I BELIEVE! (in me).

The Batman & Scooby-Doo Mysteries #5 - "A Game of Hyde and Seek!" (2024)

if things have been awkward since asher’s return to salem, they have gotten even worse after he was beaten up, killed, and brought back to life by the hands of gwen bellerose. how do you even deliver this news to your estranged lifelong best friend? ‘hey, i know we haven’t talked much in a while, but guess what? i was murdered and now i’m an undead demon that needs to drink blood to survive!’?

but now that asher has already seen him, the only thing he can do is go serve him. he would only be making things worse if he point-blank avoided laurie. plus, he doesn’t even really want that… he misses laurie. even if he is sick and tired of all the moralism, the political correctness, and the endless lectures about how he should quit dealing – and doing – drugs. or how he shouldn’t be putting his life in danger (no need to worry about that anymore!) and blah blah blah…

and maybe it’s for the best that they’ve grown apart. just a few days later, a tall, beautiful, blonde stranger would be threatening to slit his throat right open. so maybe at least laurie would be safe from this shitstorm that perpetually follows him around now.

“just started last month.” he quickly says, before laurie is even finished asking. “another beer?” he wants to buy time. to disguise the fact that he doesn’t know what to say to him. what does he even have in common with him anymore? what do they talk about? it’s a shitty realization, yes. but what can you do?

and, as he sets a refilled pint before him, he goes for the worst possible alternative: talking about current events. there is nothing that says ‘i have NO IDEA what to say to you’ more! “have you heard anything about this chopped-up person thing?” not to mention asher himself had been responsible for the murder, so it would be nice to know if there was anything he should be worrying about…

Asher's offer couldn't have come at a better time, and perhaps Laurie jumped too quickly on it. "Yeah, please." Laurie isn't sure why it's like this. There have been many people he'd caught up with that he hadn't seen for a long time, but none of them felt this awkward. In an effort to bridge some of the distance, he says, "You know what, what do you drink these days? I'll have one of those."

Laurie takes out his wallet and hands Asher the cash for the beer. "Thanks, dude." Maybe they just need time. One evening, a lot of beers, and it'll feel like they were sixteen again. Even if they are the types of friends that only reminisce about the past, he doesn't think that'd be too bad. The question, however, makes him wonder if maybe he's being too hopeful. "It'd be wild if I didn't. I work at the Sheriff's Office now." Thanks for asking! "But yeah, it's--..." He looks over his shoulder at the teenagers who are still gossiping about the case. "I shouldn't talk about an open investigation but whoever did it is one messed up guy." He shakes his head. "I'm hoping to get on the case." He really, really wants to find the culprit. "Did you, uh, did you know the victim?"

Time would tell.

"You're such a babe." She smiled sweetly at him. Could he be of use to her? IT was always good to have the cops under one's belt, was it not? Not that he really would give her anything she couldn't do herself, and yet... She wanted him. She wanted him to keep playing her knight in shining armour. He'd definitely get a kick out of it, surely.

Did he have a wife? While looking at him with her doe eyes, she searched his brain and surely enough, there she was. That only made the corners of her lips curve further into a smile. Mister Lewis just became her favourite.

Ah, of course he got into the boat first. What a gentleman. So fly, as Marty McFly liked to say himself. Back to the future, but she was going to show him more than that. Taking his hand, Vivienne purposely lost her balance, falling right into his lap. "Oh my god, I'm such a clutz." She covered her face with her hands, feigning the embarrassment, even her cheeks went slightly pink. "I'm so sorry." She tried, in a very loose term, to move off of him, but instead, she turned her face so it was barely inches away from his. "No, the lights aren't scarey at all." Vivienne blinked, slowly, giving him a look that said I'm seeing you for the first time in my life. One she had mastered, giving the amount of movies she had done.

"Love, you say?" The witch fluttered her eyelashes at Laurie, as her arm hooked around his neck for support. Yeah, he could do the work and float them through the water, but she could do her own job.

"I don't think anyone would try to hurt me when you're around." She smiled at him.

There was a sound just then, truthfully, Vivienne wasn't even sure what it was, but she used the opportunity, nonetheless. Quickly, she put her other arm around his neck, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. "What was that?" She whispered.

