Woof at the Door

by Laura Morrigan

  “Shit.” I didn’t like sneaking around in someone else’s house. I really didn’t like the feeling of dread that clutched my chest like the talons of a raptor.

  Without meaning to, I had crossed the kitchen. My hand sat ready to push open the swinging door that led to the rest of the house. I hesitated and started to back up, but Jax had become focused on moving forward through the door. The desire was so intense, I felt my arm react before I could stop it from shoving the door open.

  The smell hit me first, stealing what was left of my breath.

  Death.

  I started to take a step back, get the hell out of Dodge, and call the cops, when I saw him.

  “Oh God.”

  Alexander Burke was seated at a small, wooden desk. Part of his head was gone. His remaining eye was rolled back. Cast up as if he was looking to heaven.

  The window next to the desk was splattered with blood. In a part of my mind that had, in self-defense, separated from reality, I noticed the bright light streaming in cast an odd-patterned red tint to the room, like stained glass. On the floor near Burke’s feet, a gun was spotlighted by the macabre beam.

  Jax’s low whimper snatched me back from my stunned detachment. The dog’s dismay hit me like a charging bull. My stomach clenched and roiled. Bile clogged my throat. I was swamped by a wave of nausea.

  Moss must have heard or felt the shocked cry that slipped from my throat, because he was at my side ready to defend or assist. I slapped my hand over my mouth, turned, and stumbled through the kitchen.

  I’d barely made it outside before doubling over and upchucking all over Detective Jake Nocera’s brown loafers.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” He lurched back several steps.

  Eyes watering, shaking and dizzy I struggled to breathe.

  “Grace?” I heard Kai’s voice, felt a steady hand clasp my upper arm. My eyes still closed, I focused on that one point—letting Kai’s firm hand be my anchor.

  Slowly, I straightened and opened my eyes. I glanced at Jake, then turned to Kai. His face was set and nearly unreadable. The only signs of worry, the slight pinch between his brow and the question in his intense gaze.

  “Alexander Burke has been murdered.”

  CHAPTER 13

  I should have known dropping the M-word was a bad idea. After I said it, I realized my mistake. I should have said, “Alexander Burke is dead.” Instead, I had said “murdered,” which is very different—especially to cops.

  “How do you know he was murdered?” Kai asked for the second time. He was sitting on the passenger side of Bluebell’s bench seat. I’d told him if he wanted to ask me questions, he could do so just as easily out of the heat. So there we sat, me looking out at the ever-increasing activity in and around Alexander Burke’s house, and Kai staring at me the way a cat watches a mouse hole. Focused. Patient. Composed. Knowing his prey would eventually emerge. Then he would have what he was after.

  The air conditioner rattled as it struggled to pump out cool air. The dogs sat in the backseat panting quietly.

  It was actually Jax’s fault that I had announced Burke’s murder the way I did. After all, it was his canine sense of smell and understanding of things humans cannot that led me to that conclusion.

  Death leaves a mark. Murder leaves a stain. An indelible tear in the fabric of a place that is violent and raw. Dogs can sense it. I knew Burke had been murdered because Jax knew. But I wasn’t about to tell Kai that.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. He was murdered, wasn’t he?”

  Answering a question with a question doesn’t work with law enforcement. My attempted deflection had the opposite effect. Kai’s face, already a blank mask, took on a harder edge. He pinned me with his gaze but said nothing. The silence stretched out to fill the space between us as thick and solid as Hadrian’s Wall.

  I weighed my options. Kai knew I was holding out on him. He was clearly prepared to pursue me like a bloodhound to get answers. I could either keep being vague and cagey, which would probably only pique his interest, or I could come up with an explanation.

  Well, when you can’t beat’um . . . lie.

  “Okay. I’ll tell you why I think he was murdered. But you won’t believe me.”

  Kai straightened. “I’m listening.”

  “Jax knew Burke was murdered.”

  “Jax.” That single word held a mountain of doubt.

  “Just hear me out. There’s a theory out there that dogs can pick up on things that linger after death.”

  “You mean pheromones?”

  “Pheromones and . . . other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know . . . stuff.” I felt a twinge of insecurity, but banished it with a deep breath. I had to express this idea, but had to be careful not to say too much. I couldn’t explain the feeling of violent wrongness that lingered after someone’s life was ripped from them. I’d felt it only because Jax had. Science was something Kai understood. So I tried to think of a scientific example.

  “You can hear my voice and understand me. Why?”

  Kai gazed at me, baffled, for a few moments then he finally said, “The vibrations of your vocal cords produce sound waves, which are picked up by my inner ear.”

  “And?”

  “And your mouth forms words in a language that I understand.”

  “But why does it work?”

  He paused. “Because my brain has the ability to decipher the raw material that is speech.” I watched as understanding slowly crept into his eyes. “So you’re saying a dog’s brain can interpret some sort of lingering aura? The same way that we understand voices as language?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “But how?”

  “I haven’t got a clue.”

