Riding the Shifter Shadows by Colbie Clarke

of our bounty. White female wolf shifter, long dark hair, and eyes, somewhere between five foot five and five foot seven. And that’s it. We didn’t even get a photo this time. I hate it when the descriptions are vague. This woman really could be anybody. “Misty Cole,” Cash speaks loudly, with all the confidence in the world, his drawl conveniently missing as always when he’s using his ‘on the job’ voice. “You missed your court date. You’re going to have to come—“ She turns and bolts. We both take off after her, rushing through the front door and into the living room. Cash manages to tackle her before she gets too far. She’s screaming something in some other language that I don’t recognize. Oshay! Oshay Notahlee! Her skin starts to take on a scaley quality as she leans back and roars, displaying rows of sharp teeth as she struggles with Cash. I pull out my gun. “Watch it, Cash. She’s shifting.” “I got it,” he says. In a flash, he pulls out his handcuffs and slaps them over her wrists. They glow blue as she cries out in anguish, her form reverting back fully to human. “Nice try, Ms. Cole,” says Cash, “but running makes it worse.” I continue covering my partner as he secures the prisoner and realize something’s not right. There is one critical part of the description of the woman we are looking for and this woman does not fit it. Misty’s supposed to be a wolf. A few seconds ago, this woman was clearly about to shift into some kind of giant gator or croc. “Hey, Cash?” I move back