Chapter 18

The face and head were pristine.

“Why didn’t he tear up the face this time?” Travis murmured, mostly to himself. He partner shook his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe he needed the bigger thrill of watching his victim’s face.”

Possibly. Jackson’s face had been damaged first, then the body. But this man didn’t show any sign that he had felt the pain at all, or even fought back. He face was smooth, mouth closed, eyes closed. Come to think of it, the reports on Mitchell’s death showed no signs of defensive wounds. What the hell was going on?

“This omega doesn’t look like he died screaming. Why?”

“Exactly,” Virgil replied. “I found this.”

Virgil waved him over, pointing out a spot on the throat that Travis couldn’t see. He bent down and scrupulously scanned every millimeter of skin. Barely noticeable were two black dots, directly under the right ear. “Those look almost like bite marks.”