Chapter Seven

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Nick groaned lightly, turning his face into his pillow.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

A hand shot out from under the blankets, flailing about in search of the source of the noise trying to pull him out of the first restful sleep he'd had in weeks.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Nick's hand smacked against his nightstand before blindly closing around his phone. He pulled it towards him, tugging at the charging cable it was leashed to. Working it free, Nick cracked his eyes open and pressed the green button on the screen before pressing his phone to his ear.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he mumbled, his brain already half way back to sleep.

"Do you?" Hank's voice teased, sounding far too chipper to Nick's ears.

"'m going back to sleep now," Nick slurred.

"Sorry, partner, no can do," Hank replied. "Wu called; we got another victim. I'm on my way out the door right now. I'll text you the address. Is your brother still there with you?"

Nick sat up, slumped forward but vertical. "Yeah."

"I'll call Ruiz and pick him up," Hank said. "Think you can handle wrangling Becker?"

"Yeah." Nick rubbed at gritty eyes.

Hank chuckled. "Up and at 'em, man. See you soon."

Nick thumbed the phone off and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He grimaced at the numbers, automatically calculating the amount of sleep he'd managed to get and not liking the total he was coming up with. Flinging his blankets to the side, Nick dragged himself to his feet.

Shuffling down the hall to his spare room, he knocked on the door and pushed it open. "Matthew?"

The lump under the blankets on the bed shifted slightly. "No. Go 'way."

Nick snorted. "Sorry, Matthew. Hank just called. There's another victim."

The blankets were tugged down, revealing a bird's nest of hair and two bloodshot eyes. "Now?"

"'Fraid so," Nick replied. "I can find some clothes you can borrow if you want, but we've got to get going."

Matthew groaned, shoving the blankets aside. "This guy, whoever he is, has the worst timing."

"You can tell him that when we catch him," Nick assured him. "I'll get the coffee started."

Following a frenetic ten minutes of quick showers and quicker changes of clothes, along with several cups of coffee each, the two Grimms piled into Nick's car and headed for the location that Hank had sent Nick.

Nick fought down the sense of deja vu as he parked his car near the police barricade. Dawn was breaking over the horizon, lighting the sky and stealing away the dramatic red and blue flashes of light. Nick led the way to the uniformed officer holding the perimeter, flashing his badge and ducking under the tape. Matthew was at his side, his expression blank and his eyes hard.

Hank was easy to spot, hunched under his coat to ward against the chill of morning. Hector was standing beside him, gesturing at something in front of them. He said something to Hank, who shook his head in response.

Nick turned his attention to the buildings they were walking towards. Nothing remarkable jumped out at him; Hank had called him to a basic strip mall that included a Chinese takeout, a Family Dollar, and a store with off-brand cell phones for purchase. Nick noted that Hank and Hector stood in front of a liquor store, partially blocking a slumped form from view.

Nick winced as he came to a stop beside Hank. "I don't think the press is going to miss this one."

Without anything substantial blocking the line of sight, it was only a matter of time before the gathering media lucked into the story.

"Good thing the captain had us prepare statements then." Hank folded his arms and shook his head down at the victim. "Think we'll find the connection on this one?"

Nick frowned down at the victim, his eyes staring hard at the frozen expression of terror on the face. In his preoccupation, he didn't notice as Matthew stepped away, conferring privately with Hector.

Hank glanced at his partner. "Nick?"

"I . . . I think I've seen him before," Nick stated. His tone was dubious, but the longer he stared at the face, the more certain he became.

"What?" Hank hissed, glancing sharply at the Marshals. He shifted his stance, blocking Nick from their view with his bulk. "You know this guy?"

"Not exactly." Gray eyes lifted to meet Hank's gaze. "A couple nights ago, I, er . . . I interrupted a mugging in progress." Nick looked back down at the victim. "This guy was the mugger."

