This is carried over from part one here.

Sam sipped at the steaming cup while she looked over the crime scene. She grimaced at the taste, but it was a necessary evil. The blood substitute enhanced her physically, nearly to the point that the real thing would. As a licensed detective she even had access to it, but she couldn’t stomach it any better.

The Jane Doe lay as she was found, the body composed into peaceful lines. Her throat wasn’t slashed so much as slit, just enough for the perpetrator to get what he wanted. It was a he, they knew that much. It wasn’t his first victim and she fit the profile;slim, jet black hair, dressed to the nines, mid-twenties. That Sam herself fit the profile wasn’t lost on her. Then there was how she was found and the wound itself. He was after the blood, but more than that he got his rocks off on the chase and the kill.

Sam’s body assimilated the synth-blood and now she could smell him. This case hit her desk a month ago and she’d had plenty of opportunities to get used to it. The man was good, the odor on his victims clothes the only trace he left other than the wound. He even managed to clean any saliva from their skin, so there was no DNA trace. They also had yet to find any skin or hair from a confrontation so when he took them, he did it cleanly, without a scuffle. That meant he was likely a real charmer.

“Detective Chambers.”

She turned her head at the intrusion on her thoughts. “Yes.”

The Crime Scene investigator, the badge reminded Sam that his name was Ted, gestured her over. “I think we may have a break.” He gestured her over to the body. “We have some trace evidence.” A plastic baggie with a single strand of dark brown hair dangled from Ted’s fingertips.

“Get that to the lab.” She winced at her words. “Sorry, you were going to do that anyway, weren’t you?”

Ted nodded sympathetically. “Yeah. It’s okay, you’re excited.” He stood. “This was on her sleeve. It might not be him, but there’s also some skin scrapings under her fingernails. I’ve done some initial processing on our mobile unit and I know it’s a male and there are markers for Shreck so it looks good.”

She was filled with excitement at the prospect of a break in the case. “Great. Thanks for telling me. Sounds like our boy is getting sloppy.”

“Maybe. There wasn’t a lot of evidence so he’s more careful than most. The rest of the scene is clean, so we’re not sure if the attack happened here or if she was brought here. There’s still so much we don’t know.”

“Well progress is progress. Hopefully his DNA is in the system.” A lot of people with what has come to be called Shreck’s, as though it were a disease, were indeed in the DNA database. It wasn’t a requirement, yet, but given the potential dangerous nature of people like them, it would be one day. Sam bristled a bit at the notion.

Most with the marker didn’t even know they had it and of those that did only a percentage chose to actively pursue the lifestyle. Most “vampires” were one hundred percent normal humans that got off on the culture. Those who actually benefited from it were law abiding citizens and made due with synth or getting the real stuff from willing donors. So required registration seemed like overkill, but there were rumblings. Maybe this time paranoia would play in her favor.

The rest of the evening passed in relative peace. Sam went back to the precinct house to file paperwork on her backlog and to wait for the results. There was a rush on this so hopefully it wouldn’t be more than a few hours. Her desk was in an isolated portion of the building. Many of her coworkers didn’t appreciate her. Rumors abounded that she got her job just based on her differences. That wasn’t entirely untrue. Departments around the country liked having a “token” Shreck on staff. Their abilities got used in a variety of ways depending on the individual’s skills and desires, but many times they were pulled in by multiple departments. There weren’t many willing to serve because there was still some amount of prejudice against them in the culture at large, though less in the last twenty years, and while they could be stronger, faster, and all the rest, they were still at the core, just as human. Working too many hours for too little pay wasn’t any more appealing just because of a few different genes.

A flag popped up on her computer, interrupting her little game of Solitaire. She gave a little cheer at the content of the email. She had a name and an address. It may or may not be current, but it was better than nothing. Probable cause gave her enough to at least go check it out. She pulled her service piece out of the drawer and snapped it to the waistband of her dark skirt and grabbed the thermos that contained her “lunch”. A little boost would probably be in order, just in case.

Continued here.