The screeching was deafening. Something wet splashed down the front of her shirt and onto her jeans. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her soft tone nearly lost among the terrified bleats. “It’s okay, it’s okay, baby.” She rocked the struggling bundle. “It’s okay, Kanoni. It’s me. It’s Grace. You’re safe, baby.”
“I’m here, too, Kanoni.” Jon rested a hand on the shivering baby gorilla. “Why is she alone?”
Grace shook her head; she didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted to be happy about the return of her smallest charge. Gradually the thrashing and screeches subsided to whimpers, and Grace loosened her grip enough to examine the gorilla bundle she clutched. Small black fingers and toes extended through the rope strands. A red-brown eye, ringed with white, stared at her. It was hard to read the emotion there—suspicion, fear, hope?
“Let’s get her out of the net,” Grace said. “Can you grab a foot?”
Jon lifted the net and circled his fingers around Kanoni’s ankle. The baby gorilla squealed as he untangled the net from around her foot.
“Don’t bite, Kanoni.” Grace hugged the terrified baby harder, then she grasped the free foot while Jon worked to liberate the other one. It was an awkward process, but finally Kanoni and the net were separated. Grace pulled the baby gorilla into her arms, and Kanoni clung to her, quivering, as Grace walked toward the study trailer. Jon trailed behind and followed them in.
Inside, Grace discovered that both she and the baby gorilla were covered with urine and spilled yogurt. When she tried to set the baby gorilla down on the table, Kanoni whimpered and climbed up Grace’s belly, clutching her sweatshirt with both toes and fingers. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” She leaned forward and placed the little gorilla’s rump on the table, but Kanoni wouldn’t let go. Grace looked to Jon. “Help?”
Jon managed to peel Kanoni off despite the gorilla’s alarm shrieks. “Kanoni, shush! We just want to clean you up.”
He clasped the baby while Grace dampened a towel and wiped the worst of the wetness off the black fur. The little gorilla’s lips and nose were bloody and raw. There was a long gash on her right leg, alongside the knee. Kanoni held up her arms, wanting to be picked up again.
“Hang onto her for a minute longer, please.” Kanoni’s whimpering grew louder as Grace rummaged in the supply closet for antibiotic cream and a work smock. She shucked her yogurt-and-urine-sodden sweatshirt and put on the smock. Then she returned to the table and smeared antibiotic cream on Kanoni’s leg and face. The baby gorilla immediately used her tongue to lick it off her nose.
“Do we need to call the vet?” Jon asked.
“I don’t think so; she’s not bleeding. You can let go.”
The baby immediately climbed onto Grace’s chest. Kanoni’s mahogany eyes were huge, and her lips were split into the uncertain grin of a frightened young ape. Her expression begged Please don’t hurt me.
Had this baby seen something horrible happen to Neema? Was this the expression on Gumu’s face after seeing his mother murdered by poachers? “You’re okay, baby. You’re home now.”
Grace walked to the window and stared out at the yard. As far as she could detect, no creature was moving through the shadows, certainly nothing as big as a gorilla.
Why was Kanoni alone? The possibilities were terrifying. The baby laid her head against her breast and Grace clutched the warm body tightly to her. “She’s shivering, Jon. Can you fix her a warm bottle?”
He turned toward the kitchen cabinets. “Do we have baby stuff like that?”
Good question. Neema had nursed Kanoni, and Grace had long ago gotten rid of the baby bottles she used when Neema was this size. “Just mix some apple juice and milk, nuke it for a minute, and put it in a sippy cup.”
Grace moved to the couch and examined Kanoni further, at least as much as she could with the baby clinging like a limpet. The little gorilla was very dirty, but other than her scraped face and the gash on her leg, she didn’t have any injuries that Grace could feel with her fingers. She examined a small black foot. Did Kanoni’s feet seem more wrinkled than usual?
Jon extended the sippy cup. “Is she okay?”
“Maybe dehydrated.” She patted the baby on the back. “Here, Kanoni, milk. Juice.” Kanoni leaned back from Grace’s chest just enough to look. Her nostrils flared and then she eagerly grabbed the cup, pressing it to her lips with loud smacking noises.
