Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1

  Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery

  Jaime Johnesee

  DevilDog Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Shifters Series

  About the Author

  Also by Jaime Johnesee

  Also Available From DevilDog Press

  Thank You

  Copyright © 2016 by Jaime Johnesee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor: Rob M. Miller

  Cover art: Dane at ebooklaunch.com

  Created with Vellum

  I'd like to dedicate this book to Lisa Lane who helped me grow Sam into the lovely werejaguar you're about to meet.

  A big thank you to my husband and kids for putting up with my muse, and me.

  Huge thank yous to Tracy Tufo and Devil Dog Press for believing in me and Sam, to my awesome beta readers who helped me smooth the story out, and Rob M. Miller for his hand in polishing this book into the gem I feel it's become.

  Chapter 1

  DOING HIS BEST TO NOT CONTAMINATE THE CRIME SCENE, Officer Joshua Hahn vomited into a plastic bag as I stood busy looking over the remains that was making the poor newbie blow chunks. When I say remains, I’m not trying to be polite; the body had been left shredded and broken in a bathtub.

  Human stew.

  The largest shard of bone found on this case had been a three-inch piece of femur. What lay before me looked more like cheap ground beef with a ton of gristle.

  I decided that I probably wouldn’t be eating cheeseburgers anytime soon.

  Looking at the morgue tech, I asked, “Same as the last two?”

  “Looks like it to me, but I can’t say for certain until we get this mess back to the lab.” The tech continued ladling the remains into a five-gallon bucket.

  I shuddered to think about how bad the doc was going to have it once those remains made it to the morgue. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to sift through all that masticated meat. Which, regrettably, is exactly what it was. Someone had eaten parts of the victims and spat some of the meat into the tub. Lab tests showed teeth marks on the bone and flesh samples from both of the other bodies we’d collected.

  Unfortunately, the case hadn’t caught FBI attention until Hahn ran the details for the second scene through ViCAP, the Bureau’s database that tracks and correlates information on violent crime—and one of the tools I was most thankful for. I was even more thankful when they added supernatural status to the case reports. Though a rare event, this kind of red flag helped us to keep track of supernatural-related crimes while making sure the assigned team had the right skills to bring down the unsub, regardless of species.

  When Hahn made the connection and called the FBI’s Criminal Investigative Division where I work, we saw the links he’d connected were sound and kept an eye on ViCAP for another body.

  The pictures from the first two scenes had been horrific, but actually standing here with the remains of his latest kill, the horror was tenfold.

  “Have you guys come across anything else in the room?” I was really hoping for a break in the case.

  “Nope, though the crime scene guys said there are prints everywhere, just like the other two scenes.” The tech continued ladling as he spoke and I felt my own stomach start to lurch. “Hopefully they’ll yield some results.” “This guy is a fucking monster.” I have a tendency to speak my mind.

  “That he is. He didn’t leave anything but their DNA for them to be identified by. If we’re lucky, the motel, or someone will have a camera on this place and we can see who it was he brought in here.”

  “I hope to hell we are lucky, because I don’t want to see another scene like this again.” I shuddered.

  “Me, neither. I’ve never had to ladle a body before and I served in Afghanistan and dealt with all manner of suicide bomber.”

  I felt bad for the morgue guy, but worse for the victims.

  “Do you think we can match the teeth and tool marks to the others?” I was hoping for a yes; the guys at the US District Attorney’s office liked that sort of evidence.

  “I really don’t know. You’ll have to talk to trace. As far as I can tell, the teeth marks are similar to the other two, but I’m only going off of the photographs. You’ll want confirmation from forensics.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded and walked over to my partner, Quinn O’Reilly.

  “Hey, Sam. Damn, he really tore this one up, huh?”

  “I thought the pictures were bad, but it really looks like he’s escalating. We need to find this guy soon before more women die.”

  “We don’t even know if this one is a woman. I agree on the escalation, though. I’ve seen a lot of bodies in my day, but never anything like this … at least nothing that wasn’t the result of an industrial machine of some sort. Whoever this guy is he has some serious power.”

  “You’re telling me. There were some intact bones at the last scene, but here … it looks more like hamburger.”

  “I just hope we can figure out his victim profile so we can start warning the public,” Hahn added from behind me.

  “Hello there.” I was a little miffed.

  I don’t like people sneaking up on me; call me old fashioned, but I find it rude.

  “Sorry. I was at the last scene, too.”

  “And yet you still managed to evacuate your stomach,” I teased.

  “Hey, I’m not used to seeing shit like this, Agent Reece. Give me a break.” Officer Hahn reddened a bit.

  I grinned. “It’s okay, I would’ve puked, too, if Quinn hadn’t taught me early on not to breathe through my nose.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I just did. Nice to meet you in person, Officer Hahn. Congratulations on piecing this together and pegging it as a serial.”

