Precinct 13 (16 page)

“It’s obviously a fairy ring, isn’t it?”

By the time we left the farm, the sun had warmed the interior of Jack’s car. I cracked a window to get a bit of fresh air.

Jones had, in fact, been quite mad about a number of things, it turned out. He wasn’t happy that I had no veterinarian training and could not positively identify the cause of death of the cows. I mollified him a bit when I told him it looked as if something massive had staved in their heads, and that the coyotes had probably tried to drag the bodies off at a later time. But we’d argued again when Jones made arrangements with the rancher to send a carcass back to my morgue. I told him that unless he planned to also send along a butcher, I had no use for a bunch of cow meat. At that point, Jones played the boss card and ended the discussion.

I was currently chewing Jack’s ear off about the whole situation. “He’s not even my boss, you know. I work for the county. I was elected. Why did I let him push me around like that?”

Jack had no comment. I didn’t blame him. I’d been saying
the same thing over and over for the last few miles, getting increasingly angry at myself.

I sighed. “The dumbest part? I don’t even have a freezer big enough for the stupid thing.”

“At least it’s not likely to walk off,” he said with a smile.

“With my luck, it probably will. Or moo through the entire autopsy.” I pushed at the manual lock button angrily, clicking it closed and then pulling it open. “And, anyway, what am I supposed to do? It’s like the necromancer all over again. I don’t know what the signs of a bloodthirsty fairy attack should look like.”

“You don’t have to. That’s our job. Just tell us what you find, like you would in any case.”

Except no one seems that interested in doing detective work besides me
, I thought but didn’t say. Besides, I liked Jack and didn’t want to insult him any more than I probably already had between my casual slight and the snake’s reaction to the circle.

“Fine,” I muttered, but I conceded his point by allowing a change in subject. “So, speaking of the necromancer, any new developments? Did Boyd get a reading on the toe tag?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t think so. I guess he’s doing other work for the Lyman County sheriff about a missing girl or something.”

I remembered the bicycle tire and nodded. I understood that missing persons cases were time sensitive, but I wondered exactly how long it took to pick up vibes or whatever from an object. Jack didn’t seem overly bothered by the delay, however, so it must be business as usual.

“How’d it go last night?” he asked.

At first, I thought Jack knew about Valentine’s return. I blushed remembering the fantastic, if often interrupted, sex. “Uh…What do you mean?”

“At the morgue?” he prompted. “When we dropped you off? Did you get a lot accomplished?”

“Oh, oh…yeah, sure,” I started. Then I remembered the truth. “No, not really. I filed paperwork and all that sort of thing, but I don’t really feel like I got much done. I don’t know what killed the necromancer. In fact, from what I can tell, nothing did.”

“You think he faked his death?”

“If magic weren’t a factor, I’d say no without hesitation,” I said. “When I cut into him, he was definitely dead.” When Jack gave me a quick look, I added, “Trust me, when you cut a living person, it’s a very different experience. Blood flies everywhere.”

“Oh. Er, I’ll take your word for it.”

Oops.
I guess that was the wrong thing to say. God, I needed more coffee. From the paleness of Jack’s face it occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that I
did
have experience seeing a living body slashed. Jack couldn’t know details of what had happened with my stepmom, at least. I shook my head. I didn’t want to remember that right now, anyway, especially with Valentine at home in bed.

Jack drove a short distance without speaking. I wished his car had a working radio, but there was a hole in the dash where the stereo would normally be housed. Instead, I watched the fields pass outside the window.

“You never called me,” he said, a few miles down the road. “I left my number on your phone. Didn’t you find it? I was hoping to take you out to dinner.”

Wow, that had to be the most passive-aggressive way to ask me out in recorded history. “Oh, um…” The truth was I hadn’t even really looked at my phone since he handed it
back to me at the meeting. “A friend of mine came into town last night unexpectedly. I was…distracted. Sorry.”

Even though I’d been careful about how I said that, Jack looked disappointed. “Maybe after your friend leaves, we could go out.”