Laurie is about to pop his head over Vivienne's to call out to Dan: Hey Dan! You should put a mat down here! Or mop it up! It's a safety hazard! But then she turns and her face is so close to his that he forgets what he was supposed to do altogether. In fact, if she'd asked, he wouldn't even remember his own name. She pulls him into a light trance with that look alone, so much so that he forgets to breathe, and all he can do is stare dumbly into her eyes. "You're really, very beautiful." The words slipped out of him, quiet and inconspicuous. He didn't even realise he'd said them until a few beats later.

Oh God. Ashley. What was he doing? This was not okay. And Vivienne, she'd trusted him to make her feel safe, and now he had his hands on her! He even worried about what Dan must be thinking.

Before he manages to do anything, however, a crackling sound echoes behind them but it's her reaction that makes him jump. Instinctively, he holds her in place as his head snaps over his shoulder to look around them. There was nothing there. God, help me, he thinks to himself, as he could feel her breath against his neck. "I can't see anything, there's nothing there," he reassures, gently patting her back. Dammit, she could probably feel how fast his heart was racing. "It was probably just a branch."

“Thank you,” she had said with a confident smile, appreciating the compliment. It was just a bag, yet the way he had noticed it... he seemed like the kind of man who paid attention to details, who saw beyond the surface. “It’s from a little shop downtown,” she had added, her tone casual, lingering over the moment as if to prolong the connection.

But the scene shifted quickly when the bottle of tequila fell out of her bag. She had stared at him, observing his reaction, a flicker of surprise and dismay crossing his face. The insinuation hung in the air, but she hadn’t felt shame. She had felt challenged, and she was ready to meet it.

“No, I haven’t been drinking!” she had asserted, her voice firm and clear. “It’s for a party I’m going to…” Despite her composed demeanor, she knew she had to comply with the officer’s request. As she opened the car door and stepped out, the cool night air wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the warmth of her resolve. God forbid I show up without bringing a drink, she thought. It wasn’t in her nature to arrive empty-handed, especially to a social gathering.

“Tip to toe, huh?” she had said with a touch of challenge in her voice. She was determined to prove herself. Starting slowly, she placed one foot in front of the other, aligning her steps with precision. Each heel touched each toe, and she counted out loud, her voice strong and unwavering. “One, two, three…” Her arms were firm at her sides, her focus solely on maintaining balance and making each step deliberate and accurate. “Four, five, six…”

Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she took a running leap forward. The rest of the counts were completed in a dazzling display of agility as she cartwheeled herself to an imaginary line that she knew would satisfy his request.

With a flip of her hair, Daphne turned back to face him, smiling and folding her arms across her chest. “I hope that satisfies your disbelief,” she said, her voice tinged with a mix of defiance and amusement. She stood there, unshaken and ready for whatever came next.

As she steps out of the car, Laurie starts to feel a little embarrassed as the question he'd asked echoes in his mind. He tries not to let it show in his expression, however, as he keeps a straight face that is equally sympathetic. She holds herself well, certainly someone who has a lot of experience standing in front of a camera. Perhaps from voice alone, he'd be convinced she did have a drink, but she moves like there's an audience waiting to give her a standing ovation.

He blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. One, two, three... Maybe she wasn't drunk. Four, five, six... Okay, he got the point. Then, at her sudden movement, he starts to chase after her as a hand reaches out in front of him, afraid of what she's about to do. "Ma'am!"

........ Did she just cartwheel? Laurie's brought to an abrupt halt. His jaw drops as he stares at her with wide eyes in stupefaction. "Uh..." He blinks, again. His mind went blank. A cartwheel? There was nothing in the books about a cartwheel. He supposes he could count them as three steps, taking her up to nine. He should now ask her to walk back nine steps but now he fears she'll just cartwheel three times back towards him. His mouth had almost dried up from how long he'd been staring. "That's..." He takes in a deep inhale. "That's fine, ma'am. That was... good."

She is perhaps the strangest person he has ever pulled over and that was saying a lot considering the type of people that lived in Boston. "I, um, I still am going to have to ask you to take a breathalyser test." A beat. "To be sure." Which he now doesn't really want to do but it was the process. "So, if you could just follow me." Scratching the back of his neck, he takes them to his car. He reaches through the window and pulls out the device. "Please blow into thi--" No, he couldn't do that. Cheeks flush red and his ears felt hot. He decides to hand her the device instead of holding it up for her. "Please take this and blow into it until I tell you to stop. If you could, just, stick to that, please, that'd be--"

"Oh, my… I'd hate to take out Bambi…" She did feel a pang of guilt now that he had framed it that way, but mostly she was fixated on the fact that he was doing this to protect her. He didn't want to see her get hurt. How romantic.

