Claws Bared

by Sheryl Nantus

Bran answered the phone on the first ring. “You okay? Need any help?”

  “I’m fine. You got anything yet?”

  “I got everything,” he smugly replied. “Mike used SafeHaven to back up his files.”

  “And that is...” I tapped the speakerphone function, balancing the phone on my thigh. No way I was going to try to wrestle the phone and drive at the same time.

  “An online site where you can store files. If you lose your flash drive or your laptop your files are still safe and stored.” I could hear his fingers banging on the keyboard. “It’s very useful overseas where your luggage can be ‘accidentally’ lost for hours and what you get back isn’t what you started out with.”

  I pulled out into traffic, the cell phone in my lap and Trace sitting beside me. “So he stored his information off-site. How did you get in? Wasn’t it passworded?”

  “Yeah, and Mike wasn’t that creative. Let’s just say that password1 still holds the record for easiest hack ever.” He chuckled. “I went and changed my password just now.”

  “So we’ve got the files.” That earned me a sharp glance from Trace. “What was Mike digging up?”

  “He doesn’t say who on the town council was taking the bribes. All he says is that bribes were being handed out for certain favors. Still haven’t found that info yet.”

  “Damn it.” I ignored Trace’s smirk at my cursing. “I just left Darning. She admitted to having a quickie with Hancock but nothing more. I need those notes.”

  “I’m working as fast as I can to pick these apart,” he growled. “He wasn’t exactly writing these to go up on public display. A lot of bastardized shorthand and whatnot.”

  “Don’t you all use the same secret decoder ring?”

  I never heard the smart-ass answer because a copper-colored SUV jumped in front of me, cutting me off.

  Chapter Twelve

  I yelped, jerking the steering wheel to one side. The cell phone slid off my lap and down by my feet as we jumped onto the sidewalk.

  I stood up on the brake pedal, locking my right knee and narrowly missing a parking meter as we skidded to a stop. I threw the car into park, my pulse pounding loud in my ears.

  Trace threw his door open and advanced on the car, his teeth bared.

  “What the fu...” His curse trailed off as Cassie Prosser jumped out. The wild-eyed brunette ignored him and headed straight for me, dismissing the growing line of cars building behind our little meeting.

  “Reb? Reb?” Bran frantically yelled from the car floor. “Are you okay?”

  I snatched up the phone. “Call you right back.” I cut the connection and pocketed the cell.

  I leapt out and strode toward her, meeting her in the middle. Trace, thankfully, kept his distance. I guessed he knew when to stay out of a catfight. He drifted out of eyesight as I zeroed in on the enraged woman.

  “You.” The challenge behind the single word had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “You lied to me when we met in the bar. You knew who Mike was.”

  “Not as much as I do now.” I nodded toward her vehicle. “If you’d like to talk I’m open to it.” My nostrils twitched at the scent of fresh gun oil rolling off her, mixed with nervous sweat. “But not at the point of a gun.”

  She took a step back, her mouth half-open. The anger deflated, just enough for her to realize where she was and what she was doing.

  Trace stepped up behind her and waited, eyes locked on me. I had no doubt if I’d asked him to snap her neck and dump her in the trunk he’d do it without question.

  A woman could get drunk with that sort of power over a man.

  “Park your car and we’ll talk.” I looked around and saw a green spot, the handful of trees hemming in a war memorial and a handful of benches. “There.”

  Trace got back in as I edged the rental car back onto the road and into a proper parking spot. The scowl on his face spoke volumes.

  “Got to deal with her sometime.” I launched the preliminary strike.

  He shook his head. “Rather not.”

  “What does she know about the family?” I watched Cassie maneuver the copper SUV against the curb. The backup behind her straightened out and traffic began to flow down the narrow street. Good thing too—I didn’t need Carson or his boys showing up and demanding answers.

  “Nothing. And we’d like to keep it that way.” He scratched his thigh. “She’s usually just plain old boring news, the local bingos and garage sales. Then the club started up and she got all antsy, put the paper against it. Long-winded editorials, digging up statistics about the moral decay, all that crap.” He let out a snort. “Do-gooder on a crusade. Nothing more dangerous.”

  A little parkette burst onto the scene, fighting for breath between the brick buildings on the street. The small stone bench sat in front of the war memorial and waited for visitors.

  “Stay here until I call.” I got out of the car and headed for the small park, not waiting for Trace’s response. The small stone headstone showed names from both World Wars and a handful of more recent additions from Afghanistan and Iraq.

  I stood by the memorial and waited. A fresh flower display lay propped up against the cool marble, no card or note attached.

  “You’re no insurance paper pusher.” Prosser stepped up beside me. “I checked you out. You’re a private investigator.”

  I spotted the pistol on her hip, the leather holster pushed around to almost be out of sight. Almost.

  “Got that from Bran?” I smiled. “Darned man doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

  The casual tone brought a frown in response. She’d expected me to come out guns a-blazing, as she did.

  In another time and another place I would be.

  This wasn’t it.

  “Doesn’t take too many strangers popping into town at once to trigger my bullshit sensors.” She licked her lips. “I expect Hanover told you Mike Hancock came to town at my request to go underground at the club.” She dug at the edge of the grass with the toe of her cowboy boot. “I didn’t expect him to die.”

