Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  15

  I paced back and forth in my dad’s bedroom, biting my thumb nail and glancing at my phone every other second as if that would make it ring. I couldn’t sit still, and I couldn’t bring myself to go back to packing. Everything I thought I knew had changed with a simple photograph and the message scrawled on it that was anything but simple.

  Remy stayed on my heels, pacing with me, obviously affected by my agitation. Was that why dad left me his police dog? Was he still worried for my safety?

  I stopped suddenly. Anger washed over me in a wave, anger that whoever threatened us had obviously gotten away with it. I couldn’t wait for Denver to decide to answer my questions; I needed to do something to find them out for myself. I spun on my heel and went to the dresser, pulling drawers out and tossing my dad’s belongings on the floor as I searched for more clues. There had to be something.

  With clothes scattered along the floor, I spun around, suddenly feeling very dizzy. I felt like I was hyperventilating. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, and my fingertips were tingling with adrenaline.

  How could this have happened? I’d blamed my dad for fifteen years. I thought he hadn’t loved me or that I’d done something unforgivable, and he couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. To find out that he’d been protecting me all along and I’d hated him—I felt like my heart was breaking.

  Remy barked, pulling my attention to him. Something about the way he was standing reminded me of the other day when he’d freaked out on the porch.

  The leather jacket…

  Running out of the room with Remy right behind me, I made my way down the hall and out the front door to the boxes still sitting on the porch. I dropped to my knees and ripped them open. I tossed the contents out on the porch, not caring about the mess I was making or the sounds of shattered glass as a cup broke. I was frantic.

  When my hands connected with leather, I snatched it up and sprinted back inside. Remy growled at my back, but I didn’t pay any attention. I was determined to get to the bottom of this. I laid the jacket on the kitchen table and checked the pockets, but they were empty save a receipt for a gas station in the city.

  It wasn’t until I ran my hands along the front of it that I felt a lump. I gasped and flipped the jacket open, revealing the silky inner lining. Grabbing the box cutter from my pocket, I sliced the material open then dug inside.

  When my hands connected with something plastic in the shape of a rectangle, I knew immediately what it was. A jump drive. My phone rang just as I pulled the drive free. I answered it without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “We need to talk,” a rough voice demanded on the other line.

  Tatum.

  “Yeah, we do. Come over,” I replied quickly before hanging up.

  Stuffing my phone in my back pocket, I fisted the drive and walked quickly to my bedroom. I pulled my laptop from my bag and sat on the bed, fidgeting while I waited for it to boot up. As soon as it woke up, I pushed the drive into the USB port. Each second it took for the contents of the drive to load, my heart thudded with anxiety. I was expecting the USB to have files on it, but instead my computer started downloading a program.

  It was a network of sorts. The screen was black and showed scrolling dates and locations with little file icons next to each. Navigating to the bottom of the page, I clicked on a link labeled archive. Hundreds upon hundreds of entries were stored in the network database. Each folder was labeled with the name of a month, and each month had a list of locations leading to separate folders full of spreadsheets. It was wildly intricate and, at first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.

  The dates didn’t mean anything to me and, while I recognized some of the locations, I didn’t understand their importance. They seemed random. Some were way out in the desert or up in the mountains, and some were right here in town, with no rhyme or reason to the pattern that I could discern.

  Closing out, I scrolled back up and opened this month’s tab then clicked on the top location. I saw today’s date and paused for a moment, my cursor blinking steadily over the file link. With a bad feeling making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, I clicked.

  September 4th. 9:00 PM. Marie’s Restaurant. Target: Denver Price

  My stomach dropped. I whipped a look around, the sudden paranoia that I was being watched too heavy to ignore.

  I screamed when a low, annoyed voice came from the doorway behind me, “I’ve been knocking on your door for the last ten minutes. If you’re gonna tell me to come over to talk, the least you could do is answer the door.”

  We stared at each other wide-eyed, me with panic, him with alarm at my scream. “You scared me, Tatum! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

  I knew I must be as pale as I felt because his expression shifted from surprise to concern.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, moving closer to sit beside me, laying a comforting hand on my back.

  All talk of yesterday was gone, and he was immediately in comfort mode. I wordlessly pulled the picture I’d found in my dad’s room from my pocket and handed it to him. While he unfolded it, I turned back to my laptop and looked up the address for Marie’s Restaurant.

  The diner was near the airport, only an hour and a half drive. If we got there early enough we could watch who came and went. I looked up at Tatum again when he made an inarticulate sound of anger. His jaw was clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding and his face was red with fury.

  “Was there anything else?” Tatum choked out.

  “This,” I replied, my voice shaky as I clicked back to the network and turned the computer so he could see the screen. He clicked on the same folders as I had, exploring each one. He ran his fingers through his beard speculatively.

  “It’s like some dark web catalogue. Drop points. Buyer pages. It’s a criminal network for drugs, weapons… and murder.”

  I braced myself when he clicked on the link for today.

  “Fuck,” Tatum breathed when he came to the listing showing Denver as the target.

  He quickly ejected the jump drive then slammed the lid shut on my laptop.

