Secrets and Lies

I'd been jotting down notes on my phone as I listened, but when Ms. Townsend's story came to an end both Phoebe and I sat in silence for the next few seconds. Then I quickly wrote out the last few details so I wouldn't have to ask her to repeat any of what was obviously a very traumatic story.

Finally I gave the woman a compassionate look and responded, "Thank you Ms. Townsend. Can I just ask for a couple clarifications? Do you know roughly how many of them were involved in the attack? And did you get a clear look at any of them?"

"Official reports put the blame on wild dogs," Phoebe chimed in unexpectedly, "But you referred to one of them as 'she'. How'd you know it was a female?"

There was a flash of anger in Ms. Townsend's eyes as she glared at the young redhead, while the muscles in her cheeks flexed like she was clenching her jaw. Then she stated in a cold angry voice, "I'm not an idiot, I know what dogs look like! The police, the doctors, I don't care what they think. They're wrong. They weren't there, they don't know what happened!"

"There was just one attacker and it wasn't a dog!" she added firmly. She looked to me again and continued, "It was a person. And I know she was a woman, because when she was ontop of me I felt her breasts pressing against my back."

Ms. Townsend sounded less sure of herself when she added, "I told you I didn't get a clear look at her. Like I said, she struck from out of the woods and attacked me from behind. She mostly kept herself positioned so I couldn't see her. I only got glimpses. She had beige or tan-coloured fur, with darker spots in places. The fur was short, soft in some areas and coarse in others."

"I think I might have seen a small furry tail, when she ran off? And short round fuzzy ears ontop of her head," she mumbled softly, as if she was embarrassed to include those details.

All three of us were quiet again for the next few seconds, although I quickly tapped out those additional details on my notes app. And while I was trying to keep an open mind, I couldn't help thinking there were several inconsistencies in her story. Unless she really was attacked by some kind of were-beast, that is.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Townsend asked at that point, although it was more of a statement than a question. "You're going to tell me I'm confused, or that my mind's inventing a bunch of impossible details to try and make sense of a traumatic experience. Next you're going to say I need to consult a therapist or something."

She held out her arms so she could show off those faded scars as she insisted angrily, "This isn't crazy! This isn't my imagination! Two weeks ago a surgeon needed over thirty stitches to close up the gashes in my arms! Now look at them, there's barely any trace of the wounds!"

Her arms returned to hugging her knees while her voice dropped back down to a near-whisper as she added, "It took over three hundred and fifty stitches in total, to patch up all the injuries. They said it'd take me months to recover, that I'd need at least six weeks of physio before my life might return to something close to normal. Instead I was well enough to walk out of the hospital on my own last week. The sutures all fell out by themselves the day after we got home. And that's not all."

Phoebe glanced at me before asking the woman, "What else..."

The redhead's voice trailed off as Ms. Townsend suddenly got to her feet. And rather than hunching over or trying to make herself seem smaller she stood with her back straight and shoulders squared.

"Look at me!" Townsend stated. "How tall do you think I am?"

My partner and I exchanged another quick glance, but this time I spoke up. "When we arrived I noted you're a few centimetres taller than myself, and I'm exactly one-seventy. So I'd guess around one-seventy-two or one-seventy-three?"

Townsend slowly shook her head, "At my nineteenth birthday I stood a hundred and sixty-five centimetres tall. I've been that same height for the last thirteen years. Except around the same time the stitches fell out I started growing again. About one centimetre per day."

"I've never set foot in a gym," she added. "Apart from the odd walk or occasional hike I've spent most of the last decade sitting in front of a computer. Half the time I live on junk food and take-away, and until two weeks ago I looked it. Now I look like some kind of body builder."

As if to punctuate that last statement Ms. Townsend flexed the obvious muscles in her upper arms, followed by the ones in her powerful thighs. The display had an immediate effect on the short-stack sitting next to me, as Phoebe seemed to suppress a small cough then adjusted her posture so she was sitting up a little straighter. Although I sincerely doubted there was anything straight about the busty redhead.

Before either my assistant or I could respond Ms. Townsend's posture shifted. She almost seemed to deflate a little as her shoulders slumped and she lowered her head. Then in a quiet, almost embarrassed voice she confessed, "There's something else, but it's hard to talk about. I'm afraid whatever's happening to me, it might be... What if it's making me more masculine?"

"It's not just the height or the muscles," she whispered. "I've also gone down more than a full cup size. I used to be soft and curvy. Now I'm tall and hard and buff."

At that point she all but collapsed back into her chair, where she once again pulled her legs up close against her chest. Then she let out a desperate half-sob, "What's happening to me? You're the experts, right? You said you investigate stuff like this. Please tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me what's going on?"

"You're not crazy," I responded in a reassuring tone. "We don't know yet what's happening to you, but we're going to do our best to find out."

