Nocturne 040 – Scions 02 - Patrice Michelle - Insurrection (3 page)

A crackling call came across the scanner, capturing her attention. “Lady reports yelling and a flash of bright lights in Morningside Park.”

Without hesitation, more out of habit than anything else, Kaitlyn punched in her badge number and hit the call button. “This is Detective McKinney. I’m in the vicinity. I’ll check it out.”

“Copy, McKinney. Backup is on their way. ETA seven minutes.”

“Copy, dispatch.”

Heart thumping a little harder, Kaitlyn reached into her glove compartment. Once she’d pulled out her gun in its leather holster, she clipped the holster to her belt. Securing a palm-sized comm unit beside her gun, she then turned her vehicle down another road and headed toward Morningside.

Just like her father…there was no such thing as “off duty” in her mind. Kaitlyn pulled into the darkened, pothole-riddled parking lot. She scanned the abandoned park’s broken picnic-shelter roof and the graffiti on the restroom building next to it.

A lone streetlight provided little illumination for the park area that backed up to the woods. Under her coat, the tiny hairs on her arms began to stand up, warning her.

Turning off her headlights, Kaitlyn reached beneath her seat and withdrew the NYPD-issue flashlight. She wrapped her fingers around the cool, heavy-duty metal and got out of the car.

Kaitlyn closed the door with a quiet click and took slow, even breaths. Pulling her coat out of the way, she rested her hand over her gun, tucked in its holster, as she scanned the shadowed playground. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she turned her flashlight toward the merry-go-round slowing to its final spin at the same time she unsnapped the holster, removing her weapon. Backup would be there soon, she told herself as an invisible force seemed to pull her toward the play equipment.

An owl hooted; its deep night call sliding icy fingers down her spine. She gripped the gun’s handle, while cool air, laced with the faint scents of home fires and pine, kissed her cheeks.

“Police officer. Come out now!” She moved across the parking lot, and puffs of frosted air plumed in front of her with each breath she took. As soon as she stepped out of the streetlight’s glowing circle into the darkened playground, a grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard sound echoed in the darkness, skidding all the way to her bones.

She froze in place. Her breath caught while she listened for the source of the sound. Another piercing squeak echoed before the equipment came to a complete halt.

The merry-go-round.

Her flashlight swept the monkey bars, the play hut and slide. Whoever it was must be gone now. The tension in Kaitlyn’s stomach eased and she began to breathe again. Confidence restored, she started toward the shadowed equipment with assured strides.

A gust of wind rushed past her, so strong, so specifically directed—as if someone or something had dashed right past her at a rapid pace—it flapped open her coat, sending frigid air straight through her cotton button-down shirt underneath.

Her skin prickled and Kaitlyn halted. Cinching her grip around the gun, she quickly traced the wind’s path with the light.

Not a soul. Only leaves floating in the air and her car sitting in the dimly lit parking lot behind her. I’m losing it.

Shrugging, she faced forward once more. This time she tuned into every little sound. Broken glass and leaves crunched beneath her shoes’ hard soles, and tiny pebbles scattered out of her way as she approached the merry-go-round.

She could go back to her car and wait, but an underlying “need to know”

drove her forward.

Once she reached the merry-go-round, she shone the beam of light on the base. Faded, chipped blue and red paint created pie pieces on the round wooden floor. An empty beer bottle sat in the middle. Kaitlyn sighed and gripped the merry-go-round’s cool metal handrail with her gun hand, while she scanned her flashlight across the open field behind the playground and then into the dark forest beyond. Other than a blanket of low fog hanging a few inches above the cool grass, nothing was there.

Shaking her head at the boondoggle call someone had made to the police, she turned to leave, but something caught her eye in the open field behind the playground. The wind must’ve blown the fog away, exposing what had been hidden underneath.

Glowing embers. Fiery orange.

Beckoned by an unseen force, she ran toward the bits of burning ash. As she moved closer, the smell of burned hair and flesh permeated the air, making her stomach roil.

When she reached the area and the full ashy sight came into focus, the need to retch grew so strong, she gagged. Surrounding the ashes left behind, a glowing, aura-like outline remained where a body had once lain. The aura revealed arms and legs in a straight-out position, as if the victim had been staked to the ground.

