by Renee George
“What?” She took the necklace back and bit down on it. “Ow.” Her mood curdled. “Well, shit.”
“Watch your language,” Tyler said.
It was a good thing he wasn’t my big brother because he’d be scolding me all the time. I looked at the piece of fake jewelry again. “That’s a herringbone design, right?”
“I think so. That’s what Roger said.”
Crap, it had been right in front of me the whole time. “Fuck me running.”
Tyler glared at me then at his sister.
“Sorry,” I said, “but I think I’ve figured out what fraud scheme is.” I pointed to the necklace. “It’s a gold scam.”
I pushed past Michele and ran up to Dakota’s room to retrieve the backpack. I stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, then yelled out the door. “Did Roger come upstairs to the second floor?”
Michele and Tyler came up and stood in the doorway. Michele said, “Yes, why?”
“Fuc...dge.” My dirty clothes were still in a pile on the floor where I’d left them, but the coil filled bag had disappeared. “That bastard stole my evidence.”
Michele sighed. “Here,” she said, holding out the worthless chain. “Take it. I’m so done.”
*****
I called Farraday and told him when he tracked down Roger to make sure he grabbed the backpack too. Back at the station, Connelly and Brady were still going over the books. Brady had a lot of chicken scratch written up on the blackboard. It reminded me of being back in school. Only, I’d never been this hot for teacher.
I called Babcock Jewelry in Osage Beach. Sabrina’s boss answered the phone. “Hello. This is Deputy Boden of the Peculiar Sheriff’s Office.” Tyler raised his brow at me, and I shrugged. I didn’t think special investigator the Tri-State Council would hold much weight for a human. “I have a case involving fake jewelry and wondered if you would help me with a few questions.”
“Certainly, Deputy Boden. I’m happy to help law enforcement.”
“Great. I have a necklace in my possession. It’s a herringbone design, and it has a point-nine-nine-nine stamped in the clasp, but I tested it, and the metal in the chain doesn’t indent when I bite it. I know that’s not conclusive, but I’ve heard,” from you, “that fine jewelry is rarely made with pure gold.”
“It sounds like it might be electroplated with gold and then stamped to make it appear like the real thing, Deputy.”
“Electroplated? Could someone do that, say from their home, or is it something that a manufacturer would have to do?”
“With the right equipment, it can be done at home, but it’s very dangerous.”
“How so?”
“To electroplate metal, the piece has to be dipped in a solution of gold potassium cyanide in order for the gold to adhere.”
I put him on speaker. “Say that again?”
“I said, the metal needs to be dipped potassium cyanide in order for the metal to adhere.”
The station got quiet enough to hear a fly fart. “Thank you, Mister...”
“Babcock,” he said. “I own the store.”
“One more question. Do you do any electroplating at your store?”
“Well.” He hesitated. “I don’t sell electroplated jewelry in my shop, but sometimes I do special orders for people. I do it in a well-ventilated area, though. I follow all the safe practices.”
“Has any of your solution gone missing?”
“Not that I’m aware of. However, I had some chain disappear this last week.”
“Was it on spools?”
“Yes. It was only worth a couple of hundred dollars, so I didn’t bother to report it. Is that what this is about? Have you found my rhodium chains?”
I didn’t know rhodium from Adam. “Maybe. I’ll call you if I get anything conclusive.” I hung up. “Connelly, Thompson. I need you both out there looking for Roger Parks. Now. I’ll follow in my truck.”
As the two deputies hustled out, I gave Brady a flat look. “I guess we know where the cyanide came from.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brady insisted on coming along on the manhunt, and I while I wasn’t the take-your-sweetie-to-work kind of gal, I found it hard to say no to Brady, and honestly, I didn’t want to. If he wanted to ride with me, I was happy to have him.
Farraday called in. “I found Roger’s car off Old Danvers road just past the north bridge. He’s not inside. Do you want me to pursue into the woods?”
“No,” I said. “Wait for Thompson, Connelly, and me to get there first. We’ll do a grid search in shifter form. It will be quicker.”
