Déjà vu hit Garrett hard as a motherfucker. When he pulled his motorcycle up at the corner of Fairfield and Whitmore, about half a dozen cop cars lined the streets and a fire truck sat right on the curb in front of Weltman’s Fine Jewels. He’d recalled Alejandro’s warning to stay away from the local police, but he just couldn’t ignore this. The men in uniform were actively trying to put out a fire near the front of the building. The medics had someone laid out on a gurney. A bloodstained sheet covered them from head to toe. Apparently, there had been a casualty. But if this was only a fire, why the blood-soaked sheet?

Garrett drove up to the curb and sat idle on his bike to observe the chaos. He wasn’t the only one watching. About a half dozen or so people had walked across the street from the post office and adjacent shops to witness the mess.

“Hey! Get back!” A cop rushed over to secure the area with yellow tape and ushered the crowd back and away from the building. “This is a crime scene. Please leave the area.”

The onlookers scattered in different directions. Among the bits and pieces of conversation that Garrett picked up on, one clue stuck with him. Apparently, gunshots had been fired inside right before the fire, according to one witness. Right before the fire broke out, a man had fled through the back of the store. From past experience, Garrett had learned to follow his instincts when it came to subtle clues like this. It just so happened that he had a nose for doing just that.

He parked his bike in the post office’s parking lot and walked about a quarter mile to enter the woods where he could change forms without detection. He removed his boots and stuffed them into his pack. As soon as the shift was complete, he raced back toward the jewelry store, hiding in the thick brush at the back of the store to avoid detection. When the cops who were investigating the rear of the store went back inside, he took the opportunity and sprinted out of the bushes. The wolf was in total control now, using all of his five senses, especially his sense of smell. A faint aura was detected around the grassy area just under a broken window. Among the shards of broken glass shattered on the ground were a few drops of blood. The aura belonged to a wolf. He engrained the scent into his memory and then followed it back through the thick brush where it led him deep into the woods.

He tracked the unfamiliar wolf scent for about a mile until he came out on the other side of the forest near the south side of the city. It led him to a trailer park community blocked off by a chain-linked fence. His inner beast wanted to forge ahead, but in order to get on the other side of the tall fence, he had to climb over it. Reluctantly, he shifted back to human form and clambered up the wobbly fence.

About twenty trailers were on the lot. For the most part, the atmosphere was quiet except for the handful of kids playing on the playground near the front of the community. His sense of smell wasn’t as keen as it was when he was in wolf form, so he had to use more effort to concentrate. Beads of sweat poured down his forehead as his body worked to cool him off after his non-stop trek to get here. He dragged the front of his shirt over his eyes and down his face and forged ahead.

Garrett’s intuitions led him to a small mobile trailer with a red Volkswagen parked in front of the door. At first, he thought he had the wrong location. Inside the home, a woman was screaming at the top of her lungs. But she wasn’t in trouble. Right in tune with her cries, were the grunts and moans of a man. The pair was inside, and from the way she was hollering his bloody name, Garrett could tell they were fucking.

The blood scent and wolf pheromones that he’d picked up behind the store were stronger now than before. There was no doubt that his guy was inside.

Garrett took a look in both directions and noted that there weren’t any immediate threats. Just the kids playing on the playground. He shoved his foot hard into the door, smashing it down to the floor.

He barreled inside.

This time, when the woman screamed, she wasn’t screaming in pleasure.

Garrett couldn’t believe his luck. The woman naked on the bed was the same woman who’d served him that first night at the tavern. Her hair was even braided back the same way. Her eyes widened and then recognition flashed over her face when she saw him.

Before his target could begin the shifting process, Garrett charged across the room and threw him hard against the wall.

“Who are you?” his target croaked.

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

“What the fuck, man?” he exclaimed. “You’ve gotta wait your turn to fuck. I was here first.”

His target was still concerned about fucking, yet his dick was now lying flaccid between his legs.

Garrett’s gaze fluttered toward the waitress then back to his target. “I didn’t come to fuck. You were at Weltman’s jewelry store today, and ironically, someone died there just before a fire started.”

His target diverted his gaze, guilt clouding his face. “I ain’t got shit to do with no fire,” he said.

“What were you doing there?”

His target charged, nearly knocking Garrett to his feet. They struggled in the tiny interior of the trailer. His target was trying to get away, but Garrett wasn’t going to let that happen. Meanwhile, the half-naked waitress screamed bloody murder.

Garrett picked up his target by the neck and then slammed him hard against the wall. “Answer me! What were you doing there?”

“My job! Fuck! I was doing my job, okay?”

“What job is that? Breaking and entering? Arson?”

“I didn’t start no fire, man,” he insisted. “I was sent to collect something.”

“Something?”

He struggled against Garrett’s hold, but Garrett pushed firmly at his larynx. He was almost blue in the face before Garrett loosened his grip.

“Money…Weltman owed my boss money.”

Somehow, his target had gotten hold of a vase. He took it, slammed it against the side of Garrett’s face, and then made a run for the door. He never made it outside. Garrett dragged him back inside, pounded him into a table, and brought his fist down across his face.

“I wasn’t finished,” Garrett growled. “Who’s paying you? Who’s your boss?”

He gagged on his own blood as it drained down his nose to the back of his throat.

“This could all be over for you,” Garrett said. “I need a name.”

He gasped. “Si…Simon.”

Garrett ground his teeth together, his aggravation rising at the sound of the name. Simon was one annoying, sick bastard.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

He was lying.

Garrett snatched a knife up from the kitchen counter and thrust it into the thickest part of his thigh.

“Don’t waste my time, motherfucker! I asked you a question.”

“In the barn…the barn,” he panted. “Behind his old family home. Take the woods and run north. He’s in there. Goddammit, let me up! I don’t know anything else.” He grasped at the knife in his thigh.

Garrett released his hold, yanked out the knife for him, and tossed it back on the table.

The man stumbled backward, hopping on his good leg. After a failed attempted at regaining his grounding, he dropped to his knees on the floor and uttered a string of curses at Garrett. The bastard was through. Just to make sure he wasn’t going to regain his strength any time soon, Garrett dragged him up to a standing position and knocked him unconscious with his fist. He hit the floor like dead weight.

The waitress he’d been fucking was huddled in a corner. “Please…I don’t know anything,” she said, meekly.

“I’m not going to hurt you. It was him I was after,” he said. “Is this your home?”

She shook her head. “No. We just hook up here. Look, I’m not the only one selling sex here. I—”

“T.M.I,” he said, holding up his hand. “You need to be wary of the company you keep, lady.”

“I needed the money,” she exclaimed, her mascara running down her face as tears escaped her eyes. “Tips at the tavern haven’t been the same”

He retrieved a few twenty-dollar bills from his pocket and threw it on the table next to the bloody knife.

“Put on some clothes and get outta here,” he said, and then left her inside the trailer.

As he raced back toward the forest, he dialed Alejandro’s number.

“Yo,” Alejandro answered.

“The old Montague barn…you know where that is, right?”

“You mean the one behind Simon’s old family’s home. The County Inspector’s report says the house was filled with asbestos. That place has been barred off and abandoned for years.”

“Well, that’s where I’m headed. No time to talk,” Garrett said, and then hung up the phone.

He increased his speed, racing through the woods as fast as his legs would take him. In mid-run, he shifted, trusting the wolf to guide him.