Alpha Micah Black: Homecoming

Chapter 9

“We need an ambulance sent to the alley between 5698 and 5696 Hill Street,” Kyle radioed into dispatch. I gently laid the young POI on the ground. A small, frustrated grunt escaped my mouth. How could I have done something so stupid? I knew better.

George led Emogene Lawrence, handcuffed, to a cruiser and then made his way over to me. Kyle knelt beside the passed-out POI, looking for any signs of life.

“Mike…,” George gently uttered.

I shook my head no. My worst fear came true–becoming the cliche I fought against since coming to Wolfdale City. Those damned horror movies! I needed to clear my head and I can’t do it here. There’s too much going on. I can't focus.

“Are you okay?” I heard George ask Kyle as I turned to leave the scene.

“Sergeant…” a voice called out.

Ignoring it, I continued walking away. However, my training keeps me lingering around. Detective Officer George Harper eased my mind, taking charge of the scene.

“Officer Reynolds, send another officer to ride with this POI. I need you to come with me.”

“Yes, sir. I’m on it,” Kyle quickly responded to the command. He was quick in finding his replacement. “Now what?” he asked.

“We need to find Dylan Blackwater…” George answered. I couldn’t hear anything else. They headed in the opposite direction of my hiding spot.

Sometime later

Yeah, so I lost track of the time. Remorsefully, I meandered the back streets of Wolfdale City. I shoved my badge into a pocket. It wouldn’t surprise me if Chief Edwards asks for it back. I kicked a crushed soda can into the side of a building. The clang echoed loudly in the darkness. Why does the smallest noise always get amplified at night? I can’t even wallow in my pity in silence.

A semi-dark silhouette peered out from behind a dumpster. The form had a familiarity with it.

“Oren?” I whispered in its direction. The figure didn’t answer, but quickly headed toward another alley. Asshole. “Roger! Wait up,” I hollered out to the figure. But it only ignored me and darted in another direction. Out of instinct, I chased after it. Hell, if this figure was Roger, he’s moving a lot quicker than I remember! In one alley, it allowed me to get within 100 feet of it before darting off again. He’s still the pain in the ass.

On and on, throughout the back streets, the mysterious figure and I played an odd game of chase. I’m nearly certain we’ve circled the same buildings a few times. Eventually, the 48-hour shift caught up with me. My body needed to stop and rest. Heaving to catch my breath, the figure taunted me to follow it a little further.

“C’mon, Roge… This isn’t funny… Let’s stop and talk,” I tried reasoning with it, in between breaths. But nope, it kept going and my stubborn ass kept following the figure. Without paying much attention to my surroundings, hey, my focus was on the figure. I somehow ended up behind The Broken Badger.

I vaguely remember being here. I saw two dark-colored SUVs pulled up at the back entrance. Some cardboard boxes sat behind one. The soft light from the back office glowed out into the alley whenever the door would open. Two big burly men helped with the boxes. One I recognized–Dylan Blackwater, my cousin. The other one, I wasn’t sure of. They loaded the boxes into the SUVs and then she came out of the office. A delicious scent of orange blossoms, soft musk, and ginger wafted toward me. My wolf whimpered. She’s not our mate. Her eyes were red and puffy. She’d been crying. The tightness came again, as it always does with that she-wolf. A lone tear escaped my eye and disappeared into my facial scruff.

My exhaustion finally caught up with me. Ungracefully, I fell, which seems to be my specialty, behind some boxes filled with old newspapers. The one on top had an article on multiple arrests for those involved in the Grimm Reaper's serial killings. One name of the people arrested was ex-police detective Cassidy Peterson–my partner. Before I could stop it, sleep overwhelmed me and took over.

11:04 AM, February 27th, 1313 J. Butcher Blvd

The morning sunlight shone through a slit in the curtains, aimed at my face. Good thing I’m not a blood-sucker. I’d been a goner. The annoying beam woke me from a troubling dream. I hope those damned nightmares aren’t returning. That she-wolf invaded my dreams. Tossing the blanket off, I realize I’m lying on my couch, still in my work suit. The old newspaper I discovered is on the coffee table with a hand-scribbled note attached to it. It bluntly says:

“You owe me. — D. B.”

Having zero time for my cousin’s high-ass shenanigans, and groaning as I stretched out the aches from my sore body, I headed upstairs toward the bathroom to shower. The wall and clothing my wolf tore up were cleaned up and replaced, I can only assume, by my cousin. A new suit with a regulation necktie laid neatly on the bed I noticed in passing. A faint whiff of orange blossoms, soft musk, and ginger still lingered in my room. f**k it.

12:38 PM, Wolfdale City Police Department, Evidence Lockers

So, after cleaning up and grabbing a quick bite, I snuck into the building and made my way into the evidence lockers. While the location remains a secret, the entrance is situated off the main floor. Does it go up or head down? My lips are sealed. Anyhow, I wanted to check out the reports on the case against my partner, Cass. What the hell happened? Now I understand why Thomas has taken on the parenting responsibilities. That can’t be easy.

They divided the room into sections. Each section dealt with a specific case–robbery, narcotics, homicide, missing persons, and all the cold cases. I quickly made my way over to where they stored the homicide cases. The officer on duty, luckily, wasn’t looking my way. Getting past her was easy-peasy. I quickly entered my code into the locker’s keypad and gained entry. Boxes on boxes filled the deep, heavy-duty shelving units. Rows and rows of shelves I searched.

“Finally…,” I whispered to myself.

I yanked down two of the boxes. One contained reports and the other had some smaller items of interest. I quickly and quietly moved them to the nearest folding table to look through them. Using my wolf's hearing, I paused, listening for the sounds of anyone coming near. So far, so good. I just might pull this off. I took the lid off of the first box and began digging around. I found the report I had filled out. Sitting in the nearest chair, I thumbed through the horrid account. That was a hell of a night. Did Cass really try to eliminate me? Why? The report told of a bullet lodged into a vest I wore. Putting the written report down, I dug louder through the second box until I found it–the bullet-proof vest with the slug embedded within it.

The sound of heavy footsteps quickly made their way toward me. s**t! I didn’t have time to gather the boxes up to put them away. The gate rattled open, and the footsteps were quick to get to where I was.

“Detective Sergeant,” the authoritative voice boomed. “We need to talk.”