“Oh, crap!” Deputy Carlson cried out. “What is it?”
“I think it’s a—”
Before I could finish my sentence, a large jaguar leaped towards Carlson. He fired a single shot and disappeared into the grass. The deputy screamed as the animal tore its claws into his chest and ripped into his neck and shoulder with its teeth. Deputy Stefanik and I shot the animal several times before it stopped moving.
“Holy shit!” Stefanik yelled. “That’s a fuckin’ Jaguar!”
I gazed at the young deputy lying underneath the body of the beast. Blood squirted from Carlson’s torn jugular. His lifeless eyes stared directly into mine. I turned away and closed my eyes briefly before calling Dispatch. I reported the animal attack and informed the operator that we had a deputy down.
Detective Paxton and two CSIs came charging through the field towards us.
“What happened?” Paxton yelled, his weapon drawn. “We heard gunshots.”
I pointed my flashlight at the deceased deputy and jaguar.
“Is that what I think it is?”
I held back the sarcasm and simply confirmed, “Yeah. It’s a jaguar.”
“In Texas? I thought they were only found in South America.”
Paxton hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that Deputy Carlson was dead, lying underneath the large cat. His lack of respect annoyed me. “Help me get this cat off him.”
The jaguar was heavy, probably weighing over three hundred pounds, and was around seven feet in length.
“Well, I guess we found our killer,” Paxton stated with confidence. “An animal this size could’ve easily torn those kids to shreds. And it’d sure explain the missing body parts.”
I glared at the detective, amazed at his cold demeanor. I kept my flashlight beam on the jaguar. Judging by the size and muscular tone of the animal, it appeared to have eaten well. “It’s probably been living off the deer out here for some time,” I said. “Doesn’t look like it’s missed very many meals either.”
“Guess there’s only one way to find out if this pussy here had some other items on the menu,” Paxton said.
Deputy Stefanik’s voice shook. “What’s that?”
“We’ll need to see what’s inside its stomach. And compare its teeth and claws with the wounds on them boys in town.”
“Damn, Roy. You think you could show just a little bit of respect here?” I said. “He just witnessed that thing kill his partner.”
“Hey, I’m just—”
“His wife is pregnant,” Deputy Stefanik announced, as he stared at his partner’s body. “His first child.”
“Oh, man.” I put my hand on the deputy’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you head back to the station? We’ll take it from here.”
Deputy Stefanik continuing gazing at Carlson. I eased him around and guided him in the direction of the house. As he walked away, I asked one of the CSIs to escort him. “Do you mind making sure he’s okay to drive? He’s pretty traumatized.”
“Yeah, sure,” The CSI said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.”
I called the chief medical examiner. The phone rang a couple of times.
“Donald Luther.”
“Hey, Don. It’s Aaron. You won’t believe what just happened.”
†
Don sliced into the jaguar lying on top of a metal autopsy table. After making the proper incisions, I helped him open up the body so he could cut open the stomach. He pulled out chunks of flesh and bone fragments, emptying the contents of the stomach into a metal bowl. He frowned, and announced that the only thing the animal had eaten recently had been small animals, probably rabbits, judging by the hair on the flesh.
“So, what you’re saying is that this beast of a cat isn’t our suspect,” I stated, while wiping my hands on a towel.
“Not necessarily. Felines have the shortest digestive track of all animals. And meat is fairly easy to digest. Anything this jaguar ate in the past few days could easily have been fully digested by now.”
“So, what next?”
“I’ll compare the wounds on Deputy Carlson with the others. Since we have our potential suspect in custody, I can measure the teeth and claws to help determine if they’re consistent with the wounds on the other victims.”
I yawned and rubbed the back of my neck.
While he cleaned his dissection blade, Don asked, “When is the last time you got any sleep?”
I checked the time on my watch and breathed out in exhaustion, “Going on thirty hours now.”
“Go home, Aaron. You look beat. I’ll let you know what I find out.” I nodded and thanked him for his help. I exhaled another yawn.
“Just doing my job,” he said, then shook his head disapprovingly when I grabbed my cell phone. Don should have known better.
With no family to go home to, my job was my life. I dialed Gene Bukowski’s number and spoke with him as I walked through the building on my way out to the parking lot. “Get anything out of Cody?”
“I’m sorry. He wouldn’t say much.”
“But he did talk?”
“Yes, but nothing useful.”
Whether Gene felt the information was useful or not, I wanted to know everything Cody had to say. “So, what did you talk to him about?”
“At first he wouldn’t even look at me, just stared at the TV while I tried to make small-talk. You know, his favorite cartoons, that sort of thing. I finally got him to respond when I commented on a NASCAR commercial.”
“So, he likes NASCAR?”
“Not exactly. I mentioned how I was looking forward to watching the Darlington race. Kid told me that he hated NASCAR. Thought it was boring. Something along the lines of being nothing more than a bunch of cars going around in circles.”
