Woof at the Door

by Laura Morrigan

  I was mad. I wasn’t sure who I was more ticked off at—myself for still being afraid to claim my psychic ability or Kai for being so single-minded in his pursuit of my friend. But the result was that I was ready to rumble.

  “If you still think LaBryce had anything to do with Mark’s murder, then you’re not very good at your job.”

  “You were whispering. What did LaBryce tell you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s clear that you won’t believe anything LaBryce says. Unless it’s ‘I did it!’”

  Anger colored Kai’s voice as he stepped toward me. “You’re saying I’m biased?”

  “I’m saying you’ve got blinders on. What evidence do you have against him?”

  “He threatened to kill Mark.”

  “You heard what LaBryce said. He and Mark were plotting some big media hoopla.”

  Kai gave me a dubious look. “He lied about his gun being stolen.”

  “And only the guilty lie?”

  “According to everyone but you, he has no alibi. Even LaBryce claims he was home alone that night. Either he’s telling the truth and you’re lying or he’s lying to protect someone.” The way he said “someone” clearly meant me.

  “You’re right. He’s protecting me. I conspired with LaBryce to kill Mark because I wanted Jax.” I motioned toward the dogs. They had inched closer, disturbed by our raised voices. It took a good deal of concentration to keep reassuring them and argue with Kai. My head was going to be pounding later.

  “If that was a joke, it’s not funny.”

  “No. It’s ridiculous.” I pulled in a breath and tried to force my voice down an octave or two.

  “We have the security tapes from the entrance to Mark’s neighborhood. If LaBryce came back, we’ll see him.”

  “There are other people who could have wanted Mark dead. Think about it, Kai.” My argument in LaBryce’s defense was cut off before it really got started.

  “I can’t! I can’t think. It’s like you walk into the room and my brain short-circuits.” He raked his fingers through his hair and paced away. The dogs watched him with a mixture of wariness and all-out aggression. “I’ve been working this case for what seems like forever. I’m tired. I’m ready to have something solid to work with. A fiber. A palm print. Anything.” He turned back to face me, and I felt a spike of panic. Not because I thought he would hurt me. But because I knew I was going to regret what I was about to do.

  He moved forward. I stepped back, bumping into the bookcase.

  “But all I have is you.” He braced his hand on one of the shelves, penning me in.

  The dogs growled in tandem.

  He ignored the canine warning and leaned in. Only inches away from my face he said, “Come on, Grace, just tell me the truth. All you have to do is give me the name of LaBryce’s alibi. If it checks out, LaBryce is out of here. Who was with him, Grace? Why won’t you tell me?”

  I hesitated, but only for an instant. “Okay.”

  He eased back a fraction and waited.

  “Charm.”

  “What?”

  “The reason I know LaBryce is innocent is because Charm told me he was home the night of the murder. I have the ability to communicate with animals. Telepathically.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it. I thought I would feel foolish or even anxious, but what I felt was . . . freedom. Open, soaring freedom.

  “What?” Kai said the word as if he literally had not understood what I said.

  “I can talk to animals. With my mind.”

  Kai blinked at me for several seconds. “You mean psychically? You’re saying you have a psychic power?”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

  Kai’s lips, which had been drawn into a thin line, slowly turned up into a smirk. “And you’re telling me Charm, the jaguar, is LaBryce’s alibi?”

  My newfound wings buckled under the weight of his stinging sarcasm. I ignored the plummeting feeling. “Yes. And there’s something else you should know.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Jax witnessed Mark Richardson’s murder.”

  “Uh-huh. So, who did it?”

  “He hasn’t told me yet. He’s too traumatized.”

  “Riiight.”

  “I’m telling the truth. Think what you want.” It was pretty clear he was thinking I was a big fat liar. His obvious disdain affected me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I felt tears press against the backs of my eyes. I managed to blink them away, but the dogs felt my sudden flutter of distress, and Moss went from growling to letting out a trio of barks. The sound was nearly deafening in the small office.

  “Okay, if you really are psychic, tell your dogs to back off. Telepathically, of course.” Kai was studying me again. I wondered if he was really giving me a chance.

  I felt hope flutter to life in my chest. “Okay.” Jax, Moss, leave it!

  Jax hesitated but sat. Moss didn’t. Guard.

  No, Moss, leave it. Go.

  Guard. His growl continued, deep and low.

  Kai arched his brows with a look of such utter smugness I wanted to slap him. “Problem?”

  “Moss doesn’t like you.”

  “I can tell. And I’m not even psychic.”

  “No. You’re an ass.” I pushed past him and gathered the dogs, trying all the while not to let my feelings get the better of me. “If you really want to find out who killed those two men, you need to open your mind. And that means considering that there are some things you just have to take on faith.”

  “You really expected me to believe you?”

  I turned before opening the door and looked him in the eye. I wanted him to see that he had hurt me. “No, Kai. I didn’t.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I sped over the Matthews Bridge at a pace that made Bluebell shudder in protest. I gripped the steering wheel and muttered under my breath.

  Damn it!