  “I’ve found most people don’t expect to die,” I replied. “And yet it still happens.”

  “A goddamn animal attack.” Cassie shook her head. “Doesn’t sound right to me. Doesn’t smell right to me.”

  I didn’t look for Trace but felt his presence, just out of sight. Cassie had no idea how close she was to her own death. If Trace felt she was getting close to the family he’d be forced to do something about it.

  “Something” being another mysterious death. Two in a week in a small town might be suspicious but it’d vanish in time into the odd files next to Mothmen and Chupacabras.

  But I needed information and I couldn’t get without giving.

  I started my dance on the razor’s edge.

  “Mike was killed by an animal, according to the police and verified by the coroner. I saw the body myself,” I said slowly and carefully. “But I think he might have been assaulted beforehand, making him vulnerable to the attack.”

  Cassie formed an O with her lips, the thin red bars pressed so tightly together I thought she was about to whistle. Her facial expressions shifted and I spotted the hardcore journalist come out.

  “Who attacked him?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “But I can tell you honestly and without a shadow of a doubt that in the end Mike Hancock was killed by a vicious animal.”

  I felt Trace’s glare. It was the truth, covered in a wee bit of honey.

  “But—” I paused, letting the natural pacing carry my words, “—there’s no doubt in my mind the assault was connected to his working for you. Did he tell you what he’d uncovered? Give you any information?” I watched her face as she shook her head.

  “Mike told me that when he goes undercover he goes deep. We never spoke; he’d send me text messages once a week just to let me know he was still alive. Short ones just saying he was getting the data he needed to bust the story wide open.” She s
niffled. “I never thought it was dangerous. I mean, people would be pissed off. But enough to kill? For God’s sake, it’s only money.”

  I watched one of the rose petals break free in a soft wind and drift down to the ground. “You thought the town council was being bought off. Who specifically?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. There’s only five of them and they’re all local folks who’ve been here for decades, got their roots sunk deep. But you know how money can change a person—wave enough in front of someone’s face and eventually they’re going to give in.” Her hand worked free of her leather jacket pocket to brush through her short brown hair. “I didn’t want to think any of them were taking bribes.”

  “But you suspected.”

  Cassie nodded. “When the club came to town we were told there’d be polls, surveys, and whatever the majority of the townsfolk wanted would happen. Everybody, they were all for the club at the beginning—until the club opened and people found their girlfriends and wives, mothers and daughters running over for a night of hot man dancing.”

  I couldn’t hide a smile. “What’s good for the goose and all that. Bet there’s a few strip clubs around the men like to frequent.”

  Cassie chuckled, a bit of the tension easing out of her face. “Sure there are—but not locally. At least the men have to drive a bit and it tends to keep the trouble out of town and away from the locals.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Domestic disputes, drunk driving, underage drinking. It’s different when it’s in your backyard.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I suspected drug trafficking. And I’m not just talking dope.”

  “Right at the club?” I hadn’t picked up on anything on my previous visit.

  “No.” She sighed. “They do this outside in the parking lot, supposedly. Carson’s been picking them up here and there, but for every one dealer you put away two come out. Helicopter in with the goods, grab the money and get out, leaving the mess behind for us to clean up. He’s a dedicated cop but there’s only so much he and his department can do.”

  I couldn’t deny her logic. I’d seen too many attempts to clean up rough neighborhoods end in despair as new scum moved in to replace the old.

  “So the residents started to change their minds about the club,” I prompted.

  Cassie nodded. “I saw a story about Hancock busting some government official; dropped him a line. Told him I thought the club was paying off someone to keep the votes going the right way.”

  “And he leapt at the chance to get another award.”

  She let out a rough laugh. “Yeah, well—that’s Mike for you. Was, I mean. He got here with a fake identity and made it into the club without even trying hard. They were desperate for dancers and he was easy on the eyes.”

  The loose rose petal blew along the grass.

  “Did he say anything about who was getting paid off?” I didn’t want to dwell too long on Mike’s death.

  She shook her head, her arms now wrapped around herself. “No. He just told me it was going well and it’d be a blockbuster when it broke.” A light sob broke free. “I didn’t think it was gonna kill him. I mean, I knew there’d be hurt feelings and a whole lot of name-calling and finger-pointing and maybe a bit of shoving when it came down to it, but...”

  Cassie looked up at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “You said he was beaten up before, ah, before...” Her hands formed curved claws, fingers shaking in the cool breeze. “They set him up for that thing, that bear, to find him and kill him.”

  I put on my best lying face. “Possibly. It might have been attracted by the blood or just been passing on by and took advantage. But I think it was a quick death, personally.” The truth would be even more horrific. I’d seen what Felis claws could do, had suffered under their attack.

  “Mike has—had family,” Cassie whispered. “The body’s been shipped home. What do I tell them? They’re already leaving messages, wanting to know what he was doing here. They know he was working on a story. What do I tell them, how much do I tell them?”

  I nudged the petal back onto the grass and away from the sidewalk. “You tell them he was doing his job.”

