First Born (35 page)

Lily ducked her head under the strap of the rifle so it hung around her neck. She put the Glock in her cargo shorts pocket. Then, she scooped up the limp cat’s body. The tranquilizer dart had pushed her to the edge. Flashes of color swirled behind her eyelids. Her stomach dropped as they plunged down a now familiar spiraling hole. Branches flew around them, but she didn’t notice.

In just two weeks, she had been attacked three times. She didn’t recognize the men and women involved, but she realized there were at least two individuals working in tandem to destroy the Moores. Lily had tasted their deep hate tinged with an unyielding fear. Mr. Liu’s presence throbbed in her brain. Instead of fading in the distance, it became a strong crescendo filling her ears. Hindsight is always 20-20. She’d have to do this alone. She needed to get her brother to safety.

Lieutenant Lake scrutinized him with a scowl. His breath smelled of Mountain Dew and pork rinds. Apparently, he had fallen off the health food wagon. “Another diversion?” Lake asked.

“Absolutely,” Caldwell said. He now wore a pair of too tight jeans, work boots, and a black APD polo shirt he’d rounded up from their small group. Caldwell’s car had all the windows shattered when the Moores disappeared into thin air.

When Caldwell had called Lake from the Quinn driveway, the lieutenant had been just twenty-five minutes away. When Caldwell didn’t’ check in the previous night and his cell phone rolled to voicemail in the morning, Lake had taken action. Actually, Tiny had. With his cell off, they couldn’t use the GPS locator. Since Caldwell had taken his personal car, there was no tracking him.

Tiny broke into his apartment early in the morning and saw his notes left on the kitchen counter.
Good ole Tiny.

Lake didn’t have the whole story so he hadn’t bawled him out yet. The tracking device Seth Moore obliterated against the cabin wall was not theirs and Agent Scott denied it was one of the Bureau’s.

Scott and Agent Drew Mercer, aka the Cowboy to Caldwell, combed through things downstairs while Lake and Caldwell spoke in hushed voices in the master bedroom of the Quinn cabin. The Helen Police Department’s techs would be arriving soon and Caldwell was considering adjusting a few things. A thought he’d never entertained in his whole career.

Lieutenant Lake’s eyes scanned the room. Lily’s torn red tank top and sleep shorts rested upon the rumpled linens of the bed. Caldwell stood up and walked closer. He noted a pattern to the chaos of sheets and comforters. She had arranged the linens in a circle, built up like a bunker with a hole in the middle.
A nest.
Lieutenant Lake reached across and plucked a large, shiny feather from the sheets. “You wanna explain this?”

Caldwell stayed by the bed. He looked into the lieutenant’s hazel eyes bracketed by crow’s feet. He glanced at the open door then back at his boss. Caldwell crossed the room and shut the door. “Okay. Don’t get mad—”

“Shit. That’s my ex-wife’s favorite line,” Lake said, shaking his head.

“I followed a lead to the cabin, conducted surveillance—”

“Failed to call in for back up,” added Lake. He shoved his hands in his black Dockers pants most likely so he wouldn’t throttle Caldwell.

“I didn’t have confirmation on any of my hunches.” Caldwell held his hands up like a traffic cop so he could continue his story. “Waited for two hours on their back deck. Lily Moore returned and popped out of nowhere, startling me. I accidentally fired my gun. It grazed my hip.”

Lake looked down at his hip, confused. “I noticed you had a slight limp, but—”

“It was a flesh wound. They provided first aid...well more than first aid.” Caldwell stopped. If he told the truth, would they take his badge now? “Lily Moore is a shapeshifter. She turned into a bird creature scaring the crap out of me in the dark, causing me to discharge my weapon. She has some healing abilities.” He wasn’t about to tell him that he laid on the couch last night half-baked while a Shih Tzu licked his wounds. Or that Lily Moore used a voodoo necklace lit up like a light saber to make all the pain go away.

“I thought she was a dog,” Lake said.