My assistant seemed to have regained her composure by then as she suggested, "We've a doctor on our team who's got some experience dealing with unusual situations and symptoms. She might be willing to come and see you, to try and determine if there's some sort of medical reason for what you're experiencing. She might even be able to come up with a solution."

I added, "There's also that spell everyone's been talking about the past few months. Whatever's happening to your body, I'm sure you could set things right if you used that at the next full moon."

A thoughtful frown settled on Ms. Townsend's face, as she seemed to be considering those options. Before she could respond though all three of us heard the front door open, then close.

"Hi love, I'm home!" a woman's voice called from the hallway. "How are you doing, are you feeling any better this afternoon?"

Valerie called back, "Hi Gabby. In the living-room, we've got guests."

A moment later the new arrival stepped into the room. I assumed this was Townsend's partner, Ms. Hoffman. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, and was dressed in a smart-looking professional outfit. Her black hair was trimmed short, and her blue-grey eyes swept over Phoebe and I before she moved to stand by Ms. Townsend's chair. There she leaned over and the two shared a tight hug. She remained by our survivor's side after straightening up again, with one arm resting protectively on Townsend's shoulder.

"I don't believe we've met?" the woman asked as she looked our way again.

I stood up to do the introductions, and my partner followed my lead. "Good afternoon. I'm Detective Trillium Sharpe, this is my assistant Phoebe Campbell. We're part of a special team that investigates strange or unusual cases. We've been talking with Ms. Townsend about what happened to her in the New Forest."

"Gabrielle Hoffman," the woman identified herself, confirming my guess.

"And 'what happened' is my wife nearly lost her life less than two weeks ago," she added firmly. "She's still recovering from the ordeal, so I sincerely hope you haven't been bothering her."

Between her tone and expression it was obvious Hoffman wasn't happy to have us there, and I got the impression she was perhaps a little over-protective of her wife.

Townsend looked up at her wife and assured her, "It's ok hon. I'm ok. They said they're going to try and help me."

Hoffman gave us a skeptical look, "Is that so? How? What sort of help can you offer Valerie?"

"We have a doctor on our staff who's got some experience working with strange or unusual cases," I paraphrased what Phoebe said earlier. "If Ms. Townsend likes, we could try and arrange a consultation."

Then I added, "We're also going to find whoever or whatever was responsible for attacking your wife, for the sake of public safety. I'm sure neither of you want to see anyone else go through the same sort of experience."

Ms. Hoffman continued frowning at us for another few moments before asking, "Do you have more questions for my wife? Or are you done?"

After a glance at Phoebe I replied, "I think we're all set for now."

Hoffman gave her wife another hug, then motioned for Phoebe and I like she was going to escort us to the exit.

"Thank you for your time ma'am," I told Ms. Townsend. "We'll be in touch, either Phoebe or myself, or that doctor we mentioned. Good luck."

Finally we followed Hoffman out of the room and up to the front door. She put a hand on the knob but paused there, as she looked at Phoebe and I again. And this time instead of wariness or suspicion she looked worried.

"Do you really think you can help Val?" she whispered. "Do you know what's happening to her?"

I replied just as softly, "We don't know yet what's going on ma'am, but we're going to do our best to find out. And we'll do whatever we can to help her."

Then I asked, "Is there anything else you can tell us about her condition?"

"Have you noticed anything else changing, other than the obvious?" my assistant chimed in quietly. "Like shifts in her personality, or behaviour? Or trouble remembering things?"

Ms. Hoffman hesitated, and it was obvious from the look in her eyes something Phoebe just said struck a chord with her. After a brief pause she opened the door, and for a moment I worried we'd offended her, and she was about to send us on our way.

Instead she followed the two of us out onto the front steps, and pulled the door closed behind her. There she stated quietly, "You probably won't have noticed this, but there's something different about Valerie's teeth. She's self-conscious about it so she's careful not to reveal them, but her teeth seem almost... longer? Sharper? I'm not really sure."

"I've also noticed some changes in her behaviour," she added in a whisper. "My wife is normally a very kind, gentle soul. You might even call her passive at times. But over the past week there's been instances where she's become unusually... aggressive. I'd almost say she was demanding, but that's not the right word. And certain... 'appetites' of hers seem to be changing."

Phoebe and I exchanged a glance, then the redhead asked "Do these 'aggressive instances' have any commonalities to them? Times, triggers, anything you've noticed that sets them off?"

"Can you maybe define what you mean by 'demanding but not quite'?" I added.

The woman's cheeks coloured with obvious embarrassment, and for a moment I thought she wasn't going to tell us. Then she leaned closer and confessed, "I'm talking about when we're in bed. Val never had much of a sex drive in the past, she was always content to follow my lead if you know what I mean? This past week though, she's been a lot more interested. Almost every single night. And she's been a lot more assertive about letting me know what she wants, and when she wants it."

"She's honestly acting a bit like some of the blokes I've dated in the past, rather than the woman I married," Hoffman grimaced.

