A few moments later, McNeal closed the door behind them with a soft click. "I’ll take the file."
Brooks tossed it to him. McNeal flipped it open, read quickly, a furrow appearing between his eyes. "Unrecognizable? Not human? What the hell? Did the evidence get contaminated?"
Smith stiffened. Her entire body seemed to turn to stone before Colin’s eyes. "My evidence is good."
Yeah, and he and McNeal both knew it.
McNeal scanned the file again. "Canis lupus-what is that, some kind of dog?"
"No," Smith told him, biting out the word. "It’s a wolf, a gray wolf."
"You’re saying a gray wolf attacked Myers?" Brooks asked, peering over McNeal’s shoulder to get a better look at the file.
"No, I’m not saying that." She began to pace in front of them. "The analysis couldn’t match up the hair that I found on Myers, not completely."
Not completely. Colin knew what was coming, but he knew he had to play it clueless. "Look, either the hair is a wolf’s or it isn’t, what are you-"
"It matches with part of a gray wolf’s DNA, but-" She licked her lips, glanced at each of them quickly. "It also has unknown DNA."
"Ah, unknown?" Brooks shook his head. "Unknown as in-"
"Not human. Not animal. But some sort of really strange combination of both."
Shifter. Colin coughed delicately, caught McNeal’s eye. "Umm, Smith, are you telling us that a werewolf attacked Myers?" Cause, yeah, that was pretty much what had happened.
She stopped pacing, stood in front of McNeal’s desk, lifted her hands, and said, "Honestly, Gyth, I don’t know what the hell I’m telling you. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I just-I don’t have an answer for you."
"Maybe the hair was planted," Brooks suggested, pursing his lips, "to throw us off."
"There were claw marks on the body. I called in an animal specialist. The marks match up with a wolf’s."
McNeal snapped the file closed. Tossed it onto his desk. "I’m not going to the DA and telling him that a werewolf killed Myers."
Smith opened her mouth, then shook her head.
Uh-oh. "What is it, Smith?" She was holding back. He’d seen that expression on her face before.
"Not just Myers," she muttered. "The reporter too. I found more of the hairs on her."
"What in the hell is going on here?" Brooks demanded. "There is no way some rabid wolfman is going around the city killing people!"
Actually, that was exactly what was happening. And now they had proof. Definitive proof.
Unfortunately, it was proof that would never make it into a courtroom.
"The evidence has to be compromised," McNeal said flatly. "Either it was tampered with at the crime scene or it was exposed here-but it’s no good to us."
"No, my evidence is-"
"Compromised. Now, we need to put a lid on this thing before word leaks to the press that our evidence in this case has been tainted."
Smith sucked in a sharp breath.
McNeal stabbed a finger in the air. "Now I want you three to get to work and find me evidence that I can use." He glared at them, then snarled, "Now! Go!"
Smith threw him a look of disdain before she turned on her heel and marched out. Brooks followed her, and Colin trailed on their heels.
"Gyth, wait."
Colin stopped at the door. His hand reached out, pushed the thin, wooden door shut. He glanced back. McNeal was feeding the file into his shredder. He arched a brow at the captain. "There are gonna be other copies of that, you know."
"I’ll take care of them." He exhaled heavily and sank into his chair. "I need you to find this bastard, Detective. I can’t have him terrifying my city and leaving a trail of dead humans in his wake."
"Yes, sir." But it was a hell of a lot easier said than done.
"Find him, Gyth," McNeal repeated, "and do whatever you have to do, but stop the bastard."
Just after five that evening, Emily arrived at the station, her palms damp with sweat and her heart racing.
Gyth had called her twenty minutes ago. They had a suspect in custody for the break-in at her place. A kid who’d been busted for shoplifting and who just happened to have her address scribbled down in his wallet.
Talk about your lucky breaks.
Her gaze scanned the station. She didn’t see Colin. Where was-
"Afternoon, Dr. Drake."
Brooks. Emily turned around, didn’t bother forcing a smile. "Brooks." Her heart raced even faster. "Tell me, did you have a nice morning investigating me?"
He met her stare levelly. "I’m working on a murder."
Like she didn’t know that.
"I have to follow every lead. Check out all suspects."
"And is that what I am now? A suspect?"
"Not anymore. Colin and I talked to your mother, her neighbors, they all backed up-"
"C–Colin talked to my mother?" She’d known, of course, that he’d have to go with Brooks to follow up on her alibi. She understood that he was doing his job. Hell, if their positions were reversed, she’d have done the same thing. And she even understood why Brooks had originally suspected her. She hated the guy’s attitude, but she wasn’t stupid. She understood.
But the sudden image of Colin talking to her mother. Oh no. That couldn’t have gone well.
A faint smile curved his lips. "Don’t worry. They just talked about the case."
Too late. She was already worried. "Where is Colin? He called me about a suspect in the break-in."
"He’s getting the lineup ready. Come on." He took her arm, led her to the elevator. "He should be ready for you by now."
Within minutes, Emily found herself behind a large, tinted pane of glass. Colin stood behind her, Brooks at his side. A woman was there too, the DA, and another man-he’d identified himself as James Tyler, another lawyer, presumably for the guy she was hoping to identify.
There was a faint click behind her, then Colin ordered, "Bring ’em in."
A door opened on the other side of the glass. A line of men walked out, all holding white signs with black numbers on them.
"Face forward," Colin said into the intercom.
The men stared back at her. Emily swallowed. Lifted her hand to touch the cheek that still ached. She’d managed to cover the bruise with some makeup she’d bought at the drugstore that morning.
Her eyes scanned over the men. Not number one. Or two. Number three had the right hair, but-
"Number four." She met his stare through the mirror. Same wide eyes. A face that was pale, hair too long.
"Are you sure?" Brooks asked softly. "Take your time, you don’t-"
"It’s number four." She was absolutely certain.
"Well," Colin drawled as he fixed the public defender with a hard look. "Guess that means in addition to the shoplifting charges, your client is about to be booked with assault, breaking and entering, and vandalism. And just so we’re clear, he’s eighteen. No juvie charges."
James shook his head, his expression disgusted, as he reached for the door. "And here I was thinking I’d be home before seven."
With a polite "Thank you for your cooperation," the DA followed him out.
Emily rounded on Colin. "I want to talk to him." I want to find out why the kid thinks I’m a demon.
Brooks whistled softly. "Figured you’d ask for something like that. I’d be pissed as hell if the punk had broken into my place."
Colin shook his head. "Not gonna happen, Doc. That’s not the way it works-"
"Don’t make me go over your head." Lover or not, he wasn’t going to keep her away from that boy. And if she had to go to McNeal, she would.
His blue eyes hardened. "You’re a witness here. Nothing more."
Ouch. Emily lifted her chin. "I’m a victim here, and victims have rights." Screw it. Colin was in his overprotective mode and she didn’t feel like wasting her time arguing with him. She’d talk to McNeal; she needed to update him and Colin on her profile anyway.