you want to get on that team, I wouldn’t tell anyone else in the department about the lead you just confided to me.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The doors opened and we walked out into the lobby and through the front door of the station together. Frank wrapped a scarf around his face and tucked it into his top coat.

“What’s your name?” he asked gruffly.

“Tess Wilshere.”

“Tess, I’d double check everything tonight. Make sure you’ve got it right and you’re not just pursuing a lead that isn’t there. These FBI guys are sharp. They can see through bullshit right away.”

He turned and left. The biting wind stung my face as I watched him walk away. Then I turned and headed in the opposite direction, ready to catch the 4 train home for the night.

At 9:25 AM the next morning we were called into the large conference room. Aaron Davis, the Police Commissioner of NYC, stood at the podium to the front of the room. A slick and dapper man in his mid fifties, who had the physique and facial features of someone who’d just turned forty. He was less a cop, and more of a politician; one could easily tell by the way he dressed and how he carried himself. You can be damn sure no other cop in the department was wearing designer suits to work.

Next to him stood Frank Donnelly, wearing wrinkled khakis and a beat up herringbone jacket. His tie, of course, was crooked. Frank looked like he spent all of five minutes getting dressed every morning, but no one cared. They had to respect his work ethic, and his victories as a detective spoke for themselves. He gave me a slight nod, motioning with his eyes to the group of people standing on the other side of the Police Commissioner. It was as if to say: “I told you so, kid.”

The group of people he motioned to were a mixed bag. There was a short-haired, very muscular looking man. Something about him made me think that he must be ex-military. He was broad-chested and sat with his head up at strict attention, exuding a disciplined, yet reserved strength. He was dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans despite the October weather.

The woman next to him seemed slightly older and in some ways on a different order altogether. She didn’t exactly look like the type of woman who went out on cases; she struck me more as a data-cruncher or one of the psychologists that I knew the FBI was likely to keep on retainer. She wore thick, yet stylish plastic-framed glasses and a grey skirt and jacket; very academic looking. In all likelihood, she probably had a PhD and several master’s degrees.

The last person in the group was a man probably in his late twenties or early thirties, wearing a tight button down shirt under a leather jacket. His hair was on the longish side, dark brown or maybe even black; it was difficult to tell in the lighting of the conference room. His face had just the tiniest bit of scruff, as if he hadn’t shaved in a day or so; its lines were sharp and gave off an air of cunning. His eyes were a startling shade of blue I don’t think I’d ever seen before. His body was muscular, but thin and athletic. He looked agile and also… fierce?

The man caught me staring at him and we held eye contact for a few moments before I looked away. It was almost like he could tell what you were thinking when he looked at you, and needless to say I was intimidated. I kept my eyes glued to the floor until Commissioner Davis called everyone to attention.

“Ladies and…” he said, slowly moving his gaze around the room, pausing until all eyes were on him. “Gentlemen. I’ve got a brief announcement and introduction to make. Standing to my right are three agents from the FBI who I’ve summoned to assist our department in the abductions case. Please, if you would, each of you get up and introduce yourselves and state your credentials.”

The muscular man in the t-shirt came forward.

“Darren Henderson. Recently joined the FBI after working Special Ops as a Marine in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan and Baghdad, Iraq. I’m coming to you from the Washington, DC bureau.”

“You hear that, detectives?” asked Commissioner Davis. “Iraq
and
Afghanistan, so Agent Henderson has seen streets almost as dangerous as those of New York City.”

Everyone laughed and Agent Henderson even gave a hearty laugh himself as the Commissioner whispered something privately to him.

The woman of the group stepped forward next, her frame very slight now that I could see her standing front and center.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Evelyn Geiss. I’m a psych and statistician in the FBI. I did my doctoral work at Stanford and have been a member of the bureau for the past seven years.”

The Commissioner interjected once again.

“Miss Geiss—or I should say Doctor Geiss—has published countless research papers in the most prestigious academic journals and is a pioneer of using data and building advanced algorithmic systems that identify and expose complex criminal patterns. Needless to say, we hope her expertise will help fast-track the current investigation.”

Finally, the athletic man in the leather jacket came forward, running his hand back through his blackish hair as he began to address the group.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Elias Chamberlain, I’m the lead agent on this case. Dr. Geiss and I will be interviewing each of you later this afternoon as we put together a preliminary team for the abductions case. I’ve been at the FBI for about five years and have seen a lot of cases like this. If I know anything, it’s the importance of collaboration. We want to work as seamlessly with your department as possible. That means, first and foremost, sharing information and communicating. Some of the departments I’ve worked with seem resentful when we get brought into a case and start looking at it as a competition; they withhold information and data that we need to do our job effectively. Whatever you might think about the FBI, or the three of us personally, I want you to remember that we all want the same thing: to solve this case and hopefully find any of these women who are still alive before it’s too late.”

“That’s right,” said Commissioner Davis, putting a hand on Agent Chamberlain’s shoulder as he spoke. “We both want this cleaned up as soon as possible, with as few casualties as possible. Let me be the first to say, this isn’t just another case. This is a big one for myself, the City, and for every detective in this room. I want to see collaboration and ingenuity. Are there any questions?”

We all looked around at each other silently. Every detective in the room probably had a million questions, but not a single one of us dared to raise their hand to speak.

“Well, if there are no ques—” the Commissioner saw a hand go up and stopped short. “Yes, umm, detective.”

It was clear that the Commissioner couldn’t remember the detective’s name.

“Carpenter,
Detective
Eric Carpenter. When are the interviews going to happen?”

“This afternoon, Detective Carpenter. Pay attention,” said the Commissioner.

Eric nodded and guided his eyes back down to the floor. My face remained calm, but inside I was laughing. If anyone deserved to be brought back down to earth, it was Eric.

“We’ll be holding interviews all afternoon,” said Agent Chamberlain, reiterating the Commissioner. “Depending on how long they go it could last into the late evening. Each of you will be summoned individually, alphabetically by your last name.”

“Agent Chamberlain, could you tell them a bit about the process? Just so they know what they should bring to the interview and how they should prepare. As I said before, we just want this to be as efficient and productive as possible,” said Commissioner Davis.

“Certainly. So, basically, we’re looking to find out what each of you knows about the abductions case. I know that most people here have worked on it to varying degrees. Essentially, my question is: do you have any leads? Hypotheses? Is there an area where you think we should be looking, but currently aren’t? We’ve got the resources to really tackle this case and we just want to make sure we aren’t missing anything obvious or leaving any stone, even the smallest stone, unturned.”