Crime Scene Investigators
Chase Nygaard’s POV
Arrowhead Pack Clinic
“Help me get dressed and take me back to the house,” Frank said. “I need to be there when the investigators arrive.”
“You need to rest, Frank,” I replied.
“Then carry me back in the stretcher. Hurry up; I’d rather go through the tunnel than be carried outside in this shit.”
“Fine. We’ll dress you later,” I said as I got up. I didn’t want to go outside either, and we couldn’t use the tunnels with the police around. “Keith, grab the stretcher. Possum, toss the used instruments and scrubs into a bag and bring it along, but keep the stuff we removed in the bowl, it’s evidence. I don’t need them knowing about this clinic. Everyone else, if you were involved in the attack, go to my house to give your statements. If not, go home or someone else’s home.”
“What do we say?”
“The truth, at least most of it. Don’t mention all the werewolves that ran to help. We’ve got enough to explain with two dead ones in the kitchen and one brave dog upstairs.”
Keith came back in, and we lifted him onto the metal-framed litter. I covered him with a blanket, then we carefully strapped him in and walked out with Colletta with us. “Wait, I shot some people and killed one man in wolf form,” she said. “If the two wolves are dead in the kitchen, how do I explain that?”
“I’ll take care of it.” I searched for the right couple in the link and opened it up. “Warrior Tom, since you came in behind the attackers and shot men in the stairway, you’ll need to be in the house as a witness with your rifle. Guard the tunnel door. Meghan, I need you to go to the Alpha home immediately in wolf form. In the back stairway, rub your face a little on the blood of the man whose throat is ripped out, then wait with the children in my bedroom. You are not to shift back while the police are here.”
“We’re both here, Alpha. I will have Meghan shift and put her clothes in the laundry.”
I had another thought. “Tom, make sure the mudroom has dog bowls and food down, there are supplies in the cabinet next to the garage door.” We had to keep up appearances with humans around, plus we had our ‘security dog business’, so we always had the props when needed.
I reached out for another. “Warrior Lance, you are not to reveal you were in the house during the attack. You’re there now to protect my wife and children.”
“Understood, Alpha.” We would limit the witnesses of the fighting to family. Frank, Colletta, the dogs and I were all taking credit for kills, while Keith’s story was that he was protecting Coral, Rori, and the babies in our room. They didn’t see any action, so they wouldn’t have to lie. Use the truth when you could, and base your lies in the truth when you can’t, my Dad had taught me. The more lies you use, the more difficult it is to keep the story straight.
We reached the stairway. “I’m having Meghan become the dog that attacked him; she’s small enough, and I’d rather not have her in her human form and photographed.”
“Why not,” Frank asked.
“She’s the one who went into the hospital and got Harleigh out. The police officer had a sketch done, and it’s too close for comfort.” I looked at him as we opened the tunnel door. “I’m trusting you with our lives because you provide good counsel and you’re important to my mother,” I said. “Please be careful with what you say, or people will die.”
“I think my head is reeling more from the things I’ve learned in the past few hours than from the knock on the head I took,” he said. “Your secrets are safe with me. I’m retiring, remember?”
“No residual commitment to the DEA?”
“I have friends there and elsewhere, not that it helped. They tossed me out and used me as bait, just as much as they used you. I came closer to dying today than in my thirty years with the Agency, Chase. I’m certain I’m not going to get any help from that Task Force.” I had to agree.
We made it to my basement and closed the tunnel door, making sure it and the panel wouldn’t be visible in a search. “Where to,” Keith asked.
“Dining room. We can put him face down on the table,” I said as we went up the stairs. Colletta ran into the closet downstairs, grabbing one of the folding sleep pads we used for movie nights, blankets, and a pillow. She made up a bed for him, and we carefully moved him onto it. She covered his naked, bandaged body with a white sheet and blanket, then sat in a chair holding his hand. She was wearing a scrub top, her bandaged arm visible in her lap. I stashed the stretcher under the table.
“How are you explaining the pistol that Vicki used before she went wolf,” Frank asked.
“Shit.” She had tossed it into the living room before shifting; we’d tossed her clothes out, but hadn’t touched the gun. “I got it.” I went over to the World War II vintage Colt 1911, grabbing it and cycling the action so my fingerprints would be on it, then tossed it back to the ground. “Anything else to think of?”
“Alpha, we’re in the driveway,” the guard said.
“Show them in.” The attackers had come in through the door off the kitchen, so the main entrance wasn’t part of the crime scene. I moved to the front door, still dressed in my scrubs and socks. I opened the door to two uniformed officers and two men in suits. “Come on in, Deputies,” I said as I held the door open. “Chase Nygaard, welcome to my home. Sorry about the mess.”
“Jesus, you weren’t kidding,” the man in the suit said as he looked past me into the kitchen and the main stairway. “Detective Sergeant Sven Thomasson,” he said. “Detective Miller, Deputy Andersen, and Deputy Cooper.”
We shook hands, and I showed them where they could hang their coats. “Crime scene booties, please,” Sven said as they took off the heavy winter parkas and hats. “Who else is home with you,” he asked.
“My mother is in the dining room with DEA Director Frank Grimes; both of them got hurt in the attack, and I’ve patched them up.”