“Yeah? I agree with him,” I laughed. “I tried watching a race on ESPN. Couldn’t get into it. Although, the wrecks are pretty cool.”
“Anyway, that at least got him talking. So, I asked him what sports he liked. He likes baseball and hockey. His favorite baseball team is the Atlanta Braves and his favorite hockey team is the Dallas Stars.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to remember that.” I reached into my pocket for my car keys as I stepped out of the building. “What else did you to talk about?”
“Just about his interests in baseball and hockey. Favorite baseball players, hockey players, the World Series, Stanley Cup. Stuff like that. The head nurse eventually kicked me out. Apparently visiting hours were over.”
“That nurse is something, isn’t she?”
“To say the least.”
“I’ll give Cody another visit and try the small talk approach. Maybe he’ll volunteer the information I’m looking for.”
“Not if you act like a cop,” Gene warned. “I think you should go in there without your badge and gun. Just talk to him. Try to get to know the kid. Talk about yourself, as boring as that may be to him.”
“Boring? I may not have much of a social life, but my life is definitely not boring.”
He laughed. “I guess you’re right about that.”
As I approached my car, a low rumble of thunder announced an impending storm. “Sounds like we’re in for some more rain.”
“We could certainly use more of it.”
I unlocked the door and thanked the doc for talking to Cody. “I’ll let you know how things go with my second visit. I need to catch up on some rest, first. My body can’t handle these marathon hours like it used to.”
“You haven’t even hit forty yet, Aaron. Just wait until you get to be my age.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” I said, while stepping into my car. “Anyway, thanks for your help.”
“Anytime, my friend. Get some rest.”
After ending the call, I started the car and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. I almost fell asleep right there in the parking lot, while the engine idled. Billy Joel’s Glass Houses kept me awake during my trip back home.
†
After parking the car inside the garage, I rubbed my face, yawned, and rested my head back against the seat with my eyes closed. I listened to the heavy rain, the occasional police chatter on my radio and the idling of the engine. A loud clap of thunder jolted my eyes back open. I rubbed the back of my neck and yawned again as a bright flickering flash of lightning lit the garage. A few seconds later, rolling thunder followed. I finally reached for the ignition switch and silenced the engine.
I slowly got out of the car and shut the door behind me, another tired breath exiting my lungs. Another flash lit up the garage and revealed a large, shadowy figure on the other side of my vehicle. My heart jumped in my chest. I clicked on my portable flashlight and shined the beam around, but it revealed nothing. Another flash of lightning illuminated the interior or the garage, followed quickly by another clap of thunder, the boom causing the tools hanging on the wall opposite me to vibrate.
I sidestepped toward the interior door that led into the townhome, while I scanned the garage with my flashlight. The beam flickered, then went dark. I slapped the side of the flashlight with the palm of my hand, trying to bring the beam back to life, just as a low growl from somewhere inside the garage got my attention. With the pattering of the rain and rumbling thunder, I couldn’t pinpoint where the noise came from. As I reached the door, I retrieved my gun from its holster, and then flipped up the wall switch. The garage lit up, revealing only an old black Corvette, Craftsman tools hanging on the wall, several empty cardboard boxes, and a couple of recycling containers that I had forgotten to place outside that morning.
I pointed my gun forward and slipped the small flashlight back in my pocket. With my gun drawn in a defensive stance, I eased around the other side of my car. I found nothing, breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, and ran my hand through my hair.
“Get a grip on yourself, Aaron.”
I holstered my weapon and hit the lighted garage door button next to the light switch, and went into the townhome, the loud mechanical hum muffling the sound of the rain behind me as the bottom of the door reached the ground.
There was no time to react as the jaguar pounced on me, its mouth agape and claws extended. I fell back into the garage under the weight of the big cat and screamed, while the beast sunk its large canine teeth into my neck.
†
Thunder popped my eyes back open. My heart pounded, while sweat trickled down my face. It was when I reached for my neck that I realized I was sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, with the engine still running. I smelled fumes.
I had survived the nightmare, but if I didn’t shut off the engine, I knew carbon dioxide poisoning would take the honor of writing my death certificate. Well, maybe not. I still had the garage door open, but that didn’t stop me from immediately silencing the engine.
Inside my townhome, I felt a sense of paranoia. I knew exactly what it meant when people said their nightmares had felt so real. I’d had nightmares before, especially after both of my parents died, but this one had been different. I could still smell the jaguar’s breath, still feel the tingling pain in my throat where the animal had attacked me. I knew it was just my mind playing tricks on me, with the visions of my dream still fresh, but I checked every inch of my townhome anyway, just to put my mind at ease.
Realizing that I had allowed a bad dream to get the best of me, I headed to my bedroom upstairs to get ready for some much needed sleep. It felt so good to lie down. My body ached. Still, despite how tired I was, knew I’d never manage to fall asleep without first watching the local news, which I’d always recorded on my digital video recorder.