I asked, "That's what you meant by changing appetites?"

She sighed, "That's part of it. Up until two weeks ago Valerie was borderline vegetarian. Not that she wouldn't eat meat, but she never seemed to enjoy it that much. Since she got out of the hospital though she's wanted meat with every meal. Compared to before it's almost like she's becoming a carnivore."

"Please help my wife," Ms. Hoffman added as she gave us a worried look. "Val and I need to know what's happening to her. And if possible, we need to help her get back to normal."

I tried to sound reassuring as I promised, "We'll do everything we can."

"We'll be in touch," Phoebe added. "Us, or the doc we work with."

Ms. Hoffman sighed again but nodded, "Thank you."

"How can we contact you if anything else comes up?" she added.

I had no idea how to answer that question, but luckily my assistant was prepared.

She fished a somewhat plain business card from her jacket pocket. As she handed it over she said, "That's the contact info for our office. Just say you're looking for Trillium or Phoebe and they'll forward it to us."

"Thank you," the woman replied as she accepted the card.

"Obviously if you're experiencing some kind of emergency or need urgent assistance you should still ring nine nine nine," I added. It was a basic CYA statement, but something I'd had to remind people countless times during my tenure with the Met.

Ms. Hoffman nodded, then finally turned and disappeared back into her home. Meanwhile Phoebe and I headed back to her big Grandland SUV. I fished the key fob out of my pocket and unlocked the doors, but before driving away I quickly noted down those last few details we'd learned from Gabrielle Hoffman. Then I looked towards my busty partner, but she cut me off before I could say a single word.

"It's not a bloody werewolf," she stated firmly. "The Brotherhood had protocols for dealing with everything from gods to demons, fae to witches. Nothing about dealing with werewolves though. Because there's no such thing."

I pointed out, "There probably wasn't any such thing as yang-eating monsters either. Until there was."

The redhead opened her mouth to argue, but instead she just huffed then pouted when she realized I was right.

I suppressed a smile as I started the car. Then as we got moving I asked, "Who do I need to speak with to get myself some of those business cards?"

"No idea," my partner shrugged. "Alys maybe? If not her then she'd know who to ask."

I nodded slowly as I made a mental note to do that. Then after another minute or two I commented, "I know it's a bit early for dinner, but considering we skipped lunch I'm feeling a bit peckish. How do you feel about picking up some take-away on the way back to my flat?"

"Same," Phoebe agreed. "I could also go for a pint or two. And I already know you don't have any beer at home, I checked. So we'll have to pick that up as well."

I glanced at her before focusing on the road again, "I guess we're not on duty anymore. Or we won't be, once we're back at my flat."

My young assistant giggled softly, "We're not cops, there's no rules about drinking on or off duty."

"Our boss lets you drink on the job?" I asked with a frown.

The redhead's tone became a lot more serious when she replied, "In our line of work showing up drunk can get you killed. Or worse. Anyone daft enough to do that deserves whatever they get. Beyond that? What we do isn't easy. Folks understand, sometimes a gal needs a little something to settle her nerves. Or to help keep the darkness at bay."

I wasn't sure I agreed with those thoughts, but rather than debate the matter I let it go. Instead I suggested some options for dinner, based on what I knew was available near my flat. Phoebe wasn't picky though so I made the decision for us.

A little over an hour later the two of us were back at my place again. She'd picked up a few cans of ale for herself, and a few more of lager for me. Most of those went into my fridge, except for the two we'd be drinking with our meal. And I had a big bag from one of the local take-aways. We got a large order of tandoori chicken, some veggie masala, and an order of naan. I left the food on the coffee table in front of the living-room sofa, then grabbed us both some plates and napkins.

We ended up talking about the case while we ate, but neither of us had any additional insights. Mostly we just compared our thoughts and reactions after our conversations with Ms. Townsend and Ms. Hoffman. We also agreed that our next move would be to head to Southampton first thing in the morning. There we'd try and interview some of the medical staff and police there, and visit the New Forest to see the site of the latest attack.

Halfway through the meal Phoebe opened a second can of ale for herself, but I decided one drink was enough for me. And once we'd both had enough to eat I tidied up and put the leftovers in the fridge.

"So," the busty young redhead smirked after draining the last of her second beer, "What's the plan for tonight? Just one bedroom means there's only one bed, right?"

I stared at her for a second while I tried to figure out if she was serious, or joking, or if maybe that was the ale talking. Either way there was no chance I'd be sleeping with my new coworker. Not during my first day on the job, anyways.

After that brief hesitation I responded with a pleasant smile of my own, "You're right. There's only one bed, and it's mine. Which is why you'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight."

"You're small enough it should be fairly comfortable for you," I added in a teasing tone.

Phoebe pouted at me, and I honestly couldn't tell if she was disappointed I wasn't going to let her share my bed, or if she was just reacting to my tease.