Free Awakening the Fire by Ally Shields Page A

aloud without much enthusiasm. As expected, it was unremarkable, until he reached the last item of evidence: twenty-six canine hairs.
    Ari sat up straighter. Dog or werewolf? Angela didn’t own a dog. And given Andreas’s description of the woman at the club, werewolves suddenly seemed a real possibility. She knew DNA tests wouldn’t hold the answer. Wolf and dog hairs were too similar to be distinguished without the follicles: an interesting fact Ari’s forensics instructor would be surprised she remembered. He’d always complained her frequent looks out the window meant she wasn’t paying attention.
    “It doesn’t have to be a wolf,” she cautioned. “Maybe our victim had a dog in the past. Or she has a friend with a dog. Simpson would know.”
    Ryan made the call. Before he disconnected, he’d already given her the thumbs-up. “No dog. Not allowed in the building. I think we have a solid lead. Now what the hell do we do with it? How do we find a werewolf, Ari?”
    “Let me work on that while you follow the drugs.”
    “Works for me. This Fantasy has been popping up all over the city. Heard it creates the illusion of anything you desire. Kind of like an internal virtual reality. Want to experience being a rock star? Want to know what it’s like to date Angelina Jolie? You got it. Anything you can imagine.”
    “Angelina Jolie? Is she what you’d want?” Ari teased. “Your dream date?”
    “What sane guy would turn her down? Hey, if I was into the drug scene, it might tempt me.”
    Ari laughed. “You’re full of surprises. Just think of all those other secret fantasies out there. That translates into cash for the dealers, uber profits. Maybe Angela got in over her head. Or she ripped off a supplier.”
    “That’d get her killed, all right. I’ll dig around. In the meantime,” Ryan said, getting to his feet, “let’s search her apartment again. Before we release the scene, I’d like another shot at finding drugs or drug money. Maybe we missed something.”
     
    * * *
     
     
    They’d been in Angela’s stuffy apartment for almost an hour with little to show for their efforts except a lot of dust bunnies under the bed.
    “She sure had a bunch of face junk.” Ryan was going through Angela’s vanity. “What does this contraption do?” He held up an eyelash curler for Ari’s inspection.
    She pantomimed its use. “Don’t you have sisters?”
    “Nope. Three brothers. None of this girlie paraphernalia.”
    “More used to jock straps and smelly socks, huh? And Playboy mags under the mattress.”
    “What makes you think they’re under the mattress?”
    “Younger brother. You think sisters don’t know these things?” Ari opened another drawer. “She liked expensive lingerie.” She held up a red, lacy gown, tucked it back in, and gave the drawer a shove. It stuck. She yanked it out, and tried again. And again it stuck. This time she took the drawer out and looked in the back. Something was hanging from the top.
    “Now what’s this?” she said, catching Ryan’s attention. She reached in, pulled off two strips of masking tape, and retrieved a solid bundle. No lacy stuff this time. It was a roll of hundred dollar bills.
    Ryan counted twelve hundred. Quite a stash for a girl to keep in her undies drawer, but if she was selling drugs, shouldn’t there be more? Thousands more. And where were the drugs?
    As they talked it over, their elation faded. Finding the roll of cash hadn’t gotten them any closer to a suspect. It raised more unanswered questions. Without anybody left to question, where did they go for the answers?
     

Chapter Nine
     
     
    Sunday morning broke gray and cloudy, foreshadowing the storm about to crack open over their heads. Ari’s first thought was to roll over and catch another hour. But Great-Gran’s words to a sleepy child still played in her head, “Late in bed, early dead.” Not exactly a suitable childhood rhyme, unless you were a Guardian in training.
    As she