“Where are you going now?” I asked.
“You know about shiva, Jewish mourning?” Detective Franklin answered.
“Of course. But isn’t the house still a crime scene?”
“Yes. Friends up the street are hosting. I’m going to go. I
doubt there will be leads, but the family will appreciate it.”
“You can take me with you. I know a path back to the forest
and we can talk about the case.”
It was true there was a path from their home
to Rock Creek Park. But I wanted to visit the home myself.
On the drive we discussed the case. There was a strange
shell company, no one could figure out what it was doing. The FBI has been
brought in. But a secret about murder police, they don’t really care about why,
they really just want to know who. They had produced a sketch based on my description
and distributed to airports, police departments, and the intelligence
community. With his distinctive scar, the suspect probably could not leave the country
without being detected, although he could leave the area. But we knew nothing
about him except that maybe he was Russian.
When we arrived, I slipped out of the car and carefully made
my way among shadows, moving unseen. Scar man must do the same.
I arrived at crime scene. The entrances were blocked by
police tape, but I climbed a tree and slipped in an open upstairs window. I
wandered through the empty house. I smelled Goldman, his wife, each of the
daughters. Downstairs, some others, frequent visitors. In Goldman’s office, his
smell was very strong. The odors of his fear and blood were still strong. But
there was another scent. I found the smell of a man, very different, but still
a man. I could sense his pheromones too. He is a natural predator, like me.
Nonetheless, at the moment of the kill the body releases strong scents. They
were present. On a whim, I sniffed the file cabinet. It appeared undisturbed,
but the man with the scar had looked into it. The scar-man’s scent was
accompanied by something else. Something strange, but I had smelled it before.
I left the house and, still keeping to the shadows, made my
way to Rock Creek Park. Scar-man also hides in shadows, never fully seen, even
in plain sight. I didn’t have long to find him. Soon he would fade into the
shadows completely. In the woods I found my tree and sat. Raccoons or some
other scavenger had finished my deer. I was sated and had no time to hunt. I
slept for a time and waited for nightfall.
Thanks for the image pixabay.com |
The doors of the church are always open. I slipped silently
through a side door. The church was dark and silent, but I could smell him.
Great cats have the ability to make infrasound. That is noise below the range
of human hearing. My phone is set to respond to commands at that frequency. I
instructed texts be sent with my location to all of my contacts in the police
department. They should arrive in a few moments.
Electronics make sounds at a frequency to high for the human
ear. I heard one and began skulking towards it. I wanted to come close and take
him when I heard the police close by. To kill him would have been easy, but it
would not have served justice, nor would it have brought satisfaction to
Goldman’s family. And Franklin would not be able to pay me without an arrest. I
did need the money, I wanted to visit my home soon.
Predators are deadly prey. I moved soundlessly, but somehow
the man with the scar knew I was there. No human would have heard him slide his
gun from his coat pocket. But I heard it.
“Show yourself, and you may live,” he called out. His voice
wicked thunder in the silent, empty church.
His gun was out and he was facing me. I gave an infrasonic
roar. Inaudible to humans, it can stun prey. But scar man was no prey. I heard
the safety go off on his pistol. I roared. But I threw my roar so bouncing off
of the wall, it sounded like it came from his right.
As he turned, my muscles tensed and I leapt. I landed on him
with my full force. He went down hard on his right side. The gun hand slamming
hard on the stone floor, but not letting go. I placed my paw over his hand and
unsheathed my claws. I would not kill him, but I would not hesitate to draw
blood. He struggled, and he was very strong. But I weigh nearly as much as a
man and he could not move. Of course, to kill him would have been easy – a nip
of my jaw on his soft throat - and I had to fight myself not to do it.
I heard a car pull up and stop. Light footsteps outside,
Detective Nguyen. The door opened and then the beam of a flashlight.
“Over here,” I called softly. In a minute scar man was
handcuffed. On encountering me for the first time, people are generally
paralyzed with fear and confusion. Scar-man was not.
Another car outside.
“Here comes Franklin,” Nguyen said, laughing a bit to
herself.
“I must go,” I said abruptly. Franklin would ask how I knew
where to look, I did not wish to tell him. To Nguyen I continued, “Check the
file cabinet, even the inside, in Goldman’s office for prints. I expect you
will find them.”
Then I slipped into the night and through the silent streets
that were, for
now, almost home.
now, almost home.
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