  I’d been prepared for Kai’s disbelief, had even expected it, but the hurt that flowed in its wake had been startling.

  “That’s what I get.” Choosing to tell a man who worships at the Altar of Tangible Evidence that I was psychic. Never mind that if he bothered to open his eyes long enough to see past his microscope, he would realize I was what I claimed to be. Just because my gift couldn’t be dissected and analyzed in a laboratory didn’t make it any less real.

  Maybe I should have taken Emma’s advice and stopped hiding my ability years ago. If I had, I would have references. People who would back me up. A website with success stories and testimonials.

  The idea was so silly it made me smile. I took a deep breath and eased off the gas.

  “I could have told Sonja at least,” I said to myself. And maybe even Hugh. After working with me so many times, he might have believed it.

  “I should call him right now,” I said, my thoughts as reckless as my driving. Just come out with it. Why the hell not?

  My cell phone rang. I looked at the number and wondered if Hugh Murray wasn’t a bit of a psychic himself.

  “Hey, Hugh. What’s up?”

  “We have a situation with the giraffe. You have time to lend us your . . . talent?”

  I had to pull onto an access road to make a U-turn, but after backtracking over the bridge and onto Twentieth Street, it only took fifteen minutes to get to the zoo. By the time I’d zipped into the lot and parked in the stingy shade of a palm, I’d decided it would be best to keep my head on straight and focus on what needed to be done. There would be no more soul-baring confessions from me.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can, guys.” I hated leaving the dogs in the car, but the AC was on and I had put a bowl of water in the back for them.

  I hurried down the zoo’s winding paths, and as I neared the giraffe enclosure, I
spotted Hugh and a couple of keepers standing in a huddled group next to a John Deere Gator. Leaning against the cargo box of the small utility vehicle was Karen Leach. I muttered a curse.

  My day just kept getting better and better.

  Karen was one of the uppy-ups at the zoo. She had a plethora of degrees and over fifteen years of experience.

  And she hated me.

  I was an enigma to most of the zoo employees. When it came to using my “talent,” I demanded they stay out of my way and do as I asked. I was not understood, but I was respected.

  By everyone but Karen.

  I got it. Really and truly, I did. Karen had been supplanted by me on numerous occasions. I questioned her authority. Ignored her orders. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d hate me, too.

  “Hey. What happened?” I asked with a forced smile.

  Karen didn’t bother to be polite and return it.

  “Grace, someone called you.”

  She shot Hugh a censorious glare. He returned it with a dashing smile. “I figured we could use the extra hand. Grace was in the area . . .” He allowed the rest to be left to interpretation.

  Karen narrowed her small eyes. She was not a beautiful woman to start with. She had a weak chin and a long, Roman nose. Her hair, a mass of thick curls, was always piled high on her crown in a frizzy blob. Anger did not improve her looks.

  Hugh’s voice wrenched my mind into focus. “Like I told you on the phone, the male giraffe has some wire tangled around his left rear hoof. We think one of the maintenance guys left the wire in the pen yesterday. We’re afraid he’s going to trip, or it might be cutting into him. I tried to get close enough to see, but he gets really worked up and runs around the enclosure when anybody goes inside.”

  I knew I had only one option. Tranquilizing the giraffe could kill it. Animals that big do not take anesthesia well.

  “I’ll have to try to get close to him.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Karen snapped. “He almost killed Hugh when he went in.”

  Hugh nodded gravely. “He tried to kick my head off. Flipped out totally.”

  This was bad. The giraffe knew Hugh—who had to inoculate him on a yearly basis. No wild animal is ever truly tame, but if he was ready to defend himself against people he was familiar with . . . yep, the day just kept getting better. “Well, it’s the only option.”

  The silence that followed my statement shocked me. “You’re not thinking of darting him?”

  “We’re going to have to.” Karen turned her back on me, reached into the back of the John Deere, and pulled out the tranquilizer gun.

  “Karen, this is ridiculous. You know there’s a chance he won’t survive.”

  “It’s a chance we’re going to have to take.”

  “The hell it is.” I straightened, turned, and walked to the giraffe pen.

  “Grace—” Hugh hurried to catch me.

  “Give me five minutes in the enclosure. After that, if I’m not dead, I’ll let you tranq him.”

  “Wait—”

  “No.” I knew if I waited, I’d be too late. The dart gun didn’t take long to load.

  At the rear entrance to the enclosure, I paused. I had to sacrifice a few moments to quiet my thoughts before entering the large, landscaped pen. One kick from an adult giraffe was strong enough to kill a lion. The giraffe was spooked. He wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself against a new threat. Ignorant of my noble intentions, he would view me as the enemy.

  Unless I could get close enough to reach into his fear and replace it with assurance and calm.

  I eased through the chain-link gate and glanced around. A young female giraffe stood a few feet away to my right. She watched me with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. I took a moment to ease her suspicions, focusing my thoughts on calming, friendly feelings. After brief consideration, the giraffe accepted me and resumed her grazing, stretching up to munch on the leaves of a nearby branch.

  One possible disaster avoided. If the female giraffe had been startled or given away my presence, my chances of getting anywhere near the male giraffe would be nonexistent.

