The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller (35 page)

“Someone moved the carrot from our snowman’s face to—I’m sure you can imagine.”

“And don’t even ask what they did with our light-up reindeer.”

“Here it comes, Sheriff. There, look!”

Vincent paused the image and pointed to a shadow creeping across the lawn. A slinky four-legged shape that looked unmistakably like a full-sized leopard.

“Jesus. Is that what I think it is?”

“What do you think it is, Sheriff?”

“Well, I’ll be damned. It looks like a fuc- er… full grown leopard.”

“That’s what we thought.”

“And this was taken outside your house here?”

“Yes, sir. That camera covers the side yard right out yonder,” he pointed. “That hedge runs along our property line.”

The Sheriff stared at the frozen image onscreen.

A chill went up his spine as he thought of the attack on his son and Sparrow. He had doubted his son’s account but there was the supporting evidence right before his eyes.

A leopard, just like Wally claimed. A goddamned African leopard.

“It’s pretty scary to think that thing came prowling right down our street,” said Jonah. “And nobody even suspected it was out there.”

“Come to think of it, we caught this video the same night our dogs were acting up on their evening walk,” added Vincent. “Remember how crazy they were that night?”

“Oh my heavens, you’re right. We might have been cat chow.”

Owen looked at the date stamp on the video.
The same night the boys were attacked.

“I hope this was helpful, Sheriff.”

“Yes, it was.” Owen thanked them for their vigilance and asked them to keep a lid on it. “We don’t need any more panic in this town. If it gets any worse someone is bound to get their head blown off. We’ll have hunters coming in from all over the state and beyond. Not to mention the kooks it’ll draw. Wouldn’t be very good for property values, in any case.”

“We understand, Sheriff. You can count on us.”

***

A minute later Owen stood outside Felicia’s house, gazing up at the tree. The tree he’d heard Friday night drunks refer to as “the leopard tree.” His eyes tracked up the trunk to its spreading branches. He followed one large branch towards the house. It stretched to within a few yards of an upstairs window. A window that now stood open, wide open, with no screen to block an intruder.
Or something trying to get out.

Owen felt an ominous tingling in his bones.

Now why would a thought like that pop into my head?

He took a step and nearly turned his ankle. Looking down he was shocked by what he saw. There on the lawn was a set of fresh paw prints. Huge paw prints. The impression they made was deep. Like whatever made them landed hard.

Those aren’t leopard tracks.

Based on their angle and position there was only one place they might have logistically come from. He looked up again at Felicia’s open window.

A chill ran down his spine.

359

Felicia wasn’t sure what Nelson was up to, but she was certain that Crystal was in danger.
I should have killed him when I had the chance.

Racing madly through the woods, she made a beeline for Andersen’s Bluff, a wooded plateau sixty feet higher than the forest below. In a matter of seconds she clawed her way up the bluff and climbed the tallest tree on its edge, stopping halfway up when the tree started creaking under her weight.

Digging her colossal claws into the trunk she froze to listen in silence. A breeze whispered past her, tickling the soft hair of her ears. A million leaves shimmered in the evening wind. Tiny chirps and snapping twigs and multitudinous animal sounds echoed from the forest below. Nature’s muted symphony.

Finally she heard what she was hoping to hear. There was no mistaking it, even filtered through a mile or two of dense forest. The smooth putter of the well-honed German engine. The slight squeak of a neglected bearing.

She retracted her claws and dropped to the top of the ridge beneath the tree. She descended the cliff in three mighty leaps.

She knew right where Nelson was taking his intended victim. A place she knew all too well.

359

Owen was surprised to find the house empty when he got home. “Wally?” he called out… and called again, louder.

No answer. The house was quiet as a tomb.
I guess he’s finished with his pity party. Those pills must have finally wore off.

Unbuckling his gun belt he hung it on the hat rack.
I just hope he’s not out there already looking for trouble. He wasn’t anything to be proud of up there hiding in his room, but at least he wasn’t running around town, shaming the family name.

He stepped into the dining room to settle in with a glass of his favorite bourbon. He had a lot on his mind, and bourbon had a way of making things simpler. Of clarifying his options.

The townspeople were in a paranoid uproar these days. They were angry at him for not having ended the mystery cat’s reign of terror. He couldn’t even enjoy a relaxing drink at the local taverns without catching acrimonious slings. People threatening to vote him out of office. Comparing his performance unfavorably to his old man’s.

He poured a hefty shot and raised it to his lips… then froze.

He turned and looked at the gun rack. The padlock hung askew, its steel hoop sliced cleanly through. The locking bar hung open. A rifle was missing.

Oh Jesus H Christ in merciful heaven. What is that little bastard up to now?

It took him half a minute to recall which weapon was missing.

It figures the dumb ass would take that one.

The Legacy Sports 1500 wasn’t his most prized possession, but it was a reliable shooter… at least until he’d dropped it down a ravine, knocking its scope out of whack. He’d meant to repair it, but after a season or two it was still untouched. With half-a-dozen rifles in his collection, he’d had no urgent need for the gun.

Now that idiot’s out there traipsing around with a high-powered rifle and a faulty scope. Who knows what kind of trouble he’ll get into?

He imagined Wally taking aim and firing, only to hit something he thought he wasn’t aiming at.
That would be so typical. The boy’s a natural fuck-up.