She felt a flutter of nerves, the excited kind. Her job might not be the career she dreamed of, but if she found love in the arms of such a handsome sheriff, she could wait another year or two for the rest to fall into place.

"Sure, Offi—Sheriff, I'll just get my—" Registration, glove box… and license… handbag… somewhere beneath these witch robes…

He was precisely her type. She could already picture them raising little Bobby and Susan in a big house on Salem's grounds. She'd do the weather forecast at night and take the kids to school in the morning. On weekends, she'd whip up a nice big steak dinner for her man, and they'd hire a nanny to tuck the kids in early so she could spend the night hearing about his busy and possibly dangerous day that he faced with wits, strength, and a badge.

From the way she looked, he could tell that he was getting through to her, at least somewhat. Due care exists for a reason. Everyone ought to take responsibility for not putting other people at risk by their own actions. It wasn't a hard thing to understand. He figures she'd already known this but a gentle reminder never hurt anyone. And, in this case, it might've just saved a life. All in a hard day's work, he thinks to himself. To prevent harm is just as important as catching those who caused it.

"That's okay, ma'am," he reassures earnestly. "Take your time." He hopes he hasn't rattled her to the point of finding it difficult to find her own purse. He didn't want to be that kind of presence in the community. So, he comments, "It's a nice bag."

Whatever civility he'd maintained during this interaction is quickly swept away as the bottle of tequila falls out of her bag. "Ma'am," he says, which sounds a lot like: Really? "Have you been drinking?" Appalled. Utterly appalled. This was a total disregard for basic courtesy and respect. A short sigh escapes him, and he steps back from the car as he puts away his notepad and pen.

"That makes two of us." Her rolling stone nature isn't a secret and for now he appears to acknowledge it kindly. Undeserved, but she'll take his good humor until it runs dry. "Actions speak louder than words. And what can I say, I like to make a gesture." How easily she slips right back into once familiar banter.

"But, if I remember correctly, you also left without saying a word. Was that also a gesture?" And then, to let her know he wasn't truly holding it against her, convinced she had her reasons, he holds his hands up and lets out a laugh. Embarrassingly, he had called and he had written, though the letter never made it through the bottom of her door when her neighbour told him she'd packed up her bags. "Sorry, I had to bring it up once. First and last time, though. Promise." And he means it. Especially when he doesn't know how much time they have.

She was late. Actually, thirty minutes ago she was late; now she was LATE. She put her foot to the floor of the leased RX-7. Her witch robes, courtesy of her best friend and blood sister, Vivienne, were almost flying out of the passenger seat, but she'd grabbed them just in time. She didn't blame herself, of course. She blamed Rob. An absolute baboon of a man. A walking cardiac arrest who was unable to tell the difference between 10 p.m. and 11:00 p.m., for whatever reason. Something about actually telling him 10:00, but Daphne didn't believe him.

With the tip of her heel to the ground, Daphne hit new records never before seen on the roads of Salem as she rushed her way to the obscure directions she'd received earlier: "Near the woods, the goat will guide you and your sisters to the fires of hell." She hoped they hadn't meant it literally, because one, she wasn't ready to leave this world just yet; two, wasn't hell meant to be all work and no play? Sure, Vivienne made it sound like a palace, but she was still new to this whole thing, and her grandparents' old pastor was a pressing reminder to maybe read the contract a little more deeply. And last, she really hoped the fires of hell wouldn't clash with her already fiery red dress.

A sudden burst of crimson light, much to Daphne's dismay, elicited a curse from her lips. "Fuck" she muttered under her breath. Lifting her foot off the accelerator, she gently pressed down on the brake, gradually bringing her vehicle to a halt and pulling over to the side of the road. Technically, she could have continued driving; her RX had the power to outrun the situation. However, as the aspiring leading Weatherwoman for News Watch, she couldn't afford the risk of a court appearance—especially not her own.

After quickly checking her makeup in the rearview mirror, Daphne rolled down the window and adopted an innocent tone. "Oh my, was I really going that fast?" she exclaimed, feigning surprise.

"And I know what you're going to say, or I know what you're not saying, but--" Suddenly a flash of red zooms past him. That was definitely over the limit, at least 120 mph. Ridiculous, inconsiderate and so dangerous. Finally, his time to shine. "Gotta go. Got a speeder."

