I recited everything, though I left out the part about Vale, only stating that a friend from college had stayed with me. If I mentioned Vale and what had happened to him, a new line of unpleasant questions would occur and I really didn’t want to get into the reason my guest was suddenly missing. By the time I was done, the police and the ambulance had arrived, and everyone was busy doing their jobs.
The EMT took my vitals twice because my blood pressure had been so low the first time around. He was concerned I might become light-headed again and faint. After I’d eaten a piece of chocolate, some peanut butter and drank a Coca-Cola to boost my blood sugar, he finally gave me a thumbs-up. I was relieved because I was absolutely
not
going to the hospital. Feeling better, I was ready to answer the detective’s questions.
Detective Ben Stone stood in front of me with his thumbs hooked over his belt, tapping his fingers on his pants. It was obvious that even after the events with the little boy’s ghost, his attitude about me remained unchanged. Frankly, I didn’t really care what he thought as long as he did his job.
“So, you’re saying a cougar did this?” asked Detective Stone as he leisurely bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.
“Yes, Detective.”
“It just came in and attacked these men.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a pet cougar, Ms. Dubois?”
Annoyed, I stared at him and slowly answered, “No, however, I do have a pet cat.” I knew he was just doing his job, but the scent of blood was beginning to take its toll.
“How about a dog?”
“No.” I shook my head then stopped because it made me dizzy.
He grunted in response and rocked back on his heels, thinking of his next question. “How did you know one of the men’s names?”
Oh my gosh, I was going to throttle this man. This was the third time he’d asked this question. I didn’t want to ask Bud to step in and play favorites, but my fuse was getting shorter by the minute. “I heard one man refer to his partner as Hank.”
He acquiesced. “Yes, right, right.” The detective again bounced up and down on his heels but never took his eyes off me.
In my nicest, most polite voice, I asked, “Detective, it’s seven in the morning and I’ve been up for more than half the night. I’m exhausted; do you mind if we call it a day?”
He stared at me for a moment then nodded once. “All right, Ms. Dubois. Here’s my card.” He handed the small paper rectangle to me. “If you think of anything else, my cell, work and home phone numbers are listed on there.”
“Thank you. I appreciate all of your work,” I answered in a bit of a monotone voice.
With professional courtesy, he tipped his hat slightly to Bud then started toward the door. He put his hand on the storm door then turned around to ask one more question. “Ms. Dubois, who was staying in your guest room today?”
I blinked slowly, surprised at the question. “I, um…no one. I had a guest a few days ago, but I was the only one here today.”
“Hmm, that’s odd.” He rubbed his chin. “Your window was wide open.” He waited a moment, letting the statement sink in. “Were you aware of that?”
My throat went dry, and I swallowed before speaking. “No, I wasn’t.”
His disbelief was evident as his cold eyes stared at me. “Might want to make sure you get the screen back on, too…so your cat doesn’t get out.”
“Right,” I answered absentmindedly. “Thanks.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
What else had the detective discovered that he hadn’t bothered to share? How the hell would I keep Vale’s name out of this? There was no freaking way I’d tell the police about being stood up, tell them about Vale showing up at my door in bloody clothes with gaping wounds
then
tell them he’d just disappeared and I had no idea where he’d gone, let alone how the hell he’d been able to leave on his own two feet. What a mess!
Detective Stone said goodbye once more then headed out the door for good this time.
I turned to Bud. “I’m going to take a long, hot shower, if you don’t mind.” I stood as the front door opened and blew the scent of blood up my nose again, nearly making me dry heave.
Bud steadied me. “How about I walk you to the bathroom door, just to be sure you’re all right?”
I smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Sure. Will you wait out here for me until I’m done and get dressed?”
“You bet. I’ll call a cleaning service to…you know…” He gestured to my living room floor.
I hadn’t even thought about that, and I really couldn’t see myself cleaning it up. “Thanks, Bud. I really appreciate it.”
I turned to go into my bedroom to take a shower in the private bath.