He threw back his glass of bourbon, and thought of the oversized paw prints he’d discovered outside Felicia’s house. With a lawman’s sense of intuition he started piecing together a jigsaw of possibilities.

He poured another shot and threw it down, then turned back to the gun rack. Trying to decide which weapon would serve him best.

359

The Sheriff drove slowly down the moonlit forest road, peeking down every access road for the fresh imprint of a motorcycle tire. Wally’s dirt bike had been missing when Owen checked the garage. It was clear he stole the rifle and rode off to hunt for the animal that had attacked him. 

As Owen drove he thought of Felicia. He couldn’t get the girl out of his head. It wasn’t just the strange animal tracks he’d found outside her home. It wasn’t the fact that she’d befriended the town witch. It just seemed he couldn’t think of his son these days without thoughts of Felicia popping up.

Owen felt compelled to compare the two. It was a perverse form of self-torture. Borne of guilt, he knew. Guilt for being a lousy father when his son had needed him most.

I should have taken more time with him after his mama died. That’s when he started acted up. But I was too dumb and self-centered to notice. Too busy having my own pity party.

The Sheriff couldn’t admit to himself what he knew deep inside. He’d always blamed Wally for his wife’s death. She’d had a hard labor, and her health was never the same after giving birth. She never recovered her strength and was dead a few years later. A slow painful decline for a once vital bastion of energy and joy.

He knew it was silly to blame the boy.

He didn’t choose to be freakishly large at birth. Didn’t choose to make his earthly entrance tangled in an umbilical cord. He wasn’t to blame for destroying his mother’s health.

She had serious issues that the doctors should have discovered. If the bastards had paid as much attention to her care as they did to her insurance forms, she’d be alive today.

It was silly to blame the boy. But it was easy.

Headlights flashed ahead, blinking through gaps in the woods before they finally swung into view. The Sheriff glanced at the approaching car to see who was driving in such a desolate area at this time of night. Hoping he might see Wally.

In the dim glow of their passing dashboard lights he recognized the driver. One of Wally’s friends.

The boy was easy to remember. His presence had always puzzled Owen. The clean-cut, well-dressed boy looked too wholesome to be hanging with Wally’s gang of metal-head misfits.

A girl sat beside him. She looked a bit uncertain. Timid. Possibly frightened.

If Owen hadn’t been busy with the mission at hand he might have stopped them to check on her. But he knew the boy saw him eyeing them. He’d be stupid to try anything improper.

359

“Come on, loosen up. It’s just a beer.”

“I d-don’t l-like b-beer,” Crystal said.

Oh Christ,
Nelson thought.
You better drink something soon, bitch, cause I don’t know how long I can put up with that stuttering.

“I’ll bet you never even tasted it. I’m not going to force you. But I do hate drinking alone. You don’t have anything against root beer, do you?”

Crystal smiled and shook her head. She’d been nervous when Nelson had pulled off the road and parked in such a lonely area. More nervous when he fired up a joint and tried to get her to smoke some. He hadn’t pressed the issue, but the second hand smoke in the car was enough to make her high. And now she felt paranoid.

Nelson reached into the cooler in the back seat and popped the top off a soda can.

Crystal relaxed a little, comforted by the crisp clean snap of the aluminum tab. She took a long sip, happy to be relieved of the dry-mouth the pot had brought on.

“That t-tastes g-good. I g-guess I h-have the m-munchies.”

Nelson smiled. It wouldn’t take long for the cocktail.of drugs he’d injected into the soda can to take effect. Using a heavy gauge hypodermic he’d prepared it as a back-up in case she refused the beer can he’d also prepared. He sealed the puncture with a tiny blob of silicone, so the beverage would stay fresh and would sizzle when the top of the can was popped.

“To you,” Nelson proposed a toast, forcing her to drink again.

Ten minutes later Crystal’s head was hanging low.

“Crystal? Are you alright?” He poked her in the ribs. Causing her to bolt upright. Her eyes were open, but her expression was a mess. She was clearly in a daze.

Shit. I hope I didn’t give her too much. I better get her on her feet.

“Come on,” he slapped her face gently. “Get up, Sleeping Beauty. It’s time.”

“Time?” she mumbled, barely coherent.

“Time to take a walk on the wild side.”

359

“Well, you finally fucking made it,” Wally said impatiently. He’d finished digging the hole half an hour earlier and was getting bored and doubtful. “I was just about to take off.”

“Yeah, well getting Sleeping Beauty out here was a little more work than I expected. It’s hard enough hiking through those woods without a limp bag of shit on your arm.”

Wally smiled as he checked out Crystal. Supported by Nelson, she stood with her eyes closed, wobbling on her feet. Not quite awake, and not quite asleep.

“I told you to go easy on that stuff.”

“Well I got her here. Now we just need to scare the shit out of her.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible in her condition.”

Nelson pinched one of Crystal’s nipples hard.

“Wake up, bitch!”

Crystal’s eyes flew open. She blinked hard, trying to stay focused. The blurry look on her face hardened into one of concern as she recognized Wally through her haze. Her concern turned to fear as he raised the rifle and pointed it at her.

“What’s going on?” she moaned.

“At least her fucking stutter is cured,” Nelson grinned. Then he turned to Crystal and half shouted in her ear. “We brought you here to kill you, you dumb bitch. What do you think of that?”