Wild Wolf (Tyson Wild Thriller #85)

Chapter 1

“That’s not our thing,” I said, pretending to be confused by the call. “We’re Special Crimes.”

“Your thing is whatever I tell you it is,” Sheriff Daniels grumbled.

“Did you forget about the fact we are volunteers?” I said, just to rile him up.

It was working. It didn’t take much.

“You two nitwits can volunteer your asses to go check this out. I’m short on manpower.”

“No need to get hostile,” I teased. “We’re on it.”

“It’s about to get insane around here, and I don’t need any trouble from you two.”

The dread in his voice was evident. Every year around this time, crime ramped up. People went a little mad. The spooky season always drew out the crazies. Things always got weird on the island. I hoped this year would be different, but this year was weirder than ever.

Daniels gave me the address, and I rounded up JD. We left the party on the Avventura and hopped into the 1979 Porsche 911 SC. We headed over to 875 Banyan Breeze Lane.

The mint green bungalow with a red brick walkway and a white picket fence was in a nice neighborhood.

These weren't the mansions of Stingray Bay or the Platinum Dunes, but it was a nice, safe area—for the most part.

A few towering palms swayed in the breeze overhead.

The yard was well-tended, and colorful flowers lined the beds.

A terrified woman waited for us at the curb. She clutched her purse and her keys and kept her head on a swivel. A street lamp above cast a soft glow on her petite figure.

Jack pulled to the curb, and we hopped out.

The woman backed away, unsure. In plain clothes, we didn’t look like your average cops.

With Jack's long, flowing blond hair, he wouldn’t have looked like a cop even in uniform—more like a male stripper, a tad past his prime.

Jack would argue he hadn’t entered his prime yet, and he just might have been right.

I flashed my badge, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief.

Her chocolate brown hair dangled above her shoulders, and her big brown eyes relaxed a bit. She had smooth skin and an alluring aura. Suddenly, I wasn't so upset about taking a burglary call.

"I'm Deputy Tyson Wild,” I said as I approached. “This is Jack Donovan."

"Taryn Crowe," she replied. "Thanks for coming.”

"Have you been inside the house?"

“No. I pulled into the driveway and went to the back door. It was ajar, and a window pane was broken. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn't know if there was anyone still in there. I called the county right away and waited at the curb.”

"You did the right thing. Stay here with Deputy Donovan. I'll take a look around.”

She nodded, and Jack kept her company.

I walked around to the driveway and up toward the back door with my weapon drawn, my flashlight slashing the darkness. I pushed in through the back gate and swept my beam across the yard, looking for threats.

The area seemed clear.

There was a nice patio area with a small pool, sleek furniture, well-tended flower beds, and a small chiminea. Not a bad place to sit in the evening and enjoy a mojito.

My beam raked across the jagged window pane in the back door. There was no glass on the ground outside.

I dug into my pocket and pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, and a few fragments of glass fell to the ground.

My flashlight beam cut the darkness as I stepped over the glass into the laundry room. "Coconut County!" I shouted just in case anybody still lingered around.

I continued into the kitchen, the barrel of my pistol leading the way. The quaint and cozy home didn’t look terribly disturbed. Cabinets and drawers had been rummaged through.

I flicked on the lights and continued through the home.

The large flatscreen TV still sat on its stand in the living room. A few books had been pulled from shelves. They littered the floor.

French doors opened to the patio. Reflections from the water shimmered caustics on the walls and ceiling.

I continued down the hallway, flicked on the lights, and cleared the guest bedroom, bathroom, and master.

More drawers had been pulled open, and clothing scattered about. More books rummaged through. The bed had been tossed, the mattress and covers in disarray.

Several pieces of expensive jewelry remained on the dresser in the master bedroom. A nice, flame-top Les Paul guitar with a cherry burst sat on a stand in the corner, unmolested. Whoever broke in was looking for something specific.

After clearing the house and walking around the perimeter, I returned to JD and Taryn in the front yard. “There’s nobody in the house.”

Taryn breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“Do you keep large amounts of cash around?”

Taryn shook her head. “No. I’m a professor at the university. What do you consider large amounts of cash? A few hundred bucks?”

I chuckled and shrugged. “I’ve seen people killed over less.”

