I Kissed a Dog (18 page)

***

Chapter 20

Waking up in Zane’s bed didn’t seem as strange as I’d expected. I’d already spent
one memorable night in his lackluster apartment, but not as his new bride.

That first night we’d had some pretty intense kissing action before our supernatural
encounter with Detective Davis and her hybrid flunkies. This time, as promised, he’d
kept his hands to himself leaving me huddled on the bed’s right side (far right, I
might add) fighting for my share of the blankets.

Summer on the Oregon Coast was unpredictable, making it top priority that I figure
out some way to stay warm during the long nighttime hours. I wanted to curl up in
his arms. However, we hadn’t stopped long enough for me to come to terms with the
fact I was married to a werewolf. It all happened so fast. I needed to catch my breath
and think.

At last night’s reception, we’d managed to complete the cake cutting ceremony with
no additional drama. Our intoxicated guests hadn’t seemed at all bothered by our early
departure. After all, we were newlyweds, supposedly madly in love.

If they knew how I’d spent my second night as a new bride debating whether or not
to kill my husband — or seduce him — they might have questioned our rush to escape
the festivities.

In reality, it was jealously not love that drove us out the doors before midnight.

Zane had grown impatient with all the male attention I was receiving. It seemed the
longer the liquor flowed, the bolder the men became. Zane had no sense of humor when
it came to me being ogled by other males. I guessed it was a wolf thing, because I’d
never known a man to be so territorial. On some level, his possessive behavior scared
me, yet at the same time made me feel valued, even cherished. As long as he didn’t
start lifting his leg to mark his territory, we’d manage.

His actions would always illicit conflicting emotions, but boredom wasn’t something
I’d ever have to worry about.

“Coffee?” he called from the kitchenette.

I was surprised to hear him already banging around in his kitchen. It was 8:00 AM
on Saturday. We were off work for the weekend, and, as far as I knew, we had no major
plans until Monday’s board meeting.

Thankful to be wearing sweats in the morning chill, I padded as noiselessly into the
kitchen as I could. I wanted to see him at work doing something other than beating
up bad guys or bad dogs.

“Trying to sneak up on me, weren’t you?” He leaned against the kitchen’s sole counter,
arms crossed.

“Supersonic hearing, how could I forget? Just curious what you’re doing in here.”

His lip twitched in a way that I was beginning to recognize as Zane’s method of “smile
control.” Looking overly happy wasn’t in his nature.

“You
were
sneaking, hoping to catch me doing something domestic,” he teased.

“No comment? Since when is Princess Chloe so quiet? I was expecting a sarcastic comeback.”
He turned to stir something on the two-burner stove.

A whiff of sure-to-be tasty spices sent my stomach into a fit of growls and gurgles.

“My mate is hungry. I hope you like biscuits and gravy made from scratch.”

I nodded.

His cooking expertise was a very pleasant and unexpected surprise. If the women at
last night’s party had known about this particular trait, they’d probably have plotted
something unthinkable and very illegal, to get me out of the picture for good. A gorgeous,
masculine man who cooks; that was a lethal combination any woman would appreciate
and admire.

“I admit; I’m impressed.”

Zane grinned. His pleasure at my words was undeniable, causing me to draw in a quick
breath. Goodness! A simple smile and I was left breathless. I needed to find a way
to control my betraying emotions. I’d committed to making this marriage miserable
for him, not a relationship full of compliments and early morning cheer.

Sensitive to my underlying feelings, he refrained from making any additional remarks.
Opening the oven, he pulled out a tray of biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“We are!” Mack called from outside, his booming voice penetrating through the closed
door. “Open up or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow …”

“Yeah, yeah. This big bad wolf is not in the mood for visitors. I’m a married man
now. So take your hungry pup and go someplace where you two can super-size your meals,”
Zane called out the open window.

Under normal circumstances I would have been annoyed by the intrusion, but having
the father son duo in for breakfast would help relieve the tension and temptation
that lingered in the kitchen.

“You might as well let them in. We don’t want two hungry wolves patrolling the park
today,” I said.

“You heard the lady, breakfast is served.” Several plates clanked together, as Zane
reached for more dishes. I was surprised by how quickly he’d agreed. Maybe he was
as uncertain about how to deal with me as I was him.

“Thanks, Chloe. We owe you,” Michael laughed as I swung the door open.

“We thought you might want an update,” Michael added.

For the first ten minutes, nobody spoke. We all shoveled Zane’s biscuits and gravy
into our mouths like we’d never seen food before. I’d never tasted such a scrumptious
breakfast. Not even my step dad’s homemade waffles could compare.

Long before the men finished with their third helpings, I’d pushed my plate away and
was rubbing my swollen stomach. I was certain someone might mistake me for a woman
in her second trimester of pregnancy. Despite my fullness, my taste buds were still
screaming for more food while my insides protested.

