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swallowed. “No.”
    He’d interrogated enough perps to know when someone was lying to him. But he decided not to push her. Not yet.
    Colin pushed his gun back into its holster. “Well, looks like one of us managed to catch someone’s attention.” He stalked back to the circle of bent grass. Kneeling, he inhaled and caught the same stale scent of cigarettes he’d noticed earlier.
    Someone had been hiding in the darkness, watching her or him. But why?
    He sure as hell intended to find out.
    But first—first he was going to discover just what sort of enemies the mysterious Dr. Drake had.

Chapter 3
    “Y ou wanna do what?” Danny McNeal shot forward in his worn leather chair.
    Colin stared levelly back at him. “Hey, you’re the one who brought her in.” He paused, then said, “Now that the doc’s in the game, I want to keep using her.”
    McNeal rubbed his right hand over his gleaming head. “I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with here, Gyth.”
    Oh, he had a pretty good idea.
    “So what, one night you ran up on a vampire or a demon in the park? You saw they were real and now you think you’re some kind of hotshot who can go out and fight these things?”
    Not exactly.

    “Well, I’ve got news for you.” McNeal was glaring at him now, bushy brows lowered. “These things will eat you up and spit you out—literally.”
    Not without a hell of a fight. “I know what I’m doing,” Colin told him, struggling to keep his voice level. He didn’t think the situation was a game, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to reveal his true nature to the captain.
    Been there, done that, with shit for results.
    McNeal grunted and spun his chair to face the small window in his office. The captain didn’t have much of a view. The window overlooked the back alley and two nearby buildings. But if you strained, you could just make out the green grass of the park in the distance.
    “Have you got a report yet from Smith?”
    He’d been in the medical examiner’s office all morning. “She’s not done with the autopsy yet, but her preliminary judgment is that Preston Myers was attacked by an animal.”
    McNeal turned slowly back to face him. His fingers drummed on the arms of his chair. “We know that’s not the case.”
    Yes, but proving it would be a whole different matter. “She thinks the vic was attacked by a dog or a wolf.” Colin tossed a manila envelope onto McNeal’s desk. “But judging by the bite radius, I’d say it could just as easily have been a vampire.”
    “Shit.” McNeal squeezed his eyes shut. “Why couldn’t this asshole have stayed out of my town?” He huffed out a breath, cracked open his eyes, and studied Colin. “You think Dr. Drake was right? You think this bastard will kill again?”
    Colin nodded. He had no doubt that the killer would strike again. The crime scene had been a bloodfest; that much rage, that much hate—no one could stay in control with that dangerous mix brewing inside.
    Yeah, he’d kill again. Unless they stopped him.
    “She’s got the credentials,” McNeal muttered. “The press will buy that we’re bringing her on as a profiler.” He leaned forward, grabbed a newspaper from the edge of his desk, and waved it in front of Colin. “Did you see what those idiots printed today? The guy’s had one kill and they’ve already given him a name.”
    The black and white letters were stark: NIGHT BUTCHER CLAIMS VICTIM.
    Oh Jesus. That was the last thing they needed. Night Butcher.
    “No details of the body were released.” McNeal tossed the paper into the trash. “But some jerkoff managed to peer into the house with one of those high-powered lenses, and he caught a shot of all the blood.”
    “He’s gonna like the name, you know,” Colin warned. He’d seen it before. Seen perps who got a high off the killing, but got an even bigger rush from the media attention that turned them into fucking celebrities.
    “I know.” McNeal’s jaw clenched. “And I