  “Call me Josh, I think we’ve spoken enough on the phone. So, is this the part where you thank me, tell me I’m no longer needed, and send me on my way?” Hahn looked pissed.

  “Nope. You put this together, you stay on the case.” It was something Quinn and I routinely did.

  People think we just swoop in and take over their cases while simultaneously using their resources and pushing them out of the investigation, but Quinn and I don’t work like that.

  We feel all hands on deck is the best way to get cases solved. Plus I’m at a disadvantage in pissing contests, since I lack the equipment for it.

  “Really?” He seemed surprised.

  “Yeah. If you’d like to stay on with us we’d love to have you.” Quinn extended his hand and the officer shook it.

  “Thanks, guys. You’re okay. Nothing like what I’ve been told about the feds.”

  “Thanks, I think?” Quinn’s eyes held a glint of amusement.

  “Sorry. I meant it as a compliment.” The poor gu
y looked mortified.

  “It’s okay, we get that a lot. Probably because in the past there were some assholes that would have done what you thought we were going to.”

  “Heh, that must be rough.”

  “It can be.” I walked around to a large spatter of blood on the wall by the sink. The bloodstain was wrapped around a huge dent in the wall that I was thinking was probably caused by the victim’s head.

  “Looks like the vic was incapacitated before the cutting started. I hope they stayed that way until their final breath.” Quinn’s face was an impassive mask, but I could still see the anger boiling in his eyes.

  He loathed serial killers and had made it his mission in life to stop them.

  “Here’s hoping. Nobody should have to live through being torn apart and eaten.”

  “Technically, they don’t.” Officer Hahn looked around at the grim scene, face paling when his gaze met the morgue tech ladling people parts into a bucket.

  “We have to stop this guy. How the hell is he tearing them up like this? I want to know what tools he’s using. Evidence Recovery, please make sure to get castings of the bone fragments so we can get what we need to find out what he used, connect those tools to him, and nail him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I peered around to see if there was anything the crime scene crew had missed, but no, there was nada. Whoever had done this, they hadn’t tried to clean up or hide a thing.

  “You thinking what I am, Q?”

  I call him Q because he loves Star Trek: TNG. Well, and the obvious fact his name begins with the letter, but mostly the Star Trek thing.

  “Yup, disorganized killer. No matches for his prints means he hasn’t been caught before.”

  “So violent. He really hates them for whatever reason.”

  “Maybe misogyny? Mommy didn’t love him enough? All that bullshit.”

  “Bullshit?”

  “I hate when they hide behind an excuse. Plenty of people get abused by their parents and turn out okay.” Quinn had been working serial killer cases a long time.

  He had no sympathy toward those devils and I can’t blame him. Mostly because I have no sympathy for them, either. My own life was extremely rough as a child and I turned out okay.

  “You ready to check in with the agents and officers canvassing?”

  “Sure am.” I took another long look around the room and forced my eyes to the open bathroom door.

  As I watched the morgue tech continue scoop the remains from the tub, I promised I would find the one who did this and stop him. It was the only thing I could do for them at this point and I took my job very seriously.

  A few years ago, as part of the Computer Crimes Division, I’d made a huge collar. Shortly after, I was given a chance to work with the Criminal Investigative Division and I jumped at the chance. It was around the same time that I was infected with a shifter virus.

  That’s right.

  I’m a were.

  I was bitten after a really horrible date went south and I went for a walk in the park. A black panther came from the bushes in front of me. Apparently the need to be a moron arose from within and I decided, for whatever stupid reason, to try and pet the damned thing.

  It bit my hand once, almost gently, and ran away. A jogger called the cops and I learned at the hospital that I was no longer human. I’d been infected with virus347-2, also known as MJV (melanistic jaguar virus).

  I truly hate all the stupid stuff out there about us supernatural creatures. You know, all those Hollywood bullshit facts. Those things like vampires don't like sunlight or that were-creatures have to turn on the full moon. I can tell you right now that vampires are mostly okay with the sun, except for those with the light sensitive form of the disease.

  Yes, disease, vampirism is genetic and not some demonic curse or virus carried through the blood of the infected. Although I’m sure it sounds more romantic the other way, it really is just a genetic disease passed down through the generations.

  Vampires are just as able to enter churches as we are. They also have no problems with holy water or garlic. Well, unless they're allergic to garlic the way some humans are. They can also see themselves just fine in mirrors, and they don't turn into smoke, bats, or wolves.

  I know, boring, right?

  What they do have is a condition where their bone marrow stops producing as many red blood cells as are needed to fully function. Most have a biweekly blood transfusion set up with their doctor. After the transfusion they do have heightened abilities.