Being around wolves wasn’t good for the waistline. I’d have to watch what I ate if
I wanted to keep my figure. I assumed that werewolves burned huge quantities of calories
during the shifting process. Presumably, running around in wolf form also burned a
fair share. If I could be so lucky.

What was I thinking? I’d never consider becoming a werewolf. And taking into consideration
my human status, if bitten, I’d turn into a freakish mutant. I’d have to find another,
more acceptable way to burn off my extra caloric intake. Maybe Zane had a gym membership.
We could work out together.

Abruptly, Zane made a satisfied groaning sound. He tipped his chair back and wiped
his mouth with another napkin. He and Mack had accumulated quite a pile of napkins
between their two plates. At least Michael seemed to have more refined table manners.

“Good stuff,” Mack confirmed. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“Who cares?” Michael interrupted. “As long as we get to reap the rewards.”

“Both my mother and my father were good cooks. So was my sister.”

“Well, good for all of you,” Mack managed to say before taking another huge bite.

A few minutes later, the men joined me in rubbing their stomachs and looking stuffed
at last. Though I doubted they minded the “ready to burst” feeling as much as I did.

Mack, now settled with his feet up, explained that Officer Tate had visited the park
on two occasions, and that Agent Green had stopped in once. They’d also received a
late night visit from Detective Davis and her mystical minions. They all had been
seeking more answers and were eager to know when Zane and I would return.

Both Michael and Mack sensed that Officer Tate and Detective Davis had no qualms with
Zane or me. But the shifty FBI agent seemed suspicious of us both — in particular
— me.

Why would anyone think that I had a part in the murders? Sure, I’d known two of the
victims, and I’d dated Will, but it was a small town where everyone knew everyone.
Paths were bound to cross often.

Will hadn’t exactly been a prude either. Last summer he’d spent some very intimate
one-on-one time with Rhonda following our short-lived relationship, if you could even
call it a relationship. She’d made certain that the entire park staff knew the details
of their escapades.

Why didn’t Agent Green take a long look her way?

Rhonda had been furious when Will had decided to cut her off. And far more important
than Rhonda’s unlikely involvement was the fact that any halfway intelligent person
would know I didn’t have the physical strength, let alone a motive, to carry out such
heinous crimes.

Just like the crime dramas my step dad was addicted to — something just didn’t add
up. But unlike the TV shows, figuring out who-done-it wouldn’t be neatly gift-wrapped
with a bow and delivered in sixty minutes or less.

“Why me?” I looked up at Zane as he took a seat next to me on his lumpy sofa.

His eyes drifted to my clenched hands. “Who knows? This whole thing reeks of the supernatural.
Based on the info you pulled from Will’s pit bull, it’s probable that a mutant is
the cause of the actual killing, and a rogue werewolf, a female, is somehow involved.
Why they’d even suspect a human is beyond me.”

“Zane, have you forgotten, not everyone knows about the supernatural world? A few
days ago, I would have thought you were all insane for even mentioning werewolves
and vampires. Why would Agent Green, a plain old human being, think that anything
other than a human or wild animal was the culprit?

They probably don’t believe the puppy told me anything. Or, worse, they think I’m
lying to protect the killer. Possibly one of us.” The more I thought about the out-of-town
FBI agent, the more unsettled I felt. He gave me the creeps times ten.

“What about the park animals?” Zane turned to Michael, since he’d been the one watching
over them while his father was manning the front booth and handling other security
issues.

“They seemed calm for the most part. A little nervous at nightfall, but, overall,
everything was normal.”

Michael’s update added to my theory that we’d been implicated. “No wonder they’re
suspicious of us. We leave town and everything stops. No new murders; no animal attacks;
nothing.” Why did it still feel like I was missing an important piece, something obvious?

“I still think Jazmine is involved. How, I can’t put it together, but I will.” Zane’s
eyes narrowed.

“Down big guy,” Mack soothed. “We know how you feel about Jazmine, but really, why
would she waste her time on something like this. Small town murders aren’t her specialty.
She’s all about making money and gaining power.”

I wanted to remind Mack that killing for a killer was a sure path to power.

I listened while the men hashed out their theories and talked about the upcoming board
meeting.

Logan was getting ready to present his ideas about expanding their hotels in the Pacific
Northwest off the reservations, focusing less on gambling and more on family activities.

I couldn’t help remembering the very public murder associated with a similar request
in the past. Everything was somehow connected, figuring out how was proving far more
difficult than anyone had expected.

