“One, it’s well after dark and two, Marika Kelly admits that she never saw anything, just heard sounds,” Kent said.
“One, we aren’t afraid of the dark and if you want fast answers we have to work fast, and two, we aren’t interested in what she saw or heard… we want to talk to her about Kristin,” Caeco said. “Her statement says they are close friends.”
“You barely glanced at it,” he said.
“I memorized it. Can we see the crime scene?”
He paused and looked at them, uncertain, but then came to a rapid decision. “Let me get some officers armed and ready for escort,” he said.
“I’m sure we can handle it, but do whatever you think best,” Caeco said.
Thirty-five minutes later found them on the trail in the dark: three heavily armed officers, the department detective, the chief, and the three of them.
“Here it is,” Chief Kent finally said as he aimed a heavy-duty spotlight at a crime tape barrier around a large section of the trail.
The three young investigators spread out, powerful LED flashlights lighting up the ground inside the yellow police tape. At first none of the three went past the tape, instead observing carefully from outside as well as checking the ground farther away. Jetta knelt down and opened her small backpack.
“Don’t stray any farther,” the chief warned.
“There isn’t a werewolf within three hundred yards in any direction,” Caeco said.
“You can’t know that,” one of the officers, a detective, said.
Three black orbs the size of golf balls lifted themselves out of the pack, each with a glowing red light, then shot off into the night.
“She can and does know that, but if you don’t want to take her word, how about Omega’s?” Jetta said. “Omega?”
The chief’s own cell phone sudden spoke. “No thermal, auditory, or airborne chemical signatures. Caeco is correct. No werewolves, although I detect a pair of curious Eastern coyotes four hundred and fifty-two yards north by northeast.”
None of the police officers spoke for a moment, then one younger patrol officer finally opened his mouth. “That was the Omega computer?”
“And still is,” the chief’s cell phone answered.
“Okay, here are those canine tracks, and I’ll allow that they’re big enough for a small werewolf,” Mack said, shining his light onto the ground just inside the tape.
“You sound surprised,” the detective, Angelo Treviano, said.
“The wounds that the boys suffered are not consistent with how werewolves usually attack,” Caeco said. “While they can swing a paw sideways like a bear, they almost always attack with their primary weapons—teeth and jaws.”
“Neither of the bodies showed a single bite wound,” Mack said.
“Trust us. Werewolves are all about the bite,” Jetta added.
“But those are huge tracks,” Treviano objected.
“For a domestic dog, they would be large although not outside the very large breeds, like Great Dane or Rottweiler. For an adult werewolf, they are smallish,” Caeco said. “Maybe a small female or a juvenile.”
“Also, all of these tracks are pressed into the blood pools,” Mack said, looking closely with his light. “If a were had torn them apart, the blood would be pooled around some of these tracks. This looks like the canine stepped into the pools after the boys were down. The rest of these tracks are either very small domestic dogs or various human prints. I’m guessing this a heavily trafficked trail?”
“Yes,” Chief Kent said.
“Hey Caeco, look at the blood spatter on these trees,” Jetta said, shining an ultraviolet flashlight to make the spatters fluoresce on the vegetation.
“What about them?” Detective Treviano asked, frowning.
“They don’t travel as far as I’d expect. And I don’t see tissue in them,” Jetta said, looking closely at the leaves on a young sapling. The nervous cops exchanged glances.
“You’re making this up,” the detective said in disbelief, shooting his boss a look that questioned everything about them.
“Gentlemen, I’m not sure you completely understand how strong werewolves are,” Caeco said. “Chief Kent, you look like you know your way around a weight room… How much can you bench?”
The chief stood up straight and looked at her a moment. “Three ninety-seven,” he said.
“That’s excellent… for a human. A werewolf Jetta’s size could do twice that without breaking a sweat. I would expect to see blood and tissue spattered over an area two or three times this,” Caeco said. “You two see enough?” she asked her companions.
Jetta nodded but Mack was kneeling down several yards outside the crime scene, taking a picture of something in the mud.
“Whatcha got, Mack?” Caeco asked.
“This canine climbed a little mound here. The paw spread out and left perfect claw imprints. Take a look, but I think there really is a werewolf around here,” he said.
“You can tell from the claws?” Kent asked.
“Werewolves have longer, sharper claws than regular canines,” Mack said. “They don’t live in wolf shape all the time, so their claws are never really worn down like a dog or wild wolf’s.”
“So despite the whole strength thing, you agree there is a werewolf?” Treviano said.
“I don’t think the two have anything to do with each other,” Mack said, moving out of the way to let his sister and friend both look at the track he’d found. He studied the bark on a large oak nearby.
“What are you saying?” Kent asked.
“I agree that it’s possible that a small werewolf is here on the Cape, or at least was,” Mack said, leaning close to the bark. “I also agree the boys were murdered. I’m just not certain the two go together.” He pulled a multitool from the chest pack he was wearing and pulled a bit of fluff from the bark.
“What?” Treviano asked, eyes narrowed at him.
“Fur,” Mack replied, putting the bit of fluff into a small plastic bag.
“Chief, did the Icelandic girl come back from her vacation wounded?” Caeco asked.
“I don’t know,” Kent said, frowning at them as if he were rapidly reconsidering their help.
“Ah, actually Chief, her mother told me she had a small wound on her right leg,” another officer said. “Just a couple of