  “You think Mr. Strickland sent this to my dad?” I asked quietly, nodding to the note still in Tatum’s hand.

  "I think there's a lot of shit we need to figure out," Tatum announced.

  Remy got up and began whining as he paced the floor. Needing to distract myself, I followed him to the front door and let him outside. I stood watch on the porch, arms crossed over my chest, as I looked out over Dad's land and tried to think.

  He hadn't wanted me to go away. He sent me away because he didn’t have a choice.

  I collapsed on the stairs as the tears I’d been holding back since receiving the call that my dad was dead, fell freely. I grieved the man I misunderstood. He’d loved me enough to let go—which might've been the greatest love of all. Here I was, sitting on the very steps where he told me that I was going to live with my mother, and everything was now incredibly clear for the first time in fifteen years. Remy trotted up to me, cocking his head to the side as he looked at my sorrowful expression.

  "I wish I could've talked to him," I told Remy. I heard the front door open and felt Tatum settle behind me, enfolding me in the warmth and comfort of his big body. I didn't bother to wipe my tears.

  "He loved you," Tatum said.

  A part of me wanted to sit here and grieve, but there was another part of me that was furious and terrified.

  “It listed Denver as a target,” I said instead of responding to his statement. I knew I’d have time to mourn later, but Denver was in danger now. We didn’t have time for me to truly process everything I’d discovered.

  “We have to go to that diner. He’s not answering any of my calls.”

  "I had a feeling you were going to say that, Butterfly," Tatum replied. He hugged me from behind and began rubbing little circles on my skin with his thumb. "I tried calling Denver and Krew, but there was no answer. Normal
ly I would be against this sort of thing, but I think you're right."

  I nodded my head, feeling thankful that Tatum wasn’t trying to convince me to stay behind. Krew and Denver would want to hide me away, but Tatum challenged me to face my fears head on. I loved that about him. Resting my head back on his chest, I continue to think about those files hidden within the leather jacket. How did my father get it? How had he managed to uncover so much about the illegal network?

  “That jump drive contains enough evidence to take down all of the Hounds of Hell,” I murmured, realizing what that actually meant.

  I should've been scared for what we were about to face, but that wasn't what I was worried about. If Krew was truly working with his father, that meant he supported the organization—and possibly the man—that I was now convinced killed my dad. It also meant he was a part of the organization that put a hit on Denver.

  There was a big part of me that refused to believe it, despite the evidence to the contrary. I didn’t understand why he would be involved, how my sweet, playful Krew could be mixed up in something so horrible. I loved him but, if I found out he’d had any part in my father’s death, I would never forgive him for that. I couldn’t be with a man who was a part of such atrocious activities.

  “We'll get to the bottom of this, Butterfly,” Tatum promised.

  I nodded, hoping with every ounce of my being that we would find something that proved Krew was innocent. We sat there for another moment, staring out over Dad's land and trying to make sense of all that we had learned, before we got up and prepared to leave.

  Whatever happened tonight, whatever we saw, we would save Denver, and I would finally have the answers I needed.

  16

  Tatum and I didn't talk for most of the drive. I kept bouncing my leg, and he spent most the ride scanning the radio, never letting it stay on one station for more than a minute before changing it. Both of us had an anxious energy about us. I checked my phone obsessively, and with every blank screen, with every minute that passed without a call or even a text, my restlessness and tension doubled. I was dying for Krew or Denver to call us back. I needed reassurance that they were okay. I had to warn Denver of the danger before it was too late.

  I also needed to know that Krew didn't support his father’s club. I wasn't sure what I would do if he’d been involved with Daddy’s death. Especially knowing what I know now—that my dad had only sent me away to protect me.

  Remy was the calmest out of all of us. He slept in the backseat, only poking his head up occasionally to yawn and stare out the window. When we exited the highway and drove downtown, my heart began to race as I looked at the stucco buildings and busy streets. When I was a little girl, Daddy used to take me here. The zoo downtown was the best. He’d sit with me in front of the lion's den for hours. We would simply watch them, both of us in awe of their power and gracefulness.

  Now, we were entering a different sort of lion's den. They were just as powerful, but instead of the graceful beasts Dad and I used to stare at, these men were feral and hungry for power.

  “It says the diner is a block away, but I think we should park here,” Tatum announced, jerking his chin at the streetside parking as he slowed down.

  He parallel parked his truck, then we all got out as cars zoomed by us. I didn't bother putting a leash on Remy. He wasn't a big fan of the thing, and I wasn't a big fan of wrestling him. I knew he would stay by my side, and besides, should anything happen, I wanted him to be able to run away.

  Standing on the busy sidewalk as cars passed by, Tatum and I paused so I could try calling Denver and Krew one last time. The sun was setting now, and streetlights were just beginning to flicker on. The city was bustling at night, similar to Nashville. I couldn’t help but look around as the phone rang in my ear. I wished I were back in the quiet peacefulness of Daddy’s land with Denver, Krew, and Tatum. The fast pace of the city that I thought I loved had lost its appeal. I wanted fireflies and the twinkle of stars, not neon signs and headlights.

