Emery watched out the window as they approached the docks. There’d been a murder, one that might be related to the string of killings that had swept through the city of Piedmont. He was being asked to see if it was indeed connected. Outside the window, a fog as thick as pea soup had settled. For once he was glad that Hassett was driving. He wasn’t sure if he could have negotiated the roads that were all but obscured from view.

Hassett drew the car up parallel to bright yellow caution tape emblazoned with black letters that spelled out “Wardens.” Emery hopped out the door as Hassett opened it. “Where’s the body?” he asked. “I can’t see anything past my hands.”

“It’s over here, chief,” Hassett’s voice called through the fog. As Emery approached him, a strange vision came to his mind’s eye. Something was moving swiftly above the fog. A girl, about his own age, turned and looked up with a shocked expression. Then there was a flash of red and the vision was gone.

“Are you alright?” Hassett’s familiar voice said from above him.

“It’s not our killer,” Emery said. He got to his feet and shook his head to clear it. “Unless he’s learned to fly, that is. The attack came from above the clouds – the fog.” He looked up and sighed, “Some kind of animal or bird, perhaps.”

“So… not knife marks – claw marks,” Hassett said. “That makes sense, I guess. Conventional test will show that, I’m sure. Nice work, chief.”

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