Hank planted his hands on his hips. "So he might have a rap sheet, but lined up beside our first two victims? I can't think of anyone completely different from them than a low-level criminal." He fixed a stern look on Nick, lifting one hand to waggle a finger at him. "And don't think I missed the first part of your story. Do we need to have another talk about diving into dangerous situations without backup?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "It was a mugging, Hank, not a drug den raid."

"You say that like you would have done anything different." Hank shifted back to face the victim as Matthew and Hector rejoined them.

"Problem?" Matthew asked, glancing between Nick and Hank astutely.

"No more than usual," Hank replied cryptically. "Looks like this guy is known for petty theft. Might already be in the system."

"A record will help us pull his information faster, but I doubt it'll help much more than that," Hector said. "This guy has no patterns in his selection that we've been able to find, and based on your timeline, it looks like he's escalating.

"Who found him?" Nick asked, nodding at the victim.

"Liquor store clerk." Hector jerked a thumb towards the door nearest them. "Was just locking up for the night when he found the victim. He's still inside."

"Maybe he knows our victim," Nick suggested.

"How are we going to ask him?" Matthew asked. "I can't imagine this guy has any ID on him."

"He doesn't," Hank confirmed.

Nick crouched before the victim and pulled out his phone. He leaned forward slightly, adjusting the height of his phone until just the victim's face filled the screen, then snapped the picture. Standing, he turned to the rest of the group.

"Let's see what he knows," he stated.

The four moved around the body and stepped into the liquor store. The store wasn't very wide, but it stretched back farther than Nick expected. The room was made to feel even more claustrophobic with two rows of shelves cutting the space down even more. Glass bottles of clear and amber liquids gleamed in the growing sunlight.

Sitting behind the counter next to another officer sat a thin, reedy looking man with a chalk-white complexion. To Nick's trained eye, he looked shocked and disgusted but lacked the panicked edge that the other witnesses in their case had. Nick took heart at that observation; hopefully they would be able to get some useful information from him.

Upon their approach, the man looked up and shook his head. "I've been working here for ten years. Seen all kinds of things. Never in my life have I seen anything like that. Never."

"Sir, I'm Detective Burkhardt," Nick said gently. "This is my partner, Detective Hank Griffin." He gestured to Hank, then at Matthew and Hector. "And Marshals Becker and Ruiz. What's your name?"

"P-Paul," the clerk stammered.

Nick nodded. "Paul. Did you notice anything unusual last night? Any unfamiliar customers, someone lurking around, anything like that?"

Paul shook his head. "No, nothing! I mean, I got the usual business for a weekday, but that's all."

"And your customers all behaved normally?" Hank asked.

Paul nodded. "Yeah."

Nick double checked that the victim's face was on his phone screen, then turned and held it up to Paul. "Have you ever seen this man before?"

Paul obediently looked at the screen, then flinched and pulled back. "Oh God! Warn a guy next time, huh?"

"This is important," Nick insisted calmly. "Have you seen him before?"

Paul gingerly glanced at the screen and winced. He appeared to steel himself, then gave the image his full attention.

"Oh my God!" Paul's features suddenly woged into those of a Reinigen before Nick's eyes. "That's Jacob!" He scowled at the picture. "Damn snake he was. Always harassing me and my customers."

His eyes lifted in time to catch Nick's. If it was possible for Paul to pale even more, he managed to do exactly that. His eyes shifted to Matthew and widened even further.

Nick could see the internal panic beginning to set in and he rushed to head it off. "Do you know Jacob's last name?" he asked calmly, pocketing his phone.

Wide eyes returned to him. Paul shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Do you know where he lives?" Nick tried again.

Another terse head shake.

"How about the people he rolls with?" Hank asked.

Paul's eyes fell on Hank, clearly trying to figure out how much he knew about wesen and Grimms. "He . . . he worked alone," he stammered. "I've never seen him with anyone." He lifted a trembling hand to his face, rubbing his forehead wearily. "Honestly, I always knew he would eventually cross the wrong guy one of these days. I just . . ." His face began to take on a distinctly green tinge, and he abruptly pushed past the group and ran to the bathroom near the back of the store.

