Alpha Micah Black: Homecoming

Alpha Micah Black: Homecoming Chapter 1 February 24th, 8:03 AM, Homicide Division Fuck. There it sat, mocking me with its small rectangular shape. The mysterious box taunting me to open it. The contents–unknown. Visions of previous Vulparia (wolfsbane) poisoning flashed through my mind. Shudder. Proceed with caution, Mike. I internally tell myself as tiny beads of sweat form on my brow. The subtle humming and flickering from the fluorescent lights were the only sound or movement in our cramped division. Fear and trepidation hung thick in the small room Wolfdale City Police Department assigned to homicide. My home away from home. My colleagues–Chief Fenton Edwards–my future father-in-law, Captain Carlton Winston, Dr. Noah Davidson–the assistant medical examiner, Patrol Officer Kyle Reynolds, and fellow Detective Isaiah Barton–held their breath waiting for the reveal. Isaiah quickly tossed me a couple of pairs of gloves. After digging it out of my front pocket, my trembling hands fumbled, opening the flaps on the box. Instinctively, I rubbed the stubble on my chin before dumping the contents onto my messy desk. Carelessly placing my knife on my desk. The mysterious object clattered, followed by a letter. And thank The Moon, no wolfsbane-carrying business cards were present. We let out the breaths we were holding, relief washing over us. My life wasn’t in immediate danger. Yay, me. The object in question–a cell phone. The screen had cracks and smudges from dried dirt and possible blood. The case, with the Wolfdale City University logo, also had smudges from dried dirt and possible blood. It would have fingerprints identifying the owner and whoever else handled the phone. The letter included was from Detective Officer Roger Oren, now deceased, explaining how he came into possession of it. His niece, Frankie Harlow, found it. Big surprise. Please note my sarcasm. “Here, Mike. Plunk that phone in here,” Detective Barton stated, holding an evidence bag open for me. “Do you think it’s the missing cell phone from Peter Bryant’s case?” “It could be,” I replied, placing the item inside the plastic bag. “There’s only one way to find out. Send it to Demon and Ray down in forensics and have them analyze it.” “Well, since you two seem to have the situation under control, I’m going to have that talk with Gilbert,” Police Chief Fenton Edwards stated, walking toward the doorway. Doctor Gilbert Jacobson is our head medical examiner. He is usually the first to arrive at a crime scene if a body is found. From quickly deducing the surroundings, he can roughly guess how the victim succumbed to their demise, and tell us if the scene is safe to enter. “Don’t forget to put on your regulation necktie, Sergeant,” Captain Winston ribbed me on his way out the door too. “Yeah, yeah…thanks for the reminder,” I grumbled, pulling out the tie from a drawer. Have I told you how much I hate wearing neckties? I hate wearing these stupid neckties. Okay, moving on... As I fumbled with the stupid tie, Detective George Harper, dressed properly–of course, stood in the doorway, watching my battle with the fabric of terror. “My bet is on the tie,” George joked, taking his seat at his desk. His detective badge and shoes shone under the fluorescent lighting. “Har, har,” I snipped back. “One day, Chief Edwards will get Jabberwocky to let us forego these damned restraints.” “Yeah…one day,” George repeated. Ring…Ring…Ring… “Good morning, Detective Harper speaking. How can I help you?” George spoke into the receiver by rote. “Okay..uh-huh..where’s your location? Okay..got it. Stay calm and someone from PD will be there shortly.” “What’s the call for?” Isaiah Barton inquired. “Some kids found a body near a public playground area,” George answered, grabbing his Glock from its locked box and placing it in his holster. Isaiah and I followed suit. Dr. Noah Davidson quickly dialed Dispatch with the information. He would meet us at the crime scene. We then made our way out of the building and into our assigned SUVs. Another day…another body. Good morning, Wolfdale City. Here we go again. Red and blue lights flashed as sirens blared throughout the streets as we maneuvered the police vehicles toward the destination. The tires sloshed through some melted snow drifts. 11:38 am, Edward Vanguard Elementary School playground When we arrived, patrol officers busied themselves between clearing the scene of children and their parents and roping off the area with the yellow police tape. Abandoned monkey bars and slides stood, weeping with the melting snow. Half-melted snow people and forts stood in various places. Stepping out of our SUV, George and I couldn’t get our official Wolfdale City PD outer jackets on before a group of reporters ambushed us. Each one fought another, trying to get the first scoop. I’m still convinced they have a police scanner readily available. “Who’s the victim?”, one shouted, shoving a digital recorder in my face. “How did the victim die?” another inquired, sticking their microphone in George’s face. There’s an advantage of being an alpha male werewolf and the assigned lead detective. As much as I despise using the “Alpha aura” as it is called, it does have its perks from time to time. Like now. “Look,” I gruffly stated, extruding the natural authority given me, “you have the exact amount of