I wondered if Valentine had plans to leave anytime soon. A better person would’ve confessed right then that my friend was more than that, and let Jack down easy and early. But, if the past was any indication, Valentine
would
get restless eventually. He might be here for the moment, but I could never hold him in one place for very long.

Not without trouble, anyway.

Selfishly, I told Jack: “Yeah, maybe we could go out sometime.”

Jack rewarded me with a genuine smile and happy chatter for the rest of the drive back.

Even though it was held in the war room, the morning meeting was very different from yesterday’s more intimate one. Everyone was there—tons of people I didn’t know, in uniform and out—milling around, drinking bad coffee from disposable cups, and talking and laughing about last night’s reality shows.

I stuck to the edge, near the door, trying to look like I belonged.

The whiteboard with all the information about the necromancer was off to one side. I was pleased to see that Jones had updated it with information about the mysterious Twitter correspondent and the severed head. Another whiteboard had been set beside it, with only a few words written on it:
cow mutilation
,
crop circle
, and, most curiously of all,
dragon
. There were no pictures or any notes under those yet, though.

Stone stood against the side wall, a hand wrapped around her chutzpah cup. The other played with a bit of her hair, which was as loose and disorganized as ever this morning. A young detective, the sort who wore his golden badge clipped to his belt and his sleeves rolled up, seemed to be telling her a very earnest story. He was half her height, though tightly muscled. She listened shyly, flirtatiously. It was sweet, if a little strange, to see such a massive woman so demure.

Jack pressed a cup into my hand. I looked down at muddy brown burnt-smelling stuff, but thanked him anyway. He noticed my interest in the guy talking to Stone. “That’s Vito,” he explained. “We’ve got an office pool going for when he finally asks her out.”

I was curious to know what held Vito back, but Jones called the morning meeting to order. Everyone hushed, as he spoke. “As you all know this is an unusually busy time for us. We’ve got three active cases at the moment, and I want updates on all of them.”

Stone pushed herself from the wall and, with a little fond smile at Vito, made her way to the front of the room. She gave a neat, precise rundown of everything we knew about the necromancer so far. I learned that he’d come to the precinct’s attention three months ago, when the first grave had been robbed. I was extraordinarily disturbed to discover that, besides the head, he’d taken a hand and three toes. None of the other body parts had been found so far.

I sipped my coffee accidentally and burned my tongue on the rancid liquid. My arm, at least, had stopped hurting on the drive back to headquarters. I rubbed it now, absently, through the fabric of my sweater. Thanks to dressing in the dark, I’d
ended up in the garish Christmas sweater with the jingle bells attached to the reindeer’s reins that my stepmother had bought me the first year she’d moved in with us. I hated it about as much as I hated her. I had no idea why I still had this thing, much less why I’d dragged it all the way to Pierre.

Guilt, maybe.

Stone wrapped up her briefing, and Jones took over again. “We got a call this morning about a crop circle and cow mutilation out at the Olson ranch. Preliminary investigation does not indicate a connection to the necromancer case.”

This revelation seemed to shock everyone in the room.

Jones pointed to two guys in uniform standing near the front. “I want Peterson and Hanson to cover the
ordinarium
procedures. Interview all the neighboring ranchers. Find out if the rancher, Olson, has any enemies. Use words like ‘cattle rustling’ and ‘property damage;’ we don’t need ‘cow mutilation’ getting around.”

The two cops nodded.

I remembered Peterson was the poor guy who everyone assumed was Boyd. Honestly, I couldn’t tell who was who at this distance. They were both white guys with short hair…in uniform. Absolutely no distinguishing features at all.

“Jack, you’re on damage control. Make sure the Internet stays quiet about this one.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said, saluting Jones with his coffee.

“Alex, since you’re new here, you can come with me while I touch base with my local fairy connections.”

I was surprised by this, but I gave a little wave of acknowledgment when everyone craned around to see who Jones referred to. I really wished I hadn’t dressed in the dark. I must have looked like a complete idiot wearing a Christmas sweater in April. No one seemed bothered, however. I didn’t
get more than the usual curious looks. After Jones went back to assigning various tasks, Jack leaned in and whispered, “Lucky you.”