Nick waved the uniformed cop after him and turned to the others. "Well?"

Hank was scowling. "I can already tell you that between this guy and Holliday that we're going to have a hell of a time finding a connection between them."

Ideas were swirling around in Nick's head, bumping against the facts from the case and forming connections with one another. One conclusion was beginning to make itself known, and it was one that carried a heavy burden with it.

". . . across instances," Hector was saying. "Maybe we can see if we can connect all first victims, or all female victims. Maybe something will jump out."

"I'm game to try," Hank replied. He glanced at his partner. "Nick?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Nick answered. "Actually, I need to make a quick stop before heading into the office." He glanced at Matthew. "I can take you back to the house for your car first."

"Sounds like a plan," Matthew agreed.

The four exited the liquor store and split off for their cars. Nick glanced at Matthew as they climbed into his car.

"Do you have to deal with that too?" he asked, switching the engine on.

"Deal with what?" Matthew asked. "Reinigen?"

"With wesen who freak out when they realize what you are," Nick said. "Who shut down and stop talking to you."

Matthew glanced at Nick as the younger Grimm guided his car back toward his house. "I . . . don't usually spend a lot of time talking to wesen," he finally said.

Nick frowned. "Don't you have witnesses that are wesen?" he asked. "People you need to interview when you're on the job?"

"Maybe?" Matthew said. "Wesen tend to make themselves scarce when they see me coming. Why?"

Nick shrugged, slowing and turning onto his street. "It's just frustrating to be in the middle of interviewing witnesses or victims and having them freak out on me for no reason."

"It's not exactly 'no reason'," Matthew reminded him. "We're Grimms. That's reason enough."

Nick snorted, turning into his driveway and putting his car in park. "You sound like Monroe."

Matthew had been about to open his door but paused at the comment. "Who's Monroe?"

"One of my friends," Nick replied. "One of the ones who've been helping me with all the Grimm stuff."

"Really?" Matthew pushed his door open. "I'd like to meet him, then."

"We can set something up," Nick promised. "See you at the office."

Matthew nodded. "See you there."

He shut the door and trudged to his car as Nick backed out of his driveway.


"Director Hubbard!"

The woman in question paused from unlocking the main doors to the youth center to turn towards the source of the call. Seeing Nick striding towards her, she straightened and smiled brightly.

"Detective Burkhardt, good morning," she greeted. "You're here awfully early this morning."

Nick slowed, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know this is last minute, but I needed to ask you something about Ms. Holliday."

"Of course." Hubbard turned back to the door and finished unlocking it, then pushed it open. "Come on in. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Nick declined, trotting up the steps to join Hubbard. "I won't take up too much of your time."

He followed Hubbard patiently as she switched on the lights and started the coffee before she led him into her office. She gestured towards the chairs before her desk.

"Have you changed your mind about volunteering with us?" she asked, moving to sit behind her desk. She clasped her hands together over the blotter and leaned forward, giving Nick her undivided attention.

"Not exactly," Nick admitted. "I'm afraid there's been another victim."

Alarm and a touch of fear filled Hubbard's expression. "Not one of our kids?"

"No," Nick hurried to reassure her. "No, but I happen to know that he was a Skalengeck, and I wanted to ask you if you knew whether or not Ms. Holliday was also wesen."

The look of puzzlement on Hubbard's face was not what Nick expected.

"You . . . don't know?" she asked cautiously.

"Don't know what?" Nick asked, his instincts on alert.

Hubbard spread her hands out slightly, her palms facing each other. "Everyone assigned here- hires, volunteers, children- we're all wesen."

Nick reared back in surprise. "You are?"

Hubbard nodded, clasping her hands again. "We are," she confirmed. "We've found that it's helpful for us to reform or learn how to work within the constraints of society when there are others around who know how hard it is to do so, especially when that behavior is at war with our true nature. I mentioned during our last conversation that that was how I ended up as the director here. As a teenager, I was assigned to complete community service here. I loved working with everyone here, and when my community service was up, I moved to volunteering, then was hired. I've been with the center ever since."

