by Renee George
“Get it open,” my dad said. “If it’s something personal that’s none of our business, we’ll apologize and buy Brandon a new lock.”
My excitement level upped a notch when I saw the padlock. “That’s a combination lock.”
“Yep, and it’s titanium,” Deputy Thompson said. “Those are hard as hell to break.”
“But easy to crack,” I said.
“You know how to crack a combination lock?” Dom asked.
“I do. I also know how to pick a lot of locks. I have a rack, a pick, and locking wrench in my purse.” I grinned.
“I like a woman who’s always prepared,” Dom said in my ear.
“Then you’re gonna love me.” I blushed, wishing I could take back the words as soon as they came out of my mouth.
“You know,” Dom replied. “I think I really could.”
I met his gaze, but before I could respond with what I am sure would have amounted to inane bluster, my dad saved me by saying, “Well, get it open, Puddin’.”
Noooooooo. Leave it to my dad to kill my really cool moment. “Okay. Give me room.”
My dad opened a bottle of water as I went by and I held out my hands while he sprinkled some on my fingers. I pushed my beast, eager and curious forward, just a little, just enough to activate the superfine hairs that act as direct messengers to my brain. Instantly, the cold breeze was sharper and my energy hyper-focused. I could break the combination lock without the extra sensitivity, but with my raccoon’s help, I could do it under ten seconds.
I went to my knees in front of the box. I tugged on the lock a couple of time then turned the dial to the right three times and set it to zero. Next, I gently pulled down on the lock to put tension in the neck and slowly turned the dial right against the resistance. Soon, the resistance eased and then locked at twenty-four. I beamed with satisfaction. I did the same to the left until it locked. Sixteen. Last, I went right with it again and waited for the number to lock. Seven. I pulled down on the lock, and it popped. I turned the cylinder out and slid the lock from its latch holding the crate shut.
“Bravo,” Dominic said. “I’m impressed. You learn that in your doctorate’s program?”
His teasing voice made me squirm. “I learned that when I forgot the combination to my locker at school.”
“You are a constant surprise, Nicole.” Dominic’s eyes softened at the corners. “Constant.”
“Impressive,” Doc Smith said. He was not only the town physician, but he was also a spiritual leader in our community, and his approval filled me with pride.
Thompson opened the box lid and was scooping away loose hay that had been placed inside. “Sheriff, this box is full of semi-automatic rifles.”
I looked down. I wasn’t familiar with the model. “What kind of guns are those?”
“Those,” Dom said as he picked one up from the box, “are M16 A4 rifles. Military issue. Soon to be retired. Why in the hell are they in a box behind a trailer in Peculiar?”
Chapter Twelve
“I had no idea there was a box of rifles in my backyard,” Brandon Messer said. His eyes had the wild twitch of a captured animal. “Just like I didn’t know about the body. Why would I come to the police if I had anything to hide?”
“People with nothing to hide don’t run from questioning,” my dad said.
My dad hadn’t wanted Dominic to question Brandon, not until he knew more information about the current murder. His only concession was allowing me to be in the room. I was supposed to “keep my lips buttoned,” but I was never any good at the quiet game. I narrowed my gaze at Brandon. “You warned Mallory Evans your parent’s restaurant, and then you took off before we could talk to you. Now her cousin Lloyd is dead. None of this says, innocent.”
Brandon slapped the table, and I flinched. His words were pleading. “You know me, Nic. You have to believe me. I wouldn’t kill anyone.”
I didn’t believe him. Brandon had a temper in high school, and given the right circumstances, anyone could be a killer. However, I didn’t think he’d killed Lloyd. He’d have to have the I.Q. of a gnat to move a dead body from an original crime scene to his backyard. “What about the guns, Brandon? You can’t tell me you didn’t you didn’t know about the crate.”
“Look, I went out to get some chopped wood for my wood stove and there he was.”
“And you called your dad, not the police.”
