Page 38 of Wild Wolf

"I don't remember seeing anything unusual."

"You didn't see anybody exit from the trail either?”

She shook her head. "I've just been sitting on the couch all evening watching TV. I was just about to go to bed when you rang the bell.”

"Did you hear any screams?”

She shook her head again. "Can't say that I did.”

I asked to see the footage from her doorbell camera, and she exported that for us, but it hadn't captured anything around the time of the incident. I gave her a card, thanked her for her time, and told her to get in touch if anything else came to light.

We headed back to the Porsche. By that time, investigators had wrapped up at the scene. Brenda had transferred the remains and loaded them into the van.

Paris had gotten her money shot, but as usual, she was stillhungry for more. She approached us with her crew, and the camera focused in. A fluffy boom mic hovered overhead.

"Deputy Wild, do you have any leads?”

"We’re asking the community to call the Coconut County Sheriff’s Department if anyone has any additional information.”

"This is the second attack where a witness claims to have seen a werewolf. Are you considering that as a viable possibility?”

"No. We believe there is a perpetrator behind these crimes. And we will find that person.”

"But there are eyewitnesses to the contrary.”

I stepped out of frame, not willing to fuel the speculation any further. We hurried back to the Porsche. Jack muttered, "I think it's time we have a talk with a certain occult studies professor.”

20

Abackground check told me McKinsey Raine lived with her husband in Palm Haven, a block over on Dune Crest Lane.

This was the part of the job that always sucked.

Jack parked at the curb. We hopped out and strolled the walkway.

Lights on throughout the home indicated someone was probably still awake. I rang the video doorbell, and a moment later, a voice crackled through. "Can I help you?"

I flashed my badge to the lens and made introductions. "Are you Mr. Raine?"

"I am. What is this about? Is everything okay?”

"Can you come to the door?”

"What is it? Is McKinsey okay?”

"I think it's best if we spoke face-to-face.”

He hesitated a moment, then said, "I'll be right there."

The line disconnected, and it was probably the longest walk of his life. Jordan Raine pulled open the door a moment later with a pale face and wide eyes that flicked between the two of us. His hands trembled, knowing bad news was coming.

I gave it to him, and it hit like a brick wall.

Jordan grew unsteady, and JD and I made sure he didn't hit the ground. He looked for a place to sit down, angled toward the staircase in the foyer, and took a seat. His head fell into his hands, and he sobbed for a moment. We stood there, his cries echoing off the vaulted walls.

In his late 30s, Jordan had a fit physique, short brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a sharp jaw.

I surveyed him carefully and didn’t see any traces of blood on his clothing or shoes.