Nick frowned. "How is that even possible?" he asked. "Just wesen? Is this the only center? How can you ensure that wesen get assigned here?"

"There are two more youth centers in Portland that are also exclusively wesen," Hubbard answered easily. "Our wesen citizens are welcome to go to any youth center in the city, obviously, but those who are required to come are specifically assigned to one of our three."

Nick was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the logistics of such a feat. "How do you work it so the judges all know to do that?"

Hubbard gave him a sly smile. "First of all, we haven't set up this system. The Prince took the efforts of my predecessor in finding wesen youth and helped to organize a better method of catching these kids before they're assigned."

Nick jolted slightly at the mention of Renard and filed that bit of information away to examine later. "What's the second thing?"

"That the judges don't assign the center," Hubbard answered.

At Nick's doubtful look, Hubbard elaborated. "The judges hear the cases and, yes, they assign community service. But the actual center they are assigned to is selected by their clerks. The Prince has managed to recruit, assign, and transfer wesen in law offices in a way so that no matter which judge our kids go before, someone waiting in the wings will make sure to catch them and send them to us."

Nick pondered on that for a long moment. His initial reaction to such blatant manipulation of the system was one of righteous indignation, but his memories of helping Frank Rabe with cases of unfairly targeted wesen cooled that fire somewhat. While he still placed a great deal of faith in the legal system- so much so that he had become a part of it- Nick was slowly beginning to see the gaps in said system; gaps that were being used and taken advantage of by less conscientious people.

Hubbard was waiting patiently as Nick processed what he had been told. Nick looked at her, brows drawn in confusion.

"Wait," he said. "If everyone here is wesen, doesn't that make it a bad idea for me to volunteer? I can't imagine anyone being receptive to that."

"On the contrary," Hubbard replied. "These kids live in a world at war with who they are and who society expects them to be. And just like teenagers everywhere, wesen or not, they cling to their identity and what they've been taught. To see a Grimm who does not behave in the way the stories say they should will go a long way into helping them learn that they don't have to behave the way their history says they should either."

The thought startled Nick, and he assigned the offer more weight for consideration.

"So Ms. Holliday was a wesen, then?" he asked, bringing the conversation back around.

Hubbard nodded. "Yes. Rachel was a Bhari Kadama."

The revelation meant little to Nick.

Hubbard smiled. "Kind of . . . elephant-like. Very protective of children; more so because she couldn't have any of her own." The smile faded, and Hubbard shook her head. "Which makes her death so shocking. Her kind are rare outside of Asia, and her woged form would have been difficult to overcome."

"So she had to have been taken by surprise," Nick concluded.

Hubbard nodded silently in agreement.

Nick leaned forward slightly, pulling out his phone and turning it on. He typed a quick search, then showed her a picture of their first victim. "Have you ever seen this man before?"

Hubbard took the phone and carefully studied the image, then slowly shook her head. "No, I'm sorry," she replied, passing the phone back. "Was he the new victim?"

"He was killed before Ms. Holliday." Nick pocketed his phone. "You said that there are other wesen-only youth centers? Could that be true of other establishments?"

"It's possible," Hubbard answered carefully. "Some lend themselves to that sort of thing more than others. It's far more likely that you may find an all-wesen staff, and a solid mix of wesen and human customers or clientele."

"How can you tell?" Nick asked.

"You mean, aside from the usual way?" Hubbard asked, teasing. "Mostly word of mouth, with wesen finding and sticking to those sorts of businesses. I'm afraid we don't exactly have our own version of Yellow Pages or anything like that."

"Too bad," Nick commiserated with a smile. "That'd definitely make some parts of my job a lot easier." He stood. "Thank you so much for your time."