“She’s obviously hungry.” Jon handed her the towel he held, then walked to the window and peered outside. After a minute, he turned, a worried expression on his young face. “Think Neema’s out there?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Was Neema injured? Was she dead? Was she afraid or unable to come back? Could a gorilla as young as Kanoni have survived in the wild for four days on her own?
The baby squirmed in her lap, and Grace told Jon, “Let’s put out more food in the barn. Just in case. Even if the raccoons get it.”
He nodded. “I’ll search the woods before I go back to bed. Just in case.”
“If Neema’s not back tonight, I’ll drive around tomorrow morning, too.” Kanoni turned in her lap to hold the sippy cup with both hands and feet. She upended it, sucking noisily, then popped off the top with her teeth and examined the interior with her long fingers.
“Empty.” Grace wrapped her arms around the little gorilla to make the sign.
Kanoni sat up and met Grace’s gaze, then raised her clenched fingers and tapped the tips against her rubbery black lips.
“She knows the sign for food?” Jon was incredulous.
“Obviously. How about a banana?” Grace made the peeling sign for the little ape. Kanoni signed food again.
“She never did that before.” Jon went to the kitchen.
Grace sighed. “Kanoni never needed to sign. Neema always did it for her.”
All three of them jumped at the knock on the door. Then it flew open and Finn stepped in, his pistol held out before him. “Everyone okay?”
Jon turned, banana in hand. “Only if you’re not going to shoot us.”
Finn returned his pistol to his holster, then rounded the back of the couch to Grace. “Keyes wasn’t at home. Why didn’t you answer your phone? I was worried.”
Kanoni abruptly leapt from Grace’s lap into Finn’s arms. His eyes rounded with surprise at suddenly finding a gorilla clinging to his chest, but he wrapped one arm under the baby’s rump to support her, and, after carefully peeling her toes from the grip of his gun, put his other arm around Kanoni’s furry back and patted her.
“Sorry, Matt.” Grace smiled. “I forgot about all that when Kanoni showed up.”
“Neema?” he asked. “Gumu?”
She shook her head sadly.
He peered at the black fuzzy head beneath his chin. “At least you’ve got one back.”
His cell phone buzzed. He answered and listened for a second, thanked the caller and then hung up. “Keyes just arrived at his apartment,” he reported.
Grace felt the tension slip down her spine a few inches.
“I’ll report his call to the Tacoma PD. If they can prove it, that’s a violation of the no-contact order, and could earn him more jail time.”
It was some consolation.
He added, “We still don’t know where he was this last weekend.”
“Or if he took Gumu and Neema.”
At the sound of Neema’s name, Kanoni whimpered and leaned away from Finn’s chest. Her little face was worried as she glanced around the room, searching for her mother.
* * * * *
Three raps sounded at the door. Finn glanced at Grace. She stood up, frowning and shaking her head, confirming that she was not expecting a visitor.
Shoving Kanoni into Jon Zyrnek’s arms, he drew his gun. Would Tim Smith have the balls to knock on the door? The county had a murder like that just last year—knock, knock. Open, boom.
“Stand back.” He pushed Grace away from the door frame, then flipped on the outside l
ight and opened the door in one smooth motion, standing to one side.
An older couple stood on the small porch, blinking in the sudden brightness.
“Mom?” Grace stared in disbelief. “Dad?”
“Surprised?” Grace’s mother raised her eyebrows. “Are we interrupting something?”
Well, crap. Way to meet the parents. Finn hurriedly tucked the pistol back in his holster.
Her father smiled tentatively, shielding his eyes from the overhead light with a hand against his forehead. “We came to support you.”
Finn slid sideways into the doorway beside Grace. “Come on in.”
He introduced himself and shook hands with Dr. Maureen and Dr. Charles McKenna. That’s how Grace introduced them: Doctor Maureen and Doctor Charles, both professors at Stanford. He felt like he should have introduced himself as Detective Matthew Finn to compete.
“Grace, darling,” Maureen said, pulling a small package from her purse. “This is from Richard.”