Chapter
21
12

Taking a tour of the recent murder scenes was not my idea of a relaxing Saturday afternoon,
especially after last night’s stress-inducing wedding reception. I agreed with Zane’s
plan to launch our own investigation because I wasn’t going to relax until we solved
these murders and I cleared my name of wrong doing and my head of everything but Zane.

Could he be God’s will for my life?

I don’t understand why I can communicate with animals, but I have accepted that gift.
Was Zane another puzzling gift?
My stomach’s insistent growls overrode my questions, for now, anyway. After recovering
from our homemade Breakfast of Champions, and seeing the two M’s off to work, we decided
to snoop, or, in Zane’s case, sniff around the crime scenes, starting with the oldest
first.

I discovered Zane, being a purebred werewolf, had two options for shifting shapes.
He could manifest into the wolfy, humanoid form I’d seen that first night behind the
bar. In that formable shape, he appeared more closely related to the mutants. But,
unlike his malformed counterparts, he could function on all fours too, making him
a versatile killing machine.

Today, he’d morphed into an enormous, black wolf with bright amber eyes that mirrored
intelligence not typical for any animal. His intimidating size made him significantly
larger than any wolf I’d seen, giving me pause when he first emerged from the brush.

Before his change, he’d made sure to explain that his sense of smell was sharper when
he was in his most natural form. Also, should anyone stumble upon us, he’d pass as
an ordinary wolf.

“You think you are an
ordinary
wolf?” I laughed.

After watching me watch him, he padded over to my side, inclining his massive head.
Yes, you can pet me.

That was the encouragement I needed. Dropping to my knees, I buried my face into the
thick, mane-like fur around his neck. He pressed himself against me, allowing me to
explore his supple coat. I ran my hands down his back and hugged him closer. He made
as a happy growl. Being with him in his wolf form put me at ease. There was gentleness
under the wildness. Gentleness I’d detected in his human form, but was too afraid
of being vulnerable to acknowledge.

Despite my fear of emotional exposure, I allowed myself the luxury of praising his
magnificence. “
You
are incredible,” I cooed, scratching behind his ears.

He nudged me playfully with his muzzle. Losing my balance, I toppled over. “Hey! We’ve
got work to do.”

Scrambling to my feet I brushed a few stray leaves off my backside, noticing the way
his eyes traveled over me. Even in wolf form he was still a flirt. I was relieved
to see his new hands-off-policy didn’t stop his appreciative glances.

I was enjoying being checked out by an animal. Something I’d never admit.

Okay, Miss Bossy,
he teased silently.
What do you know about our first victim?

Prior to our excursion, I’d spent a good hour on the Internet searching for any information.
Victim number one — Jordon Smart — had been a part time dad; he’d just turned twenty-nine.
As a special education aide, he’d worked in the fifth-grade classroom at the local
grade school. Nothing about him appeared out of the ordinary, at first glance.

I had developed a whole new regard for first impressions. Just because Mr. Smart
appeared
normal, didn’t mean he had been. I wasn’t even sure how to define normal anymore.

His son, a sixth grader, had alternated between both parent’s homes. Mom also worked
in the education field, at the nearby administrative building.

The boy had discovered the grisly remains of his father. So traumatized, he was now
residing in one of Portland’s psychiatric facilities for youth. According to news’
sources, he hadn’t said a word since the gruesome discovery. Getting him to speak
was my personal project. Only Zane didn’t know it yet. I wasn’t sure why I felt compelled
to help the kid, but I did. I’d figure out how later.

After explaining what I’d discovered, we hiked through the overgrown grass and circled
around the ranch style home. Nothing seemed out of place. The yellow tape was long
gone and everything appeared peaceful.

Zane raised his muzzle. He closed his eyes, sniffing, before lowering his snout to
the ground. Alert, he slunk toward the back door.

By the way, Princess, I have a few extra abilities I haven’t told you about.
Instead of elaborating, the doorknob turned as if gripped by an invisible hand. A
click followed and it cracked open.

When were you planning to tell me what else you can do, Wolfman?
Awed and angry, I fired the thought into his mind, recalling why
he aggravated me ¯ too many secrets.

He lifted his front paw and cocked his enormous head.
Each shape I take includes a few extra perks. That little trick makes up for the lack
of hands.
He wiggled his paw.

Seeing his display of such human antics dissolved my anger.
How could an animal be so damn charming!

Too late, I realized I’d sent my thought right into his furry head, officially making
Zane the first wolf I’d seen grin. His tail wagged enthusiastically.

A crash from inside warned us that we weren’t alone and whatever was inside probably
wasn’t friendly.

Zane’s fur stood on end and his gums receded, revealing a set of fangs any vampire
would envy. He crouched, ready to spring.

Immobilized, I waited and forced my mind to tune into the intruder. What I latched
on to was unlike any animal mind I’d ever explored. It wasn’t like any supe mind either,
at least not the super naturals I’d met.