“I was going to call you, but Dad showed up right after I found Lloyd. I didn’t call him. He insisted we come to the station. He said Sheriff Taylor would help clear me.”
“You can’t clear someone who’s guilty,” my dad said, but I was still stuck on the fact that Brandon hadn’t called his father. It made me wonder if he would have called anyone if his dad hadn’t shown up at his home. And, how long before his dad arrived had he discovered the body?
I tapped the table to draw his attention. “When did you find Lloyd?”
Brandon stared at me. “I told you. My dad got there about eleven o’clock. It was right before that.”
“And what was your first reaction?” I waved my hand in a rolling gesture. “You know, to finding a dead man.”
“I...terrible, of course. I mean, you know, I was scared. It really freaked me out.”
“And what did you do next?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean,” I said, staring him dead in the eye. “What did you do immediately after pulling the tarp back and finding that body, Brandon. What next?”
“I...”
“Did you call someone? If we dump your phone records are we going to see calls that took place from the time you discovered the body until your dad showed up at eleven?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember making any calls.” He looked frightened beyond the prospect of going to jail. Was he scared of something else? Someone else?
“Did you hit your head, Brandon? Is this selective amnesia? Because I’m a psychologist, and I can tell you, I’m not buying your “I don’t know anything” act. What are you hiding?”
My dad gave me a look of reassessment as if he’d never seen me before.
Brandon started crying. It shocked me enough to consider backing off, but I pressed on. “If you are scared of someone, we can protect you, Brandon. We can keep you safe.”
“No, you can’t,” Brandon said. “Why did I come back here? I shouldn’t have come back.” He covered his face with his hands. “I’m not saying anymore.” He put his hands down and looked at me, his red-rimmed eyes begging for this all to be over. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
I glanced at my dad. “I think it’s time we looked at his call logs.”
The door opened to the interrogation room. Deputy Boden lead with her stomach through the door. “Andy Lark is here, and he insists that he is Brandon’s lawyer.”
I looked at Brandon. “Is that true?” It seemed awfully convenient that Andy showed up to save the day. “Did you call him?”
Brandon's shoulders rounded as he hunched forward. Andy Lark was suddenly behind Willy in the doorway. “He called me right after he gave you all his statement earlier. He has the right to counsel.”
Willy rounded on him, her belly shoving him back. “You don’t get to come in here until I tell you, buddy. You got that?”
Andy put his hands up, taken aback by the pregnant surprise attack. “Pardon me.”
“I’ll pardon my foot up your ass if you don’t get it back in the bullpen.”
His nearly colorless eyes widened indignantly. “I have a right to be with my client.”
My dad held up his hand. Let him in, Deputy Boden. We’ll take it from here.”
“You got it, Sheriff.” She postured at Andy and made him jump back. This made her giggle hard enough she tooted on the way out without even a second glance back.
I focused on the situation. Dead man. Guns. Assholes. All to keep myself from busting out laughing the very pregnant and gassy deputy, who could probably ta
ke out Andy and Brandon without blinking.
Andy took the seat next to Brandon. “How you holding up?” he asked.
Brandon nodded but didn’t look at him.
“Good. Don’t say any more than you already have. That’s what I’m here for.”
I pursed my lips and glared at Lark. “You’re an attorney?” I asked, unable to keep the incredulity from my voice.
Andy produced a business card, Andy Lark, LLC. Attorney at Law. “I am the legal counsel for TSS and all its members.”
I turned to the scared bear shifter. “Is this true, Brandon? Are you a member of TSS?” He’d been an integrator, so it was hard to see him as a prepper.
“I’m in-process,” he admitted. “I haven’t been accepted yet.”
“Yes, you have,” Andy said. He put his hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “You are one of us. And we take care of our own.”
My dad leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “If Brandon has nothing to hide, then he should have no problem answering our questions.”
