Henry smelled the intrusions before he even saw the picked lock. Nostrils flaring, he glared at the door. "What's point of having a doorman...?"
He took a deep breath, turned on his heel, and was down the stairs so fast there was a pop of displaced air.
The scent ran behind the building, down several blocks, and into an alleyway.
Henry's lips came off his fangs and he knew his eyes were totally black as he approached the young man tossing a laptop and iPad into the backseat of a beat-up Ford.
Brown eyes widened with fear as the thief found himself slammed against the side of the car by a whirlwind that resolved into Henry.
Feet up on the couch, iPad in hand, Henry reached a leisurely hand out to still the ringing phone. "Hello?"
"Fitzroy." Mike sounded as annoyed as ever.
"Why, Detective, lovely as ever to hear your voice. How can I help you?"
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