“You’re a wolf?” He scrunched his forehead in thought.
Laughing, I shook my head. “Much worse, I’m afraid.”
“Insanely enough, I asked your father what he was, and he replied with the same answer,” Jeffery chuckled, collecting the file he’d brought for me to inspect. “Lincoln didn’t leave town, by the way. He was asking a lot of questions about you directly. Either he wants to date you, or he’s suspicious of you, kid.”
I swallowed at his use of the word kid, which was something my old man said all the time when talking to me. My gaze flicked to the wall, staring at a photo of the first crew of hunters before going to the bar and grabbing two bottles to hold up for him to choose.
“I’ll take the scotch, but you do realize that bottle is two hundred and fifty years old, right?”
Snorting, I rolled my eyes. “Did you know we have some hunters that are older than this alcohol? Some worked in the distilleries even when they were made.” He whistled, following me outside where I uncovered the chairs, folding the covers that protected them from the elements.
“Your father brought me up here once,” he admitted. “Told me how you were born in this house, right upstairs. He wanted to torch this place to the ground because he said it was filled with ghosts.”
“He couldn’t burn it down.” I turned to look at the elegant house he’d purchased for our family, only to abandon it soon after. “My mother helped design it. She insisted on the large windows to allow natural light into every room. Plus, the basement is a vault containing artifacts and weapons that would blow the minds of both scholars and the ATF.”
Pouring two glasses to the rim, I chewed on the end of the cigar, not bothering to light it. Instead, I picked up the pictures, staring at the familiar feminine form and image I’d seen a million times before, bodies lying lifelessly at her feet. Exhaling, I thumbed through the photos, hearing vehicles coming up the road, turning to see a line of Land Rovers passing Kieran’s men, staked out on the opposite side of the fence.
“You said this was up by the old mill? It’s been closed down for a few years, right?” I questioned, as the gate creaked open.
“Three years now, or thereabout,” he nodded, pulling out another picture before placing his cigarette into the ashtray, stretching to hand me the photo. “There’s been a ton of asshole kids up there over the years. They were mostly partying and causing trouble. These images, though, they’re recent. The symbols made me think it was some kind of ritual.”
“It would be if they were drawn correctly.” I tapped the top of the star on the spray-painted symbol. “This tip being outside the circle would make the entire thing invalid. How many bodies did you say you recovered?”
“Nine. Seven females and two males,” he stated, exhaustion clearly in his voice. “Each one had their eyes and tongues removed. Again, it hinted at a ritual. Your father taught me how to spot it to avoid bringing in the feds. Guess I missed it this time. That isn’t even the weirdest thing we found.” He sat back, staring up at the sky. “There were babies left behind.”
My blood turned to ice, and I leaned forward as Micah, Noah, Onyx, and Kaderyn strode over, sitting down with irritated expressions. Smirking, I returned my attention to the sheriff.
“So, how many dead infants were there?” I wrinkled my brow when he exhaled and sat up, staring directly at me. My team exchanged glances and settled into the other chairs on the patio.
“None were deceased,” he admitted, grabbing his glass to take a long swig from it before continuing. “They were all alive and just laying beside the female’s bodies. I had Brodie do the autopsies. He’s the guy your father planted in the morgue. He said the women hadn’t given birth and that he didn’t find any markings.” At my confused look, he elaborated. “When a woman gives birth, it leaves a shotgun pellet-sized mark on the pelvic bone that won’t fade. It’s a sign of the trauma she experiences in childbirth when the ligaments tear. It wasn’t present in any of the women. The men and women were young and riddled with iron bullets, which is officially their cause of death. Someone shot each one and then removed body parts from them. Including their wombs.” He downed the rest of his drink before lighting up another smoke. “This fucking job is going to put me in the nuthouse sooner or later.”
“Where are the babies?” I asked, and his eyes snapped to mine.
“They vanished, and I get to explain that one, too. We sent them to the hospital to be examined, but they never arrived. The officer I assigned has no memory of ever signing for the infants or riding with them in the ambulance.”
“So,” I frowned, peering down at the woman once more. “You have nine corpses, seven missing babies, and a huge fucking mess of paperwork you don’t know how to explain?” I clarified, tossing the cigar of herbs to Noah, who caught it without looking away from me. My team was angry that I’d snuck out, and I was willing to bet they were itching to tell me all about it once Jeffery left.
“Yup,” he laughed, but he sounded tired, and I didn’t blame him.
Leaning forward, I tapped the photo of the woman. “Do you know who she is?”
He shrugged, closing his eyes before rubbing them. “I was hoping we could find her in your database. Your dad allowed me to use it when shit like this happened. That woman, she knows something. She’s my only lead.”
“You don’t need the database to identify her,” I admitted. “Her name is Sandra Anderson, and she’s been dead for twenty-five years. Her grave is sitting in that yard. It’s the tallest tombstone, to be exact,” I snorted, pointing over his shoulder at the cemetery. “She’s my aunt, and one of the reasons my father formed the guild to hunt down creatures that preyed on our race. Sandra is his reason for hunting, or so I was told. The original hunters were a small organization. They alone hunted inside this town, knowing what else was out there preying on humans. Eventually, they started picking up more members. But not without tragedy happening along the way.” I accepted the cigar from Noah, puffing on it as I closed my eyes.
“Sandra was on a hunt one night, and a lot like me, according to my dad. She was wild and preferred the thrill of hunting alone. She reported a strange occurrence that she couldn’t explain.” I shivered as my dad’s words echoed through me. “Hunter became the prey, and the thing stalking her was incredibly fast. It moved through the woods unseen, tracking her. It played with her, leaving wounds on her flesh with each renewed attack. They tried to locate her, to figure out where she was in the forest, and when they finally found her, she was in the same spot she is buried now. They couldn’t move her, as if the earth had claimed her. My father dedicated the grounds as a hunter’s cemetery in her honor. It can’t be Sandra in that photo because she was salted and given final rites.”
“And you’re certain she wasn’t able to return from the grave?” Jeffery asked, shaking his head at his own question. “Jesus Christ. This is one of those times I wish I didn’t know shit like that was possible.”
“I understand it is hard, but the work you do helps us, too. You being aware of our existence makes it easier for us to do our job. Plus, you’d really hate us if you didn’t know, and we met at crime scenes too often,” I chuckled, and his eyes sparkled at the irony of it all.