Her pulse raced out of control and she began to shake all over. She knew most people didn’t see auras, especially of dead people, like she did. A detailed outline always surrounded the bodies. It was as if, at the moment of their death, each victim left a strong energy signature behind—a signature to give her clues. And this time it was a neon-purple color. Purple meant the death had been brutal.

Death always upset her, especially violent murders, but what frightened her most was the shape of this outline surrounding the ashes. While she scanned the forest with her flashlight to make sure no one was lurking in the woods, she contemplated what she’d tell her fellow officers once they showed up. The aura wasn’t like any human she’d ever seen. She knew the other police officers wouldn’t be able to see the energy signature she did, but she hoped the lab might be able to lift the DNA of the victim from the ashes.

Lights flashed behind her and her insides jerked to attention. Kaitlyn turned to see a vehicle pulling into the parking lot. It wasn’t a squad car.

“Damn,” she whispered and crouched to quickly turn off the light. This wasn’t the best area of town and she was alone. Even though Abby had trained her to red belt level in tae kwon do and she had a gun, she wasn’t taking any chances.

She had no idea who was in that black truck, yet the distinctive grille across the front looked familiar. As she racked her brain, trying to remember where she’d seen the vehicle, a tall man stepped out. Landon Rourke.

His wide shoulders looked even broader covered by a leather jacket that stopped at his thighs. The streetlight shone on his light brown hair and highlighted his strong jaw as he started across the lot toward the playground.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kaitlyn stood up slowly. She tucked away her gun and stared at the man approaching.

Landon had offered his P.I. expertise to the police from time to time in the past, most often in the field. Hence the reason she’d seen him only a couple of times at the station while she interned during her last year in college. His dominant presence wasn’t easy to forget. From his confident bearing to his aggressive stride, the man was definitely an impression maker.

She’d heard that he’d stopped working with the police a few years ago. Rumors abounded; the most popular was that he’d had a falling out with the now-retired chief.

What was he doing here?

Landon made his way across the playground toward Kaitlyn McKinney. His teeth were clamped so tight, he thought his jaw might shatter. He couldn’t believe it when he’d pulled into the parking lot and her car was there.

It was bad enough the bastard who’d called him on his cell phone twenty minutes ago had told Landon to come to this particular park. The fact that Kaitlyn was also there sent a warning through his body, while guilt slithered a slimy, winding path through his conscience.

“If you want your missing pack members, go to Morningside Park. They might be a bit steamed when you get there.”

The line had gone dead. All Landon knew, until he could have the phone number traced, was that the caller was a man. It wasn’t a voice he’d ever heard before.

When he was within thirty feet of Kaitlyn, Landon bit back a howl of fury. His chest tightened with the need to roar. He scented burned flesh—Lupreda flesh—floating through the air toward him. The need for revenge rippled through him, contracting every muscle in his body. Sick bastards. Fisting his hands, he mentally vowed to rip apart whoever was responsible for murdering his pack mates…zerkers or not.

He approached Kaitlyn as the last ember on the ground changed from orange to black.

“It’s Landon Rourke, right?” Kaitlyn held out her fine-boned hand to him.

“Detective Kaitlyn McKinney.”

Detective? When did she get promoted? Landon glanced at her outstretched hand. Shoving his hands in his jeans’ front pockets, he gave a curt nod. The last thing he needed was to touch her. “Nice to meet you, Detective.”

“Call me Kaitlyn. What are you doing here?” She lowered her hand and her eyebrow rose, lips quirking slightly. “Don’t tell me you were just out for a stroll.”

He didn’t miss her sarcasm, even as he wondered, Why the hell had the killers done it here of all places? He swept his gaze across the burned remains of his brethren. The wind began to pick up, stirring the ashes. Rain’s thick moisture carried heavily in the air. A downpour was imminent.

Who would be so twisted as to bring both Kaitlyn and him to this very park? His heavy conscience beat a staccato thrum against his skull. The bullet on the chain around his neck seemed to burn, branding his skin.

“Did you hear the call over the comm?” she prompted, drawing his attention.

