Trina frowned. Odd that she was so willing to grasp at the off-the-wall concept of being a shape-shifter. So much nicer than to think one is insane. She closed her eyes, this time in a desperate attempt to shut out memories and fears.
The door opened behind her, startling her. She whirled, a snarl caught in her throat, her fingers clawed to attack. Wyatt's palms shot up, blocking any attack attempt, and jerked her back to reality. Trina sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, shaken. God, she'd almost attacked Wyatt.
Wyatt sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's okay,” she muttered and leaned into the kiss he placed on her forehead. She felt rather than heard him sigh and looked up. “What's wrong?"
"I got to the end of the trail of blood and found a dead and naked man."
"You think the mountain lion killed him?"
Wyatt stared at the far wall. “I think the man is the mountain lion."
Trina's mouth worked, but no sound came out.
"I called Barry,” he went on. “Dean and Paolo were found dead, too. Right there in the park. Throats—"
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I-I—"
Wyatt pulled her hand into his. “You didn't do this, Trina. You were here, with me, sound asleep. Our cars never left the garage."
"But before ... at the park..."
"Sweetheart, there simply wasn't time, motive, or opportunity. Plus, there's no way you could have overpowered two men, eliminated any evidence on you, and gotten back home in the time allotted."
She couldn't argue with that logic.
"The police are on their way here,” he continued. “They'll want to take statements from everyone who saw the attack tonight."
Four deaths. Two common factors—Trina and Wyatt. Once the police started investigating more thoroughly...
"You know, my mother killed a man and then herself.” God, the words hurt to say, but she had to get them out. “I need to be like you and the others, Wyatt.” Tears threatened. Trina ordered them away. Crying wouldn't solve anything. She had to deal with this now, tonight. “To think otherwise..."
A deep breath steadied her nerves, but not by much. “All my family dies young and tragically. My mother wasn't well. She had blackouts, too. She'd wake up with gouges on her body. She kept saying a demon was trying to crawl out of her body. We couldn't afford health care, and she was really adamant about never seeing a doctor again after one diagnosed her with schizophrenia. She'd drink herself into a stupor most nights. Scream that the whole family was fucking nuts, and I'd be feeling the curse soon. I worked her jobs when she couldn't, just to make sure we had money to pay the bills. And the men ... a constant stream. They'd leave her, and she'd go crazy. The last one..."
Her chin trembled. Damn it, she refused to cry. Refused! “She killed him. Took a knife and slashed him repeatedly, then turned it on herself. I found them. I'd worked her shift at the coffee shop and then went to the library to get my homework done. Blood everywhere. I made the mistake of touching them to see if there was some chance they were alive. The police questioned me, took evidence from under my nails.” Like tonight.
"I swore I'd never be like her, never let men use me. But I became just like her. Going from one man to the next. Now ... now I have blackouts, and people are being killed around me.” Wyatt wrapped those wonderful arms of his around her and pulled her tight against him; Trina truly believed nothing could ever hurt her.
"It wasn't you, sweetheart. I don't know what it is yet, but I know it wasn't you."
Another tap on her bedroom door intruded. “The police are here, dear,” Mrs. Wallace called out.
"Be right there."
Wyatt brushed another sweet kiss to her forehead. “You need to pack a bag. We're going someplace safe. I might not know exactly what's going on, but I do know someone or something is out to kill every single one of us.” He looked hard at her. “And I do mean us. I refuse to go down without a fight."
"Hard to fight, when you don't know who the enemy is."
"Exactly."
Trina prayed it wasn't her.
* * * *
If only Dean and Paolo had listened instead of going off half-cocked. They'd walked right into a trap. How could it be any other way? Wyatt wracked his brain, trying to figure out if he could have done something more to stop the men from their crazy plan. Nothing came to mind. The two had been determined and hell-bent on revenge, and who could blame them? Wyatt played hell himself, trying to keep his human form in check when his shape-shifter self cried out for vengeance. Man or jaguar, Wyatt wanted a taste of the killer's blood, too.
