"Jesus," Russell mutters, rubbing his hand over his lower face at that news. Half of them in less than a week. If he had to guess how Orrin Fillby died, he's lean toward some kind of animal given everything that's happened over the past week. And he's pretty sure he'd be right about that. There's no way to connect the animal attacks to one person in particular, one person who might want the council members dead for some reason, but it just seems like too much of a coincidence.

His mind is already working and he's going to have to bring this up to his boss when he gets a chance.

"I'm sorry," he says. "That's shitty. You just found out?"