It looked as though the guy's claim that "one mountain can't hold two wolves" was true.
Nick glanced at the cabin hidden in the forest nearby, then turned back to Eddie Monroe, whose eyes had turned blood-red again, and beckoned for him to back away with him.
Now that they had found the place, it was time for Nick to fulfill his duties as a police officer.
Leaving aside all the stuff about "Wesen" creatures, Eddie Monroe was a civilian voluntarily helping the police. There was no need to drag him into danger.
Besides, given his current unstable state, Nick seriously wondered whether he would end up being attacked by two Blutbaden at once if they went any farther.
After all, according to what Monroe had said earlier, once Blutbaden deliberately transformed, they no longer recognized even their own family, and tragedies often occurred among their own kind.
"You're right. I might even hurt that little girl, so I'm sorry, but you're on your own from here." Monroe patted Nick on the shoulder and turned to leave.
"Wait." Nick hurriedly stopped him.
By Hollywood's usual formula, this should have been the part where he showed off his individual heroism, but Nick hadn't forgotten that he was also a police officer. Charging in blindly like that was hardly a good idea.
It wasn't that he was a stickler for procedural justice, or that he was worried he couldn't take on a Blutbad alone.
Rather, as a mature adult, Nick felt that it was precisely at times like these that he needed to preserve his identity as a police officer.
This body had now inexplicably acquired some bloodline called "Grimm," which sounded pretty cool and badass.
But looking at it another way, didn't that just make him a monster hunter operating in a gray area? He had played the Witcher games, and he still vividly remembered just how unwelcome their protagonist, Geralt the White Wolf, was among ordinary people.
There had to be something behind the fact that Wesen creatures had survived in this world since ancient times while remaining hidden among ordinary people.
Considering that Aunt Mary had hidden the truth from him throughout his childhood, then stayed away from him under the pretext of traveling the country after he grew up, Nick couldn't help suspecting that the whole thing wasn't as simple as Eddie Monroe had made it sound.
He now had a house and a car in Portland, and his life was fairly comfortable. He also had a cheat that, while not much of a presence, still gave him something to look forward to.
So when it came to this supposed awakening of his Grimm bloodline, Nick preferred to see it as gaining another skill. A sense of mission simply didn't enter into it.
"Once you get back, find a pay phone and call 911 anonymously. Say you heard a little girl crying in the forest, then give them this location. Understand what I mean?"
Monroe couldn't help looking surprised at these instructions. "Aren't you a cop yourself? Why do you need me to call the police?"
"So you want me to tell my superiors that a Wolf Wesen helped me find the missing girl by following her scent?"
Speechless, Nick rolled his eyes and waved for him to get going if he was leaving, then took out his phone and called Hancock.
Half an hour later, his Black partner's unremarkable gray Mercury slowly appeared at the end of the road. Spotting Nick waiting by the bridge, Hancock shut off the engine, got out, and asked impatiently, "Where is he?"
Nick pointed behind him. "He should be in that vacation cabin across the creek."
Hancock looked around in confusion. "Where's the backup? Don't tell me I'm the only person you called."
"That's right. All I got was an anonymous tip, and I haven't confirmed the details yet. We already had one false alarm during the day. You're probably the only person who'd believe me now."
Nick deliberately made himself sound a little pitiful.
In fact, because the two of them had found the crime scene in the park during the day, Captain Renard hadn't expressed any displeasure over the minor mix-up afterward. After all, Eddie Monroe, the person involved, hadn't threatened to file a complaint against Nick either.
"I went to apologize to that clockmaker tonight. He mentioned seeing a suspicious van near the park, and then I got lucky and tracked it here through traffic cameras."
As he spoke, he pointed with complete assurance at a small cargo van parked outside the cabin. "That should be the one."
Hancock gave his partner a suspicious look. "How sure are you?"
"Thirty percent?"
Before Nick had even finished speaking, he saw Hancock turn to leave, so he spoke again in a quiet voice. "Even if there's only a one percent chance, we should try. A little girl's life is at stake, and she's only six. Don't you think?"
Hancock froze in place. After a moment, he turned back dejectedly. "Then you have to promise me you won't tackle the guy to the ground right off the bat this time. We have to play it by ear."
Knock, knock, knock! Knock, knock, knock! The sound of the door knocker seemed rather abrupt on a summer night filled with nothing but the chirping of insects.
The door opened, and a middle-aged man in a white apron appeared in the warm yellow light, accompanied by a faint, cloyingly sweet smell of apple pie wafting out from inside.
"Good evening. Can I help you?" The middle-aged man's hair was meticulously combed into a side part, his chin was clean-shaven, and his measured way of speaking gave the impression of a well-mannered man.
Hancock immediately looked down at the man's feet. When he saw that he was wearing nothing more than ordinary brown flat shoes, the hint of anticipation on his face vanished.
Still, he pulled himself together and asked politely, "Sorry to bother you. I'm Detective Hank Griffin, and this is my partner, Detective Nick Burkhardt. Do you have a moment?"
"Of course. Would you like to come in and sit down?" The middle-aged man was very friendly and even volunteered an invitation.
"That would be great." Hancock readily took him up on it, studying the furnishings as he walked inside.
The cabin in the woods was small and had only one floor. Once they entered the living room with its fireplace, almost all the other rooms were visible at a glance.
Both bedroom doors were open, and neither room looked like a place where someone could be hidden. The rooms were cozily furnished, and even the cushions on the living room loveseat had hand-embroidered floral patterns.
"Nice cushions. I've only seen patterns like these at my grandmother's place." Hancock walked over to the sofa and casually picked up a cushion, making conversation.
"I embroidered all these flowers myself." The middle-aged man reached out and stroked the cushion, giving the Black detective a meaningful smile as he said in an effeminate voice, "But I don't usually tell people."
Hancock's smile froze on his face. He had a little fondness for wearing ear studs, but his sexual orientation was actually normal. Otherwise, he couldn't have been friends with Nick for so many years.
Fortunately, a timer broke the brief awkwardness. "Oh, the apple pie is ready," the middle-aged man said without prompting. "Please wait a moment, gentlemen. Why not try my baking? We can talk while we eat."
As the man turned and went into the kitchen, Hancock spread his hands slightly at Nick and asked in a low voice, "Are you kidding me? This is your suspect?"
"I can bake apple pie too, but that doesn't stop me from being a cop," Nick countered quietly.
Hancock rolled his eyes at him. "But you don't embroider."
Before you continue