“Roger that,” Eldin said. “Er. I mean, got it.”
“I know what you meant. Out.” I shook my head at Brady. My enthusiasm for the chase stirred my blood and accelerated my pulse.
“You’re vibrating with excitement.”
“Yep.” I slowed down my breathing to still my shaking hands. I hadn’t been on a tracker mission since the previous June, and Chavvah had most of the fun on that one. Though, truthfully, she probably hadn’t considered being stalked by a serial killer a good time.
“Damn, woman. I may have to take you out and let you hunt me down later.”
“Only if I get to eat you.” I bared my teeth.
“I think that’s my line.”
I laughed. His promise of more late-night fun only added to the rush.
Connelly and Thompson had already arrived, and the three deputies were taking off their uniforms.
“Who’s the most familiar with this piece of land?” I asked.
Connelly raised his hand. “I grew up a couple of miles over. I know these woods pretty well.”
Brady and I began to strip. He was still yummylicious to look at, but in this situation, my therianthrope nature asserted itself. Being a shifter was like living in a nudist colony. Most of the time a body was just a body.
Brady shimmied his jeans over his thighs. Rawr! A body was just a body unless it was my hot werecoyote’s body.
“Down, girl,” he said in a low voice, his grin wicked. “We are definitely playing chase when this is all over.”
I shivered. Oof-ta. Get your head in the game, Willy! “What is Roger’s animal?”
Farraday answered, “He’s a mountain lion.”
Big cat, eh? I might be smaller, but I was willing to bet I had a lot more experience in a catfight. “Connelly, are you okay as a squirrel going into this? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay hominid in this case.”
His brows furrowed. “I’ll be fine. I’m small but mighty.”
Thompson punched his arm and laughed. “Mighty quick, you mean.”
Connelly shook his head and smiled. “I’m shifting.”
“Anything in the woods we should know about? Maybe a place where Roger might go?”
“There is a hunter’s blind,” said Connelly.
We all winced.
“A really old one,” he amended. “It hasn’t been used in years.” He pointed out, and a made a line with his finger moving north to south. “A stream runs through the property about a half mile in. The blind is south-west of the stream.”
“Does he know we’re looking for him?”
Farraday shrugged, the pupils in his gray-green eyes pinpoint for sharp focus. “I doubt it. He didn’t try to hide his car.”
“Good,” I said. “Connelly you go north and follow the stream down. Stick high in the trees, but remember, mountain lions are climbers. Farraday, you and Thompson fan out moving east to west here in the middle of the property. Sound off if you catch his scent. Brady and I will go south and follow the stream up.”
Brady nodded to me. “Be careful. Roger is scrappy.”
“So am I.” I didn’t tell him to watch his six because I’d be doing it for him.
The freedom of the shift washed over me as fur sprouted over my skin like soft velvet against a baby’s ass. As the bones shifted inside me, the magic of the change made me smaller, lighter, agiler. When I completed
the change, I looked over to see a brown coyote staring at me, his tongue lolling to the side of his mouth.
That’s my man. He was a gorgeous pooch. Almost like a big dog. To the right of us, sat a squirrel, a brown fox, and a twelve-point buck. I hadn’t thought about Thompson being a deer. They were not predators, but deer were fast, and those antlers could do some damage if it came down to it. That’s why most predators didn’t hunt strong males alone. They could hold their own in a one-on-one fight.
I roared, well, more of a scream really, and we all headed off in our specified directions. Roger Parks scent was fresh, and I’d chosen the right path for myself and Brady. I smelled human not mountain lion. Roger hadn’t shifted. Whatever he was doing on this property had nothing to do with the call of the wild.
I sniffed the air to let Brady know that I was on the trail. He whined and sniffed the air to show me he already knew. His amber eyes locked on me. He nudged me with his muzzle to the left, and he began to run toward the right. He wanted to circle around, each of us taking a side. I liked the way he thought.
