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Taggert.
    “If there’s danger, you shouldn’t go alone.”
    A trickle of humor curled through her. He was...sweet. “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.” She waited expectantly for him to move. Instead, he gave her what she was beginning to understand as his patent blank smile.
    Jackson snorted, whether at Taggert’s actions or at her words, she couldn’t tell. “I think he’s worried about you.”
    She didn’t spare him a glance. Any humor dissipated. She needed to get to the site. The dead were waiting for justice.
     
     

 
     
     
      Chapter Five
     
     
    EARLY AFTERNOON
    “ S tay in the car.” Raven slammed the door in their faces. Jackson was furious, waves of his anger beating at her despite her shields. Taggert lounged in the back seat, content that he’d gotten his way to come along.
    Jackson, she understood. Rules. Laws. Duty. Taggert left her floundering. Maybe if she understood more about pack business, she could figure him out. Something about his total peace with the situation left her at a loss on how to deal with him.
    “I’m glad you came.”
    She ducked under the tapeline and shook Scotts’ hand. His jacket was gone, his pants soaked from the crotch down, and his arms dripped water with his every movement. Though detective grade, Scotts trained under a man who insisted on being in the thick of things. Scotts subscribed to the same attitude.
    “What did you find?” She snapped on the gloves he provided, walking toward the overgrown, man-made pond. The ground was soggy after days of continuous rain, the pond no better than muddy soup.
    “A lot of muck and bones. Divers are still fishing out pieces of the body.”
    “The recent storms must have dragged the corpse to the surface.” A lump filled her throat at the smell of rotten blood and stagnant water. She ignored the bones resting on the tarp like puzzle pieces and stared over the water at the two grim divers struggling to carry a water-logged torso to the edge. Even at the distance, she could tell the corpse had been gutted. “You don’t think a human could’ve done this?”
    “Not the way the bones were taken apart, rented in places and chewed in others. The ME examined the remains. There aren’t any traces of knife or weapons marks.” Dark, hooded eyes met hers, silently warning her to be prepared. “But he could identify teeth marks.”
    “Who’s the ME?”
    “Ross.”
    She gave a jerky nod. The man knew his business. “Show me.” At thirty-four, Scotts kept in good shape and covered the ground quickly, his sweat and tobacco scent trailing behind him. The other officers either avoided her completely, grimness etching lines on their faces, or watched her with suspicion as if they expected her to sprout fangs and fur just because she hung out with the paranormals.
    Ignoring them, she followed Scotts to the map of bones and mysterious body parts that were spread out near where the cadaverously skinny ME stooped over his work.
    “Hey, Ross.”
    “Hello, pretty lady.”
    Raven gave him a distracted smile, and the sharp chemical smell she associated with him filled her nostrils. She pulled away to study what he’d set out already.
    Stark white bones and raw flesh leeched of blood riveted her. Her mind stumbled, then pushed past the horror to methodically categorize what she saw. The torso lay exposed on the ground, oddly vulnerable and relatively unharmed. That was if you discounted the decomposition that made the skin resemble waxy, misshapen bread dough left too long in the heat.
    One arm appeared torn from its socket. It was hard to tell from the tissue damage, but she saw no obvious blade marks. The head had been removed before the body entered the pond, and she could only be grateful not to take that image home with her. With one last glance, she switched her attention to the bones Ross labored over. 
    “There are two bodies, one old and one new. Both are shifters.” Which was odd in itself.