"What's the word?" Dante Mortello dropped into the chair next to the comm center where Ric Garza had just completed a call with Sophia and Logan.
"Same old, same old." Ric rubbed the late day stubble on his jaw. "Craig got us into the investigation but no one's really buying our theory. Crazy idea. Yadayadayada. You know. The usual shit."
"We're all wigged out freaks, right?"
"You got it."
Ric picked up the coffee mug from the keyboard tray and took a sip of the now tepid liquid. He'd been monitoring the system all evening, waiting for the call from Maine and searching for any other reported deaths. The team was still trying to determine if they were tracking one fast son of a bitch devil beast or if, as they'd hesitantly begun to wonder, someone was breeding the damn things.
"I'd think," Dante said, "that if any of the state detectives had seen the bodies from the last spate of killings up there that they'd be a lot more open-minded about what they were looking for."