“Um. Apparently, she can be several things. Hence, the reason they have avoided law enforcement. There’s nothing normal about them. They’re terrified. The suspect shot Ms. Moore and kidnapped Liu. Dr. Gladson treated Lily the night of the attack or she would have died. He used to treat Mr. Moore, a.k.a., Barney the dog.

“Koko Hitomi is a shifter. She’s a bit unstable. We already know she supplied Ms. Sinclair and Seth Moore with Inderal. She used them as human guinea pigs,” Caldwell said.

Lake’s mouth hung open. His hands went to his short-cropped hair. “Sinclair?”

“Was a shapeshifter. The Inderal helped to suppress some of her animal instincts. Some shifters are more in control of themselves than others. Ms. Sinclair apparently had a really bad situation.”

The lieutenant began to pace the oak floors spinning his index finger in the air for Caldwell to wrap it up.

Like an auctioneer, Caldwell spit it out, “Miller attacked Moore that night and attempted to rape her. She shifted for the first time and defended herself as a bird, dog—creature.”

Lake didn’t blink.

“She stayed at the Jones/Harding residence as a Shih Tzu. The two men had no idea it was her.”

“Well we already let Jones go. Harding is dead. Where are the Moores now?”

Caldwell sighed. “Well, after I shot myself, they attended to my wound. Then they took my phone, keys, and weapon from me and handcuffed me to the banister. Of course, they let me go when some shrieking woman opened fire on the place this morning. When I was calling you, I had them in the back of my car.”

“Unrestrained?” gritted Lake.

“No. They were cuffed. We were fine until the Cowboy skidded out in front of us.” Caldwell felt a throbbing at his right temple and his eye twitched.

Lake closed his eyes and shook his head. He held his index finger motionless as he re-engaged. “What woman?”

“I don’t know.”

Lake looked like he needed a shot of Wild Turkey, but Caldwell knew those habits were behind him. The lieutenant stared at him. Silence was not golden. Caldwell flashed him a nervous grin.

The lieutenant’s hand shot to his hip to pick up his buzzing cell phone. “Lake.”

Caldwell breathed deeply then backed up to sit on the lumpy couch.

“Shit. Shit. Fuck!” Lake backed up and sat on the bed, smashing the nest. He hung up. “That was Tiny. We got the name and we got the tire tread results.”

“Who?”

Lake’s scrunched up his beet red face. He looked distraught enough to cry. Caldwell gave him a moment. The lieutenant ran downstairs. After the screen door slammed shut, Caldwell looked around the room again. He wanted to be driving, pursuing someone at 95 miles per hour, but he had no direction so the point was moot. He had to wait for someone to report a sighting of the shooter or the Moores.

Caldwell reached across to pick up the ripped tank top on the bed. As he grasped the fabric in his hand, his head exploded with a blinding pain. He called out while dropping to his knees. Disoriented, he grabbed his head as he heard Lily’s screams in his head. Lily’s rage transcended any other thoughts or feelings in Caldwell’s brain.
Hibacker Farm. Shot. Paint horse.

Caldwell shook his head while sucking in air. He was kneeling on the floor with his arms on the bed, the red tank in his right hand, his head lolling forward. In the background, he heard the pounding of feet on the stairs.

He stood up, dropping the shirt.

“Everything all right up here,” Scott asked, followed by Agent Mercer.

“Sure.”

“What the hell were you shouting about?” the Cowboy asked.

Licking his lips, he tried out his tongue. “Hibacker Farm.”

Scott hesitated. Lake came back in the room. “What’s going on?”

“I think Lily Moore’s been shot at Hibacker Farm.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Agent Mercer asked. Scott placed a hand on her hip.

“She’s been in my head before. You can question me if you want, but look around. Obviously, they’ve been here. I was right about the cabin. I know I’m right about this.”

Lake looked at him intensely. His signature antenna was sticking up in the back of his otherwise perfectly combed hair. “Vest up. We’ve got a bead on our shooter.”

“What?” they all asked.

“I’ll explain, but let’s move people.”

As they burst from the cabin, he heard Lake on the cell phone. “I need a warrant...”

