Max glanced over her shoulder, cringed when a corpse hit the glass window, followed by a desperate scream of rage. “So,” the detective standing next to her said, “I’m guessing that was not your father?” Max ducked before the leg torn off another John Doe corpse could hit her in the head. “Yeah. That’s not our dad . . . unfortunately.” “Then you’d better get your sister out of here before I have to arrest her for desecration of a corpse. Or multiple corpses.” Max reached out to pat the shifter cop on the shoulder as a thank-you, but he jerked away from her so violently, she decided not to push
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