Most of the time, I don’t like hot showers, but this morning, I was so cold I cranked the water as hot as I could stand it. I felt numb, and the hot water helped me revive somewhat. My thoughts bounced around in my mind like ping-pong balls. I sank onto my behind and sat in the tub as the water rained onto my body.
My brain was in a fog, but the scent of hot broth drew my mind out of its funk. It was only after I’d eaten all of the soup that I realized I was no longer in the bathroom.
Confused, I looked around. “How did I get here?”
Bud furrowed his brows. “You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“It’s not important now.” He extended his hand for me to give him the empty soup mug. “I’ll take that.”
“Thanks,” I said, still puzzled about how I’d gotten from the shower to my bed.
“Be right back.”
I lay back on my favorite pillow and adjusted the covers, realizing I was stark naked. Putting two and two together, I quickly figured out how I’d made it from the bathroom into my current position. Snuggling down into the covers, I made certain there were no gaps where I’d accidently flash some skin to Bud. Returning with a large blanket, he doubled it up and lifted the comforter. I was covered with my sheet and one other thermal blanket, but I was still uneasy about being naked under so few covers in front of Bud.
He was very businesslike as he placed the blanket, which was toasty warm from the dryer, around my upper body then covered it once again with the comforter. A little part of my mind remembered it was August and even with the air conditioning on, I shouldn’t need this many covers.
Bud stayed with me and even woke me when I had horrible dreams about evil spirits stalking my every move while I ran and ran. He never left my side until the cleaning crew arrived later that morning to remove the bloodstains from the carpet and surrounding soiled areas.
After waking me from another bad dream, Bud said, “I tried to call your friend, Karisma, but her voicemail said she’s in St. Louis at a conference. I didn’t want her to worry about you, so I made it sound like I was following up on that cougar sighting. I thought you should tell her what happened in person.”
Though Bud knew Karisma, they were more acquaintances than friends. Apparently, he understood there were times a woman needs a female friend to lean on, and he cared enough about me to try to do that for me.
I put my hand on his and squeezed. “Thank you so much for trying to get in touch with her. I really appreciate it.” I thought a moment, then asked, “Did you call my grandpa?”
Bud nodded. “You bet,” he shifted uneasily, “but I keep getting his voicemail.” Cheerfully, he added, “Maybe, his battery died. Who knows? I’ll keep trying to get in touch with him though.”
“Okay, thanks,” I mumbled as I drifted off to sleep.
Bud stayed overnight and slept in the chair next to my bed in case I had any more bad dreams. According to him, I’d slept for nearly twenty hours and only moved around a few times. Murrlin curled up next to my head, surrounding me like a winter hat.
It was a little after noon when I finally dragged myself out of bed and walked into the living room. The first thing I looked at, of course, was the floor where everything had happened the previous day. I was more than surprised to see not a spot of blood remained on my blue carpet, tan kitchen tile, couch or walls.
Bud sat on the oversized chair, reading the paper, when I walked into the room with Murrlin silently shadowing every step. He waited a moment before commenting, “I made sure they did a good job, Eve.” He stood up and embraced me gently then stepped back to give me a little room.
“Thank you.” I nodded as I looked around the room, searching one more time, looking for something the cleaners had missed but finding nothing. “They really did do a good job.” I was relieved everything had been put back in its original place, too. “You’ve done so much for me; I don’t know how to thank you.”
The big man smiled, and his dimples popped out as he subconsciously ran a large hand across his thinning blond hair. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m glad to be here for you.” He folded the paper and stared at me.
I hated it when someone analyzed me, and it was worse when he stared mutely. Uncomfortable, I asked, “What?”
He set the paper aside and rested his elbows on his knees. “Evie,” he started then blew a breath out of his mouth. “Look, I found something strange when I arrived yesterday. You know, after you called.”
Not really wanting to relive the entire episode of questioning with Detective Stone, I asked, “Do you mind if we leave it alone for a day?”
He smiled, rethinking his comment. “Sure.”