"It was my pleasure," Hubbard replied warmly. "Please don't hesitate to ask, and I don't just mean for your case. You have been a welcome addition to our community, and we need to look after one another."

Nick's smile was warm and heartfelt. He made his goodbyes and headed for the main entrance, his mind already outlining his next steps.

He reached his car door, pulled it open, and was about to climb inside when he froze. The strange sensation of being watched was an itch creeping up his spine. Carefully, Nick scanned his surroundings in a slow circle, looking for anything out of place. He could find nothing, though the feeling of eyes tracking his moves never left.

Nick glanced at the squad car parked nearby, nodding and waving at the two cops sitting inside. He convinced himself that everything was fine, climbing into his car and starting it.

The odd feeling stayed with him even as he drove away.


The lobby of Portland's South Precinct was packed full of people.

Nick paused just inside the doorway and frowned in confusion. He was immediately knocked aside as the door opened again, admitting a man in an expensive suit carrying a briefcase. The man shoved through the crowd impatiently, earning himself a number of irritated looks and muttered epithets. Curious despite himself, Nick followed after the man, making sure to excuse himself as he went.

The man strode up to the solid oak table that was the cause of the bottleneck. He elbowed another person aside, inserting himself at the head of the line. His briefcase swung up and practically slammed down on the table before him.

"I don't know what you all think you're doing here, but I expect you to take me directly to my client," the man announced pompously.

Nick's eyes moved past the man to the cops behind the table. He was gratified to see Sergeant Higgins in charge of whatever was happening; the twenty-year veteran cop was cool under fire and wouldn't allow anyone to give him the runaround.

Higgins gently nudged a younger uniformed cop aside, subtly gesturing for her to take care of the person who had been shoved aside. He planted himself solidly across from the rude man and gave him a supremely unimpressed look.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but for the safety of the people in this building, we are implementing new procedures." The calm recitation had clearly been given before. "Please take your place in line and we will address your inquiry as soon as possible."

Nick doubted anyone listening in on the conversation would believe that their self-important visitor would leave it at that.

The man in question practically swelled up in his indignation. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Higgins didn't miss a beat. He gestured to a small cluster of people to his left. "Lost IDs are over there."

Titters of amusement passed over the crowd. The man's face turned bright red.

"My name is Bryce Withers," he hissed. "Of Sansom, Withers, and Crest. I sent one of my lawyers down here to handle one of our clients and he was left waiting for over an hour."

"We are moving as fast as we can," Higgins stated tonelessly.

Withers slammed his fist down on the table. "That's not the point!"

Nick tensed, ready to intervene. Several cops nearby did the same, but Higgins didn't react to the show of aggression.

"Sir, we will get you to your client as soon as we can," Higgins stated firmly. "But I don't think you ending up in the holding cell next to your client will do either of you a lot of good."

Withers reared back slightly in shock. He glanced around, taking note of the cops watching him. With a huff and a snarl, Withers grabbed his briefcase, whipped around, and stalked away.

Nick moved up to the table, catching Higgins' eye. "Nice work."

Higgins allowed himself a small smile. "Just par for the course. Come on through."

Nick skirted around the table. "So this is all because of yesterday?" he asked.

Higgins nodded. "Captain Renard worked with us last night on logistics." He gestured to the set up around them. "This all is temporary until we get things shifted around. Cap doesn't want the possibility of a repeat happening in any department."

Nick clapped his hand on Higgins' back. "I'm glad to see you're the one running herd over this crowd. "Catch you later?"

Higgins nodded and moved past Nick, already barking at the next person. Nick chuckled lightly to himself and turned towards his destination when he was shoulder-checked by something blue.

"Come to admire your handiwork?" the blue blur scowled at him, and Nick mentally groaned at the sight of Sergeant Arnold.

"My handiwork?" Nick echoed.

Arnold leaned in closer. "What else would you call eighteen wesen showing up here to challenge the local Grimm?"

His words chilled Nick. He vaguely remembered a warning about that very thing from Frank Rabe- was it really only a few days ago?"

