I Kissed a Dog (19 page)

Chapter
22
13

Driving Zane’s Corvette gave me a feeling of power. It roared down 101 like a beast
on wheels, devouring the road. I could tame this beast without getting my heart broken
or my body parts munched on for dinner.

Back in human form, Zane examined the coin on the way to our next stop — Miles McCray’s
trailer park — Plum Beach murder victim number two’s less than pristine property.

Miles, a high school dropout, had been working at the local ARCO station for the past
ten years, content to stay close to his parents. One news clip stated his mother still
referred to him as her “little champ.” Family members observed that Miles was what
you might call simple or slow; a man still dependent on his mom. Friends called him
an all-around nice guy.

After pouring over a blurry satellite photo, I’d dug up on the Internet, it was clear
just how overcrowded the trailer park was. Zane determined with so many trailers jammed
into such a crowded space we’d be safer waiting for nightfall before entering Miles’
singlewide. He’d also enlisted help from Alcuin, whose vampire talents would provide
the edge we needed.

The vampire would manipulate the thoughts of nearby neighbors, while shielding us
from any observant onlookers. Well known for its all-night parties and drug deals,
it was doubtful neighbors went to bed before dawn.

Zane thought it was wise for us to drive through and examine the layout prior to our
evening excursion.

“Slow down. There! The gravel road.” He motioned me right, clenching the coin.

“Thanks,” I grumped, still annoyed by his behavior at the Smart’s place. He’d somewhat
redeemed himself using his little handless trick to clean up the potted tree, but
I hadn’t completely forgiven his attitude.

“Can we call a truce? It’s hard enough visiting murder scenes without us fighting,”
he suggested, sounding remorseful.

He was right, now wasn’t the time to nurse any left over grudges. I nodded and forced
a smile. “You’re forgiven, for the moment.” I realized I didn’t so much doubt his
skills as I hated not knowing what
extra
talents remained hidden. My tolerance for surprises, and secrets, had reached an all-time
low.” Spotting the turnoff, I flipped the blinker.

“Pull over!” His eyes narrowed. “There are mutants here. I feel them.”

Obeying without question, I parked as close as I could to the entrance without drawing
attention.

I sent out my own mental feelers and validated Zane’s suspicions. The mutants hadn’t
bothered shielding their thoughts. They weren’t expecting company. Good news for us.
Wanting to take advantage of our momentary luck, I probed the creature’s minds and
prepared to transmit my findings into Zane’s. I was stunned to realize my special
abilities had expanded again.

This time, I was able to hitch a ride in one of the mutant’s minds, similar to what
I’d done with Zane during the Detective Davis Fiasco at his place. I could actually
feel what the creature felt, see everything he saw,
and
hear what he heard. Talk about a triple threat.

It took me a minute to digest the multitude of unfamiliar sensations bombarding my
senses and filter the information in a logical way that Zane could grasp.

I was viewing my surroundings from inside one of three mutants who crouched in the
cramped trailer digging through drawers and a large box. I assumed the confined space
belonged to murder victim number two: Miles McCray.

The terrible trio’s elongated snouts lifted in unison, twitching as they sought any
foreign scents. I feared they’d pinpointed us.

Relieved to be wrong, I sighed when they resumed searching.

My newfound ability to listen from inside a mutant wasn’t the same as
being
the mutant. I had the capacity to view the entire scene and remain in total control
of myself. Influencing the monster’s thoughts or actions wasn’t possible either. For
that I was grateful. Managing that kind of power wasn’t something I wanted. Especially
since I couldn’t begin to grasp what I was doing anymore.

Leaving my analysis for later, I honed in on my environment as experienced through
my mutant host.

The largest of the three beasts stood with a guttural grunt. He towered in the cluttered
trailer; his pointy ears brushing the ceiling. This massive and cruelly malformed
man-wolf filled the limited space.

What should have been hands were a grotesque permutation of paws and claws; just a
hint of humanness remained. The five twisted appendages, featuring an oversized thumb,
scarcely mirrored a human hand riddled with arthritis. Filthy, spike-like-nails protruded
from the furry tips — nails that would slit a throat like a hot knife slicing butter.

Had we been friends, I would have recommended, without delay, a manicure for all three.

“
Stryder, are you certain this is the place?”
the creature standing faced the mutant called Stryder, the one whose eyes I was hiding
behind.

“That’s what she said,” Stryder snarled.

I could sense his frustration with the situation and the larger beast. I didn’t blame
him. The biggest mutant was a menace; more so than his companions. I could feel the
difference.

The third added, “We’ve looked everywhere. Maybe someone got to it first.”
You stupid mongrel,
he added telepathically. Like Stryder, his irritation was directed at the mutant looming
over them.