Trina had taken the news as he'd expected, instantly suspecting herself. Wyatt also recalled the profound relief that flickered over her face when he reminded her she hadn't been alone long enough to have killed two men and covered up the bloody evidence. Her relief was short-lived, though, when the police arrived and divided everyone in order to take statements. Considering what she'd told him about her mother, Wyatt could certainly understand how afraid Trina was. All things considered, she did one hell of job, being able to keep her emotions and fears in check. He relied on her strength to build up his own.
"It seems an awfully large coincidence, Mr. Caldwell, that four deaths have occurred tonight, and all are connected to you."
Wyatt smoothed Lupe's fur and stared a hole through Detective Sanchez's lifeless dark eyes. Lupe's purrs calmed him, gave him an anchor to keep him in place. The cat needed the reassurance as well. He wished he could give some to Trina. The other detective had her sequestered in the kitchen. Wyatt couldn't see her from where he sat on the living room sofa. But he had an excellent view of the back patio.
Uniformed officers separated the neighbors as far as they could without leaving the protection of the porch light, but still kept them outside the yellow tape that designated Trina's house a possible crime scene. Numbered markers tracked the blood drops to and from the body he'd found. A forensic tech diligently swabbed each drop as evidence; another one processed the street scene. The police would never be able to piece the scenario together in their heads. They'd probably conclude the samples were contaminated. They'd accuse the mountain lion of having tracked the man and killed him. For them, it would be beyond the realm of possibility that the mountain lion and the man could be—were—one and the same. God only knew what they'd made of the fact that the dead man was naked. Wyatt wished they'd hurry up with their questions and evidence hunting and get the hell out of there, so he could do a little evidence collecting of his own. And get Trina to a safe place.
"I don't know what to tell you.” A lie, but Sanchez wouldn't be able to handle the truth, or rather, what Wyatt believed was the truth. “You have a dozen witnesses who saw and heard the mountain lion here. Ask any one of them. Or what about the cat?” Arching one eyebrow at the man, Wyatt gently compressed the pad on Lupe's paw, forcing her claws to extract. “Want a DNA sample from Lupe's claws?"
Lupe glared at the detective. A deep-throated growl dared the man to touch her.
"Well said, little one.” Wyatt dug his fingers behind her ears and scratched her. A new purr rewarded his attention. She kneaded her paws against his thigh, catching threads of denim in her claws.
"It's common knowledge the wildlife population has moved into the city,” he told Sanchez. “I've lost three friends tonight. One because she wandered away from our group, and two others because they were stupid enough to go out and try to hunt the mountain lion immediately after an attack, in the dark, with no protection.” Wyatt shook his head. “I don't know the man down the street, or why he was naked. As far as I'm concerned, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I would think your time would be better served trying to find out who he is, not standing before me, essentially accusing me and my woman. Maybe you should take a little time and review the supposed evidence you scraped from Trina's nails earlier. That'll prove she's not worthy of your tim
e."
Sanchez's brown face turned dark red. “I would if you people would quit dying!"
Wyatt snapped to his feet. “How dare you stand before me and—"
"First coyotes, now mountain lions! What's next? Bears?” The shout came from Trina's gun-toting neighbor, Leon, who was one of those being questioned on the back patio.
Lupe's fur stood on end. Wyatt didn't blame her. It raised his hackles, too. The man was trigger happy and out for blood. His motto might as well be tattooed on his forehead: Shoot First. Ask No Questions Later.
"He's armed, you know.” Wyatt jerked his head toward the patio door. “It could have gone very badly for all of us tonight if he'd started shooting at anything that moved."
He watched the furrows deepen in Sanchez's forehead. Sweat beaded on the man's upper lip. He blotted it away with the back of his hand. “Thanks. I'll look into it. I'm sure by now one of the uniforms has ascertained the man's legal possession of the weapon. If not, he wouldn't still have it."
"The phrase ‘pry it from my cold, dead hand’ comes to mind."