I could tell he was doing everything he could to put the subject aside. Since he’d done so much for me, I started to feel guilty. “Okay, what do you need to ask?”
“When the men broke in yesterday, did one of them have a dog?”
Had he lost his mind?
“A dog?” I repeated, not certain I’d heard him correctly.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Ah, no,” I answered with certainty. “Why in the world would you think that?”
Almost excited, he whipped out his phone and scrolled through the pics. “Take a look at this.”
He handed the phone to me, and I saw a huge bloodstain on my blue carpet. Right in the center of the stain was a set of canine prints.
“What the hell?” I said aloud, suddenly confused.
Bud concurred. “Doesn’t make sense, does it?” He cocked his head sideways. “You didn’t see them?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“There was one set. It looked as though one of the men walked his dog right through the bl—” He stopped short. “The mess,” he corrected.
“I didn’t see a dog.” Now, what had happened made even less sense. It did, however, explain the reason the detective had asked if I owned a dog. At the time, I had no idea why he’d asked such an absurd question, considering I didn’t own a leash, had never registered a dog with the county for its rabies shot and didn’t buy anything but cat food.
“Oh,” said Bud, suddenly disappointed. “I thought you’d taken my advice and finally adopted a dog.”
“No,” I answered.
“Look, Eve.” He ran his hand through his hair. “No one is supposed to know about this, so what I’m about to tell you is in complete confidence. Understand?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“Three weeks ago, there was a murder near Alton, Illinois. The only prints found at the scene were from a canine, which didn’t make sense. The case is still active, but the police have zero leads.”
“Do you think this is the same guy?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
“Can I look at the prints again?” I asked, suddenly extremely interested. He handed the phone back to me, and I zoomed in on the pic of the scene in my house.
“The piece of paper next to the impression is one-inch long,” he informed me.
I nodded to let him know I’d heard him. After studying the print, I shook my head in disbelief. The paw print looked similar to a dog’s but was more oval in shape. I’d always loved animals and had followed their tracks through the snow when I was little. When my dad had given me a how-to book about identifying and tracking local animals, I’d absorbed the information like a sponge. Because I’d studied animal prints for nearly ten years, I was able to make an educated guess as to the print’s owner, which made even less sense to me.
“This is a coyote print, but…” I stopped talking, trying to put the pieces together.
“That’s what I figured,” he agreed.
“But it still doesn’t answer the question of how it got there,” I said, becoming frustrated.
I told Bud about the strange scene of the coyotes running through my yard, and to his credit, he didn’t laugh or say I was crazy. I left out the fact they’d been chasing a cougar, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. A part of me sensed it would cause more problems than answer questions right now.
“Let’s think about this logically, all right?” he suggested. “A print like that could only get there by the following: you owned a coyote or the person changed shape.”
“Uh, yeah, right,” I said sarcastically. I looked at Bud and realized he was serious.
“No other way to explain it.” He spread his hands wide.
I stood up and put my hands on my hips. “But that
can’t
be the only explanation. It doesn’t make sense!”
“Look at the flattened carpet where the guy rolled over,” he pointed out. “Only after he rolled do you see the coyote prints appear.”
“Okay, but what happened to his clothes?” I smirked at him.
Ha! Gotcha there!
“He carried them in his mouth,” he suggested. “Or they’re part of his shifting ability.”
“This is insane!” My head spun. My intelligent, logical, level-headed, reasonable friend was suggesting something absolutely unheard of.
“Is it really so hard to believe?” he asked. “After all, you have special abilities.”
“Yes, but—” His comment stopped me in my tracks.
Oh crap!
He interrupted. “Don’t deny it, Eve. I know you use magic, okay? I’ve known for years because too many weird things happened around you, and I finally accepted the reality of the matter.”
We were past the point of my trying to convince him he was mistaken, and I didn’t want to lie to him any more than I already had. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I really do understand your reasons for keeping it quiet, but you can talk to me about this stuff, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, feeling horribly guilty. “When did you figure it out?”