  They can run fast, jump high, have serious strength, and enhanced senses, but those effects wear off within a day or two of the new blood entering their system.

  Truth be told, I think the reason they stop producing the cells is simply nature's way of keeping an overly evolved predator in check. With their speed, reflexes, and evolved elongated fangs they could easily wipe out the entire human population.

  As for shifters, there are just as many of those stupid Hollywood "facts" about us. I adore silver and wear it often. I don't have to change on the full moon, and I'm not some reasonless animal when I shift. I'm still me. Just a great big kitty version with big teeth and a really soft tail. I'm serious, it's like mink fur soft.

  Anyway, a silver bullet would definitely kill me, but so would any other type of bullet. I think the myth that turning into their animal heals a shifter comes from the fact that our virus eats other viruses like candy. The good kind, not like banana Laffy Taffy.

  “Sam?” Quinn looked at me with a raised brow.

  “Yeah? Oh, sorry, got lost in thought for a moment.”

  “It’s okay. You ready to debrief the canvassers?”

  “I am, indeed.” I strode out the door to the manager of the Sleep-tite Motel’s office.

  A portly bald man with a beet red face and sweat stains on his ROLL TIDE shirt stood when I entered.

  “I’ll assume you’re the manager of this … uh, establishment?” The place was a roach motel if ever I saw one.

  “I am.” He didn’t seem proud of it and I didn’t blame him.

  “Can you tell me where everyone else is?”

  “Um, well, I don’t rightly know. I gave the sack guy a room to use to coordinate things.”

  “You mean the Special Agent in Charge?”

  “Yeah. He introduced himself as the sack; I just assumed it was a nickname.”

  “Which room?”

  “One.”

  “Thanks.” I turned and left without saying anything further.

  When I looked back the man was in his chair, full-attention returned to the football game. I wish I could have joined him. Instead, I sighed and moved, with Quinn on my heels, to the room Gerald had commandeered.

  “Hey, Gerry,” I greeted him.

  “I hate when they call me in on these things.”

  “Don’t blame you, boss.”

  “So, has anyone come back from questioning potential witnesses?” Quinn had apparently decided to skip the small talk.

  “A few. Nothing to report. Either nobody saw him or they didn’t notice him.” Gerry looked annoyed.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Sure is. Look, once ERT and the forensic pathologist are done we are wrapping up and heading back to the office. I’ll make sure you get every report from the interviews.”

  “Thanks, boss,” I said, relieved.

  Having to question each agent and officer individually would have been a bitch. Getting their reports in one lump would make things so much easier. I just wish it wasn’t necessary. Nobody should be turned into chunks of meat.

  “Yeah, you’re welcome. Hey, can you get a whiff of this guy?”

  “I can try.” The FBI knows all about us shifters and other supernatural beings.

  Those in charge of both the government and private sectors, like police and hospitals, know about us. The general public, however, is kept unaware of our reality. Those that are in-the-know tend to not spill because they fear the
backlash that would definitely come their way.

  “I’m going to head back to the office and get started on the paperwork with Officer Hahn. You okay to catch a ride back with the boss?” Quinn asked.

  “Hey, O’Reilly, what if the boss doesn’t want to give her a ride back?” Gerry winked and chortled.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Luckily he knew me well enough to know I wasn’t being insubordinate.

  Quinn chuckled and walked to the parking lot. He and Josh got in our car and left. Quinn waved at me before he turned out of the lot.

  “So, just you and me, boss.”

  “Someone has to stop this guy, Reece. He’s growing more violent.”

  “I know.” I involuntarily shuddered as I recalled the human soup in the bathtub. “This last one was really bad.”

  “Looks like the techs are done. You wanna get in there and take a whiff?”

  “Honestly, no. Smelling that much carnage is going to be hell. I’ll do it anyway, though.” I sighed and gathered the courage to get my panther self into that room.

  Gerry walked with me. I entered the room and he closed the door, standing outside to act as a sentry. I closed the blinds and removed my clothes, placing them neatly on a chair by the window. Then I called my jaguar forth and changed.

  In moments I was a big black fuzzy Jungle Book reject. I sniffed delicately; the smells of blood and meat made my predator’s stomach growl. I opened my mouth and pulled the scent in over my palate in a process zoologists call flehmening. It allowed me to get a better picture of what had happened.

  I smelled fear and pain from the victim and excitement from the killer. I inhaled deeply, capturing a scent profile of the killer. Once I was sure I had his scent and could recognize it anywhere, I changed, then dressed.

  I can speak in my furry form. I retain my human voice box. I just prefer not to because it creeps people out to have a large cat talking to them. I don’t blame them for it. It’d probably freak me out, too. I told Gerry I was good to go and we left to head back to the office.

  When we arrived, I went looking for Quinn and was told he and Officer Hahn had gone out to pursue a lead.