A swirling red and black mass of repugnant and jumbled thoughts poured into my mind.
I pushed harder, urging myself to delve deeper. My efforts were rewarded by visions
of blood stained walls, disemboweled men, and the redheaded woman screeching orders
at men in medical scrubs.

An inhuman wail severed me from the images. Before I could reattach, a cloaked shape
burst from the house.

Zane lunged. His teeth latched onto its robe, tearing a piece from its shriveled body.
Bald and wrinkled, the thing looked like an elderly baby. It keened again and vanished.

“What the hell!” I stared at Zane. A long shred of material dangled from his mouth.

Possibly something from the Fae world. Another mutant life form …

I interrupted, “In other words, you don’t know.”

He shook his head.
We still need to go in. There’s no one left here that I can sense.

Unwilling to trust his instincts, I scanned the area for additional energy sources.
Zane waited for my assessment. Once satisfied, I snatched the burgundy material from
his mouth. It was a rougher fabric than I’d expected, and touching it made me cringe.
Disturbing images of the stooped, naked creature would haunt me for a long time.

When I looked up, Zane was already nudging the backdoor open with his nose. Not wanting
to be left alone for even a second, I bounded up the stairs.

Just inside, he bristled. I waited behind him, following as he made his way across
the kitchen. Glancing over my shoulder, I expected to see the creature reaching for
what was left of his tattered robe. All I observed was a semi-sunny sky and grass
bending in the breeze. Taking a deep breath through my nose and then exhaling, I continued
behind Zane as he padded further into the house.

Accepting we were alone, Zane seemed to relax and darted around the room, his nose
to the carpet.

I felt drawn to the master bedroom where the murder had taken place. Not sure what
I’d find, I started down the hall trying to imagine what the Smart boy had experienced.
He’d most likely entered his home expecting to find his father waiting with dinner
on the table, eager to hear about the game.

The newspaper had described Joshua Smart as an outgoing boy who excelled at baseball.
According to the press, Jordon Smart had died at approximately 4:30 PM. Joshua’s game
finished up around 7:30 PM.

Joshua, expecting a warm welcome from his father, had been met with excruciating silence.
There would have been a horrific odor. The metallic smell of blood combined with the
pungent stench of death
—
it was no wonder the boy wasn’t talking.

My thoughts reverted to the gruesome scene Josh’s puppy had imprinted on my mind,
and my soul. Queasy, I spun around prepared to escape.

How would I help Joshua Smart if I fled now?

Drawing a ragged breath, I prepared myself to enter the bedroom. Zane brushed against
my leg and whimpered. Grateful for his support, even in wolf form, I rested my hand
on his thick neck and let him lead the way.

It was evident that a crime scene clean up service had already performed their special
brand of magic. The blood and gore had been removed, leaving the former murder scene
spotless. An offensive odor remained, though mild, it still triggered my gag reflex.

Zane with his heightened senses prowled through the room.

No matter how long I live, I’ll never get used to the smell of death.
I flashed to age thirteen. Our cat was locked in the car on a hundred-degree day.
The car had to be sold. Nothing could rid it of the stench — or memories.

No doubt,
Zane agreed.
The cleaning people did well, but that lingering odor ... I’m sorry, maybe this wasn’t
such a good idea.

Appreciative of his support, I patted his head.
We’re here, so let’s look around.

Zane kept his muzzle glued to the carpet as he rounded the room. When he reached the
corner, by the bed’s left side, he paused.
Can you take a closer look at this plant?

The fake tree in the corner was one of several. Mr. Smart must’ve liked a green touch
without watering. They were dust-free and shiny-green courtesy of whatever cleaning
products the crew had used.

For one brief terrible moment, before pawing through the branches and leaves, I imagined
the tree painted with blood. Blinking away the picture, I sifted through the fake
moss.

Anything?
Zane questioned.

Not that I can see. What did you smell?
I didn’t know where else to look.

Something that shouldn’t be here, but I don’t recognize it.

I stared at the tree wishing it would speak. My eyes glided from top to bottom. Bottom!
Ignoring Zane’s questioning look, I stood up and tugged the tree from its wicker container,
yanking the moss out with it. I peered into the basket.

At first glance; nothing; but with closer examination I spotted a tarnished coin,
five times the size of a quarter. It was covered with exotic symbols.

Gleeful, I shouted: “Ah ha!”
Why not use a microphone?
My wolfy husband shook his massive head.

Sorry. I didn’t expect to find anything.

I see; you doubted my tracking abilities?

Debating his tracking abilities, where a man had been shredded to pieces, wasn’t practical.
Can we clean up and get out of here?

Zane turned and trotted toward the door leaving me to clean up the mess.

What a dog.