Turning his car around, the sirens were on and he sped up to catch up. No, he shouldn't judge a person by their car, but as he parked behind the flashy red RX-7, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. Typical. Enough money to not care about a flimsy speeding ticket, endangering the lives around them.

"Good eve-" When the window rolls down and he sees Daphne Brooks sitting in the car, his initial thought is: Oh God. He hadn't been the most pleasant to her on the opening day of the Carnival. Perhaps he could be less hostile this time around. Maybe she has a good reason. A dying grandmother, perhaps? But her ignorance screams pretend to him, and that almost annoys him more than the speeding itself.

"Ma'am--" A dip of the head as he shoots her a look with raised brows. "You were going at least 120..." Bewilderment strains his features. How did she think this was acceptable? "...in a 60 zone. Not only are you putting your life at risk, but the other motorists and the animals that cross this road as well." Turning the page of his notepad, he scribbles his pen in the top corner to check it's still working. "License and registration, please."

Maybe they'd listened, the disgusting sound of metal machinery clasping onto the flesh of whatever planned to devour, an Angel's song. The pressure lessened, and an act of God would not go useless. She should have not insisted that her father get rid of these things, and she is blessed that he did not listen. It is with a blinding pain that she stood on injured leg, vision blurred from the cut upon her head, and the wind carved into the exposed wound like the dragging of a blade.

Safety. Body gave out form underneath, slamming into the wooden porch unceremoniously. Every inch of her was set ablaze, caught in a pyre, a Witch from the town's grim history. Her eyes rolled, head heavy, unfocused as thoughts began to spin a million miles an hour. A bleeding idol laid on family home, tortured cries ringing softer yet no less loud.

How could her heart not soar, upon the sight of savior. Savior, her final sight. Both a welcomed outcome, for if she were to die now, it would be in the arms of her first, and only. Ill fitting, the angelic smile on her lips when she realized - He'd heard her. "Laurie... You came."

There must be other people on their way. Laurie didn't believe that he was the first person she called. But it also didn't make sense for him to arrive on the scene before her brothers. Where were they? Why weren't they here? But she was losing so much blood. They didn't have time.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital. They'll work on you and you're going to be okay. Just stay with me, Mags. Please." It took all the strength and courage in him to keep his voice calm, so that gentle words could offer comfort instead of causing more panic. "Who did this to you? What happened? Can you tell me that?" He had to keep her talking. Meanwhile, Laurie strips off his plaid shirt and tears the sleeve off, tying it tightly around her shoulder above the deep wound. The remainder of the fabric was placed on her side and he brings her hand over it to hold it in place. "Can you keep pressing this, here, for me?"

Lifting her up from the porch, Laurie carries Mags in his arms and rushes over to his car, silently praying to God to let her live. Please don’t take her away, she has so much love to give. He gingerly places her down into the passenger seat, adjusting the seat so she could be laid down. When he goes around the car, he lets out a fast succession of deep breaths, as if releasing some of the fear he'd been holding in. Once in the car, the engine roars once again as he races to the hospital.

She didn't, and she'd have scoffed a little louder if Pru hadn't been such a good friend. Still, it was evident that Kaya wasn't in the mood for anything she couldn't shoot down with her Smith & Wesson or slap a pair of handcuffs on. She wanted something finite. "So, it's a bear then. A deformed one, but a bear." In her mind, the death certificate was already signed and sealed. There was a brief pause before Kaya added, "Talked to Jay the other night. He's got the lanes back up and said they should be working just fine for next week." Just in time for the start of this year's bowling league, where Kaya, Pru, and Laurie—the Ally Enforcers—spent every Wednesday night bowling turkeys. "Who's ready?"

It was a social scene for a few minutes afterward, once the body was covered up again. She could sense Laurie had something else on his mind. Magdalena would be her guess. As much as she was sorry that Magdalena got attacked, she was still a little suspicious that it was a bear that did it, especially the same bear. Joe was big; Magdalena was not. If anything, Kaya had her pinned as a liar. But most people who hurt her friend were pinned as something along those lines—the distrusting ones.

After wrapping up and driving back out to the reservation, Kaya locked up and holstered her guns before she heard the familiar call of her father calling her into his study. She passed her grandma, kissing her briefly on the head, before joining him and closing the door behind her. "It's a bear." He looked at her like he wasn't quite convinced, but in the end, it was his reply that mattered, and he simply said, "Okay."

