"You can't tell whose saliva that is?" Nic flicked a finger toward the microscope.
"Only if I'd seen it before and I had my notes. But really, what are the odds that one of those I've examined has turned up here?"
"Pretty damn slim," he agreed.
Sure, the werewolves in the basement could be free, but they'd also been locked up when the disappearances began.
"Did the doctor have a bite mark?" I asked.
"No. Which leads me to believe the making of a witchie wolf involves the bite of a werewolf in human form," Nic said. "How about you?"
I contemplated the body, which was still quite visible. "I'm thinking that, too."
"We still don't know why."
"No."
"Maybe Lydia will find a book, and it will explain everything."
"Including how to get rid of them."
"Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Mmm," I murmured, still staring at the doctor. "Do you think he was killed because he was on to something?"
"If the bad guy meant to keep his identity a secret, why leave the evidence behind?"
"We interrupted him." I reached out and plucked the slide from the stage and the notebook from the table. "Just in case."
"Maybe I should send that stuff to the crime lab. Free service for all U.S. law enforcement agencies."
"I don't think so."
"But - "
"Can you imagine what would happen if a government scientist got a gander at the saliva of a werewolf in human form?"
"I doubt he'd know what it was."
"Exactly. So what good would showing him do?"
"None." Nic sighed. "And then we'd have FBI all over the place, asking questions."
"Getting eaten by werewolves they didn't know about."
"Chaos. I see your point."
"We should just handle this on our own as we've been doing."
"Right." Nic glanced at the doctor. "We'll need to get someone to take care of the body. Leaving it here isn't practical."
"Damn," I muttered.
"What's the matter?"
I waved a hand at Dr. Watchry. "I'm not used to this."
"Death?"
No, that I was used to.
"People I've just met, and liked, getting killed the minute I turn my back."
"Oh." Understanding spread across his face. "Happens."
"How do you stand it?"
"By pushing aside useless emotion and focusing on what's important."
"Important?" My voice rose several levels in pitch and volume. "What could be more important than someone's murder?"
"Finding the one who killed them and making them pay."
All the righteous indignation went out of me like the air out of a popped balloon.
"Okay."
Nic smiled. "We'll handle this."
Unspoken was the word together, but I heard it nevertheless.
"Let's find Basil," I said. "Tell him about the doctor's death."
"And ask him about stray Ojibwe warrior graves. I could also use a list of the missing. Any connection between them could give us a clue."
Thoughts like those were why I kept him around.
My gaze wandered over the biceps that stretched the seams of his T-shirt. Among other things.
We locked the clinic behind us - didn't need any citizens stumbling over the body - then headed for the sheriff's office.
The place was still empty. Nic strode over to the desk and started rooting through the paperwork.
"Hey, can you do that?"
"I'm a Fed. I can do anything."
"Thinking like that is usually what gets you guys in trouble."
He ignored me. I had to say I found his take-charge attitude attractive. What didn't I find attractive about him lately?