“Sid, you and I both know that what you're saying is absolutely not true. Innocent people are convicted of crimes every day. Only, when you’re an innocent therianthrope convicted of the crime of murder, you don’t get an appeal. I won’t let that happen to my client.”
“Well, Andy,” Dad said, making use of Lark’s first name in the same condescending way. “Your showing up here makes me want to question you and everyone out on that compound of yours. Which, would be my prerogative, considering the dead guy is also a member of the TSS.”
“All that means is that the death is even more tragic. Lloyd Evans was an important member of our movement. There is no one who wants to see his killer brought to justice more than me. You’re just crawling into the wrong garbage can with your current suspect.”
When I was in school, I’d heard my fair share of raccoon jokes, especially by the larger predators. Andy’s plain features made it impossible to tell what kind of animal lurked beneath his smarmy surface. And his super pale eyes confused me even more. I’d thought he might be an opossum before but with that last predatory remark of his, I wasn’t sure.
I leaned sideways toward my dad and whispered conspiratorially, “Sheriff Taylor, is this douchebag being speciest? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“I don’t think so, Agent Taylor. I don’t think he’s stupid enough to walk into my station and start handing out insults.”
“Now, now,” Andy said. “I apologize if you thought I was being rude. I meant no disrespect.”
“In other words,” I told my dad. “He’s only sorry if we’re mad. Which means,” I spread my hands apart, “not sorry.”
Brandon groaned. “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”
The corner of my dad’s mouth tugged up a little. “You can always get another lawyer.”
Dominic entered the room holding a file. “It’s amazing what a few phone calls will get you.” He put the file down on the table. “You were in the Army,” he said to Brandon.
“Oh, yeah. Dad told me you were in the Army. When did you get out?”
“I was honorably discharged last year.”
I remembered Dominic saying at the crime scene that the rifles had been military issue. “Then you know what an M16 A4 rifle is then.”
Brandon shrugged.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
My dad scooted the file over in front of him and said, “Thank you, Special Agent Tartan,” without ever looking up at Dom.
My partner looked as surprised as I felt. My dad had just dismissed him. With prejudice.
The look Dominic gave me right before he exited said that I was in for a long talk later. I put my focus where it belonged. “What did you do for them, Brandon? The Army, I mean.”
“Infantry.” He frowned. “Why?”
“That’s not the only thing, though, right?” Dom asked. “You trained to be a Ranger, didn’t you?”
Brandon slunk further down in his seat. It was weird watching such a big man trying to make himself so small.
“It’s too bad you failed out. Your Drill Instructor said you showed a lot of promise until the water training.”
He scooted sideways in his chair. “I get claustrophobic.” He lowered his head. “My unit chased an Afghanistan warlord into a mountain cave. It was full of these aqueducts. We got pinned down in the water for three days.” He shuddered. “I thought I could do it. But I couldn’t get past it in Ranger training.” His body language had turned from defensive to shame. “It’s why I got out.”
Now, I felt bad. Brandon “Did you see any VA counselors?”
Brandon flexed his fists. “I’m done. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t kill Lloyd, and I want to go home.”
My dad shook his head. “I’m sorry, Brandon. I can’t do that. You are being detained until we can further determine what if any role you played in the death and why there was a case of automatic rifles near the scene.”
“You can’t hold me without charging me,” Brandon said.
Lark furrowed his brow and scratched his forehead. “Actually, Brandon, they can. Via article twenty-five b of criminal acts involving suspicious death.”
“That’s not a thing,” he said. “I haven’t even had my rights read to me.”
“You seem to forget that this isn’t a human jail, Brandon,” my dad said gently. “We adhere to human laws insomuch as we don’t want to violate them and have a shapeshifter wind up in a human jail. That would be bad for everyone. What your attorney is quoting to you is the legal canon for therianthropes. You’ve been gone too long, son. We have our own set of rules, and we have to stick to them.” My dad looked at me. “Do you want to explain why?”