I viewed a report about the jaguar that mauled Deputy Carlson. The reporter questioned how a large exotic animal, normally only seen in tropical climates, could find its way to the Texas Hill Country. The newscast switched to a clip where the Austin Zoo’s director confirmed that none of its cats had escaped. The screen then switched to Chief David Hernandez.
“It’s illegal to own large predators in Austin,” Chief Hernandez told the reporter. “However, it’s not uncommon for people outside of the city limits to keep exotic animals as pets. That is legal, but regulated.”
After the clip ended, the co-anchor suggested, “The jaguar probably got loose, and, unfortunately, several people may be dead because of it. This is why I am so against people owning exotic animals as pets. They belong in the wild, in their natural habitat, or in a zoo, where they can be cared for by experts.” The anchor lady then added, “Well, I think we can rest easier, knowing that this animal isn’t running loose anymore.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you idiot,” I said, as if she could hear me. “God, I hate the media.”
I stopped the recording, deleted the newscast from my DVR, and fell asleep during a re-run of Law & Order.
CHAPTER SIX
DNA
The ringer of my cell phone jolted me awake at a quarter past one in the afternoon. The Caller-ID showed Chief Hernandez on the screen.
Crap!
“I am so sorry!” I said, still fumbling with the phone in my hand. “I overslept, but I’ll be—”
“Don’t worry about it, amigo. You’ve put in some long hours. I’m just checking up on you. Cómo te va?”
“I’m fine,” I said through a yawn while rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes. “I think the extra shuteye helped.”
“Esta seguro?”
“Yeah, really. I’m fine, David.”
“Bueno. Well, I do have a bit of good news to share.”
“Great, I could use some.” I sat up and turned off the television.
“Believe it or not, the media actually helped us for a change.”
“I find that hard to believe.” My experience with the media had always resulted in misquotes, misinformation, and unfounded speculation.
“The news about Carlson’s death triggered a phone call to APD,” the chief explained. “Robert Smith’s sister saw the news on Facebook. Now she’s concerned about her hermano and his family.”
“Yeah, well, she should be.”
“She hasn’t been able to reach her brother, either.”
“Is she local?”
“No. Dallas. I set up a meeting for you to talk to her at three. She and her husband are already on the road.”
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “All right. I’ll be there.”
“Oh, and Aaron? One more thing.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“We need a DNA sample.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” In need of emptying my full bladder, I glimpsed at the bathroom and said, “Anyway, I’ll call you when I’m on my way to HQ.”
†
“They’re waiting for you in Room 2,” Chief Hernandez informed me, as we made our way down the hall from the elevators.
“Heard anything about Deputy Stefanik?”
“I talked to Sheriff Washington this morning. He put the deputy on personal leave. He’s scheduled to meet with Dr. Bukowski tomorrow afternoon.” He stopped and then said, “What about you, Aaron?”
“What about me?”
“I mean, with this whole case. This can’t be easy for you.”
“I’m fine. That deputy wasn’t the first cop I’ve seen killed in the line of duty.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
I took in a deep breath and said, “I know.” Without another word on the subject, I continued down the hall and entered the interview room. A young brunette woman and an older man with graying hair sat at a table in the middle of the room. They appeared nervous.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas?” I greeted the couple. “I’m Detective Aaron Sander
s.”
They both stood, as if I were a judge in a courtroom. The older man extended his hand. I gave it a firm shake and sat down across from the couple. They had already helped themselves to the pitcher of coffee in the middle of the table. As I poured myself a cup, I said, “I understand that Dana and Robert Smith are relatives of yours.”
“It worried me when I couldn’t reach my brother or my sister-in-law,” Mrs. Thomas stated. “Especially after hearing about those kids and…” Her lower lip quivered.
I took a sip of my black coffee and pulled out a pen and small notepad. “I share some of the same concerns, Mrs. Thomas. Hopefully, we’ll be able to resolve this soon. Let’s start with the basics. Can you give me your names?”
“I’m Robert’s sister Sandra Thomas. This is my husband Michael.” She then asked, “Has something happened to my brother and his family?”
“I’m hoping you and your husband can help us determine that. Officially, I can’t really give you a definitive answer.”
Michael Thomas spoke up. “You think this has to do with those kids? The ones at the cemetery? You think that jaguar may have… well…”
“There’s no evidence to suggest the animal that killed the deputy harmed anybody else. What we do know is that your brother-in-law and his family are unaccounted for.”
“What were you doing there in the first place?”
I rested back in my chair and said, “Initially, I simply wanted to talk to your nephew Austin. A friend of his was supposed to have spent the weekend at his house.”
“One of the boys that were killed?”
I nodded. “Both vehicles are parked at the residence, and we haven’t been able to reach Mr. or Mrs. Smith, so naturally we’re a bit concerned.”
Mrs. Thomas leaned forward and said, “The news said that one of those boys at the cemetery hasn’t been identified.” She hesitated and then asked, “Do you think it may be Austin or Jackson?”
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