Bear Meets Bride (Online Shifter Dating Agency Romance) by Sasha Winter
Authors: Sasha Winter
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for suggestions. The phone rang, and as soon as Tom heard the tone of Jake’s voice on the other end, he knew that the distraction Erin had so superbly provided had nevertheless come to an end.
He had expected to hear more from the case of course, but was dismayed that it was so soon after the last body. The rate of attacks were now accelerating.
There was already a fourth victim.
***
“This bastard’s going to attack again very soon,” Jake said, addressing the assembled officers and giving one of his motivational speeches. “I’m sure of it if we don’t get him—if not, presume he is going to anyway. Perhaps making enough police noise around Cold Lake and any roads coming to and from might be enough to put him off if we don’t get him straightaway. Make him cautious I mean, which also means this one’s no longer under wraps, it’s going to the press, which means all manner of nasty speculation about bear shifters. There will be a state-wide curfew on any bears shifting, or going outside in bear form this evening, which means that any sightings of bears away from areas they’re supposed to be will need to be tracked down and taken seriously. So be prepared! All right, let’s go and find this site.”
The fourth kill—and by the shock of the poor individual who had reported it, it was another ferocious attack without doubt—was a little away from the road this time, meaning the team had to negotiate a few woodland footpaths in order to reach the body. Regardless of whether it might turn out to be a coincidental attack by a wild bear (something Tom wasn’t even bothering to hope for) there would be enough doubt to suppose they had now recorded a fourth victim—and two in the same week.
If the last kill had felt goading, then this next one spoke of confidence. There had been rangers out on the paths with guns, but it was virtually impossible to zero in on a certain individual who might be a bear shifter without even worse complications. Bear shifters tended to have hairier chests and broader shoulders than the average man—but that didn’t mean there was a complete lack of thick-set truckers and ranchers active throughout all parts of Montana. All it would take was for one person with a gun to start getting too suspicious or trigger-happy, and they would also have friendly fire on their hands, especially as everyone was a potential victim. So far four healthy men were dead, which meant a far more fearsome serial killer than the typical coward who waited to strike on vulnerable women or children.
Supposedly, the crime scene was out in the open somewhere, but in order to get there the team had to take the right path through thick woodland—unless they wanted to climb up a mountain and descend from there, which was what the man who reported the find had done. That man was in too much shock to return to the scene at all and would probably need therapy, so they were relying on directions only, and after half an hour, they came to the realization that they were lost.
“This is no good,” Jake said, taking out his cell phone and searching for a number. “We’ll be a laughing stock. Here, Tom…do the honors.”
The sheriff was referring to the necessary conversation with Nana Morgan, the dispatch officer from whom they would need extra directions. Either Jake had that male ego thing that prevented him from admitting to being lost, or else he thought it amusing to make Tom converse with his ex-girlfriend. Tom rolled his eyes on taking the cell phone but didn’t really mind; Nana was easy to talk to and renowned for being a cool head in a crisis. In her own way, she was as respected as Jake, though in a less visible role. Nana was the person to go to whenever you needed someone level-headed, having worked with a diverse range of community services and people in her central role.
She was the brains behind the brawn, and as the only bear shifter cop, Tom had initially been attracted to her ability
He had expected to hear more from the case of course, but was dismayed that it was so soon after the last body. The rate of attacks were now accelerating.
There was already a fourth victim.
***
“This bastard’s going to attack again very soon,” Jake said, addressing the assembled officers and giving one of his motivational speeches. “I’m sure of it if we don’t get him—if not, presume he is going to anyway. Perhaps making enough police noise around Cold Lake and any roads coming to and from might be enough to put him off if we don’t get him straightaway. Make him cautious I mean, which also means this one’s no longer under wraps, it’s going to the press, which means all manner of nasty speculation about bear shifters. There will be a state-wide curfew on any bears shifting, or going outside in bear form this evening, which means that any sightings of bears away from areas they’re supposed to be will need to be tracked down and taken seriously. So be prepared! All right, let’s go and find this site.”
The fourth kill—and by the shock of the poor individual who had reported it, it was another ferocious attack without doubt—was a little away from the road this time, meaning the team had to negotiate a few woodland footpaths in order to reach the body. Regardless of whether it might turn out to be a coincidental attack by a wild bear (something Tom wasn’t even bothering to hope for) there would be enough doubt to suppose they had now recorded a fourth victim—and two in the same week.
If the last kill had felt goading, then this next one spoke of confidence. There had been rangers out on the paths with guns, but it was virtually impossible to zero in on a certain individual who might be a bear shifter without even worse complications. Bear shifters tended to have hairier chests and broader shoulders than the average man—but that didn’t mean there was a complete lack of thick-set truckers and ranchers active throughout all parts of Montana. All it would take was for one person with a gun to start getting too suspicious or trigger-happy, and they would also have friendly fire on their hands, especially as everyone was a potential victim. So far four healthy men were dead, which meant a far more fearsome serial killer than the typical coward who waited to strike on vulnerable women or children.
Supposedly, the crime scene was out in the open somewhere, but in order to get there the team had to take the right path through thick woodland—unless they wanted to climb up a mountain and descend from there, which was what the man who reported the find had done. That man was in too much shock to return to the scene at all and would probably need therapy, so they were relying on directions only, and after half an hour, they came to the realization that they were lost.
“This is no good,” Jake said, taking out his cell phone and searching for a number. “We’ll be a laughing stock. Here, Tom…do the honors.”
The sheriff was referring to the necessary conversation with Nana Morgan, the dispatch officer from whom they would need extra directions. Either Jake had that male ego thing that prevented him from admitting to being lost, or else he thought it amusing to make Tom converse with his ex-girlfriend. Tom rolled his eyes on taking the cell phone but didn’t really mind; Nana was easy to talk to and renowned for being a cool head in a crisis. In her own way, she was as respected as Jake, though in a less visible role. Nana was the person to go to whenever you needed someone level-headed, having worked with a diverse range of community services and people in her central role.
She was the brains behind the brawn, and as the only bear shifter cop, Tom had initially been attracted to her ability
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