Considering that the only other job I had for the day was trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do with a dead animal carcass, I didn’t mind tagging along. The thought of spending alone time in close quarters with Jones didn’t particularly thrill me, however.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that. Nothing was said about that last item on the board, so I asked Jack as we filed out of the room. “What’s with the dragon?”

He shrugged. “No one knows. It could have just been a flyover.”

A uniform I didn’t recognize added, “The ID was shaky, but it’s the right time of year for migration. I think the boss is just being cautious, since cattle got mauled.”

I stared at him blankly.

He had the slightest hint of a paunch and a cherubic face the color of windswept sandstone. His hair was slickly black, and I thought he might be either Latino or Native American. “Dragons are responsible for ten percent of all unsolved cattle-rustling cases. The number is especially high during peak migration times.”

“Oh,” I said, because what else could I say?

“This is Denis. He’s our George,” Jack explained, with a nod at the uniform, who instantly offered his hand.

“Our George?”

“As in saint,” Jack added, as if that made things clearer.

“Oh, as in Saint George and the Dragon?” I asked, as a dim connection formed in my brain. Denis smiled in acknowledgment. The hand I shook was calloused, but the grip lighter than I’d expected. “You slay dragons?”

He started. I let his hand go, uncertain if he’d been shocked by my question or my tattoo. “Ah, no,” he said quickly. “I’m actually not sure that’s possible. Technically, I’ve been trained to combat them—just hold my own, really—and to speak their language, but it’d be a dark day if I had to go up against one of those bastards.”

Jack added, “Think of Denis’s job like a hostage negotiator. Every unit is required to have someone trained in it, but you hope like hell you never have to use it, you know?”

“Sure,” I said in response. Though I really wanted to know from Denis: “Have you ever seen a dragon?”

“Only in books, I’m afraid,” he said, tucking his hands behind his back. He dropped his eyes a bit, as though he was embarrassed by the fact.

“They’re extraordinarily rare,” Jack said, as though in Denis’s defense. “There’s probably less than a half dozen known to still exist.”

“And one just flew over Pierre, South Dakota,” I said.

“Exactly,” Denis agreed.

Jack and I were literally standing by the watercooler when I heard Jones’s approach. He continued to bark out orders. I turned around in time to watch him stop by the desk of the woman I’d seen playing the strange game of solitaire yesterday. “Beth,” he said. “Cast every chart, bone, and tea leaf you can think of. I want to know what the hell cosmic convergence is causing all this activity right now.”

She got to it as Jones barreled toward us.

I’d barely put my water down when he said, “Alex, let’s go.”

I swallowed back a “Yes, sir!” but found myself snapping
to attention, despite myself. Jack cupped his hand in front of his mouth and whispered, “Good luck,” as I hustled after Jones.

This time I got to sit in the front of the squad car, like a big girl. I buckled myself in. The dash was an array of fascinating buttons and screens, along with all the usual controls for heat and such. I wondered which switch controlled the siren and the flashing lights. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the Refocus had not been replaced yet. I ran my fingers over the spot where Stone had poked her finger through the bulletproof glass. When Jones climbed in, I turned around quickly.

“How are you settling in with the team?” he asked, after starting up the engine.

“I’m not really sure,” I admitted.
Especially considering how much you seem to hate all my suggestions.

The police radio crackled with noises from Dispatch. Apparently, somewhere in the normal world there had been a dispute between two truckers at the Dunkin’ Donuts.

“I should be in the morgue, not the field,” I said in all honesty.

Jones nodded thoughtfully. I glanced over at him. He drove casually, with one arm resting on the window, the other draped over the wheel. He’d set his cap in the space between us, and the sun shone reddish through brown hair. I thought he looked tired, but it may just have been the way the light brought out every line on his weathered face. “We need a lab rat among those in the know, the magical community.”

“So I’m it, huh?”

“You can go back to your basement once we catch the bad guy. For now, it will be good for you to get a feel for how our operation works.”