It was evident that mutant number two and three did not like number one in charge.
Making matters worse for us all, number one stank like rotting fish. Had I been able
to manipulate Stryder, he would have recoiled at the stench. It seemed he was immune
to the odor.

“Who could have gotten here first? And what about the protective wards?” Stinky Mutant
asked.

Wards and spells, there’s always a loophole,
Stryder thought.
No ward is impenetrable. Someone with stronger magic can break through. As if you’d
think of that!
His eyes flashed red, leaving no doubt where his piercing stare and degrading thought
was focused — on the revolting swine in charge of their failed search.

Are you getting all this?
I mind-messaged Zane, ensuring he could see the mutants as well as hear them.
There’s some serious trouble in paradise.

It makes no sense. Unless the coin we found is what they’re referring to. But what
does it have to do with the murders?

“The Mistress will be furious by our lack of success,” Stryder growled.
I can’t wait till that bitch gets bitten. She’s the one who deserves to die.

With Stryder’s last thought, the red-headed woman’s picture scrolled through his mind;
proving that everything was in some way connected to her.

Maybe she was a real witch not just a bitch. I’d seen stranger this week. Why not
add a witch into the mix? If I could find a
Witches and Wards Book for Dummies
I’d be set. In truth, I was lacking, in a major way, the knowledge to fight effectively
against my supernatural opponents.

“Do you two have a problem with me?” the massive mutant challenged his subordinates,
making me forget my concerns about witches. He glared down at Stryder who glowered
back, undaunted.

Faster than I imagined in such a small space, Stryder was up snout to snout with his
comrade. “I have a problem with the entire situation. The Mistress is making too many
mistakes, and I don’t want to suffer the consequences for her inability to clean up
her
messes.”

“Questioning our Mistress is not in your best interest,” Stinky Mutant (that was my
new name for him) cautioned. “I realize this is frustrating, but we must follow orders.
We’re done here.”

“Go!” Zane shouted, dragging my mind back to the car. “We don’t want to be sitting
here when they come out.”

Slamming the car in reverse, I spun around and headed back the way we’d come. I didn’t
want them to see us drive past the entrance. Zane’s Corvette was more than memorable,
and Jazmine was well aware of what vehicle he drove, making it all the more probable
the mutants knew too.

Taking any unnecessary risks seemed reckless. I’d already resolved Jazmine was in
cahoots with the evil redhead, making our situation all the more precarious. We had
more enemies than we could handle, and likely others we hadn’t met.

Zane grinned, an unexpected gesture under the circumstances. “Good driving, Princess.
Ever consider racing?”

“You’re kidding, right?” It was just like him to be yelling one second and praising
me the next. Besides, escaping mutinous monsters was good motivation for becoming
a driving daredevil.

“Seriously, you can drive. I’m impressed.” His grin widened. “Maybe you should consider
a future with NASCAR.”

Ignoring the little twinge of pride his praise ignited was pretty much impossible.
Zane didn’t make a habit of handing out compliments. I knew if he said my driving
was impressive, he meant it.

At last I could thank good old Bob for something — teaching me to drive like a dangerous
felon was hot on my tail. His lessons had paid off today.

Today?

Uh oh … Something was very wrong.

Mutants were captive to the full moon. They couldn’t shift at will like purebreds
— unless something had changed — radically. Without the daylight advantage the playing
field would be leveled.

“Did you notice anything different about our mutant friends?” I asked. Afraid to blurt
out what I suspected.

I stayed quiet while he mulled over today’s events. It didn’t take him long.

“This is bad.” A scowl replaced his smile. “I have a feeling these coins might shed
some light on what’s going on. I’m al
alsoinclined
so inclined
to believe there’s a coin hidden at every murder scene. We just have to locate them
before the bad guys, which won’t be easy since we can no longer count daylight to
our advantage.”

“Why the coins, or whatever they are?” I was baffled. The inscriptions on the coin
had given me a prickly all-over feeling. And I could tell by the way Zane continued
to examine it, he was equally mystified.

Storing my questions, I maneuvered around a deep pothole and continued toward our
next stop … murder victim number-three’s townhouse.

We’d have to handle this visit delicately. Seth Johnson’s parents were apt to be home,
and they wouldn’t be too keen on letting virtual strangers into their home, especially
under the circumstances. I didn’t blame them.

Glancing at the dashboard’s digital clock, I realized the answer would reveal itself
in about fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes too soon as far as I was concerned.

***

Chapter 23

“Get the hell off my property!” Mr. Johnson yelled from the front porch. He gripped
a hunting rifle in both hands. The muzzle was lowered — for now anyway. His wife huddled
behind him. She appeared more worried than hostile.

