Killer Moon (Psychic For Hire 2)

DI Zael appears in his early thirties, and whatever vigor got him promoted to his current rank seems to have left him already. His clothes are slightly disheveled as if he hadn’t expected to need to get dressed for work on a Sunday.

Storm is aware that the only reason DI Zael had called in the Agency of Otherkind Investigations was the worry of this possibly being another Wolf-Claw Killer victim. Wolf-Claw is in the Agency’s jurisdiction and the case had been assigned to Storm’s team.

Storm and Leo exchange a glance but neither of them responds to DI Zael’s comment. Leo is Storm’s trusted second-in-command, an experienced agent and a werewolf to boot. If he says the hand smells a couple of days old, Storm believes him.

The cut on the wrist looks too clean, certainly compared to the savagery of the Wolf-Claw Killer’s other attacks. But then again, to strike a blow capable of taking a hand off like that would require a lot of strength. The kind of strength a werewolf has even in human form.

“Werewolf?” Storm asks Leo.

Leo shakes his head. “Cleaning crew’s chemicals have washed any scent markers away.”

DI Zael huffs grumpily. “Where the hell is the rest of her is what I want to know,” he says. “You don’t just walk off leaving your hand behind. We’ve called the nearest hospitals but they haven't had anyone turn up handless. The girl must be dead somewhere.”

“This hand was found two hours ago, shortly after 6:30 pm, is that right?” says Storm.

DI Zael nods.

“And the cleaning vehicle came from a northerly direction down this street?” Storm gestures at the truck which is parked in the middle of the road and facing him.

DI Zael glances at the truck and shrugs his shoulder. “Sure, I guess.”

Storm walks past the truck, thinking out loud. “So the truck came from over there and gathered up the hand in its cleaning brushes somewhere along the way.”

Storm glances behind him. Some distance down the alleyway is the back entrance of a pub called The Half Moon that is popular with city types. “Let’s assume she was at that pub on Friday night, at the end of a working week. She walked in this direction before being attacked.” Storm keeps walking, retracing what may have been the girl’s route. Leo and DI Zael follow him.

At the end of the street Storm reaches the police cordon that is sectioning off the alleyway and crime scene. He glances around. To his left the alley turns off to a private car parking area belonging to a neighboring office building. It is guarded by a closed gate. Storm goes towards it and pushes the gate. It swings open easily.

The ground here is tarmac. Storm crouches to take a closer look. The cleaning crew have not touched this area. Against the black ground Storm sees a large stain that may be blood. Storm glances up at the wall of the office building. He spots a security camera over-looking the parking bay entrance.

“Did you ask for the footage from that camera?” he asks DI Zael.

“Sure, sure, we’ll get it,” says DI Zael.

He calls over one of his officers and dispatches him to the task. Storm tries not to look irritated. If this is the work of the Wolf-Claw Killer then the last thing he needs is DI Zael’s careless attitude getting in his way. But until they’ve established what this is, he is going to have to deal with the man.

“Let’s assume the girl walked from the bar to here,” Storm theorizes. “The assailant arrives either in a vehicle or on foot, forcing her towards the parking bay and blocking her exit. He attacks her. Her hand is dismembered in the attack with enough force to land somewhere in the street. He either pulls her into his vehicle and leaves or…”

Storm pauses as looks around, his mind busily working out which alternative scenarios could have taken place. He looks at Leo who is frowning and turning first this way and then the other. The breeze here is buffeting off the walls, tossing any scents in every direction.

“It’s unlikely he wanted to take her alive,” says Leo.

Storm nods in agreement.

“How’s that?” DI Zael demands.

“He wouldn’t have attacked with such force if he wanted her alive,” says Leo.

Storm walks into the parking bay. It is empty. No cars. Nothing but a bank of large bins at the back.

“The girl runs this way in an effort to escape.” He crouches but he cannot see much of a blood trail on the dark and dirty tarmac. “No. He’s already killed her back there. She bled out. He drags or carries her here, away from the street, to stop her body being discovered too soon.”

Leo is frowning at the bins. DI Zael marches to them and throws them open with gusto and little regard for forensic integrity. “Nothing in here,” he shouts. “They’re empty.”

Storm walks carefully to the bins. He crouches and looks beneath them. The girl is there, her slender body shoved beneath a bin like discarded trash. She is long dead. A small spangly gold handbag is at her side, its contents spilled onto the ground. Storm calls over a forensics tech to take photos before he carefully picks up the girl’s purse. He finds a driving license inside it.

The picture on it is of the same girl. Her smile is wide, her blue eyes twinkling beneath the thick black bangs tumbling over her forehead. She looks sweet, and far too young to be dead.

“She was celebrating her birthday,” Storm says.