The hot water seared into her skin harder that night, mostly because Kaya was desperate to get the smell of the morgue—the smell of death—off her, before she climbed into bed. After pulling on a tank top and a pair of underwear, Kaya slipped under the covers and turned over. She dreamt of monsters and woke up in a cold sweat.

She felt sick again, but this time, making sure she breathed out through her nose and in only through her mouth wasn't going to fix it. "I'll… I'll call Pru." It was a lot. She knew Laurie knew it too. She was glad she'd been friends with him for so long, because she didn't have to worry about him following her back to the car and pulling her into some makeshift, awkward hug in an attempt to make it all better, when in reality it would only have made the whole thing worse. For more than just Joe, but she wasn't about to get into that.

Leaning into her half-wound-down window, Kaya picked up her radio and called her uncle—the sheriff—up. "It's a local. It's Joe. We need to organize to get his body sent to county tonight. Put a rush on it. It looks like we've got a bear attack here." She paused, waiting for her uncle to speak his thoughts and outline their next plan of action. He told her what she knew he would: he'd send a few of their own people out tomorrow to scout the area. He wasn't referring to her and Laurie either. She hung the radio back on the hook, thinking about what her own dad might make of it, what he'd suggest they do. And just like that, she felt like a child again—naive and, worst of all, scared.

— END —

She took out a pen, a spare glove, wrapping it over it, and then reached forward, lifting bits of skin flaps up in an attempt to work out if she could make out who it was just as Laurie seemed to translate her actions and supply an answer to her… Joe. "Joe?"

For a second, she was back there. Back at school as Joe slapped her and Laurie's lunch trays out of their hands with a laugh; not his worst, but regardless, it was the memory that she pulled up to piece together the sitting, deconstructed lasagna in front of her and the bully that had once made it his mission to make Laurie and her life hell. "Fuck." Even she wouldn't have wished this on him. On anyone.

Backing up, she took out her flashlight, kicking a can with her boot as she tried to look for evidence that might help them put it all together. "When was the last time we had a bear attack, Laurie?" She knew coyotes were far more prominent, but no way did a coyote do that. "It has to be a black bear, right?" She turned her flashlight to the deep scratch marks down the side of his face. "You don't look like that after a coyote." Of course, it was all just speculation now. They wouldn't know until they got the body down to the county, where Dr. Acrement would spend a day or two drawing her own conclusions.

Turning back to the tunnel, Kaya shined her light toward the ground as she continued to walk toward the end. "What the hell was Joe doing so far out?" She yelled, stopping when she realized the only thing her light was illuminating was dirt and trash. "I've got nothing down here. How about you?"

"Yeah..." Laurie says quietly, glancing back at Kaya. "Fuck." He looks at her for a moment, trying to see what was going on behind those eyes. He had a pretty good guess. It wasn't right, to have such mixed feelings about someone who'd died so horrifically. As nice as it was to be back in Salem, surrounded by so many familiar faces, this was exactly what he worried about. The stack of missing persons cases whose names he all recognised, whose families he'd grown up with. Now, a death, of someone he hadn't even been close to, someone he'd actually hoped would just die when he didn't know any better, and here he was hoping Joe had made the positive changes in his life so that he could rest peacefully.

At Kaya's cue, Laurie follows suit. "I have no idea. I don't remember any happening when we were growing up. Do you?" Laurie exhales heavily, again, when the light is back on Joe's face. He reaches down, and with a gloved hand closes Joe's eyes. "I think so. Look at that--" He points his light to a deep gash, "--Way too big to be a coyote. Definitely not clean enough to be a knife." A beat. "I hate to say it, but it would be like Joe to try and fight a black bear." It was, at this moment in time, the only explanation for why a bear would make an offensive attack.

A flashlight shines in the opposite direction. He shoves those mixed feelings to the back of his mind. as he looks around the area. Another can, kicked to the side. "I don't even want to know," he replies, voice echoing as every word bouncing off the dirty stone walls. "Nope. Nothing here either." He starts making his way back to her. "Let's get this written up and send Joe to Pru." After that, they'll have to make the dreaded visit to his family.

"Oh, absolutely! Nothing screams 'fearless law enforcement' quite like a chicken brandishing a shiny badge. Next you'll be telling me you're here to crack the case of the missing corn. Should I call for backup, or will you be clucking along just fine?"

