Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1, Jaime Johnesee [i have read the book txt] 📗

shit and it pisses me off that there are people who would kill me because of it." I took a deep shuddering breath and did my best to calm down.

I needed to run, my jaguar was so close to shifting again that anything could set her off. Too much stress always made me a little … well, shifty. Tonight, I would let her go. I'd give her free run on my land, surrounded—blessedly—by a large cement wall the original owners had put there. All twenty-six acres (twenty-five and 3/4, if you want to be technical) were walled in. I knew when I ran I couldn't climb them, even if I wanted to, because of how high they were.

The folks who started the orchard had slaves and this wall had been their way to prevent them from escaping. There had been a few diaries that came with the property explaining the history and telling the story of the land. It wasn't as horrible as I had been prepared for, but it still was quite sickening.

The Garretts were known as kind people in their day. Maybe it's just me, but I find those who didn't treat people as nothing more than workhorses a helluva lot kinder. Though, in those days, folks were considered kind if they kept families together. The Garretts did that and even paid their slaves some wages. Granted, they didn't pay much, but the fact they paid at all set them slightly apart from others.

There was a small group of houses on the property where the slaves lived that actually had proper stoves for heating as well as for cooking. Many of these cottages had fallen into ruin, but there were two that had been well preserved through the years. One contained a small diary that belonged to a young girl who had been sold to the Garretts by her uncle.

She talked about how her new owners had brought in professors to teach the slaves to read and write. My heart hurt to read it. I have always been of the opinion that human beings can't possibly own one another.

I hadn't learned about the past of my house until after the papers were signed. I don't know if I would have bought it if I had known everything prior to purchase. I still love my land, and my home, but I don't like that it was built on the backs of slaves. No matter how well treated they were for the time period they were still not treated as people.

Slavery is a very dark stain on the soul of humanity. Sadly, it's a stain that is still spreading to this day. Taking down sex slave rings had been something I'd helped with from time to time. Talk about heartbreaking work, seeing people shattered on a day to day basis wears on you. The agents that worked human trafficking day in and day out tended to burn out quick. There's only so much evil one can encounter before it starts to eat at your soul.

I'd been so lost in my thoughts I was only brought back into the case in front of me by Gerry's grunt.

"That's interesting." He squinted at the report and handed it to Quinn, pointing at a section.

I peeked over Q's shoulder.

"Does that say they were all drugged first?" Gerry asked him.

"Rohypnol. He may hate them, but there are drugs out there he could have used that would have made them pliable without rendering them nearly unconscious. It doesn't make sense."

"He didn't want to kill them but felt that he had to. Remember what Josh said he told the priest?" The answer hit me and I felt the need to blurt.

"What'd he say?" Gerry asked.

"Grisly told the priest he was a warrior of God and only doing what God wanted him to do." I really think I understood what made Grisly kill these women.

"And?"

"Don't you see, Q? He thinks he is an agent of the Lord, and as such he wants to slay the evil doers with mercy and love in his heart."

"So he's knocking them out before he tears them into pieces?"

"He's been feeding them, too," Gerry said quietly.

"What?" I felt even sicker than I had before.

"Stomach contents ... well, food that hadn't been completely processed in amongst the other, uh, bits, include steak, redskin potatoes, and carrots.”

Understanding hit and Quinn’s face turned ashen. “Jesus, he’s giving them a last meal."

“Yeah, it happens. What’s the big deal?” Gerry looked just as confused as me.

"He's administering last rites."

"Huh?" I turned to Quinn for an explanation.

"He’s giving them the same sort of chance for redemption that we give prisoners here in Alabama, as well as in other death penalty states. He doesn't just think he's saving the world, he thinks he is judge, jury, and executioner."

"How does he know they're lycans? How can he tell? I mean I can smell another shifter or a vampire, but how can he—” I broke off when I realized what we had missed.

We'd been thinking about how much he hated supernatural beings, but we hadn't stopped to think why.

"Sam, what's the matter?" Gerry looked at me but I couldn't speak.

Thoughts were whirling in my head and I had to get them straight before I could bring them up.

"Give her a second, Chief, she's thinking. See the smoke pouring out of her ears?"

If I could have stuck my tongue out I would have, but I was too busy with my thought train.

If Grisly's vics were all lycans or vampires that would mean he either could smell it on them or he followed them around and waited for them to shift. A shifter could go weeks without changing; a vamp could go even longer.

"We need to find out if all his vics are supers, ASAP," I fairly shouted.

Supers is a blanket term we sometimes used for all supernatural creatures, aka non-humans.

"Okay, I'll call Josh. Why?"

"If he’s killing hookers, how does he know they're supers? He could have followed them for weeks before killing them,