Lisa and Debra drove silently to the DA’s office. Lisa struggling mightily to keep her composure, with her being chastised by booth Heather and Dita and with this newest most horrible bit of information she thought it a miracle that she didn’t break down herself.
Solange, Sharon, and Anaya greeted them tearfully in the back. The pack had early on agreed to make Solange’s office their official meeting place on the assumption that if you were looking for werewolves, the office of the District Attorney is not going to be near the top of the list of places to look.
Besides the offices were soundproofed.
“Ebony and Brenda both called,” said Solange dolefully. “They’ll be here shortly.”
“Tell me what happened exactly,” demanded Lisa sharply.
“We showed up at Wendy’s house to welcome her to the pack. After a couple of hours, her pager beeped, and we saw that it was her boss requesting a meeting at eleven thirty. She agreed to go, but told us to go home and get dressed for ‘an interesting night’ as she put it. We followed her to Beaumont Park, keeping our distance, and Wendy and Dan, that’s his name, Dan Ramer, had their meeting.”
“Go on,” encouraged Lisa.
“I should have realized that something was up when I couldn’t hear the conversation. Anyway they talked for a few minutes. I saw him give something to Wendy, and then the conversation got animated. He grabbed her then pulled out a pistol. I immediately called 911 and I saw a police car pulling into the park I saw Dan and Wendy exchange a few words. Before we could do anything Dan shot her like five times in the chest, then shot the police officer through the window before he could leave the car. I called 911 for an ambulance.”
“Let me see your cell phone,” snapped Lisa. Solange did so. “Yeah, you made all the right calls. And you have two missed phone calls in the past fifteen minutes."
Ebony and Brenda walked up. “Okay, we’re all here. Let’s get to the conference room”
“What did you tell the police?”
“Nothing, I called the Sheriff’s department on the anonymous tipline.”
Lisa addressed her sisters. “We know that the Federal Bureau of Investigation and our people have agreed to work together to protect our identities and our way of living. For some reason, they saw fit to break this agreement, or maybe it was Ramer acting alone. I don’t know, but whatever it is, we need to increase our numbers. I have two scared girls at my house, and they need protection. We were planning on going to Ireland as a treat for their first transformations, but we now might send them there as soon as we can get tickets and meet them. Brenda and Sharon!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“How old are Katie and Rachelle? Girls, I’m sorry but we need to expand the pack.”
----------------------------
Dita and Heather lay together soberly on Dita’s bed, staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t get it. We meet Wendy just two days ago, and she’s gone. So why do I feel like I’ve lost a sister I’ve known my entire life,” Heather asked her friend.
“I don’t know, pequeña chica, but I feel the same way. Maybe because…for a few hours she was our sister. She was so nice..she was interested in us, you know? Jesus, six hours ago, I didn’t believe that werewolves existed, now I find that I’m related to one and might be one myself.”
“Uh, Dita?” “Hmmm?”
“When you were angry back there, I mean when you were yelling at her Mom, did you know that your eyes changed color briefly?”
“I really wasn’t in a position to SEE it, no.”
Heather nodded. “Your irises, they kinda faded from that delicious, compelling, bright emerald green you have now to a pale yellow. At least that’s what it looked like from where I was sitting.”
Dita swallowed. “They did, huh? Well, wow…that’s something.” She was silent for several moments. “I love you Heather.”
Heather smiled. “Yeah?”
“I guess we never really know when it might be the last time to say that.”
She was right about that, thought Heather. “I love you too.”
Silent again, hurting inside, they didn’t notice themselves falling asleep holding hands.
------------------------------
Doctor Aaron Van Pelt met the ambulance as it pulled into the hospital.
“What do we have,” he asked.
“Double homicide, Doc, a man and a woman, both in their late 20’s. Happened less than fifteen minutes ago. Five bullets to the chest for the girl, a shot in the throat for the man."
Van Pelt looked the two over. The sheriff’s deputy was gone, his throat torn wide open with a direct shot through the trachea and esophagus, and probably lodging in the spinal column. His brown eyes stared up sightless.
The woman’s eyes were closed. Her FBI jacket had four jagged tears, but no blood. He felt no pulse.
“Get the young man to the mortuary and notify the Sheriff’s department and FBI. I’m taking the girl down to surgery.” Van Pelt sighed. If the ambulance crew was right about the time, there was no way to avoid brain damage in the girl, but at least he might bring her back, keep her alive and allow her family to make a decision.
Van Pelt wheeled Wendy’s body into the first operating room he could reach, lifting her off the gurney to the operating table. He removed her jacket.
“What the hell??” She was wearing a bulletproof vest under her jacket, the front marred by silvery flowers of spent slugs. He removed the vest revealing a light blue Polo shirt with no apparent damage other than a heavy sweat stain. Still no pulse. Bewildered, he searched her body for any signs of traumatic injury, removing a wristwatch and gold necklace.
“Second degree burn on the right wrist, but no other obvious damage. DEFIBRILLATOR NOW!!” He began CPR, two breaths of air into Wendy’s lungs, then compressed her heart. After the thirtieth compression, Van Pelt felt her carotid artery. It was feeble, it was faint, but it was there. He breathed heavily in relief and exhaustion. To the assisting nurses, Van Pelt ordered them: “Get her to ICU, monitor her respiration, and let’s set up a CAT scan. Does she have any immediate family in the area?”
“It was called in by a Solange Durand, we’re guessing a friend.”
“Call her up, let her know that,” he checked for her FBI identification but found none, “our patient is alive but critical.”
Free of silver, Wendy’s body began the process of repairing itself.