A metal shed, probably twelve feet square sat close to where Connelly had said there was a hunting blind. I heard the whir of a fan blowing at a vent near the top of the structure. I crouched low, and I crept closer to the shed. There was a window on the door, but in my current form, I couldn’t reach it without completely giving myself away.
Fuckity-fuck.
I made an executive decision and shifted back. I duck walked to the door and raised up just enough to peek inside. Roger Parks wore a white paper suit over his clothes, goggles, and a respirator mask. He had rubber gloves on that stretched up to his elbows.
We’d found the ground zero for the fraud squad. Clever. They had to know that shifters probably avoided this area like the plague. I was surprised no one had torn it down. I watched Roger pour the liquid solution into a Pyrex measuring cup. He walked toward the door. I ducked down and moved to one side.
The front door flew wide pushing me out into the open. Roger threw the cup of liquid at me. I screamed, turning my face away from the shower. “You triggered my motion sensors, bitch!”
I crashed to the ground, stunned. The liquid splashed my back, my right arm, and my legs. The solution didn’t sting, but I knew my body would absorb the toxin. I got to my knees, with the intention of getting to my feet and whooping his ass.
“Get up, and I will kill you,” he said. I noticed then his ashen pallor and bulging eyes. I knew fear when I saw it. Roger showed me the measuring cup and I saw that the Pyrex was only half full. His hands shook so hard, the cyanide splashed around. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Roger’s terror was almost palpable. Why would he be so frightened if he was in charge of the scam? No, he acted more like a lackey. I wasn’t taking ass-whooping off the table, but I reversed tactics, trying a softer approach.
“You don’t want to hurt me, Roger. I’m a cop. You know what happens when you kill a cop, right?”
“I get brownie points in hell.” His voice trembled. I could see in his expression he finally realized the full impact of what he’d done. “Why? Why did you come here?”
“You know why.” I had to get the cyanide off my skin. Spots on my arm were already turning bright pink as my pores absorbed the poison. “Let me wash this shit off me. Then we can talk.” A quick dip in the stream might be enough to stave off the cyanide’s effects.
“It’s too late,” he murmured. “Fuck. It’s too late.”
I sprung to my feet and moved back. My sudden move startled Roger so much, he almost dropped the Pyrex. Unfortunately, he held on it and then stepped forward, aiming the measuring cup in my direction. “I’m sorry, Ms. Boden. I really am.”
I moved back quickly. Too quickly. The back of my foot hit a thick tree root, and I went down hard. I fell against the huge trunk of the offending tree, scraping my back and possibly twisting my ankle.
Fuck this. I started to shift.
I heard Brady’s snarls before he appeared, tearing around the back of the blind and straight at Roger. Fear for my man chilled my blood.
Roger turned, obviously intending to throw the cyanide on Brady.
I finished shifting quicker than I thought possible. I leaped and knocked Roger off his feet. It didn’t matter if I got more cyanide on me—but I’d be damned if I allowed that punk to hurt Brady.
The Pyrex glass arced through the air, and landed a few feet away, its poisonous contents sinking into the dirt.
But my bobcat was not satisfied, and I was in sync with her demand for vengeance. I sunk my claws and teeth into Roger’s right calf. He let out a surprised yelp and tried to scuttle backward. Roger kicked at me with his free leg, his booted heel punching my shoulder. I barely felt it. I wasn’t letting go until Brady was safe.
Until Roger couldn’t hurt him ever again.
My fangs dug deeper into his flesh. Warm blood filled my mouth, the rusty taste coating my tongue.
“Baby, it’s okay.”
Brady’s voice infiltrated my single-minded goal to protect him.
“Let go, Willy. Just let go.”
Brady’s naked human body, covered in blood, crouched next to me. His gaze was calm, his voice soft.
“Let go,” Brady said again. “I need you, baby. Please let go.”
With Brady whispering comfort and his big hands stroking my fur, I calmed enough to spit Roger’s mangled leg out of my mouth. I shifted into my human form and immediately started shaking. My head hurt, and I felt like vomiting. “The cyanide,” I said, my voice weak. “He dumped some on me.”