  Denver’s number finally went to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message but hung up and immediately dialed Krew’s number. I waited on pins and needles for him to answer, but it too went to voicemail.

  “Dammit,” I cursed.

  Tatum picked up his phone and began dialing, but just like my calls, there was no answer. Something just didn't feel right. I looked down at Remy and noticed how his ears were standing up. The hair on the back of his spine had lifted, and there was an edge in the way he carried himself. K-9 officers were trained to keep an eye out for danger, and Remy looked like we were on the edge of a cliff.

  I glanced in the direction in which he was staring but didn’t see anything. Beside me, Remy started to growl, and I turned my attention back to him. He began walking back and forth, keeping close, but bumping me with his body to urge me down the road. I felt a sick feeling in my gut and, after taking a moment to squeeze Tatum's hand, we started following Remy's lead.

  “Are you sure about this?” Tatum asked, eyeing me as I pulled my camera out of its bag and wrapped the strap around my neck. Maybe it was the journalist in me, but I was wired to never enter a shady situation without a camera. You never knew when you needed to document something.

  “I’m sure,” I answered, my voice steady. I was absolutely terrified for my guys, but this—walking into danger to document it—was familiar territory. I knew how to stay unobtrusive and unseen, a faceless bystander only there to capture the moment.

  Remy seemed very familiar with the streets, his pace steady and sure, and I couldn't help but wonder if Daddy had brought him here before. How long had he been following this gang?

  Remy turned left down an alley, and the sudden darkness surrounding us made my pulse race. There were no street lamps overhead to illuminate the way, so all I could do was grab the fur on Remy’s back and follow. No more than ten feet in, the smell of old fry grease and rot hit me. I coughed, my eyes watering as I tried to take small breaths through my mouth. Tatum was less quiet in his disgust beside me, but his steps never faltered.

  He kept a firm grasp on my free hand as we walked and, although we were headed towards danger, I felt safe with him and Remy. At the end of the alley, I breathed in the dry New Mexico air and stared at the neon sign across the street, reading Marie’s Restaurant.

  “How the hell… Remy led us right to it,” I looked down at the dog wonderingly.

  “Looks like it,” Tatum replied, his voice just as surprised as mine.

  The restaurant was very busy. It seemed like a pretty popular place. Pedestrians loitered out front, and the inside visible through the windows was packed. Upbeat music could be heard faintly even from where we were hidden across the street.

  I wasn’t an expert, but this seemed like a highly unlikely location for illegal activity, particularly the kidnap or murder of a police detective. Maybe that was the point? There were a lot of tourists, but they all had the look of regular people out for dinner or a night on the town. The restaurant itself didn't feel like the sort of spot criminals would regularly hang out, and none of the people there had a menacing vibe to them. If anything, it resembled a bustling family restaurant.

  Was the spreadsheet wrong? Maybe we had followed a dead end. What if the location had changed after we left?

  “Are we sure this is right?” I asked.

  Tatum pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the snapshot he’d taken of my computer screen earlier. “Yeah, this is it. It has to be. It’s the only restaurant with that name within a hundred miles.”

  Remy only paused for a moment before he was moving again, still on high alert as he led us forward. We crossed the street and were immediately immersed in the mass of people hanging out outside.

  Remy navigated the crowd with ease, weaving through the bodies without hesitation. I switched my grip from his fur to his collar so I didn’t lose him and held Tatum’s hand tighter.

  Now that we were closer to the restaurant, I glanced inside the wi
ndows, searching for the familiar faces of Denver or Krew in the sea of people. My chest squeezed when I didn’t spot them, and the surprisingly loud, fast-paced music of the mariachi band playing inside only seemed to feed my anxiety. I didn’t think I’d ever been to a restaurant with such jarringly raucous music. I couldn’t hear myself think. It even drowned out the noise of the crowd around us.

  Remy bypassed the restaurant, and went down the side street just past it, leading us away. Again, I found myself wondering how often he’d been here. He acted like he knew exactly where he was going. He didn’t pause once to get his bearings or sniff around.

  This alley was even darker than the last and, now that we were past the entry doors to the restaurant, there was hardly anyone in sight. The sounds of the band were still loud though, making it near impossible to hear if anyone was approaching.

  Remy's steps finally paused at a set of stairs leading up to a seemingly defunct second story above the restaurant. It looked like an apartment that hadn’t been lived in for a long time. Remy sniffed the ground around us and growled, his eyes locked on the wooden door at the top of the steps. I made to walk up the steps, my worry for my guys overshadowing the wariness I would normally have for entering dark, abandoned buildings, but Remy blocked the stairs with his body, and Tatum put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

  Tatum guided me towards the brick wall behind us. We both leaned against it, Remy standing guard at our feet, and tried to find our bearings.

  “Think the restaurant is a cover?” he whispered, keeping his head on a swivel while pressing against me, guiding me farther into the shadows.

  “It has to be. It’s popular enough that a new face wouldn’t raise any suspicions, and people might not notice a bunch of shady men sneaking around back. Plus, with how deafeningly loud that music is you wouldn’t hear a… ”

  “Gunshot?” Tatum finished for me, his voice grim.