Page 4 of The Elementalist
“Every strangled gasp and shriek, Mr. Long. Now, do you see why I want answers?”
“Yeah…” I picked up my notepad and asked the usual array of questions to establish the where and when.
Crystal hadn’t heard a big cat in the background. No growling, roaring, nothing. Nor did her sister mention a cat.
“Felines are rather stealthy. Perhaps she’d been ambushed?” I asked. “Sorry if I sound a bit oafish and insensitive, but there’s no way of tiptoeing around some of this stuff. I don’t mean to be cruel, just trying to take the most direct path to the answer.”
“I understand. It’s all right. And no, I don’t think she was ambushed. Dana wouldn’t have had the time to call me if a big cat pounced on her without warning. She called me while running away from something. She saidit’sfollowing us. I heard them running, then some grunts… and... all the screaming—” She broke down crying.
I sat there offering a comforting gaze, patiently waiting for her to regain her composure, wondering if I should comfort her, but concluding that would be overstepping my position. Dammit.
“She begged for her life, Mr. Long. Begged.”
“People don’t usually plead with animals not to kill them.”
“Now you know why I came to you. The police are no help. They decided it was an animal before they even went to the place it happened. As far as they’re concerned, a mountain lion did it and there’s no point arguing the point with them.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
I was with Crystal. Something didn’t seem right, and I was happy to take the case.
More than happy.
My landlord would be too.
Chapter Two
Pins and Needles
The Shadow Pines Sheriff’s Office was always surprisingly busy for a small town. Today was no exception.
I parked in one of the spaces lining the edges of the town square. The city hall occupied the center of the west side, the police station on the north face, both nestled among an array of fancy boutiques, little bistros, and overpriced gift shops. Women in sneakers power-walked during their lunch breaks, young mothers with strollers meandered along while texting, and a frazzled hot dog vendor struggled to keep up with a long line. Maintenance workers swept up popcorn from last night’s latest Movie in the Square showing ofThe Wizard of Oz. I hadn’t gone. It seemed more of a date-night thing. I didn’t have a date with anything other than a bottle of cheap bourbon. Yeah, that’s how low I’d sunk since my last girlfriend left me.
Smart girl.
After locking my gun in the glove box, I hopped out of my pickup and walked past a stream of deputies emerging from the entrance of the sheriff’s office, located under the clock tower, determination in their strides as if on high alert. Another rash of killings tended to put the law on edge. Years ago, I’d worked with Sheriff Justine Waters on a missing person case, and that person had stayed missing, sadly. Private eyes and cops alike had that tragedy in common. Sometimes, our casesdidn’tget solved. Indeed, the cops had their cold cases, and I had mine.
Anyway, I flashed my ID at the check-in window and the desk sergeant buzzed me in. I made my way through crowded halls that reminded me more of a precinct in New York than a small town in the mountains, and found Sheriff Waters sitting at her expansive desk, surrounded by far too much paperwork. I rapped on the open door and stuck my head in. “Have a minute,Sheriff?”
Her hard green eyes widened in an expression approaching surprise. “Max… You have that look about you that suggests you’re working an actual case.”
“Stranger things have happened. Can we talk?”
“Have a seat.”
I entered and sat across from her. With her mouse-brown hair glowing radiantly in the slanting sunlight, she might have looked beautiful. Problem was, we had dated not too long ago, and some of that shine had worn off. We worked much better as friends, it turned out. No, scratch that—we worked better as colleagues. ‘Friends’ was pushing it. The break up hadn’t been smooth, to say the least. Turned out, I tended to become a bit mean when I felt rejected.
“You’re here about the Dana Bradbury case,” she said. “Unless you want to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For being an ass.”
“I was lashing out.”
“I didn’t deserve to be called all those... names.”
Truth be told, I couldn’t remember what I’d called her, so upset had I been at being dumped. I might have mentioned something about being both uptight and loose with her morals.