The detective's jaw tensed. “We know our jobs, Mr. Caldwell. You don't tell us how to do police work, and we won't tell you how to do—whatever it is you do.” With that he walked away. A jerk of his arm signaled his partner that they were leaving. The man tucked his notepad in his shirt pocket and followed.
"I presume this means we're dismissed?” Trina asked behind his back. Both men flushed. Pride swelled Wyatt's chest. He knew she was rattled, but she never let it show.
"Yes, ma'am,” the partner replied. “We'll contact you if we need anything else."
Wyatt set Lupe on her feet. “Leave us your business card. Ms. Tate and I will be staying elsewhere."
Sanchez jerked around to face them. “May I ask where?"
"Away. When we get where we're going, we'll let you know.” Or not. More likely not.
"I don't think—"
"You seem to forget that we aren't suspects.” Arms tucked across her chest, Trina braced herself against the doorjamb. She put up a good front, but Wyatt could feel her inner turmoil. It magnified his own. The need for action.
"If I'm mistaken in that assumption, then perhaps it would be best if you contact us through our attorneys at Braden Institute."
Bravo, Trina.
"We'll do that.” They left without another word.
Neither Wyatt nor Trina moved. Lupe sat on the floor between them, waving her tail as she watched the activity wind down on the back patio. One by one the neighbors left, until only Mrs. Wallace remained. Clutching her purple terrycloth bathrobe against her throat, the old woman tapped on Trina's patio door. Lupe trotted over to meet her, Trina close behind. The instant Trina opened the door, Lupe leaped into Mrs. Wallace's arms.
"That seems like a good place for you tonight, Xena."
Mrs. Wallace cackled. Her light blue eyes sparkled with love and laughter. “Yes, our little warrior princess. We should post signs around the neighborhood alerting everyone we have an attack cat on duty."
Wyatt didn't doubt someone would have signs up soon warning of mountain lion sightings. He wondered how long it'd be before the police were back investigating mistaken shootings.
Trina draped her arm around the old woman's shoulders. “Lupe's done enough work for one night. I'll walk you home so she can relax her guard."
"Thank you, dear.” She patted Trina's cheek. Wyatt sensed the love in her touch.
"I'll walk her home,” Wyatt said. “I want to collect a few samples to take back to the institute's lab."
Trina's lips trembled, and she could only manage a halfhearted attempt at a smile. “Thank you. I'm feeling off again. I'd rather stay inside."
"Understood.” All too well.
"Thank you.” Her smile faltered.
He cupped her cheek, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. “You were asleep, Trina. Sound asleep."
She blinked away tears. “Thank you for that, too.” She cleared her throat to hide her tears and overwrought feelings. “You'll need cotton swabs and zipped plastic bags for your samples. Wait one minute."
Wyatt stood with Mrs. Wallace, indulging Lupe with more ear rubs. “I have a feeling she won't be venturing far from you any time soon."
Mrs. Wallace chuckled. “I wouldn't bet on that. This one has the heart of an adventurer. Her social calendar would rival the busiest CEO's. Lupe lives by her own terms."
"Well, she certainly earned her claws tonight as neighborhood watch cat."
Lupe's purr deepened.
Behind him, Trina snickered. “Oh, Lupe, do quit flirting. It'll go to his head."
Something went to his head all right, but it sure wasn't Lupe. Trina's pheromones speared his senses, putting his cock at rigid attention. He doubted she even realized they had spiked again.
"This should do.” She gave him a couple dozen cotton swabs in a zipped bag, then gave him an equal number of empty zipped bags. “You'll need help collecting the sample on the roof. I'll help you when you get back. And I'll take some pictures of the patio, too. It might help you analyze the situation a bit more."
"Thanks.” He lifted her chin on the crook of his finger and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I won't be long."
"I'll give you fifteen minutes and then I'm coming to find you."
Mrs. Wallace chuckled. “Looks like someone else is out to earn her claws tonight, too."
You have no idea. Wyatt kissed Trina again. “Pour us some wine. I won't be long."