Shaking off his disbelief, Nick lifted his chin, defiance burning in his eyes. "It isn't like I personally challenged them to come for me." His eyes narrowed. "And what would you know about the challenge, anyway?"

Arnold's hand shot out and grabbed Nick's upper arm in a bruising grip. "You listen here, you little-."

Another hand shot out and grabbed Arnold's and pressed expertly on his pressure points. Arnold grunted, reflexively releasing Nick.

Matthew released Arnold's hand and stepped between him and Nick, crowding him so closely that Arnold had no choice but to step back. Matthew kept moving closer until Arnold's back was pressed into the wall behind him.

"Touch him again, Bauerschwein, and you'll lose that hand," the Marshal hissed lowly.

Nick automatically glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but everyone was preoccupied with the gathering crowd at the entrance to the building.

Arnold's entire frame began to tremble, but to his credit he held firm in the face of a second Grimm. "I-I can have you up on charges for assault of a police officer."

Matthew's mouth curled into an anticipatory snarl. "You think that your badge will stop me from putting you in your place?"

Nick moved beside them, placing himself in Matthew's line of sight but taking care not to touch him. He recognized the muscles tightly coiled with energy and knew unexpected or unwanted contact would end badly for him.

"Matthew," he said, pitching his voice low. "Relax. It's not worth the trouble. He's just a bully."

Arnold's face reddened. "Fuck you, Burkhardt!"

Matthew moved closer, not yet touching the wesen but close enough for Matthew to just about feel the Bauerschwein's racing heart.

"Matt," Nick insisted.

The moment stretched out before them. Just as Nick was beginning to worry about having to call for backup, Matthew took a full step back. Arnold's shoulders sagged at the sudden break in tension, but Matthew wasn't quite finished yet.

"I'll be watching you, Schwein," he said, his voice rumbling ominously. "Give me just one reason to believe you haven't learned your lesson and I'll be sure to remind you of just why your ancestors feared mine."

Color drained from Arnold's face. Even Nick felt nervous at the promise of violence in Matthew's tone.

With a final challenging look, Matthew turned and strode in the direction of the Homicide department. Nick hurried after him.

Matthew had paused by a vacant desk and was lifting a cardboard tray of coffee cups off of it by the time Nick caught up to him. "You didn't have to do that."

The older Grimm's outward appearance was entirely unruffled, but Nick could clearly see the simmering fury still glinting in his eyes. "Someone had to. He clearly doesn't recognize where he and his kind fall on the food chain." His eyes narrowed slightly at Nick. "And it didn't look like you were in a hurry to remind him."

Nick bristled at the slight. "He already knows I'm a Grimm. He doesn't care."

Matthew glanced around, then leaned closer. "That's the problem. He doesn't care because you haven't shown him why he should." Leaning back, he sighed. "Look, it's not your fault. You weren't properly trained or prepared for any of this." He raised his eyes heavenward. "I have no idea what the hell Marie was thinking," he dropped his gaze back down to Nick, "but I'm here now. I'll take care of it. You'll be a fully-trained, proper Grimm in no time."

Nick couldn't entirely bite back his scowl. He knew he was lacking in his expertise as a Grimm, and he was painfully aware of his relative inexperience, but he didn't think he had been doing a bad job of it. Matthew's nearly unconscious condemnation of his hard-won abilities rankled.

Matthew had taken the tray of coffee and was walking away, but when he realized that Nick wasn't following, he stopped and turned back.

"What's wrong?" he asked, puzzled. "Aren't you coming?"

Nick shook himself into action. "Yeah, of course," he replied. "I'll be right there. I just need to make a quick stop first."

Matthew's expression became concerned briefly, but it cleared and he nodded, leaving for the conference room.

Nick waited half a beat longer, then turned and made his way through the bullpen towards Renard's office. He rapped his knuckles sharply on the door, waiting to hear 'Come in' from inside before pushing the door open.