Merida's eyes flicked to the badge and back to the deputy sheriff’s face, her expression trying to keep the laughter at bay, to which, she failed the test -- grandly. "Deputy Sheriff, huh?" leaning closer, a predatory smile curling her lips. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties." a soft purr slipped out,. It amused her how easily humans could be unsettled. She could hear his pulse quicken, the hunger gnawing at her insides.

But no, Salem was off-limits. The rules were clear. She straightened, gaze slide away from him dismissively, already scanning the crowd for her next target -- someone who was interested in spending time with her. It wasn't like she was a leper, in fact, Merida was aware of her fortunate looks. "Your nephew, though. Sounds like he’s braver than you," she teased lightly, her tone dismissive. "Though, I do have to say, nine year olds...really not my style. Especially when I was trying to get you to come with me."

The last thing she needed was to draw the attention of law enforcement, even one as seemingly harmless as the deputy. She was about to open her mouth when a woman stopped, her eyes narrowing, like she was seeing a ghost. Her lips opening and closing, like a damn fish in a bowl. "See something you like?" Merida snapped, warning laced with a smooth trainsition to that faux sweetness: once upon a time, it'd been very real. Now, she was but half the woman she'd once been. Now she loathed humans, their need for constant reassurance. The woman looked startled, her wariness remaining as she stormed off, away from the two.

The way she smiles and moves towards him is done in such a way that always makes him blink rapidly. It was the kind of look he only started receiving in Boston, and he always thought it was just the uniform. Even now, he figures she's just being friendly. Anything more than that would mean he was reading too much into it and the past few years had gotten to his head. Arrogance was such an unflattering trait! So, he'll return the smile, even if he has to gulp to do it.

"Me?" A finger points to his chest. Him, specifically? Why? He wasn't even wearing his uniform. Maybe she was new to town and was trying to make new friends. He understands the initial loneliness that comes with moving to a place where you didn't know anyone. "Ahh.." He looks up at the Ghost Train hesitantly. Nope. Couldn't do it. "My nephew is definitely braver than me," he nods slowly, admitting defeat. "But technically I'm not working tonight, so if there's anything else you'd like to go on..." A beat. "Do you like the Ferris Wheel?"

When a familiar face walks past, Laurie raises a hand above his head to wave. "Good evening, Mrs. Walker." Though, his smile quickly dropped at the older woman's reaction. Then, the curtness of Merida's voice makes him quickly turn to look at her, then back to Mrs. Walker, whose demeanour made him frown, then back to Merida as Mrs. Walker takes her leave.

"Oh, no. Not at all. We go to the same church, it's not--" he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "If anything, she should be jealous of me." He looks back at Mrs. Walker again, confused by the whole situation. "That was really rude." He didn't like it one bit. "I wouldn't take that personally. She was probably just having a bad day."

"The tracks disappear here," he said. She asked what he meant, picking up her pace because she had fallen behind somewhere over the ridge while trying to ignore the comments about Calian and her. She wasn't in the mood to explain why she wasn't interested. Why she'd never be interested. "They stop..."

She was confused, unsure what he was talking about. He leaned down and traced the outlines of something only a tracker like her father would recognize. He'd tried to teach her, but she had been a bad student. Distracted. She knew she had. "I need to speak with the other elders."

Now she had weird on her brain, and Prudence didn't help. "What did you say... thumbs? Are you saying it was a man who did this?" She wanted to be sick. A human—a human that could tear into a grown man's flesh and leave him like he'd just been run over with a sit-down mower—was not what she had in mind when she came down here. Whatever she had thought she'd hear, it wasn't this.

He looked at Kaya at the mention of 'thumbs', to see if she was thinking what he was thinking, then to Pru, for an answer.

"Mags--" He stops, then corrects himself, "Magdalena Sparrow." Everyone knew of the Sparrows, a nice family who lived by the forest. "She was attacked last week. A bear, is what she said." It was hard to remain controlled, to put his personal feelings aside. His grip around the file tightened. "She, um, she has similar claw marks to this." He nods towards the deep gash that went along the shoulder, which he assumes is how she deduced the 'thumb'. "They're too big to be a man's, aren't they?"

Perhaps he'd hoped for signs of foul play, or even suicide, and a lucky animal happened to come across the body. The probability of being attacked by a bear is so small, less than 1% if he remembers correctly. The fact that two could've happened within the space of a few days is something he struggled to grasp. There's a higher chance of being killed by a bee, even higher to be killed by a human. So, he has to ask, "There's definitely no other cause of death?"