information on this case as we do at this moment. So, if you all would please leave the area, we can get our jobs done. Chief Edwards will inform you of any progress made in the case. Thank you.” My aura worked. The small crowd of reporters made space for George and me to join the other LEOs working the scene. Forensics and the Medical Examiners arrived at the same time. Doctors Gilbert Jacobson and Noah Davidson emerged from their vehicle. George and I lifted the yellow tape to the scene to let them through. “We’ll check out the specific location while you two interview anyone willing to give a statement.” Doc Gilbert Jacobson gave an order. “On it,” George replied. Taking a quick sweep of the witnesses, two figures immediately stood out to me–Thomas Peterson and his son Rocky. Quickly throwing a prayer to the Moon G-ddess, “Please, don’t let it be Rocky who found the body. That kid’s been through hell enough already.” I went over to speak with my ex-partner, Cassidy Peterson’s husband and kid. Damn, this is going to be a hard interview. Taking a deep breath, I began— “Mike, I’m sor…” Thomas Peterson blurted out first, surprising me. I held my hand up, cutting his apology off. This isn’t the time or place for this particular conversation. “Thanks,” I muttered, “but you know the procedures concerning active cases. We can’t discuss this.” “Right…sorry,” he apologized again. Rocky’s demeanor worried me. His face was pale and his eyes were widened from fright. The last time I saw him looking so distraught was during the storm and saving him from Mr. Ugly. My stomach sank. He saw the body. Damn. I’ll need to tread lightly. “Hey, Rocky,” I spoke in the best Uncle Mike voice I could muster. “Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?” He nodded his head and with quivering lips replied, “Uh-huh. I’m scared Uncle Mike.” “I know. I would be too if I found something horrible like that,” I reassured him. “You get scared too, Uncle Mike?” he questioned me, looking surprised by my confession. “Sure…we all do,” I answered, pointing to George, “Even that gruff-looking detective over there gets scared too.” A small smile formed at the corners of Rocky’s mouth. With him calmer, I gently proceeded with my questioning. I knelt at his level and then proceeded with my inquiry. “Can you tell Uncle Mike how you found…” I began but stopped short. The words got stuck in my throat. Hell, these questions are never easy to ask, even though they are the standard questions used at every crime scene. “We were playing…snow fort…me and my dad,” he slowly explained. “I went to find more snow…but…hiccup…I saw…I-I saw…” he stumbled with his words. His lips trembled as he tried to fight back the tears. “You’re doing okay, Rocky,” I gently stated, reassuring him. “Keep going.” “A funny-looking river,” Rocky blurted out the last part then his tears finally let loose. “A river?” I gently pressed for more information. “I saw it too,” Thomas spoke, picking up where Rocky had left off. “It was a bright red color. So, I followed it as far as I could…then I called homicide directly.” Thomas nervously shifted from one foot to the other. His face was pale from recalling the ghastly sight. After jotting everything down in my field notebook, I said, “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy to do.” “Uh-huh,” Rocky uttered, nodding his head while wiping his tears away. “You think a double chocolate hot cocoa might help?” I suggested it to them. ’`Is Tiffeny still selling them?”Thomas inquired, worried lines formed on his brow. “I thought that was only a holiday special the Badger served.” “I’m sure she’ll make an exception this time,” I confidently stated. “Just give her this note and tell her I sent you two.” I quickly jotted down some info and handed the slip of paper to Thomas. “Thanks, Mike,” he mumbled, leading Rocky toward their vehicle. “Take care, you two,” I stated, heading back toward the crime scene. After ducking under the yellow tape, my size seventeen shoes crunched the cold stale snow beneath me. Doc Jacobson waved George and me over to where the victim lay. It was another gruesome sight. Gil and Noah would have their work cut out for them…again. Just like at Roger’s crime scene, puddles of blood were everywhere. Near a large oak tree lay the victim’s body, or what was left of it. Steam rose from the still-warm body. “Watch where you step,” Gilbert reminded George and me. “I haven’t cleared the scene for Demi and Raymond yet.” “You should get them over here now,” I suggested. “Whatever clues we find won’t last long with the next thaw coming.” “Right, send them over,” Doc Jacobson agreed then gave the okay. Detective Officer George Harper waved them through. Demon, Ray, and the rest of the forensics team, slowly and meticulously gathered and documented everything. Their cameras flashed here and there. “Do you have a rough estimate on the TOD*?” George inquired. *Time of Death “Yes…and no,” Noah answered first. “How so?” I pressed for more information. “Well, by the color of the blood, we can assume that the victim died recently,” Doc Jacobson explained. “But for documentation, we can’t lock in on a body temp.” “Why not?” “We usually get the temperature from the liver,” our head medical examiner explained. “And…” I said then let out a frustrated sigh. “There’s no liver,” Dr. Davidson bluntly stated.