“Yeah, I was near the area.” Lucky break on my excuse for being here. He stared at the ashes. “What do you think? Kids burned some animals or something?”

Kaitlyn’s auburn eyebrows rose. “Um, more like one something.”

Landon’s heart jerked. There was no damned way she could tell what had been burned from looking at the ashes. Could she? He kept his expression carefully neutral and gestured to the pile of remains dissipating with each windy gust. “What else could it be? You don’t think this was a person, do you?”

She shook her head and tucked a thick auburn strand of hair that had fallen from her clip back behind her ear. “No, I—” She paused and glanced down at the remnants, looking perplexed. “I think this was something humanlike but not quite human.”

He froze. “Humanlike? What are you talking about?”

She gave him an uncomfortable look. Her teeth snagged her bottom lip and she scouted the edge of the ashes, pointing with her flashlight.

“The victim was lined up with his…its head facing north. It was at least seven feet tall with elongated jaws, more like a muzzle.” Moving to the opposite side, she pointed to another area. “And its legs and feet were bent at an odd angle, as if…well, as if it walked on the balls of its feet.”

Every word that came out of her mouth cinched Landon’s chest tighter and tighter. Her accurate description was like a vise screwing closed around his lungs.

Damn. She’d just accurately described a Lupreda zerker.

But he couldn’t tell Kaitlyn how right she was. He gave her a hard look and spoke in an even tone. “Halloween’s not for another two weeks, Kaitlyn. I smell burned fur.” He kicked at the ashes, hoping to disturb the image she was seeing. “We’d better make sure this fire is completely out. Whatever the accelerant was, it took care of any bones, but its presence might leave these ashes more likely to flare up again. That concerns me, being so close to these woods.”

“Wait! Did you just feel a rain drop? There won’t be any evidence left if it rains.” She handed him the flashlight. “Hold this for me.”

She quickly pulled the clawlike clip out of her hair, then bent to scoop up some of the ash with her hair clip. “I saw some bits of silvery stuff along the edges of the ash where the hands and feet were. I want to have a sample analyzed.”

“That clip’s like a tainted evidence envelope with holes.” He squatted down to give her the light she requested.

“Yeah, but it’s the best I’ve got under the circumstances,” she said as he bent close.

Her gorgeous blue eyes, flecked with swirls of golden brown, peered at him through her auburn hair. The silky-smooth curtain had fallen out of its twist to lie over her right shoulder. When she tucked her hair behind her ear, her action let loose the most appealing smell…woman’s musk and violets.

Their gazes locked and in that instant he knew. He saw the slight tremble in her hand movements, heard her heart rate kick up and felt her heat level rise as the scent of her arousal flooded her body. She was attracted to him.

Something about her alluring smell leaped at him, grabbing him by the throat in a tight fist. When the beam of light bounced off her hair, revealing several shades of red, from deep auburn to burned amber, Landon gripped the flashlight tightly to keep from reaching over and running his fingers across the colorful strands. The urge to experience the fiery silk sliding along his skin grew stronger. Even as his chest constricted with his internal battle, her aroused scent imprinted itself on his hunter’s memory. His blood thickened and his groin hardened instantly.

Landon gritted his teeth to suppress the overwhelming desire to grasp the back of her head and crush his lips to hers. He’d never wanted a woman with this much ferocity, this much savage intensity. He wasn’t built for this kind of denial. Lupreda followed their primordial instincts without reservation when it came to coupling.

But she wasn’t Lupreda.

For fifteen years, he’d watched over her, protected her since she was six years old, since she’d lost her father.

Yet over the past few years, as she’d moved into adulthood, his protective feelings for her had changed, felt more…personal. Landon had distanced himself from her, giving up his connection to her through the police. He hadn’t worked a case for the NYPD in three years. Tonight he saw just how much she’d grown up. Now twenty-four, she’d matured into a desirable woman, complete with curves and a sexy, kissable mouth. Her fine-boned stature should’ve dissuaded him, but instead her human fragility only attracted him more, despite his fear he could crush every bone in her body with the slightest touch. All it would take was one moment of primal lust, one slip of unconditioned control and he could kill her.