She frowned. “I’m sure you have.”

“What about guns?”

“I don’t own a gun, but after tonight, I’m thinking of getting one.”

“Did you have anything else of value in the home?”

“Just some jewelry. My guitar.”

“It’s still there. Nice guitar.”

“You play?” JD asked.

“Not really. It was my dad’s. A 1959 Les Paul.”

Jack’s eyes rounded, impressed. “That’s worth a pretty penny. You’re lucky these people were morons. Do you know what that’s worth?”

In good condition, a guitar like that could go for a quarter million or more.

“Not really. But sentimental value is priceless.”

“It’s safe to go back in the home, but your back door isn’t secure,” I said. “I wouldn’t advise staying here until you get that fixed. Then again, leaving the house empty might not be the best either.”

“Especially with that guitar sitting around,” JD added.

“So, what do I do now?” Taryn asked, full of concern.

“Make a list of everything missing, fill out a report online or at the station, and contact your insurance company,” I said.

Her brow crinkled with annoyance. “That’s it?”

“That’s really all we can do at the moment. If they took anything, maybe it will show up in a pawn shop. Hopefully, you’ll get it back.”

She huffed. “Can’t you dust for prints?”

“I can have the forensic team come out, but we’re short on manpower at the moment.”

“Aren’t you going to talk to my neighbors? See if they saw anything?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll canvas the area. Hopefully, someone has doorbell footage that captured the perps coming or going. I noticed you don’t have a video doorbell. You might want to get one as well as a security camera for the driveway and back door.”

“What are the odds of getting my stuff back and catching these guys?”

“Until you tell us what’s missing, slim to none.”

She didn’t like that answer. “I don’t know what’s missing yet,” she said in a huff. “Is that all you do? Come out, look around, and say, oh well?”

“I know this is a frustrating experience. I’m sorry you’re going through it, but there’s only so much we can do. To be honest, this kind of thing happens all the time—”

“It doesn’t happen all the time to me,” she snapped, cutting me off.

I continued, “Unless we catch them fencing the goods or in the act, the odds are pretty low. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch a print. If the guys have priors and are in the database, we’ll get a match.”

“How are you going to catch a print if the forensic team doesn’t come out?”

“Like I said, I’ll notify them, but I’m not sure when they’ll be out.”

Her lips tightened, and a frustrated exhale escaped her nostrils. “This used to be a good neighborhood, you know? Crime seems to keep getting worse around here. Thank God, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“I took a teaching position overseas.”

“What do you teach?”

“Occult studies at Vanden.”

JD and I both looked impressed.

“That sounds interesting,” I said.

“What would be interesting is if you could catch the people who broke into my house.”

“We’ll do everything we can, ma’am. But to be honest, this is not our area. We’re Special Crimes. Like I said, the department is short on manpower at the moment.”

“Well, this is a special crime to me.”

I dug into my pocket and handed her a card. “That’s my direct number. Call me if you need anything.”

“What I need is for you to actually do something.”

I gave her a flat look. “We’ll do everything we can.”

She wasn’t impressed.

It was a little late to start banging on neighboring doors, but we did anyway. Unfortunately, nobody had seen anything, and none of the cameras in the area captured footage of the burglars.

We hopped into the Porsche and headed back to the Avventura.

“She wasn’t too friendly,” Jack muttered.

“Would you be friendly if your place just got broken into?”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand that feeds.”

The small party was still in full effect when we returned to the superyacht. The guys in Jack’s band had done an acoustic set before we left, and our guests were eager to hear more Wild Fury songs when we returned.

We kept it down to a dull roar. There were a few other parties in the marina, so I didn’t feel bad about the noise.

People ran around in costumes as Halloween approached.

Plenty of cat girls, sexy nurses, seductive vampires, and undead zombies strutted their stuff.

The boat wasn’t packed to capacity, but there was a good crowd.

We’d have a mess to clean up in the morning.

Jack mixed a cocktail and joined the band for another set. They broke into a new song, She Put the D in Dirty.

Wild Fury had barely finished the song when Daniels called again.

I looked at the screen, stepped away from the noise, and answered the call. "What? Did she complain?"

"No. We’ve got another situation.”

"Another burglary?"

"No. Much worse.”