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“No, they’ve been stabilized and do not require hospitalization. My wife and two babies, my sister, her husband and baby, our nanny, and one of my security men are all upstairs in our bedroom. Tom Nichols is downstairs sleeping; he ran over here and killed the last attacker. I’ve asked anyone who was not involved in the fighting to stay away.”
“I’d like to move them to another neighbor’s house,” he said.
“Listen, so would I, but there are only two ways to get upstairs, and both are full of blood and bodies,” I said. “I didn’t want the ladies to see that, and there are three babies we have to deal with.”
“We’re going to need statements from them. I guess they can stay put until we can clear a path.”
“Let me show you.” I walked towards the kitchen. “I was up before six, working in my office down the hall. I heard a shout from upstairs followed by a door being kicked in. Our dogs were barking, and I grabbed my pistol and ran towards the kitchen.” We reached a point you could see where the two dead ‘dogs’ and one dead Son was; the floor covered in blood. “I emptied my pistol, but I don’t know if I hit anything. I ran back upstairs to my bedroom; the dogs held them off long enough for me to get away. I didn’t see anything after that.”
“Damn.” We stopped by Frank and Colletta. “You two all right,” Sven asked.
“Went right through,” Colletta said as she showed her bandaged arm. “He was the one who didn’t get out of the way of the grenades in time.”
“Yeah, at least three of them,” I said. “That bowl on the side table has all the stuff I pulled out of Frank’s backside and legs. The main stairway is there, and the back stairs are through the kitchen.”
“Miller, you and Cooper start processing the kitchen. Andersen, with me. Sir, please stay here with your family.”
“Of course, Detective.” I took a chair next to my Mom as they pulled out cameras and started taking pictures. “He’s going to freak when he gets to the damage upstairs,” I sent to my family.
“Those guys are lucky they are dead with what they did to my house,” Rori answered. “Thanks, Mom. I can’t imagine what would have happened if they had made it upstairs.”
“I love you, Rori, I’d never let anything happen to you. Frank did just as much, without the same reasons.”
“I can see why you’re smitten with him. I find it hard to dislike him, even if he’s sleeping with my MOM in my own house,” I replied.
“We weren’t doing a lot of sleeping,” Mom teased.
“He’s knocking on our door,” Rori said.
Twenty minutes later, Detective Thomasson came back down to talk to me. “This isn’t a normal situation, with your wounded and the babies. I think it would be best if everyone stays where they are until we can get the Coroner here so we can remove the bodies.”
I thought about it. “My family upstairs is going to need to eat, since the attack happened before breakfast. If I have some food brought over, can you get it up to them?”
“That would be best, sir. I can’t have people walking through my crime scene. Your wife and the others told me they are doing fine; they have the bedroom, bath, and nursery for the babies. Do you have a bathroom you can use?”
“Yes, down the hall by my office. You can move around, but stay clear of the kitchen and the stairways.”
He moved off, and I used the time to move one of our wing-back chairs into the dining room so Mom could be comfortable sitting with Frank. “Honey, can I have my phone please?”
He took it, looked through his contact list and called a number. “Good morning, this is Frank Grimes. I’d like to speak to Mr. Washington, please.” Washington? Rufus Washington, the Homeland Security Director? “No, I do not have an appointment, but I am calling because I need to meet with him urgently.” I couldn’t quite hear the woman on the other end. “I understand.” He gave her his number and hung up. “I guess we’ll see if I’m untouchable now, even for a guy I went to school with.”
“Is he the one we can talk to?”
“Better him than CIA. He can get people in the room who can make decisions, even the President if we need it.”
I set another chair by Mom’s, then went to turn the television so we could all see it. I was curious how the attack on our home would play, and after tuning to the news, I didn’t have to wait long. The attractive blonde anchor appeared over a crawl that said, “DECAPITATION HORROR.” “Stunning updates in the continuing story of the violent drug gang the Sons of Tezcatlipoca. Sources within Law Enforcement confirm that the heads of sixteen men were found hanging from the Border Fence east of San Diego last night. We have received photographs, but they are not suitable for broadcast. We can say that the victims have been identified; fifteen are Sons of Tezcatlipoca Chapter Presidents, the last the US President. Authorities do not have any leads on how the men, all on the FBI Most Wanted list, were killed, but Cartel activity is suspected. The Sons of Tezcatlipoca are linked to the Sinaloa Cartel, which is in a long-running war with the Tijuana Cartel. Informed speculation is that the brutal executions are part of the continuing turf war.”
“Holy shit,” Frank said.
“In related news, only hours after the heads were left for Border Patrol to discover, the Sons of Tezcatlipoca struck two thousand miles away in northern Minnesota. Sources say that heavily armed members of the Sons attacked the lake home of Steel Brotherhood member Chase Nygaard and his wife, Rori King. The couple is shown here in footage taken at the Orlando clubhouse memorial service. Reports are that two people died and two more were injured in the defending the family from the attackers. Six members of the Sons of Tezcatlipoca Los Angeles chapter died in the attack, one of whom was holding a retired couple hostage in a neighboring home. The search for fugitive members of this gang continues.”
My phone started blowing up with calls before they went to commercial, along with text messages. “Did you see the news,” I asked Rori.
“We turned it on after the text messages and phone calls started,” she said. “The Ladies are worried.”
“Send out a group text, let them know we’re all right. The last thing we need is for the Brotherhood to come rolling in on us.”
I looked at my phone, it was Mongo. I had to take this one.