Brady bent forward to pick me up.
“No.” I hit at him. “Don’t touch me. You’ll get it on you.”
“Fuck that.” Brady scooped me up and began to run. In a few seconds, he and I were submerged in the creek. He used mud and moss and whatever was handy to wash me clean. I just prayed it wasn’t too late.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I didn’t exactly feel better after being dunked in the cold water and scrubbed with mud. Go figure, right? My symptoms seem to worsen, and I felt so dizzy. The kind of dizzy that happens right before passing out. Don’t pass out. You’re a bad ass, remember?
“Is she okay?” called out Farraday.
“She will be.”
“Gotta get back to the scene,” I yelled, my voice hoarse. “Not done investigating.”
“The deputies are already on site,” answered Farraday. He paused. “She doesn’t look good, Brady. You better get her to Doc Smith quick.”
“Call him,” directed Brady as he lifted me into his arms and walked out of the creek. “Tell him what happened and that we’re on the way.”
I managed to stay awake while Brady ran all the way from the creek to my truck. He tucked me inside, and I realized we were both still naked. At least Brady had managed to wash most of the blood off him. I don’t think I stayed conscious the whole time. As I drifted in and out, Brady kept a hand on my thigh.
“Please don’t take her from me,” I heard him say. “Please don’t let her die. I can’t lose her. Not her too. I can’t. I won’t survive it. I’m not strong enough. But if you just let her live, I’ll never be weak again.” When the truck stopped. He pulled me out and cradled me in his arms. “Please don’t leave me, Willy. Please, please don’t leave.”
The next thing I knew, we were at the clinic.
Billy Bob waited for us, but Brady refused to let me go. He carried me to a room with a twin-sized bed. Billy Bob waved a noxious-smelling stick under my nose. I recognized the scent of amyl nitrate. It was also known as a popper. I roused and tried to sit up.
“No, not yet,” the doc said. “Hold still, Willy.”
“Is she going to be okay, Doc?” Brady asked. “Tell me she will be okay.”
“I think her exposure was minimal. I’m going to run a sodium nitrate IV and give her glucose. I don’t have a full cyanide antidote kit, but you did the right thing washing the excess liquids off her.�
� He looked at Brady’s arms. “Are you feeling dizzy?”
“No,” Brady said then stumbled into the chair next to my bed.
“Brady!” I cried out and attempted to move toward him.
“If you don’t stop wiggling, I’m going to strap you down, Willy.” Billy Bob waved a popper under Brady’s nose. My man sat up straighter and then reached over to hold my hand.
“I’ll set up this room for two. You are both getting treated. I can help with the physical issues, but I can’t do anything about your stupidity.” Billy Bob shook his head. “You’re lucky to be alive.” On that note, he strode out of the room.
“You saved me,” I told Brady.
He squeezed my hand. “As I recall, you saved me first.”
I had the feeling he wasn’t talking about Roger. I got angry all over again when I thought about how that boy tried to kill us. Had I imagined his fear? Maybe so. My so-called compassion must’ve overridden my common sense. Anyone vile enough to throw cyanide at people no doubt had what it took to poison and stab Evelyn Meyers.
“What happened to Parks?” I asked.
“Dead. Connelly flew out of a tree like a kamikaze squirrel and attacked Roger’s head. It was just enough for me to take him off-balance. When he hit the ground, I tore out his throat.”
Good on Connelly. Deputy Squirrel more than proved his mettle out there. “Parks deserved it.” I thought briefly about Michele and felt gut-punched. No matter how I felt about Roger Parks, I still felt bad for Michele. She cared about him—and she’d grieve.
“I think he killed Evelyn,” I said. “To protect his money-making scam.”
“Who killed Evelyn?” asked Jo Jo as he walked into the room. He studied us, his expression a mixture of concern and fear. “Jesus, you two look like hammered crap.”
“You say the nicest things, ” I croaked. My throat felt so dry. Ugh. I hated being sick and stuck in a hospital. At least Brady shared my pain. We could get through anything together.