“We’re sick of reporters. Don’t you have someone else to harass?” he raged. The rifle
vibrated in time to his trembling hands. His frustration laced with anxiety could
easily escalate a tense situation into a tragic one if we weren’t careful.

I prayed they would hear me out. “Please, I’m so sorry for your loss. Seth was a great
guy. He helped my dad pick out some gear last year. We’re not reporters,” I hurried
to get the words out, “but I think we might be able to help. Zane,” I nodded his direction,
“is a part time private investigator. He believes the police have missed vital information
that could help lead to your son’s killer.”

They spoke in hushed tones. Mr. Johnson gestured and paced, his position not influenced
by my plea.

Occupied with their debate, they didn’t notice when a golden retriever trotted out
of the garage, his tail wagging. He sidled right up to Zane and gazed up at him with
a puppy-in-love expression.

I’ll pet; you have a little chat with him.
Zane sent the mind message and kneeled to face his canine admirer. I was again grateful
for our private communication option, something I’d resented a few days ago.

I targeted my energy on Seth’s former companion. Making eye contact or maintaining
touch was no longer necessary. The range had been expanding all week, right along
with the other advances.

Can you show me what happened to your master?

The retriever’s markings were exquisite and he appeared to be well cared for. Only
one thing detracted from his perfection, a shaved area above his right leg. I could
see evidence of fresh stitches. The wound seemed to be healing well.

I took a breath, preparing myself for the bloody vision he’d undoubtedly reveal. Instead,
the dog whimpered, hesitant. Zane whispered something I couldn’t understand and rumpled
his fur, calming him for me.

Please, we want to catch the people who did this to Seth. You can help us.
I made myself pause, careful to remain calm.

The dog’s sad eyes found mine, and his mind opened like a book. The visions came on
with a vengeance. What I observed sent my stomach reeling.

As with Will, a gorgeous redhead was the gruesome show’s star. She approached Seth
leisurely licking her pouty lips. He lurched sideways and braced himself against a
pool table. They were in an average-sized bedroom turned entertainment room.
A Werewolf in London
played across the big screen, sound blaring.

Where Will had been enthralled by the wicked woman, Seth looked appalled by her overt
sexuality. Back pressed against the pool table, he jerked his head sideways and raised
both hands to push her way. Ignoring his rejection, she shimmied closer. Before he
could protest further, the vibrating thing happened, and she shifted into the frightening
werewolf I’d come to abhor.

It was then I noticed the retriever. He sprang from a nearby chair, sinking his fangs
into the creature’s arm. He stayed latched to the beast for a few short seconds before
she disengaged him with a vicious swipe.

He hit the floor with a yelp, but maintained consciousness. His eyes remained half
open as the horror escalated. Helpless, he whimpered while his master was brutalized
beyond recognition.

I had to give Seth credit. He didn’t go down easily. It helped that he hadn’t been
engaged in the same pre-murder activities that had distracted and debilitated Will.

Grabbing a pool stick, Seth jabbed at her chest. She ripped it from his hands and
snapped it in half. The same stick-snapping-routine had been repeated hundreds of
times by every big-screen karate-hero to date, reminding me of an action movie rerun.

What followed in the next two minutes wouldn’t survive any movie rating system. It
would sicken even the most avid blood and gore connoisseur.

Looking for another opening, Seth spun to the side and launched a swift kick at his
attacker’s midsection. This time he connected before she retaliated.

Bored with the foreplay, she lunged for the jugular.

When Seth’s head toppled from his shoulders, landing with an ominous thud, I gagged,
but managed to stay attached to the vision.

Mercifully, other, less horrific scenes now played through the dog’s mind — police
swarming through the house; people crying and consoling one another; a cleanup team
scrubbing blood splatters off the big screen; more police searching for clues; Agent
Green and Detective Davis walking through the home; reporters crowding the street;
a hideous cloaked man …?

Talk about a coincidence. The same wrinkled creature we’d seen back at the Smart’s
place was creeping unnoticed through Seth Johnson’s house. Could things get any stranger?

Good dog. Slow down. Show me this man,
I instructed, eager to get a clearer look at the final intruder.

The rate slowed and I watched in disbelief as the mysterious supe roamed from room
to room. He stopped in the master bedroom — a room untouched by the crime. There he
entered the attached bathroom and knelt by a wicker laundry basket. Rotating it sideways,
he slipped what I guessed was another coin, in between the weaved-slats. It fit snuggly
inside its new hiding spot.

Thank you!
I patted the dog.

“Kelsey, come here!” Seth’s father hollered.

I wondered how long we’d been standing there. When I was listening telepathically,
I lost track of time. In most cases, it lasted just a few minutes, but it always seemed
longer.

Ignoring the senior Johnson’s request, the dog flopped on Zane’s shoes, his tail wagging
faster than a windshield wiper on high-speed.

