Page 28 of Bad Medicine

“No. Shapeshifters get one orthe other—and we saw Sam shift into a human. He won’t be able to do both.”

“At least there’s that, then.” Hewas silent for a few seconds as he contemplated the danger of this particularcreature. “Where are you now?”

“Oh,” I said, remembering thereason I’d called him. “Sam the shapeshifting serial killer left me a gift. Ithought you might want to be there when I opened it.”

“Where,” he bit out.

I told him.

“I’m five minutes away. I’llsee you there.”

“Rick, wait.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t get out of your caruntil I get there. He’s probably watching.”

“I’ll wait for you.” He endedthe call.

Maybe he’d wait for me, andmaybe he wouldn’t. Either way, I broke every speed limit posted to get there asquickly as I could. What I really wanted was to get home. I’d had a very long,very active twenty-four hours, and I needed a damn shower and some cleanclothes.

When I arrived, Rick wassitting in his car, talking on his phone. He got out when he saw me, thenleaned against his hood as he waited for me to join him. He slid his cellphoneinto his pocket.

“You look tired,” he said.

“Long night.” I studied hisface. “You’re looking a little rough around the edges yourself, Detective.”

“A cop’s life.” For a briefseconds, his stare lit on my lips, then skittered away when I automaticallydarted out my tongue to wet them. “Let’s get started,” he said. “Did he giveyou the exact location of the…gift?”

“He just said behind the hairsalon.”

And we both knew damn good andwell what we’d find there.

We were right.

He hadn’t tried to hide her.He’d propped her against the exterior wall, folded her hands in her lap, andcut her hair. It’d been long, and I could smell the product even before I kneltdown beside her. “She’d just had her hair done,” I told Rick. “She’s a naturalblonde.”

“He has a thing for hair,” hemuttered.

“Against hair,” I told him.“The color, anyway. I wonder who this one abused.” I shook my head, then stood,crossing my arms against the sudden chill. “What’s going to happen to all thesemotherless kids, Rick?”

He looked at me. “Sometimessomething better. Sometimes they just get another abuser, or they’re put intothe system.”

“It’s like they’re doomed frombirth.”

He nodded. “It’s not always akind world.”

“Or ever,” I said, my voiceflat.

He glanced at his watch. “Salonopens soon. I’ll talk to them. Go home, Kait. I’ll call this in.”

But I lingered, my staredrifting over the woman’s once perfectly made-up face, her shorn skull, herexpensive clothes. The stab wounds in her chest, the blood on her clothes. Ifeared I was growing cold and hard, because I wasn’t devastated at the sight ofher butchered body. Still, she’d hurt a kid. It was hard to feel bad for aperson who hurt kids. I’d protect them, yes. But that was as far as it went. “Ihave to talk to Tammy’s little boy. She wanted me to give him her apologies andlove. Like that’s going to fix what she did.”

“Maybe it’ll help him,” Ricksaid. “At least a little.”

“Maybe.” I turned to walk away.“When you find this one’s kid, or kids…let me know?”

“I will.” He pointed his chinat the leather bag beside the body. “She’ll have ID with an address.” Then he wentinto detective mode, and I walked away.