Renard was sitting behind his desk, shuffling through three separate folders and making notes. Nick quietly closed the door behind himself, taking the moment to observe his boss.

To the casual observer, the man was impeccably put together. His hair kept short and neat, his designer suit still crisp and neatly pressed despite Renard's posture twisting the fabric in directions that defied his creases. His movements were economical yet confident, exuding an air of casual competence.

Nick's trained eyes automatically moved to catalog more subtle clues. Slightly darker circles under the eyes. The necktie not quite perfectly knotted, suggesting that Renard had tugged at it at some point. Jaw clenched slightly. The liquid in his coffee mug sitting at his elbow too light to be his usual coffee order, meaning that he had switched to tea.

All of the clues came together to tell Nick that his boss was under additional stress, more than he typically handled, and that the events weren't entirely within his control. Idly, Nick wondered if he really wanted to add another problem to what clearly looked like a full plate.

The thought pulled Nick up short; the man was complicit in his aunt's murder. What did it matter if Renard was plagued by some unknown stress?

Realizing that his visitor hadn't made any move to announce himself, Renard glanced up. He lifted his eyebrows upon discovering Nick standing in his office. Capping his pen, he closed the folder before him and clasped his hands on top of it.

"Nick," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

His tone was pleasant enough, if guarded. Nick had to admit it was deserved.

"I, um . . ." Nick stood before Renard's desk, clasping his hands behind his back. Coming to his boss to discuss wesen felt more awkward than he had expected. "I might have found a possible lead on our serial case."

Renard waited patiently.

"Our second and third victims were both wesen," Nick stated. "And there's a good chance our first victim might have been, but I'll need to follow up on that. I think we're looking at some kind of wesen serial killer."

Renard frowned down at his hands.

"And since our killer has left a trail of bodies across the country, it's going to be difficult to verify for each of the victims," Nick concluded. "Unless there's some sort of secret code in autopsy reports to indicate wesen."

Despite himself, Renard let out a bark of laughter. "No, no code that I'm aware of, I'm afraid."

"Shame," Nick commented lightly.

Renard leaned back in his chair, considering Nick carefully. "How are you doing with Marshal Becker?"

"Fine." Nick shrugged, not sure what else to say and not entirely willing to open up to Renard.

One gracefully arched eyebrow conveyed Renard's opinion of Nick's answer.

"It's only been a couple of days," Nick said, defensiveness creeping into his tone.

Renard dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the statement. "I know how . . . complicated family matters can be," he stated vaguely. "Do you know if he has inherited your same talents for observation?"

It took Nick a second to understand what Renard was really asking, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "He's here in an official capacity, tracking down a killer."

Renard met Nick's gaze steadily for a long moment. Nick fought back the urge to fidget, or to ramble an excuse. He lifted his chin slightly.

The corners of Renard's mouth turned up slightly, but just as quickly his expression cleared.

"So he is," Renard stated. "I'm sure he- and his partner- are aware of proper protocols while they pursue their case within my jurisdiction. As well as potential consequences in the event those protocols are not followed."

Nick ground his teeth together at the blatant reminder of his captain's position in both his professional and personal life. "Understood. Sir."

An emotion flickered quickly in Renard's eyes, too quick for Nick to catch. For a wild, fleeting moment, Nick was sure it was something like regret, but he dismissed that notion just as quickly.

"Thank you for the update," the captain stated. "I'll check with my contacts to see if we can find additional information on the other victims. Hopefully we can figure out just who this is and how they're selecting their next targets."

Nick nodded stiffly. "Thank you, sir."

Renard returned the nod in dismissal, flipping the file before him back open. Nick walked quietly from the office, pulling out his phone and looking through his contacts as he left. Finding the name he was looking for, he pressed the call symbol and pressed his phone to his ear.

"Hey, it's me." Nick headed to his desk, quickly checking through his inbox. "I need a favor."

At the squawk on the other end, Nick rolled his eyes. "Fine, I need another favor. How's your car running lately?"