“I’ve never seen a place trashed this badly in my entire career,” Ray said smugly. He stood just behind me once again, peering over my shoulder at the wreckage.
I ignored him and scooted my bags inside the door with my foot, displacing debris as I went. Then I started to pick my way around the room. The police had dusted for prints and there was residue everywhere. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t going to find any suspicious fingerprints. I rarely entertained.
I headed straight across the room to the sliding glass doors that led out to my tiny balcony. Sheets of plywood stood in place of the glass. Huge shards of broken glass scattered the floor inside, right by the opening. Yeah, Marcy.
I unlatched the doorframe and slid it open. It still worked, which was surprising. I must have hit it cleanly, since only the glass had shattered. The frame was intact.
I stepped onto my small balcony.
I’d chosen to come out here first for two reasons. One, because that’s what Ray would expect me to do. A good cop investigates the entry point of the crime scene first, and even though Ray was not buying my camping story, I still believed he thought this was a true break-in. A break-in I had something to do with, but still a break-in. I also believed Ray thought I’d been home when the attackers came, and had sub-sequently fled, thereby leaving behind my much-needed keys and purse.
The second reason? I wanted to see if any incriminating evidence lingered so I could try and get rid of it quickly.
Ray stepped onto the balcony with me, crowding us both. “Hannon,” he said. “There was a car in the parking lot with significant damage to the roof. It was all scratched up with what appeared to be … claw marks. The diameter and size matched the gouges all over your floor exactly. It’s like they threw their fucking dog off the balcony when they were done. Except there was no blood. We should’ve been scraping a dead carcass off that roof.” He managed to sound accusing, like I’d been there to witness the dog-throwing. “But the techies told me a regular canine wouldn’t be heavy enough to inflict that kind of damage. The mutt would’ve had to be attached to a boulder to crush it that far in. The steel frame warped.”
“Hmm. I didn’t hear about a car being wrecked,” I said in a distracted tone. I was casually examining the top of my railing for gouges. There should be some there, which would give some legitimacy to an animal launching itself off of here, but there were none. Marcy had swept the entire balcony.
“We also found evidence of grappling-hook marks and some rope, but not a single person in the whole building saw anyone shimmying up or down three stories. Pretty strange, don’t you think?”
“Yep. Strange.” I turned and headed back into my apartment, sidestepping a large pile of broken things on the way in. “It’s a mystery. You’d think at least one person would’ve spotted a body climbing up or down three stories.”
“That begs the question: how in the hell did they get their pet in here if they climbed a fucking rope? Now that would be a great circus act if you ask me.”
“Maybe there were two people. One who shimmied up and unlocked the door for the waiting dog owner,” I suggested winningly. I might as well go along with the probable scenario like a good P.I., since there was no arguing that an animal had been in my apartment. I had no idea what the fur samples would come back as, but I was hoping for “undetermined species.” Having it come back as wolf would be a pain in the ass, and would raise more questions than it answered. The human police would never in a million years think “werewolf,” but it was best not to raise any complicated questions.
“Crash like that”—Ray indicated back to my shattered sliding glass door—“is bound to bring your neighbors over in a hurry. Not much chance to open the door for an accomplice, and then still have time to trash it all up like this.”
Without answering, I headed toward my bedroom. I passed my galley kitchen on the left, the only place my wolf hadn’t entered. The small space had been spared because my wolf had ignored it in favor of getting out of the apartment. I loved my tiny kitchen. It was clean and white, with black granite countertops and small stainless steel appliances. It had a large breakfast nook cut into my living room, set with a countertop, which gave the space a larger feel.
I stepped over what was left of a table in the hallway, all the knickknacks that used to sit on it destroyed. I maneuvered around some of the bigger pieces as I edged closer to my bedroom door, which was shut.
I held my breath and turned the knob.
Ray lurked behind me, taking every opportunity to size up my reactions.