2. Detective Orla
TWO
Detective Orla
B y the time they drove away, it was close to two in the morning. I flipped the Closed sign, locked the door, and flicked off the lights. Should I have stayed open for four more hours? Yes, but as the owner, I could do what I wanted. On my way up the stairs, I picked up my book and headed to my bedroom.
I rarely bothered with lights, as I had perfect night vision. Dropping the book on my nightstand, I went to the window, opened it wide, disrobed, and then felt the fire sweep through me as I shifted to my other form.
Stretching out my wings, I fluffed my feathers to shake off the aftereffects. Hopping to the windowsill, I listened to the quiet rustling of the leaves, the skittering of small creatures in the woods.
Owls are silent flyers which makes us excellent hunters. The edge of an owl’s wing has fringed feathers that break airflow and reduce noise. Our wings also have serrated edges that create microturbulences and, again, reduce noise. And the feathers themselves are downy and velvety, absorbing sound. All of which meant that rabbits and mice never heard me coming.
I leapt off the windowsill and glided around my territory. This was when I felt most myself. I was comfortable in my feathers in a way I never was in my skin. I scanned the brush near the woods, looking for anything out of the ordinary. I knew it wasn’t my place to investigate a crime, but it almost felt like I was in one of the mysteries I loved to read. And if a meal presented itself to me along the way, I wasn’t going to say no.
Flapping, I rose higher and again circled over the road leading to my bookstore. I flew over the area I’d walked with the officer, searching for anything I might have missed.
In the shallow ravine beside the road, I caught a pink sparkle. Gliding close to the ground, I stretched out my talons and snatched up a phone. I flew home, left it on the windowsill and then went back over the area I’d just checked.
This wasn’t a busy neighborhood. If the truck man was out harassing McKenna at one in the morning, it was possible he lived nearby. Soaring up and down the streets, I rode the wind, scanning driveways for trucks. It was possible he’d parked in his garage or only prowled this area but didn’t live here. Whatever the case, I couldn’t find his truck. I did, however, find the apartment building where McKenna lived.
I saw movement in a window a block away. I saw her face for a moment when she shut the blinds. It was dark in the apartment, but I was sure it was her. I flew down and circled the apartment house. It had an open courtyard in the middle. Swooping in, I found her apartment. It was the only one in the right area of the building with a light on. A soft glow leaked around the blinds, and I caught the scent of the officer. As I couldn’t exactly tap on her door with my beak and tell her I’d found her phone, I decided to contact Garra in the morning and ask him to return it to her.
While on patrol, I also caught two mice, so I was feeling pretty good as I headed home. I was gliding over the grass crushed by the truck’s tires again when I sensed something amiss.
Swooping low, I found a dark, shaggy boulder making its way through the trees, his nose to the ground. I gave one low hoot and he looked up, nodded in greeting, and went back to work. Settling on a branch, I watched and waited.
When he shook out his fur and headed up the hill toward my bookstore, I knew he’d struck out as well. Frustrated, I flew ahead and spotted his rig parked to the side of my house. I pulled my wings in, bulleted through the window, and landed on the bed with a quiet thump before shifting back.
I dressed, grabbed the phone from the windowsill, and went downstairs. Hopefully I’d catch him before he shifted and left. Jogging through the darkened bookstore, I headed to the back door. The cop was reclined on my porch, staring into the woods. He wore basic gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, the uniform of shifters. He probably had a bag of similar clothes in the back of his SUV.
I had a chair and a swing but he sat on the floorboards, his back against the house. Pointing at himself, he asked, “Okay if I rest here a moment?”
I nodded and tossed him the phone. He snatched it out of the air.
“I found that under some brush, maybe ten feet from where her bag had been,” I said.
“Good eye,” he responded.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a guest. Had I ever? I didn’t think the real estate agent counted. Or the insomniacs in the neighborhood who used my bookstore as a time filler. “Would you like a drink or something?” That’s what I was supposed to do, right? I’d read about this in books. One was supposed to offer refreshments.
He glanced up at me again and smiled. “Thanks. Water would be good.”
I didn’t freeze when he smiled that time. I was employing a new strategy to appear less awkward and fazed by his beauty. I looked just to the left of his face so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Ducking back in the door, I went to the small downstairs kitchen, poured two glasses of water, and returned to the porch. After handing him one of the glasses, I sat on the porch swing, crossed my legs underneath me, and gulped down my own glass. Shifting was thirsty work.
The officer put aside his empty glass and picked up McKenna’s phone again. He woke it up, tapped in the security number, and was in her photos.
“She gave you her password?” I was five feet away but had no problem seeing what was on the screen.
He nodded. “She was filming herself at the time, making a video clip of her walking down the dark road for her social media. Her glasses were in her bag because she said they reflected the light from her phone, making her look like she was wearing goggles. She’d planned to flip the camera and show the sky, but then the truck moved up beside her. She dropped her hand, embarrassed to be seen filming herself. We should at least get his voice. With any luck, maybe a partial view of his truck.”
He tapped play and we listened.
It’s a dark, cold night, but I’m going to share my view with you. We’re often socked in with fog here, but on a clear night, the stars look so close! I live in an ocean-side town. We had a little rain and a lot of wind earlier today. Yes, we get rain in the summer. As you can see, the only streetlight is way back there. I have woods on one side of me and some dark, sleepy houses on the other, meaning the sky is bri ? —
Tires kick up pebbles beside her.