Mrs. Wallace didn't dawdle or waste time with small talk as Wyatt walked her to her door. She hotfooted it back to her house in record time. The second she unlocked her door, Lupe jumped inside and scrambled up the cat perch in the far corner of the room. The old woman beamed Wyatt a “thank you,” then shut and locked the door as he asked.
Wyatt pivoted on his heel and headed for the crime scene two blocks away. He waited until he cleared Mrs. Wallace's yard light, then pulled out his cell phone and stared at the lighted keypad. A deep breath did little to calm his nerves. He felt the energy pooling in his gut, the jaguar desperate to come out and defend against the enemy. This was how Dean and Paolo felt, and it'd gotten them killed. He wouldn't make the same mistake.
Wyatt could only imagine how Trina felt right now. Raw. Confused. Afraid. Her core would burn even more than it had earlier tonight. As the change progressed, the need for sexual release became greater, more demanding. Almost unbearable. He'd give her relief when he returned. He'd be the first to admit he needed some too.
Reordering his thoughts, he called Joaquin. His friend answered on the first ring.
"Where are you?” he demanded.
Wyatt understood the panic all too well. “Still at Trina's house. Barry told you about our intruder?"
"Yes. I agree a defensive position is best. We're gathering at the Prentice estate."
"Good.” Wyatt hated the place, but the hilltop mansion had the security, surveillance, and resources they needed. “I'll meet you there later. I'm collecting biological samples for the lab."
"We'd all feel better if you met us there now, or allowed us to come get you. Your own words to Barry: none of us should be alone."
"I'm not alone. I'm with Trina."
Silence. “I presume she'll be joining us?” he finally said.
"Yes.” Wyatt longed to tell him more. He hated keeping the clan in the dark, but he couldn't depend on not being overheard by the wrong people. He might not see, hear, or smell anyone else around, but a skilled hunter could hide so much.
"Is what you suspected of her true?"
"Yes. I've seen it."
Joaquin's deep sigh drifted through the phone receiver. Wyatt knew he'd be rubbing the back of his neck, too, if he'd heard news like that.
"Theories?” Joaquin asked.
"Several. Now that the police have left, I'll try to send a secure e-mail to you through the institute's system when I get back to Trina's.” It'd save them time in the long run. Plus,
Wyatt wanted to have the information running through someone else's head, to have extra opinions on whether the theories or conjectures were relevant or crazy ramblings.
"Be careful. You know where to find us. Make sure we don't wind up looking for you in the morgue.” Joaquin hung up without another word.
Wyatt stuffed the phone into his pocket. The area where the blond man died was just ahead. He smelled the blood. Police had towed the car away to process for evidence. Wyatt could kick himself. He should have collected some evidence of his own from the interior of the vehicle. But he'd been unprepared and worried about compromising the scene. The last thing he needed was to have any more suspicion thrown his way.
He slowed down as he neared the pool of blood staining the asphalt, hoping he'd find something the forensics tech had missed. Humidity had kept the blood sticky. Nothing remarkable presented itself. Squatting down, he swiped a cotton swab over the blood sample, then put the swab in the bag and zipped it shut.
Shit, no marker to identify it!
Wyatt caste a surreptitious glance around. No curious onlookers, as far as he could tell. Keeping his hands tucked close, he elongated his index claw and scratched the words “pool, street” on the lip of the plastic bag above the seam. He'd write over it later with a red permanent marker.
As the first edges of dawn lit the sky, he followed the blood drops back to Trina's patio, stopping to take samples every so often. That would help prove the blood came from the same source. As he bent to take a sample from the flagstones, he watched through the patio door glass as Trina prowled through her living room. Even through the window at this distance he could see the fresh spread of cat spots curl around her neck. They were darker and ringed with a barely visible white. She was on the edge, trying her best to keep herself in control. The final sample from the roof could wait.
Blue-black eyes looked his way when he walked through the back door. Her energy poured over him, calling to him on that level Wyatt had come to associate with “their place.” His body felt like one massive hard-on. Hers probably did as well.
"You shouldn't leave the curtains open.” He wrapped his fingers around the cord and closed them. “They invite unwanted company."
Into the Night [Into the Heart 2] Page 11