  Kai studied me for a moment, the way I’d come to understand meant he was dissecting every word I said. Frowning, he asked, “But how did you know? Jax didn’t tell you, ‘Hey, that dead guy was murdered,’ right?”

  Wrong. “He did actually. His behavior told me.” Now I had to layer a pinch of extra BS into my little story. “I’ve seen it before, with bloodhounds. They freak. Dead is dead. But violent death . . . it affects dogs. So I saw the body, and because of Jax’s reaction, I made the assumption.”

  “Your conclusion was based on a different set of factors,” Kai muttered.

  I didn’t follow that. I thought my factors couldn’t be that different from his. I mean, Burke was dead. Part of his head was blown off. It seemed obvious to me.

  “But there’s only one problem with that.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re right, then we’re wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There was a suicide note next to the body.”

  “What?”

  “Preliminary findings suggest Alexander Burke shot himself.”

  “No.” I was shaking my head. It wasn’t possible. Burke had been murdered.

  “The evidence disagrees.”

  “Just because there’s a note?”

  “A note. And gunshot residue on his hand.”

  “So he fired the gun?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe your theory is wrong. Or you misinterpreted Jax’s reaction.”

  I didn’t believe that. Nothing else feels like murder. At least nothing I’d ever experienced. A thought cut into my confusion. “Why were you and Jake here? Did someone call the cops?”

  “No.” His succinct answer and the way he glanced away from me spoke volumes. He and Jake had come to Burke’s house for a specific purpose.

  Now it was my turn to wait in silence.

  He turned back toward me, and locked his gaze with mine. “We came h
ere to search the house.”

  “For what?”

  “Financial records. And LaBryce Walker’s gun.”

  I remembered the glint of metal on the floor next to Burke’s body. Shining like a jewel—LaBryce’s gun. “You found it.”

  “We did.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the seat. LaBryce’s gun was next to the body. And I, in all my stupidity, was insisting Burke was murdered. A thought occurred to me. “Wait. You can’t think LaBryce did anything. He’s been in jail.”

  “I can’t be sure of anything at this point. But I know the ME estimates time of death to be between three and four days ago.”

  “The same night Mark was killed?” Did he think LaBryce had killed Burke? “I see. So when I tell you Burke was murdered, you consider it. But when I tell you LaBryce is innocent, you ignore it. Convenient. Do you always manipulate the evidence to suit your theories, or is this a special case?”

  He stared at me as if I’d slapped him.

  “I need to talk to LaBryce,” I said.

  “About?”

  “His pet jaguar is now my responsibility. I need to talk to him about Charm.” Kai’s face was unreadable but his silence grated on my nerves. “Can I see him or not?”

  “He’s being taken back to custody right now. I’ll go with you.”

  “Don’t you need to stay here and look for clues?” I really wanted him out of my car.

  “Burke’s not going anywhere.” He settled in and, by buckling his seat belt, all but said I was not getting rid of him.

  I stared at him for a moment and tried to figure out what he thought he could possibly gain by keeping an eye on me. Did Kai think I had something to do with Burke’s death? Was he hoping I’d fold under his scrutiny?

  I put Bluebell in gear. “I have to drop off the dogs. Unless you want me to leave them in your office.”

  I’d meant the last as a sarcastic barb. Kai didn’t seem to get it. “Fine with me. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  The Police Memorial Building was busier in the middle of the day. Phones rang. People walked around with fast-food bags and coffee mugs. My canine escorts and I received some questioning looks, but we quickly deposited the dogs in Kai’s office.

  “Lock the door,” I instructed as we walked out. Kai didn’t ask why, proving he was smart.

  He walked me to an interview room and asked me to wait. I sat at the table and drummed my fingers on its smooth top. Time seemed to crawl by.

  I looked around the small room and noticed a bubble on the ceiling. It held a camera, I assumed. I realized, as I looked at it, why Kai had not objected to my request to see LaBryce. The police couldn’t question him without his lawyer. But I could.

  Kai was hoping LaBryce would let something slip while he was talking to me. Great.

  I heard the door open, but I kept my gaze on the bubble for a second longer. “I hope you’re paying attention,” I said to the camera.

  My friend shuffled into the room. LaBryce is a big guy, but he seemed diminished somehow. His face brightened some when he saw me and folded into a smile. “Hey, Grace.”

  “Hey. How you doing?” I asked as he lowered himself into the chair across from me.

  “Okay, I guess. My lawyer says the state attorney is messing with me. Stalling. They charged me with endangerment or somethin’. ’Cuz Charm was out the other night. The judge keeps blowing me off. Won’t let me ask for bond.”

  I had a feeling I knew who was pulling that string. “You’re up against some power players.”

  “Yeah. The governor.”

  I was thinking of his wife but, six of one . . . “I found Alexander.”

  “Good. What’d that little shit have to say for himself?”

  “Not much.”

  LaBryce shook his head in disgust. “As soon as I can find someone else to take care of Charm, I’m going to fire his ass.”

  “He’s dead.”

  LaBryce blinked at me as the words traveled from ear to brain. “What?”