“Quiet engine,” the officer murmurs
“No headlights,” I respond, and he nods.
“Hey. You shouldn’t be walking out here all by yourself, pretty girl like you. It’s not safe.”
“Oh! You scared me. Um, no. I’m fine. I’m not going far. Thanks.”
“You climb on in. I’ll get you there faster.”
“No, really, I’m okay.”
Her camera bounces more and she increases her pace. The engine revs and the edge of the passenger door opening is visible. McKenna stops.
“There. I got the door for you. Let’s go. Come on now. Don’t be stupid. Get in. I’ll take you.”
“His voice changed,” I said.
The cop nodded. “Her breathing has sped up. She’s terrified.”
“I don’t want or need a ride. Okay? I’m fine. Please leave me alone.”
“I’m being a nice guy. Don’t be a bitch. Come on. I’m not saying it again. Get in now or you’re going to find yourself in a world of hurt.” He laughed. “Just thinking about it is putting me in a good mood.” The sound of tapping or patting. “I have a seat for you right here. Let’s go.”
The camera bounces as McKenna begins to run. The engine revs. The front of the truck is visible for a moment before the camera hits the ground.
“Sonofabitch.”
Another door opens and heavy treads on the pavement are heard. Movement is seen but the tall grass obscures the images. A growl is heard. A door slams. Footsteps. Another door closes and then tires squeal as the truck races away.
The officer let the recording go until I eventually hear my bookstore door bang as McKenna threw it open. He doesn’t react, allowing the playback to continue.
“You can stop now,” I said. “That was the sound of my front door being flung open.”
He turned to me, brow furrowed, and then reversed the video, turning the volume all the way up and holding it to his ear. When the bang came again, he turned it off and shook his head. “Seriously good ears. So, did anything strike you?”
I thought about it for a good long time. He didn’t seem bothered by my silence, which was strange. It unnerved most people. His legs were straight out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, as he leaned his head back against the side of the house and waited.
“I think he’s one of us,” I finally said.
He turned his head, his warm dark eyes studying me. “I caught a very faint scent of wolf on McKenna, so I agree. What makes you say so, though?”
I organized my thoughts and then said, “I don’t think the switch flipping to anger was because she said no.”
His interest in me changed. He stared at me as though I’d just become interesting, a silver streak in a river he now realized was salmon. Still, though, he waited.
“He was hunting for prey,” I said. “It’s a quiet night, a quiet neighborhood. She should have heard him driving up behind her. She didn’t. He revved the engine to make it loud and scare her. He wanted her fear.”
Officer Garra nodded.
“Maybe he’s a mechanic,” I suggested, “because that engine had to be adjusted to make it run so quiet. Stealth’s more important to him than the show of power.” I looked out over the forest. “When I hunt, I surprise my prey. They can’t hear me and don’t realize I’m there until they’re trapped in my talons and are being carried away.”
He made a soft chuff of agreement.
“He rolled up on her,” I continued, “with his quiet engine and his dark headlights because I think he has naturally excellent hearing and vision. You and I can see in the dark, but I’ve seen humans stumble out there at night without a flashlight. Some of the late night and early morning runners or dog walkers even use those little lights on an elastic strap around their heads.”
“She was recording herself,” he said. “Maybe he saw the light from her phone.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but he would have had to have seen it far enough away to keep his headlights off while he was approaching her. I don’t know,” I said, putting my foot down to push the swing. “I don’t have your sense of smell, but I caught a strange scent on her too, and it wasn’t a human scent.”
He grumbled his agreement.
I stared at his perfect profile. It wasn’t as intimidating if he wasn’t looking at me. Or smiling. “I bet it was an adrenaline rush when she jumped. She made a little squeak of shock. I think that excited him.”
“I caught that too,” the cop murmured.
“Her running away would only rev up that excitement, but it wasn’t a successful hunt,” I said.
The cop got smoothly to his feet and stepped to the edge of the porch, studying the dark woods. He slipped McKenna’s phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. “There was no reason for him not to pursue her. Chasing her into the trees had probably been his plan if he couldn’t get her in his truck. My guess is he caught your scent and realized these woods are your territory.”
“You caught my scent from the road?” I asked.
He nodded. “Granted, I’d met you, been in your home, but even standing down there on the edge of the forest, I sensed it. I think that sudden anger of his wasn’t about her saying no to a ride. He would have enjoyed her trying to fight him off. Overpowering her. The rage came because he caught your scent and knew his hunt had been spoiled.”
“I’m that scary?” I put a foot down and pushed back, rocking the swing back and forth again.
He glanced over and watched me a moment before shaking his head. “No, but you’re an unknown. If he’s local, he knows we have a pack of wolves and a large den of bears here. I’ve got more aunts, uncles, and cousins than I can name in Monterey County. You, though, are unique and because of that, he wouldn’t know what you are or how much of a threat you pose.”
“That must have been frustrating,” I said, staring out at the wood. It was easier to talk if I wasn’t looking at him. “To start a hunt, locate your prey, and then turn away because you sensed another predator nearby.”
“He ran,” Garra said, considering the point. “Does that make him a coward or controlled and canny?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “You’re the cop. I’m just a bookseller.”
Grinning, he shook his head. “Right.” He hopped off the edge of the porch and then turned back to me, his head weaving back and forth until he caught my eye and grinned. “I haven’t figured you out yet, but I don’t think you’re just anything. You’re most definitely something.” He gave me a nod and then circled around the back of the house and out of sight.