Grace’s eyes darted to Finn and then back to her mother. The package was wrapped in green and white paper with a small tasteful silver bow. It looked the right size to contain a piece of jewelry.
“Okay.” Grace quickly snatched the small box from her mother’s hand and shoved it into the pocket of her smock, clearly uncomfortable.
Who the hell was Richard? Finn carefully watched Grace’s face for a clue, but she didn’t turn his way.
“This is where you live?” Maureen glanced around the interior. She held both hands against her chest as if she’d be contaminated by touching anything.
Finn recalled his first impression of the study trailer: the sagging couch, the overflowing toy box, the stained throw rugs on the scuffed tile floor, the barred cage that looked like a jail cell, and the tiny kitchen with padlocks on the cabinets and refrigerator. The place looked like a social worker’s worst nightmare.
Charles McKenna shifted uncertainly on his feet, crossed and then uncrossed his arms, and finally settled on sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.
Grace sighed. “No, Mom, this is where I work with the gorillas. I live in that trailer.” She pointed through the window at the singlewide across the lawn.
Finn tried to help. “It’s much nicer inside. Compact, of course, but Grace has it fixed up beautifully. Blue and green color scheme. Very tranquil.”
She shot him a look he couldn’t decipher. Her finger moved, pointing to the other two trailers. “That one is for my staff members when they stay overnight, and that one is occupied by Josh LaDyne, my research associate and Ph.D. candidate. The barn is for the gorillas.”
Jon stepped forward from behind the door, one hand extended. “I’m Jon Zyrnek, one of Grace’s staff.”
Kanoni slid down from Jon’s arms. She waddled on her hind feet to Grace, holding her long arms up in the air.
Maureen stared. “Oh, my. So they’re back?”
Finn couldn’t tell whether Maureen was entranced or horrified.
“Just this one.” Grace scooped Kanoni up. The baby gorilla curled her long limbs around her torso, then twisted her head to view the visitors. As usual, the long black hair on the top of her head was standing straight up. Her eyes were round with curiosity, or maybe anxiety; Finn was no expert.
The baby sniffed at Maureen, who extended a hand to gingerly pet her head. Kanoni clamped her fingers around the woman’s forearm and then abruptly transferred her small body to Maureen, wrapping her legs around the older woman’s waist, clamping her hands onto her shoulders, and nestling her fuzzy head against her bosom.
“Well, now...” Maureen’s hands waved uncertainly the air for a second, then she wrapped her arms around the baby gorilla.
“Mom, meet Kanoni,” Grace said wearily. “She’s eight months old.”
Maureen stared down at the baby gorilla. Kanoni looked up, her liquid brown eyes asking for something. Permission to be there, Finn guessed.
“I always hoped there would be grandchildren,” Maureen said, “But I never envisioned this.”
After a few awkward open-mouthed seconds, they all burst into laughter. When it subsided, Charles turned to Finn. “Can you recommend a motel nearby?”
The choices were grim. Evansburg had three motels. The Overnite, a dilapidated noisy one-story alongside the highway; one ancient motor court close to the college where rooms were often rented by the hour; and the Convention Center, which he knew was currently booked up. He’d noted the sign Welcome Bible Translators out front along with the orange neon No Vacancy sign as he drove past, wondering what Bible translators would have to discuss.
“You can stay with me.” He must have said it aloud, because all heads swiveled in his direction. He gulped and added, “I have a perfectly good guest room that never gets used.” Then he remembered the beasts that ruled the house. “Unless you’re allergic to animals. I have two cats and a dog the size of a Shetland pony.”
Charles smiled. “We have a Persian, Chaucer, at home.”
“We had a Doberman Pinscher until six months ago,” Maureen volunteered, her voice melancholy as she stroked Kanoni’s back. “We still miss Helen.” She looked at Finn. “For Helen of Troy. That bitch was so beautiful.”
For a minute, Finn wasn’t quite sure if Maureen was referring to the historical character. He decided in favor of the dog. Professor Maureen McKenna seemed like the type who would use the correct term for a female canine and then set people straight if they questioned her terminology.
