Kissing the Werewolf - An Izzy Cooper Novel Read Free Page A

some very unusual residents, but it was still a quiet little town. Big news just didn’t happen here.
    That’s why the whole Monster Squad thing baffled me.
    In a town where getting a Starbucks or a new movie theater was the news of the decade, I figured finding the Monster Squad would be a cinch, and it was, once I gave up and started looking on the Internet. Even then, all I could find were rumors, but it was enough.
    Turns out, the Monster Squad’s official name is the ACMU, which stood for Atypical Crimes Management Unit. The Monster Squad was just a nickname.
    The ACMU is an elite, black cell unit of the FBI. Very top secret.
    You could have knocked me over with a feather. Who would have guessed there really was an X Files team?
    There were only a few Atypical Crimes units, and the West Coast unit was based in Storm Cove, which I found a little unusual. As far as I was concerned, it would have made more sense for the unit to be based in Los Angeles, Portland, or even Seattle, but who was I to argue with the FBI?
    Maybe we were just weird enough the FBI thought we needed a unit based in town.
    Five minutes after leaving the Bayside Grill, I pulled up to the lodge. Finding a place to park wasn’t going to be easy, especially since morning rain had turned the entire parking lot into a mud puddle.
    About that time I was really wishing I’d worn my high top leather boots instead of Keds , but they wouldn’t have matched my jeans.
    Wearing blue jeans and a tee shirt to work was something Agent Fontaine frowned on, but he tolerated it because of my special talent. Communicating with the dead had a place in crime investigations. At least it did if the dead chose to cooperate, and that was a big if. Believe it or not, sometimes the dead didn’t cooperate, which had a way of complicating things.
    Getting out of my bright yellow Mustang , which I liked to call Lady Luck, I maneuvered my way around the half dozen or so patrol cars and emergency vehicles.
    There was mud everywhere. My lady was sure going to need a good cleaning after this. But she deserved the best.
    That Mustang always got me from point A to Point B safely. I figured as long as I was driving Lady Luck, my chance of getting run over by a truck was greatly reduced. Not that a truck couldn’t go over the top of her, but still, at least I’d have a bit of protection if I were lucky. Naming her Lady Luck probably helped a little too.
    Whatever had happened at the lodge, it was a biggie.
    The last time I saw the county CSI unit in Storm Cove was when Megan Vandermeer’s husband caught her having a little fun with the next-door neighbor. That was long before I was in law enforcement.
    From what I’d heard, it was one heck of a mess. Vandermeer drove right through the bedroom wall with his truck, killing both his wife and the neighbor.
    Trucks were just plain evil.
    After stepping over several puddles of rainwater, I finally made it to the entrance of Smuggler’s Bay Lodge.
    There was a state police officer posted outside the resort’s front doors, and by the look on his face, I could tell he was ready to turn me back. It was times like this that I really liked flashing my FBI credentials.
    I only recognized a few of the emergency workers, but finally Sheriff Bourne walked by, and that was someone I knew.
    “What happened, Jeb?”
    Jeb tapped the oversized cowboy hat he wore anytime he had his uniform on. “Hello Izzy. How’s your grandmother doing?” he asked, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
    It was just like Jeb Bourne to take care of the hellos before getting down to business. Of course it was also like Jeb to ask about Granny right after his initial hello. Jeb and Granny had been high school sweethearts, and he still hadn’t gotten over her.
    According to Granny Stella, Jeb was quite a looker back in the day. He still wasn’t bad for his age, though his hair had long ago turned gray.
    “Granny is doing good. What happened here?” I asked