  “Are you going to finish it?” she asked. She tugged at a dark lock of hair at the side of her face. “I’m not being mercenary here. I just don’t want his death to be in vain. If I could just get hold of whatever he’d dug up, what led to his death...”

  A whisper of the journalist sparked in her eyes.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what he found.” It was a half lie. Until Bran deciphered those notes I truly didn’t know.

  “Just promise me you’ll give me the headline if you do find something, anything I can put in the paper,” Cassie said, a touch of pleading in her words. “Let me do the right thing by Mike.”

  “If anything turns up I’ll let you get first bite before the big boys.” I turned to see Trace waiting by the car. He shifted his weight from side to side, his hands in his pockets. “Best I can offer.”

  “I’ll take it. Better than just printing his obit.” She pulled out a business card and passed it to me. “Any time, day or night—call me. Please.” She gave me a curt nod and walked away.

  Trace moved up beside me.

  “She’s tough,” I said.

  “As nails. Her dad was a miner. Busted his hump to get her to college.”

  I turned and studied his face. “Would you kill her if I asked? Or if the Board did?”

  Trace’s stoic look told me everything. “You know I can’t answer that.”

  “You just did.” I walked toward the car.

  Bran answered on the first ring. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come out there?”

  “You don’t even know where ‘there’ is.” I smiled. “I’m fine. How are the files coming?”

  “I’m still working on it,” he answered. “Give me a little time.”

  “I just met Cassie Prosser,” I said. “You could have told me she carries a pistol.”

  “Didn’t know she did.” The surprise in his voice was tinged with worry. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. She wanted to talk about Mike.” I wrestled with the seat belt, cell phone propped against my shoulder.

  “Well, there’s a surprise,” Bran replied. “How’s she holding up?”

  “About as well as can be expected. She feels guilty for Hancock’s death.”

  I imagined him nodding back in the hotel room. “Can’t blame her. It’s sort of hard to push this bear attack angle after a certain point.”

  “But we have to,” I snapped.

  “I know,” he murmured. “I don’t want anyone else dying.”

  I pulled out onto the road. Trace sat beside me, the window rolled down and enjoying the wind in his face. I risked a glance at his well-tanned profile, feeling a chill enter my bones.

  If I’d asked him to kill Cassie Prosser he would have. A clean, fast kill, and found a way to hide the body to keep our secret. He might have a few rough nights, a handful of nightmares but he’d justify it away as part of the price we paid to be part of human society. Be close but not too close to the humans—and be ready to kill to protect the Felis.

  He was family.

  I wasn’t sure what the hell I was but I sure wasn’t that.

  Bran cleared his throat over the open phone line. “I’ve managed to make some sense out of the notes. Looks like it was small and local, only one person at the club making the payoffs. No mob connections, no one outside of the town bringing in money and doing the dirty.”

  “Sophia Martin?”

  “Her name’s not here but I’d say it’s a good bet. She’s got the power to cook the books and keep it secret. But we need to know who was getting the payoffs—where it all ended up. I should have it all deciphered within the next hour. Where are you going to now?”

  “We’re heading for the club. I want to take another look at the spot where Hancock died.”

  Bran gave an affirmative grunt. “Think you missed so
mething?”

  “I could have.” I swerved around a half-flattened squirrel on the road. “First time I was there Carson was talking in riddles so Darning and Prosser didn’t clue in, and I was looking for signs of a pissed-off lover. Now things are different and I just have a feeling I missed something.”

  “Be careful. I don’t trust anyone in this town. Anyone,” Bran said, biting down on the last word. He disconnected before I could answer.

  Trace scratched his thigh. His fingers twitched and I knew he wanted to scratch elsewhere but was holding off for courtesy’s sake.

  I enjoyed his discomfort.

  A handful of cars sat in the Cat’s Meow parking lot. I guessed cleaning staff and maybe a dancer or two working on a new routine before the doors officially opened in a few hours.

  Trace hopped out of the car, shaking one leg after the other. “Too early for the shows to start.” He brushed invisible dust from the front of his jeans. “It’s only three in the afternoon.”

  I rubbed my forehead. My inner clock was all types of screwed up. “I need a cup of tea. A proper cup of tea.”

  Trace chuckled. “Canadian.”

  “Yes.” I led him around to the back where the garbage Dumpster stood. “Here’s where it happened. Let’s go back and take it from the top without anyone watching over my shoulder.”

  Trace moved to stand by the curb, instinctively finding the dried blood. “He died over here.”

  I nodded, walking around the large dark green container.

  “What was he doing out here?” I put my hands on my hips and slowly did a circle, surveying the area anew. “Not exactly a scenic spot.”

  “Maybe he came out here for a smoke?” Trace pointed at a handful of cigarette butts spread across the concrete. “Impromptu smoking area.”

  “Mike didn’t smoke. I would have smelled it on him or in his truck. Nothing at his apartment either.” I knelt down and inspected the half-smoked cigarettes.

  “Lisa doesn’t smoke,” Trace said.

  I felt the light verbal slap.

  “True,” I admitted. There’d been plenty of smokers working in the shop but she hadn’t been one of them.