“I’ll be. If the dog likes them that much, shouldn’t we at least see what they want?”
Mrs. Johnson chimed in not a moment too soon. “The police haven’t helped, and that
high and mighty FBI agent is just plain creepy.”

Smart lady. She’d used the same word to describe him as I had. I now determined that
Agent Green was cruel and calculating. I suspected he’d prove me right.

Zane tapped my arm, his scowl evidence of his annoyance.
Chloe, help me out here. Say something, please.

“Uh, really Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson, all we want to do is help,” I said, hoping
I sounded sincere. What I wanted was to get my hands on that blasted coin.

“Edward, what do you think? They seem nice enough.”

“Ah, come on in.
Anyone
willing to help us find some damn justice around here is welcome. My son deserved
better than what he got,” Edward said, lowering the gun.

Relieved, I followed Zane and Kelsey through the door. We sat a respectful distant
from each other on the couch, and listened to the Johnsons tell stories about their
son. They pointed out memories captured in a jumbo-sized photo album. Kelsey lounged
across Zane’s lap. I was reluctant to interrupt their story telling, but could barely
contain my anxious energy.

Noticing my apprehension, he nudged Kelsey off his lap and stood, feigning a stretch.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re on a tight schedule and I’d like to look around.
I know it’s hard to believe, but sometimes the cops miss things. Plum Beach has never
had a major murder investigation, let alone a serial case. Even with a few outside
agents, there’s a chance we might find something new.”

“Now I remember!” Mrs. Johnson replied; her attention fixed on my face. “You’re the
animal whisperer. I overheard Officer Tate talking about you to that FBI agent. He
suggested they contact you to listen to Kelsey, but the agent declined. He wasn’t
real impressed by the suggestion.”

Not sure how to respond, I glanced at Zane.

“I don’t think you’d call her an animal whisperer, but Chloe can catch mental impressions
or pictures from animals. She’s already provided valuable information on this case.
Officer Tate is very open to her talent”

Eager to counter their skepticism, I offered, “Your dog tried to save Seth and was
hurt, wasn’t he?” I reached down to pet the retriever, who’d decided to snuggle up
to me. “He showed me what happened.”

Mrs. Johnson pressed her hand to her chest. “The news didn’t report that! No one but
the police knew about Kelsey’s injuries.” She shot an anxious glance at Kelsey.

I’ll stay and entertain them with my animal stories.
I messaged Zane the coin’s location.
Whatever this creature is, he prefers wicker containers,
I added. Maybe it was a fluke; maybe not.

After Zane’s phony search was completed, close to an hour later, we excused ourselves
with the promise of keeping them apprised of anything new, if they in turn agreed
to keep our impromptu visit to themselves. I made a point to play on our mutual dislike
of Agent Green.

It worked.

They shared a laundry list of reasons why the out-of-town agent was incompetent and
uncaring. I listened, careful to affirm their observations. Knowing the agent was
spreading his suspicions about me to anyone who’d listen; it seemed fair I return
the favor.

Another twenty minutes later, and we were back in the car, with Zane behind the wheel,
brooding. I had my first opportunity to examine the coins. They hummed in my hands,
and were warm, hot even. Adding to the mystery, the engraved symbols didn’t make any
sense. Hopefully, someone sympathetic to our cause could decipher them.

We still had to meet with Alcuin and the M’s back at Zane’s before returning to the
trailer park and checking out Will’s place. If the pattern persisted, we’d have two
more coins to add to our collection.

Zane broke the silence. “I need to talk with Logan. He needs to know about the mutants.
Their ability to shift without a full moon changes everything. Our pack’s protection
policy is built around a now faulty belief system. Where there’s a fault line, you
can expect an earthquake. The earthquake is already shaking our foundation.”

His words sent a spike of fear through my chest. It was hard for me to remain confident
when Zane, a werewolf enforcer, was troubled.

“What about the coins? They represent something important. They have to. Why else
would everyone want them? I think someone is trying to tell us something.”

“Maybe they’re for the police? Serial killers often have their own signatures.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. What he said made sense. Why us and not the police or
the mutants?

“Promise you won’t laugh,” I paused.

“Chloe, you’re a trooper and you’re damn smart. Laughing at you isn’t in my best interest.
I’m still trying to get on your good side, remember?” He patted my thigh.

Just the casual touch sent a familiar wave of longing crashing over me, while in the
same moment providing enough assurance to finish explaining my theory.

“Keep in mind, I’m speculating, but I keep thinking that the coins, if we could figure
out what’s engraved on them, will provide a road map of some sort. Directions. Clues.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m just desperate for answers and have seen too many mystery
movies.”

“You’re not the only one feeling desperate. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.
It’s going to get worse …”

“Before it gets better,” I finished.