I felt as if he were testing me. Would his integrator daughter understand why therianthropes would have fewer rights than a human? Of course, I did. I didn’t like it, but I understood. “Brandon, you know that therians can’t afford to allow murder suspects a chance to escape. Not into human populations. Keeping you in jail until we sort this out is for the safety of us all.”
It surprised me to see Andy Lark nodding his head. “Agent Taylor is absolutely right.” He patted Brandon on the back. “I don’t believe you’re guilty, Brandon. Not one bit. But the law is the law.” He turned his creepy gaze on us, and it made me shiver. “Brandon may not have the right to leave, but he does have a right to keep his mouth shut. You are finished with my client for the day.”
My dad sighed. “I’ll have Deputy Thompson escort him to a cell.” Then I saw my dad do something uncharacteristic for his interactions with a suspect. He leaned across the table and put his hand on Brandon’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “I’ll tell your folks what’s going on. I don’t know if you had anything to do with the murder. I sure hope not. There is no coming back from that. What I do know is that you’re into something. Something murky and you are neck deep. I’m afraid for you, son. I’m afraid you’re going to drown. I don’t want to see that. Not for your parents. Not for your sister. Not for you. When you wise up, you tell whoever is on duty to call me.”
Brandon’s eyes were stark as he looked at my dad. For a moment, I thought he would spill everything he was hiding, but a shoulder squeeze from Lark kept Brandon buttoned up.
Thompson came and got him. Lark escorted his client out. I looked at dad. “What in the world was all that?”
“Nothing good, Puddin’. Nothing good.”
“Dad,” I whined, annoying myself even more. “You have to stop calling me Puddin’ while I’m on the job. It’s undermining any authority I have.”
My dad frowned then suck his teeth. “You and Agent Tartan sure seem cozy.”
“When did you turn into Mom?” Dad had never been interested in my love life or lack thereof. He’d always seemed perfectly happy to pretend I was asexual. “Why all the sudden interest?”
“No interest,” Dad said with a certain nonchalance that bordered on boredom.
I was
n’t buying it. “Senior Special Agent Tartan, emphasis on the senior, is my partner and superior.” I grimaced at the word. “In rank only, mind you.”
Dad smirked. “There’s my tough girl.”
“Hush. I’m just trying to say that there is nothing going on between us that isn’t purely professional.”
Dad picked up the file Dom brought in straightened by dropping the edge onto the desk as he held it closed. He gave me a sly look and said, “If you say so, Puddin’.”
I clenched my teeth as I stalked past him to the door. “Stop. Calling. Me. Puddin’.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dom and I sat in our unmarked sedan about three miles outside the TSS compound off the road in a thicket of trees. If someone wasn’t directly looking when they passed, we would go unnoticed. The early afternoon had been intense around the sheriff’s department. Dom had called a military liaison and gave him serial numbers on the weapons. If we could track them back their origin, we might be able to pin down the seller and buyer, though I was certain we already had the buyer in custody. Dominic had barely said two words to me that weren’t work-related, and frankly, it was started to raise my blood pressure.
Dom cocked his head to the side and looked down at my waist. “What is that thing, again?”
“It’s a fanny pack for Christ sake. It’s not like it’s a new invention.” Was my reaction strong? Yes. Had he already asked me this question? Yes. Three times. I think he just liked hearing me say “fanny pack.” “It’s handier than my purse when breaking and entering.” I unzipped the pack. “See,” I held up a multi-tool. “This has a blade, a wrench, a Phillips and flat head screwdriver, wire cutters, and pliers.” I put it back and withdrew a small pouch. “This is my lock picking kit.” I withdrew the other items one at a time. “A thumb light, Chapstick, hair scrunchie, and hand wipes. All the necessities.”
“You could have been a scout.”
I rolled my eyes, showed him the whites, and then sighed. “We’re no closer to finding Lieberman or this mysterious Little Piggy guy. If the Lieberman is still alive, he is suffering. I don’t know what to do next, Dom. The punch card has turned into a dead end.”