In the unmarked Caldwell and Lake raced down Alternate 75 with sirens going. Lake slowed only upon sight of the enormous billboard:

The lieutenant missed the gravel driveway the first time because they were both too busy looking at the sign, which was in the middle of the field rather than marking the entrance. Lake glanced in the rearview mirror before skidding to a stop and driving on to the shoulder of the road to back track to their destination.

Jesus, and he makes fun of my driving.

Once in the driveway, the car rocked to a halt and Caldwell jumped out, gun drawn. Scott had returned to the command post at the Helen PD headquarters and Agent Mercer had headed to the airport to see about a chopper. Lake took the unmarked slowly down the rest of the driveway with the intent of checking out the house. No one answered at the farmhouse when they had called on the phone.

Caldwell scanned the perfect rows of green cornstalks that stood with their yellow silk painting a line to the vanishing point. At their convergence, the old white farmhouse ghosted against a cerulean sky.

He viewed the vast acreage, feeling overwhelmed. When he spotted the faded gray barn, he took off at a run. At the fence, a beautiful Paint horse stood stock-still. On the ground, a bare foot poked out from the last row of corn.
Such an idyllic scene spoiled by the stark naked human body.

He approached with caution, looking from side to side and behind him. She had dumped the body here and left, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The man wore a peaceful expression. The sound that reached Caldwell next brought him to a halt.

“Zzzzzzzzzz.”

“Mr. Moore?” Caldwell said as he drew closer.

“Mmm?” Seth’s eyes fluttered. He was nude except for the backpack placed strategically across his pelvic area.

Caldwell walked to him and nudged his shoulder with his foot.

“Seth!” Caldwell said.

Seth jumped straight up in the air before searching the ground. His eyes were wide, his hair on end.

“Easy!” Caldwell’s heartbeats thudded in his temples. He could see the terror in Seth’s eyes.

“Lily?” he asked spinning around before facing Caldwell.

“Take it easy.” Caldwell looked at the dried blood on his neck. “You shot?”

“Darted.” Moore rubbed his head as if to comfort himself. He reached into the backpack, drew out a pair of shorts and slipped them on. Caldwell pretended to be preoccupied with the horses.

“We need to go!” Moore urged.

“Where?” Caldwell reached out to steady him, but he swatted him away. Moore’s eyes were bright blue and glowing, his mouth hung open, like...a cat flehming the air.

“Tray Mountain. Tray Gap—the Summit.” Moore adjusted his backpack and took off down the row of corn. Caldwell was amazed that a second ago, he had been passed out cold. His shoulder radio squawked as he ran after him.

“House is clear,” Lake said.

Caldwell felt nauseous.
Dammit.
Lily had purposefully led him to her brother. And now, the perp had her on the mountain exactly how he wanted her.

Alone.

Her mouth felt like sand. The heat rose off the rock in vertical waves. While she had taken care of Seth, her fan club had made their way to the summit of Tray Mountain and then beyond. Lily stood alone on the rocky floor of the summit. Like a stage cue, a spray-painted white arrow pointed to the center of the surface. She remembered the portent of the vulture triumvirate as she looked at another triad. This time they were benchmarks—three round geodetic survey markers punched into the rock. Two had arrows, the main one, a triangle.

Lily felt a cold sweat break out across her upper lip. The triangle, the ancient symbol of a spiritual gateway—a possible geographic area of demonic activity and influence on earth.
Lovely.
Straight ahead was a blue blaze trail composed of a tunnel of trees with stone steps leading down. She knew they had gone this way. With each step, she wondered what the hell they had in store for her. But she continued because she knew they had Li Liu.

Once through the tunnel of trees, the path opened up. She continued past a campsite on the right and halted in the shadows of tulip poplars and oak trees. They towered over a field of pink phlox, orange mushrooms, and lime green ferns—for some reason she thought of Lucky Charms cereal and her stomach grumbled.

Her eyes followed the curve of the trail. She’d been here once before, with her father. Lily knew that just past the field, the path wound through trees another twenty yards then opened up at a campsite with the Montray Shelter, a gray Adirondack-style refuge for Appalachian trail hikers. Without hesitation, she took to the air.