Secrets in the Moon (Crescent City Werewolves #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

Captain Albert Dempsey rubbed a crick from his neck and rose from his desk. He'd just finished for the day and was ready to go on a final circuit of the station. It was something he always did, even if it meant running into a problem that cost him a few more hours of sleep. Tonight, everything seemed quiet. All the other detectives and officers who worked in the day had long gone, desks cleared and phones quiet.

All except Enchanter Byrd's office.

To Al's surprise, it was not only lit but the main secretary, Grace Hoffman, had fallen asleep against her typewriter. Al scanned the room for any sign of Byrd and then knocked against the open door, jerking Miss Hoffman awake.

The girl quickly adjusted her spectacles and ran hands over her prim sweater to smooth out the wrinkles left by slouching. "Captain, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd dozed off."

"Who does? Why's Byrd got you up this late?"

"He's still in the station."

Al checked his watch. "At this hour? You're kidding."

"I would never spread misinformation, Captain," said Miss Hoffman, tone severe. "Even as a joke. He's in the Level 5 zone of the firing range."

Now Al understood. Level 5 was the area for weapons unapproved by the city for official use. Lately, it had become the test zone for all entrants hoping to win the new submachine contract. In a rare show of smarts, the police commissioner had decided it was safest to offer up the station's firing range for all testing, and to have a senior enchanter present each time.

And he could just guess which of those entrants was there this late in the night.

Miss Hoffman's next words confirmed it. "The appointment was booked for Miss Jane Feral. The she-wolf. She's been there for over two hours. Here's the form she filled out."

Al skimmed the sheet of paper, muffling a sigh. "All right. I'll check it out. Go on home, Miss Hoffman."

Relief fought with doubt on the girl's face. She hadn't yet figured out that this type of job would suck her dry if she let it. "But Master Enchanter Byrd might need a message sent or a report filled out."

"The man knows how to write." Then Al jerked his head toward the door. "Go on, get some sleep. Your bed's going to be softer than a typewriter."

After she left, he read the form more thoroughly. In the section reserved for Byrd's notes, he saw that this was Jane's first visit to the firing range. She probably wasn't doing too well.

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the right level and found her firing one of the standard-issue submachine guns while Enchanter Byrd and Raymond Lodato, the firearms instructor, looked on. Jane seemed focused but her aim was godawful, hitting the jelly barrier on the walls all around the target, which was easy enough to spot even at that distance: simple silhouettes of a gunman holding a hostage.

Al hid his concern as he took in how her arms shook from holding the gun as properly as she could manage. She clearly wasn't used to the weight as much as the recoil, but kept trying, aiming with care before each shot as if aware of how Lodato watched her like a hawk.

She was so focused that Al was able to join the other men unnoticed, receiving greetings from both. He gave Byrd a nod before focusing on Lodato. The noise-dampening spells were in effect, so he pitched his voice low. "Christ, the bags under your eyes. When's the last time you saw a full night's rest?"

"Amelia started teething," the other man admitted, still watching Jane. "And Gertie just learned how to open doors. My brother keeps telling me raising boys is more trouble, but right now I don't believe him."