Irritation flickered through me. "I thought I was rescuing it. And it wasn't his fish. David said Mr. Ray stole it first."

Eyebrows bunched, Glenn seemed to think it made no difference. "She came in as a wolf," he was saying, his manner professional as his eyes lit on only the bruised and torn parts of her naked body. A small but gorgeous koi tattoo swam in orange and black across a high patch of her upper chest, a permanent sign of her inclusion into the Ray pack. "Standard procedure is to turn them back after the first look. It's easier to find the cause of death on a person than on a wolf."

The smell of dead things in a pine forest was getting to me. It didn't help that I was running on empty. The coffee wasn't sitting well anymore. And I'd known the SOP, having briefly dated a guy who made the charms to force a shift back to human. He was a geek, but he had lots of money—it wasn't an easy job, and no one wanted it.

Jenks was making a cold spot on my neck, and not seeing anything out of the ordinary—other than her being dead and her arm torn to the bone—I murmured, "What am I looking at?"

Nodding, Glenn went to a low drawer at the end of the room and, after checking the tag, pulled it open. "This is a Were suicide that came in last month," he said. "You can see the differences. She would have been cremated by now, but we don't know who she is. Two additional Jane Wolfs came in on the same night, and they're giving them a little extra time."

"They all came in together?" I asked, going over to look.

"No," he said softly, gazing down at her in pity. "There's no connection other than the timing and that none of them can be found in the computer. No one's claimed them, and they don't match any missing-persons report—U.S.-wide."

From my shoulder came Jenks's muffled voice saying, "She don't smell like a Were. She smells like perfume."

I winced when Glenn unzipped the bag to show that the woman's entire side had been ravaged. "Self-inflicted," he said. "They found tissue between her teeth. It's not uncommon, though they're usually a lot less brutal than this and simply open a vein and bleed out. A jogger found her in an alley in Cincinnati. He called the pound." The faint wrinkles around Glenn's eyes deepened with anger. He didn't have to say that the jogger had been human.

Jenks was quiet, and I searched for cool detachment as I examined her. She was tall for a Were, but not overly so. Big up top, with shoulder-length hair that curled gently where it wasn't matted. Pretty. No tattoos that I could see. Mid-thirties? She took care of herself, given the definition. I wondered what had been so bad that she thought the answer was to end it.

Seeing me satisfied, Glenn opened a third drawer. "This one was hit by a car," he said as he unzipped the sturdy bag. "The officer recognized her as being a Were, and she made it to the hospital. They actually had her turned back to treat her, but she died." Creases appeared in his brow as he looked at her damaged body. "Her heart gave out. Right on the table."

I forced my gaze down, flinching at the bruises and skin split by the accident. IV tips were still in her, evidence of the efforts to save her life. Jane Wolf number two had brown hair as well, longer this time, but it curled the same way. She looked the same age and had the same narrow chin. Apart from a scrape on her cheekbone, her face was untouched, and she seemed professional and collected.

Running in front of a car wasn't uncommon, the Were equivalent of a human jumper. Most times they weren't successful, landing under a doctor's care, where they should have been in the first place.

I followed Glenn to a fourth drawer, finding out why Jenks was being so quiet when he gagged and flew to the trash can. "Train," Glenn said simply, his voice soft with regret.

Coffee and lack of sleep were warring in me, but I'd seen a demon slaughter, and this was like dying in your sleep compared to that. I think I was earning points with Glenn as I looked her over, trying not to breathe in the scent of decay the chill of the room couldn't stop. It appeared as if Jane Wolf number three was as tall as the first woman and possessed the same athletic body build. Brown hair to her shoulders. I couldn't tell if she had been pretty or not.

Seeing me nod, Glenn zipped up the bag and shut the drawer, closing all of them on his way back to Vanessa. Not entirely sure why he had wanted me to see this, I trailed behind him.

Jenks's wings were silent as he returned, and I gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't tell Ivy I lost it," he asked, and I nodded. "They all smell the same," he said, and I felt him hold on to my ear for balance as he stood as close as he could to my perfumed neck.

"Jeez, Jenks, they all look the same to me." But I don't think he appreciated my attempt at humor.

Glenn's steps slowed to a halt, and we gazed at Mr. Ray's secretary.

"Those three women were suicides," he said, "the first one dying by self-mutilation, as Mr. Ray's secretary appears to have died. I think she was murdered, then doctored up to mimic suicide."

I glanced at him, wondering if he was looking for ghosts in the fog. Seeing my doubt, he ran a hand over his short, curly hair. "Look at this," he said, leaning over Vanessa and picking up a limp hand. "See?" he said, his dark fingers circling her thin wrist in sharp contrast to her pale skin. "That looks like a bruise caused by restraints. Soft restraints, but restraints. They aren't on the woman who made it to the hospital, and I know they had to tie her down."

Okay. Now I was interested. Maybe Vanessa had been into sex games and it went too far? Leaning forward, I agreed that the soft red ring could have resulted from a restraint, but it was her nails that caught my attention. They had been professionally manicured, but the tips were split and ragged. A woman considering suicide doesn't pay beaucoup bucks to get her nails done, then tear them up before she can end her life properly. "Where was she found?" I asked softly.

Glenn heard my interest and flicked me a grin that quickly sobered. "Under a dock in the Hollows. A tour group spotted her before she could get cold."

Not wanting to be left out, Jenks flew from my shoulder to hover over her. "She smells like a Were," he proclaimed. "And fish. And rubbing alcohol."

Glenn twitched the sheet with which she'd been covered in lieu of a bag all the way off. "Her ankles have pressure marks, too."

My brow furrowed. "So someone held her against her will and then killed her?"

Jenks's wings clattered. "There's a strand of medical tape caught in her teeth."

The breath Glenn had taken to answer me exploded out of him. "You're kidding."

Adrenaline pinged, and feeling woozy, I looked to see. "I'm not trained for this," I said when Glenn took a penlight from his pocket and motioned for me to hold her mouth open. Gingerly I took her jaw in my hands. "I'm not going to take a knife to her and poke around."

"Good." He trained the light on her teeth. "I don't have authorization for that."

The squeak of the double doors pulled my head up. Jenks swore as I let go of Vanessa's jaw, my swinging hand almost smacking him. Tension flashed to fear for an instant as I saw Denon, my old boss from the I.S., standing in the middle of the floor like the king of the dead.

"This is an Inderland matter. You don't have clearance to even look at her," he said, his honey-smooth voice rippling over my spine like water over rocks.

Damn it all to hell, I thought, jerking my fear back. He wasn't my boss anymore. He wasn't anything. But I was too deep underground to tap a line, and I didn't like it.

The low-blood living vampire smiled to show his human teeth, a startling white beside his oh-so-beautiful mahogany skin. Iceman was behind him along with a second living vampire, high-blood this time by his small but sharp canines. The scent of burgers and fries had come in with them, and it looked like Glenn's fifty dollars had bought less time than he'd hoped.