Chapter 13
Grace spent a sleepless night with a traumatized baby gorilla in her bed. At first light she carried Kanoni into the forest, moving in the general direction from which the baby gorilla had come. She alternated between shouting “Neema!” and asking the baby, “Where’s Neema? Where’s your mom?”
Kanoni clung to her with both hands and feet as she peered through the trees with terrified eyes. Grace made the sign for Neema over and over again, but the baby didn’t sign back. Kanoni became more agitated as Grace walked deeper into the woods, her rapid breathing turning to whimpers and then finally to loud shrieks. When Grace let go of her back to make the Neema sign again, Kanoni screeched and crawled up Grace’s chest and buried her face against Grace’s neck.
Grace stopped walking, wrapped her arms around Kanoni again and patted the shivering animal on the back. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll go home.”
Despondent, Grace turned back to her compound. What had she expected? Kanoni was an infant, and she was torturing her. Whatever the baby gorilla knew about Neema and Gumu, she was incapable of communicating.
Grace was happy to have Kanoni back safe, but the baby gorilla’s return increased her fears for Neema and Gumu. She was certain now that Neema was either captive or dead; she would never have intentionally left her baby alone.
* * * * *
Thanks to Guy Rodrigo’s ‘headless horseman’ remark, Finn dreamed about discovering a corpse face down in Grace’s barn. When he turned the head to view the face, the head broke off in his hands. Heavy brow. Massive jaw. Gumu.
Finn woke up, his own jaw aching from grinding his teeth. His sheets were damp with sweat. And no wonder. His huge Newfie mix had his head flopped across Finn’s thigh, snoring as he drooled on the blanket. Lok and Kee regarded Cargo with slit-eyed feline disdain from opposite corners of the bed.
Finn sat up and threw off the covers and the animals. He wasn’t scheduled to work today, but as usual, he couldn’t stop thinking about his open cases. The burglars had either gotten wind of the police discovery or spotted Scoletti in the woods; they hadn’t returned to their storage depot. Today the department would clean out the old farmhouse, try to identify owners of the stolen merchandise, and route all the lifted fingerprints through AFIS. The fingerprint identification system generally reported back within minutes, showing the closest matches in the system, but then a human had to examine the candidates to determine if any were truly a match and the matching individual was a likely suspect for the crime
. The whole process could take days.
The murmur of voices came from the kitchen. Grace’s parents. Cargo barked and bounced out of the room to investigate, no doubt forgetting he’d met them the night before. Finn threw on some jeans and rushed to save the professors from his amnesiac mutt. But when he reached the kitchen, Cargo was eating calmly out of his bowl, the coffee was perked, and Maureen was making French toast. It was more domesticity than Finn had experienced in his home in two years.
They were all painfully polite with each other. The professors inquired about his past and he told them he’d been a senior detective in Chicago. They told him they were tenured professors at Stanford. They’d noticed his painting and asked him if he’d attended art school. He told them about his few watercolor lessons. What was next? Would they ask about the authors he read and want to know which was his favorite Shakespeare play? He quickly gulped down the French toast and took his dog and his coffee out to the deck with the excuse that he needed to keep an eye on Cargo.
The weather was sunny and windless and at any other time, he would have invited Grace for the drive he had in mind. But there was no way she’d leave her compound now unless she was hot on the trail of Neema or Gumu. Plus, he’d have to invite her parents, too. He gave the McKennas his spare key, told them to make themselves at home, and then left for Monroe Prison.
On the way, he called Grace. “No sign of Neema?”
“No. I’m watching the news and there’s no mention of anything odd. Jon’s out driving around now. She’d never leave Kanoni. If she could be here, she would be. I’m just so scared about what’s happened to her.”
He told her he was going to a prison to interview an inmate, and asked her what she had planned for the day. Please tell me you’re not going to steal any more animals.
“Checking up on me, Detective?”
“I’m worried about you, Grace.” He hoped that sounded concerned instead of condescending.
“I currently have a baby gorilla wrapped around my torso, Matt. Not to mention, my parents are on their way over. Pretty heavy impediments to going on animal raids, don’t you think? But someone’s got to take the illegal animal trade seriously. I’ve decided to send ARU instead.”
The Only Clue Page 15