  “The cops think you killed him.”

  “What?” He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. No way.”

  “I know you didn’t do it.”

  “What the . . . These jokers think I killed Mark and Alex?” He gaped at me, shocked. “I’ve been here. This is bullshit. I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “I know that. You’re not a murderer.” I reached across the table and covered one beefy hand with both of mine.

  After a long pause, I asked, “LaBryce, what happened to your gun?”

  He lowered his eyes and shook his head.

  “It wasn’t stolen, was it? Who’d you give it to?”

  “Mark.”

  “Why?”

  “He said he needed it.”

  “For what? Was he afraid of someone?” I squeezed his hand, though what I really wanted to do was reach across the table and strangle him for not telling the cops the truth. But who was I to throw stones?

  After a few slow breaths, he looked up. “He said he was getting his own gun, but he had to deal with the waiting period.”

  “Why did he need a gun?” This seemed very significant to me and I shot a quick are you getting this? glance at the camera bubble.

  “He said something about getting phone calls at night. Hang-ups.”

  “No threats? Just hang-ups?”

  “He just said they’d call and hang up. At, like, three in the morning.”

  I thought about what Bo had said about a stalker and asked LaBryce what he knew.

  “Mark never said anything about that. All he said was that he got calls, and one time, something had spooked his dog, Jax. Someone outside sneaking around.” LaBryce let out a loud snort, like a Grizzly. “I thought he wanted the gun to flash, you know, to scare ’um off if they came back. It’s a big gun.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police?”

  “I don’t know. I was afraid whoever killed Mark might have used my gun. How would that look?”

  “Bad. It all looks really bad, LaBryce.”

  “I know. I’m stupid.”

  “Not all the time.” I smiled. “But it’s not as if the police are looking at anyone else.”

  “No alibi. Except Charm. Makes me an easy target.”

  I felt a pang. Guilt poking its accusatory finger right into my chest. “It doesn’t help that you threatened to kill Mark in a room full of people the same night he was murdered.”

  A look passed over my friend’s smooth, dark face. Guilt? Shame? Did he feel bad that his last words to his friend were filled with malice?

  “It was a setup.”

  “What was a setup?”

  “The interview, the argument, all of it. For the hype.”

  I had to let that sink in. “You mean you pretended to be mad and fight with Mark because you wanted publicity?”

  “Well, no. Yes. I mean, it was planned. I knew Mark was going to be interviewed. He told me he was going to make it sound like we were rivals. Enemies. Then after a while, we were going to come together and make up. But when I read the article, I’d been drinking and I got mad for real. I wasn’t supposed to get in a fight with him until the night of this charity thing that’s coming up. That was going to kick it off.”

  “Who came up with this? Some idiot at your PR firm?”

  “It was Mark’s idea. He said we needed to shake things up. Get people talking. He had some endorsement deals lined up if we could get enough press.”

  I didn’t get it. Not even a little. “Why would you get endorsements for acting like the Hatfields and McCoys?”

  “Mark had it all worked out. You know he studied marketing in college? He was pretty smart.” LaBryce’s eyes got glassy and he took a second to s
queeze them shut before continuing. “Look, I can’t play ball forever, Grace. I need something to fall back on. For when I retire.”

  “Retire?”

  “This is going to be my last season.” He leaned forward and whispered, “I think it was going to be Mark’s, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Something was going on with him.”

  “Like what?”

  “Couple times he hinted that he was going to be quitting. When I asked him, he just shook his head. Told me, ‘You never know, until you know.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “No idea.” He leaned even closer, keeping his voice soft. “I think whatever he was up to, that’s what got him killed. Maybe it was his new girl.”

  “What new girl?”

  “He was on the phone a lot. Arguing with someone. Whoever it was, he called her ‘baby.’”

  “A new girlfriend already? He and Jennifer just broke up.”

  LaBryce shrugged his massive shoulders. “Not like there aren’t girls lined up for guys like us.”

  “Nice humility. No wonder you’re not married.” I gave him a dramatic eye-roll.

  That got a smile out of him. “Every girl I’ve started dating thinks I should get rid of Charm. Just ’cause she gets a little possessive. You know. She doesn’t like it if I’m on the couch with anyone else. Till I find someone who Charm takes to, I’ll be single.”

  I understood the sentiment, though I could only imagine how terrifying it would be to have a jealous jaguar giving you the eye from across the room. “I’ll help with introductions when you find someone you really like.”

  “If I get out of here.”

  “You will. Don’t worry.” Just as I uttered the words, a cop poked his head in the door and I was asked to step out of the room. Kai was waiting for me in the hall, and I walked up to him and said as civilly as I could, “I’d like to get my dogs. Now.”

  He nodded, and we made our way back to his office.

  The dogs rolled to their feet as we entered. I started over to where I’d left the leashes draped over the back of a chair when I heard the office door close with a fatalistic click. Apparently, Kai felt we had something to talk about. I didn’t. But I turned to face him anyway. Though I couldn’t read his expression, I was pretty sure he could read mine.