Scarlett’s eyes widened, but she obliged, handing over the light. Jesse pointed it at the bodies in front of him. Both women were obviously dead.
“Only two,” she said quietly.
“Maybe he didn’t have time to go back for the third,” Jesse muttered.
The woman on his left was Hispanic, with a long tangle of hair, about twenty extra pounds around her hips, her big open eyes staring at nothing. He recognized her from the picture in the van: Ruanna Martinez. The woman on his right was Caucasian and slim, with a short brunette pixie haircut: Samantha Wheaton. Both of them were wearing tattered underclothing that was soaked in blood.
The nova had duct-taped both women’s arms and legs—not as restraints, Jesse realized, but to keep the limbs from flopping around as he carried them. Jesse crouched with the flashlight, trying to see past the blood that stained and crusted both bodies. Ruanna Martinez had long scratches all over her body, but they weren’t shallow, like Kathryn Wong’s injuries. These were horrible, deep scores, each one more than a foot long, and they’d sliced her skin into long, thin flaps. Jesse’s stomach turned, and he looked over to Samantha Wheaton’s body. He squinted against the light, reluctant to touch her. “Oh, God,” he whispered.
There were chunks missing from her. The nova had taken bites out of Samantha Wheaton, presumably while she was still alive.
“He’s still experimenting,” Scarlett said softly.
“You think?” Jesse snapped. He couldn’t meet her eyes. His gaze was glued to the women he had failed not once, but twice. First by not stopping the nova in time to save them, and second by not being able to catch the son of a bitch when he’d turned up to dump their bodies. Gritting his teeth, Jesse reached out and gently took Ruanna by the arm, shifting his weight so he could roll her over. There was a big number three scored into her back.
Scarlett started to bend down toward Samantha, but he waved her aside. “I got it.” Samantha was light, and with her limbs taped together she flipped over easily. Jesse pointed the flashlight beam at her back, expecting to see a four.
It was a five.
Scarlett saw it too. “What does that mean?” she whispered.
Jesse shined the light back and forth between the two of them for a moment, then reached down to lift up the taped bundle of first one woman’s legs, then the other, checking the degree of rigor mortis. Then he stood up. “I’m not an expert, but it looks like they were killed at the same time,” Jesse said shortly.
“So?”
“So, the nova’s getting impatient. He got sick of the one at a time thing and took three women at once, hoping one or more of them would change. And one of them did.”
Scarlett nodded, understanding. “Number four.”
“Lizzy Thompkins,” he corrected. “She’s a werewolf now. Or will be in two days, I guess.” He looked at her over the bodies. “How ironclad is the timeline? Any chance she won’t change for this moon?” They were closing in on Henry Remus, but he wasn’t sure they could find the guy by the following night. If they had even a few more days . . .
But Scarlett shook her head. “The shift takes two days to complete, but it’s different if there’s a full moon in those two days. Easier for them, actually.” She looked down at the women, and for a moment Jesse thought he saw sorrow on her face. But all she said was, “We have to clean this up.”
Jesse looked at her, the just-cooled rage building pressure in his chest again. “That’s what you have to say?” he demanded, not bothering to keep the fury out of his voice. “We have to clean this up? These were people!”
“Do you get this upset about every murder you work?” Scarlett said, ice in her voice. “I’m amazed you have enough energy left to get up in the morning.”
“This is different. You know this is different,” he spat.
“Don’t snap at me, Jesse,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I’m not the bad guy here.”
“That’s right, I forgot,” Jesse said angrily. “You’re the bad guy’s cleaning lady.”
Tears spilled down Scarlett’s cheeks, but when she spoke her voice was steady. “I can’t do my job if I let it—”
“Your job?” Jesse yelled. “Do you think I give a fuck about your job right now? Or my job, for that matter? Do you think I’m still in this for a promotion?”
Scarlett flinched. “You know why we do this. You know why people can’t find out.”
Jesse clenched his fists. He was working so hard to keep his voice below a scream. “Bullshit. We were so close. If we’d had the resources, we could have been faster, we could have warned these women. We could have prevented this.”
Scarlett looked skeptical, and he felt a wave of irritation with her. She was keeping her eyes on him, and he suddenly wanted to grab her head and force her eyes downward, like a puppy that’s had an accident. Instead he pointed at Samantha Wheaton. “She couldn’t stand the sight of blood, Scarlett. How do you think the last day has gone for her?” Scarlett trembled, but still kept his gaze, so he pointed down at Ruanna Martinez. “And she has three kids at home, and no husband. Two boys and a girl who get to spend the rest of their lives without parents now.” Scarlett stubbornly kept her eyes on his. He could hardly make out the green through her tears, but he kept going. “How’s that working for you, Scarlett?”