  I shifted my attention to my target. The male stood directly in front of me. He was looking away, toward the opposite side of the pen. I focused on stretching my mind forward, reaching out to his. Nothing.

  Too far away.

  I had to get closer. Which meant getting within range of his powerful back legs. On silent, careful feet, I crept toward the lanky giant.

  I advanced measure by measure, breaths shallow, hands hovering slightly out to my sides like a tightrope walker. I could see the coil of wire glinting in the afternoon sun. It was snarled around his ankle like the tendrils of a predacious vine.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down my back. Even though it was hotter than all get-out, I was thankful there wasn’t a breeze. Giraffes have an outstanding sense of smell.

  The closer I got, the taller the animal seemed. His hindquarters loomed before me, a mosaic mountain of buff and brown set on knobby legs and hooves the size of dinner plates. The giraffe flicked his black-tasseled tail. I could hear the whistling rush of air and got a whiff of the pungent, musky smell that accompanies male giraffes. Eau de funk. I was almost close enough . . .

  An explosion of emotions rocketed through my head. I flinched, sucking in an audible gasp.

  A mistake I would pay for.

  The giraffe kicked. I spun to the side but was too slow. Jolting pain shot through my upper arm as the rigid edge of his hoof connected with my soft muscles and tendons.

  In an instant, I found myself lying flat on the dusty ground. Slightly dazed, I lay motionless, trying to catch my breath.

  “Grace!” Hugh called out to me from the gate.

  I didn’t move. “I’m okay.”

  “That’s it!” I heard Karen’s voice. “Give me the gun.”

  “No!” I shouted. “I just need a minute. Please.”

  There was some muttering and I could tell Karen was bitching up a storm. But finally Hugh said, “Hurry up, Grace. She’s gone to get the spare gun.”

  Which meant Hugh hadn’t given in to her. He believed in me. Better prove him right. I did a quick assessment. My shoulder didn’t hurt. Thank you, adrenaline. I knew it was temporary, but I’d take what I could get. I needed to finish my task, and to do that, I needed to think.

  Ignoring my pounding heart and trembling breaths, I tried to figure out what just happened. Instead of kicking me and then running away, the giraffe had stopped and was now watching me from about twenty feet away.

  He must have sensed my thoughts as I had sensed his. If I lay still, he might eventually decide I wasn’t a threat and come over to investigate.

  I used the time to center my thoughts. I closed my eyes and took in deep, measured breaths. After a few moments, I heard the giraffe begin to shuffle closer.

  I opened my eyes and watched him. In three tentative steps, he covered half the distance between us.

  And then I had what I needed.

  His mind was a tangle of thoughts and emotions. The burn of lingering panic scraped through the inside of my skull. Snared.

  Hunted.

  Run.

  Fight.

  I could feel my heart rate rise to an almost painful level. I forced my breathing to remain calm. I couldn’t allow myself to be overwhelmed.

  Easy there, boy. I willed him to feel my calmness. Offered him my friendship. I’m going to help you.

  He had come very close now. He stood over me, head angled to the side to look down with one huge, liquid eye.

  I squinted up at him. The pulse of his mind had become less frantic. He was still wary but was much calmer, more trusting. I shifted my focus and tried to send him an image of my hands on his leg. Fr
eeing him of the painful wire.

  Let me help you.

  Help. Understanding rose up and banished his lingering fear.

  That’s right. I’m going to help you. Gradually, I sat up. He took a cautious step backward. Easy, you’re okay.

  I rolled carefully onto my feet, ignoring the pain that bit into my shoulder. Soon, it would be throbbing like a bitch. But that was irrelevant.

  I walked around to the giraffe’s back leg. He arched his long neck around to watch me. I laid my hand on his leg—just a gentle touch. As always, physical contact strengthened my connection. I could feel the heavy throb of his giant heart—the relief as I began to gingerly untangle the wire.

  He lifted his foot to assist me in my task. Then he was free.

  Gratitude billowed around me like a warm embrace.

  I smiled up at the leggy giant. You’re very welcome.

  • • •

  The kudos was short-lived.

  I stepped out of a wild animal enclosure and came face-to-face with a far more savage creature. Karen Leach stood next to the Gator, holding the second dart gun. For a few insane moments, I actually thought she’d shoot me with it. Instead, she set the weapon back in its case, turned to me, and said, “You have five minutes to vacate zoo grounds.”

  Normally, after I “helped out,” Karen was mollified. She’d give me a curt nod, or more often, just bark at anyone within hearing range to get back to work. I was ignored and, therefore, dismissed.

  Today, the woman was sporting for a fight. As luck would have it, I was ready to rise to the occasion.

  “Wow, Karen, I’m touched.” I stretched my lips into a wide, overzealous smile. “And to answer your question, the giraffe is fine. Just a scrape or two. Probably won’t even need antibiotics.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “We’ll handle it.”

  “Like you were going to handle it by darting him?” Karen’s hostility toward me had been an irritation, but I wouldn’t excuse her for endangering the giraffe. “You were willing to risk that animal’s life? For what?”