CHAPTER 3 - Three is a pattern

Derek and Stiles moved into the crime scene. The early morning fog still clung to the earth. They walked in silence to the body. Derek could smell the blood. Another young girl. Maybe in her early 20's. She had bites on her. Some were wild animal bites. But one. One was a werewolf bite. Derek knew instantly. Stiles looked at Derek and he crouched down to inspect her closer. The black blood crusted over her wounds, down her neck from her mouth. Her honey blond hair matted with dirt and twigs.

"A werewolf bite." He said and stood up, flooded with memories of Paige.

Derek noticed she had a tattoo on the exposed part of her thigh.

"We need to get a closer look at that tattoo." he said to Stiles.

Stiles nodded and walked towards another office to give him further instructions.

Derek walked to meet up with him but stopped. He caught a familiar scent. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. What was that scent?

Derek and Stiles walked back to Stiles' jeep.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking?' Stiles asked Derek.

"Is there a connection between the girls?" Derek said. He opened the car door and sat down hard on the seat.

"The cause of death is completely different. There has to be a connection between the girls." He slammed the door.

Stiles turned from the dirt road into the woods onto the paved street.

"Have you ID'd the body from Brighton Point?'

"The forensic artists are working on reconstruction." said Stiles.

"Did she have any tattoos?" said Derek. "Different tattoos mean different things. Like in packs. The tattoo can identify you are part of a pack"

"Then we will need to hit the morgue."

"You know man you should really join us." said Stiles.

"I have an unfair advantage."

"It's not a contest Derek. It could be the difference between life and death."

Stiles' phone rang from the center console. He looked at the screen. LYDIA

Stiles' pressed the green circle.

"Hey baby. You're on speaker." He warned.

"Oh." she said. She didn't sound surprised. "Hey Derek." she said.

"Hey Lyds." Derek called back.

"So tell me what's happening Stiles." She was referring to the early morning call to the woods in Hedge Creek, a few miles from Beacon Hills.

As Stiles recounted the morning's activity to his wife Derek sat back in the seat and let his mind wander. He kept himself so guarded. Relationships didn't work out, Paige, Kate, Jennifer, Braden. Nothing lasted, all for obvious reasons. Maybe that is why he is creating a girl in his mind. He didn't want to get hurt again. He didn't want to be vulnerable again. He didn't want to feel.

Derek didn't notice when Stiles hung up the phone and started talking to him again.

"Derek!" Stiles said loudly. Derek turned to him.

"What's going on with you?" he asked.

"Nothing." replied Derek.

"Come on man, I know you better than a lot of people."

Derek breathed heavily out of his nose.

"You're lonely bro."

"I'm not lonely." Derek scoffed "I have you and Lydia. Scott and Malia."

"That's not what I meant."

Derek knew what he meant.

Stiles' phone rang again. It was the office.

"They have a picture of the girl from Brighton Point." Stiles sat up straighter in the driver's seat and hit the gas harder.

They pulled quickly into a spot at the precinct and hurried into the office. The forensic artists were waiting for them. They had a computer image of her face.

"Now we run this against missing persons and DMV records. See if we can get a hit on her." said Stiles.

"Find the missing pieces." said Derek.

"Hey." Derek said after staring at her picture for a while. There was something familiar about her. "Who examined the body? Did she have any tattoos?"

"As a matter of fact." said one officer. "She did have a small tattoo on her wrist. We have photos. We almost missed it."

The officer handed Stiles the file folder with the new information they compiled . He handed the folder to Derek. He flipped through the photos until he found the one of her tattoo. He looked up at Stiles.

"And this," Derek closed the folder. "This is connected to the body from Hedge Creek."

"Definitely?" questioned Stiles.

"Three's a pattern."

"Let's not let it get to three."