First Born (18 page)

“Where ya been, Seth?” Koko Hitomi glared up at him. Even in high heels, she came up to his chest. He instinctively took a step back. She emitted a raspy laugh as she closed the gap between them, and her brow crinkled. She must have caught a whiff of the vomit, despite his spearmint gum.

“You used to be so much fun, but now you act like you’ve been neutered.”

Seth clenched his jaw. He reminded himself that indifference was the best way to cope with her. So instead, he riled her up, “Wow, does the clinic know you’ve escaped?”

“Come on. You know you wanted to see me.” She attempted a girlish pout, but her intense eyes deflected any softness in her face.

“Have you been following me?” He stared at her while taking a threatening step forward. She tilted her head, stood her ground, unfazed.

“Aren’t you paranoid? No, I haven’t been following you.” He actually believed her. He looked over and saw her familiar white Range Rover. He would have noticed if that car had been following him. While he hadn’t seen a vehicle in his pursuit, his instincts never lied. Someone other than Koko was stalking him.

“Look, I don’t have time for this. What do you want?”

“You don’t have time for me?” She put her hand on her slender hip. “I’m the only one that
gets
you. You’ll make time for me.”

“Or what?” he asked.

“Well, perhaps I’ll fill the police in on what your true nature is like.” She did have some dirt on him, which was the only reason he tolerated her bullshit.

Yes, Seth. I know
all
about your sister.

He grabbed his head. Koko had communicated to him telepathically. He really didn’t want her in his head, but when he fought it, the headaches struck. She took another pull on her cigarette, which repulsed him. He usually didn’t have trouble blocking her out. She exhaled smoke at him.

“What do you know about my sister?”

“Everything,” she spat. Smoke streamed out her mouth and nostrils. It made Seth think of a dragon, the evil kind that ate knights. “She offed her little twerp of a boyfriend then the pathetic sickly neighbor, and now she’s in hiding.”

He stepped toward her, studying her carefully. “Did...did you hurt her?”

No. But I could if I wanted to.

“Go to hell, you crazy bitch.” Seth squeezed his fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms.

“I’m already there.” She threw her cigarette at him and flounced to her Range Rover. A minute later, Seth stepped back on to the curb as she drove by him, rubber squealing.

There was definitely more to Koko than she was sharing. Her fascination with Lily disturbed him.

Seth turned back to his apartment. A quick search proved that Lily hadn’t been there. He headed over to Ansley Park Manor going fifty in a thirty-five. He tried to steady himself in order to think logically. He parked in the driveway and headed straight to the back. Lily had mentioned Frank and Larry stashed a key under the Buddha. At 7:30 at night, he wasn’t sure if Larry was home.

As he turned the corner of the house, he saw broken branches and debris scattered across the yard. “Lily!” he called.

The fading light cast dark shadows across the yard, but Seth followed his instincts and saw subtle movement in the huge shrubs that clung to the house. He dashed to the hedges to peer behind them. Lily lay in Shih Tzu form, covered in blood, barely able to move. The sour smell of vomit hit him.

“Lily!” Her body twitched ever so slightly. He could hear her ragged breathing.

With extreme care, he swaddled her in his shirt. She didn’t move.

She was breathing, but it was weak. “Hold on, okay.”

She needed medical help, but he couldn’t take a Shih Tzu to a doctor. Lily had been to regular doctors all her life, but they wouldn’t know what to do with her in her different forms. Where had Mr. Liu taken Barney the night he was shot?
The vet at Cobb Central Animal Hospital
.

Seth broke land speed records driving north on I75.
I should have protected her. I should have insisted she stay with me. I should have...
His phone rang. He ignored it.
Fucking Koko.

A small strand of saliva clung to the corner of Phillip Miller’s mouth. Caldwell counted to ten as he waited for the man to answer their question. Mr. Miller now lived with his mother in a ranch home in Decatur. He listed to the port side of a 1970s olive-green La-Z-Boy recliner and stared blankly at them.

“See I told y’all,” said his mother standing with a dish towel on her shoulder and hands on hips. She wore her bleached blonde hair in a frizzy pile atop her head.

“How much Lithium is he on?” Lake asked, looking exasperated.

“’Nough for him to stop screaming about that demon woman.”

Miller didn’t blink, but his eyes widened when his mother mentioned the demon woman. “He’s not been right since the attack. Look at ’em. You put his brains in a bumblebee, it’d fly backwards.”

“Where were you and your son this afternoon?” Caldwell asked.

“Well he just got back from the hospital this morning. Since then I’ve been fielding phone calls, scheduling outpatient therapy and follow-up appointments with doctors. I had to call off work at the Big Lot just to get him settled. Oh, and I had to run out and get his prescription filled from the pharmacy.”

“You have anything that can substantiate that?” Caldwell asked.

“What’s this all about, anyway?”

“We had an incident today and we need to verify Mr. Miller’s whereabouts,” Lake said.

“What kind of incident?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“An attack that could relate to the crime committed at Grady High School,” Caldwell answered.

“That Moore girl again!” she spat. “Look what she did to my boy. She’s trouble. Alls I know is that y’all said he hurt that girl. I don’t care what you say about blood spatter and DNA under his fingernails, it was self defense.”

Caldwell bristled. He had heard enough about Phil Miller from acquaintances to believe otherwise, but it was definitely a “he said/she said” scenario and “she” wasn’t around to plead her case. Lily Moore was somewhere bleeding to death because he wasn’t quick enough and his communication with the Kennesaw Police sucked and...well the whole thing was a cluster-fuck.

Lake cleared his throat. “Discharge papers from the hospital, receipt from the pharmacy. Anything with a date and time stamp will suffice.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said. She walked over to the couch close to Phillip and rummaged through her purse while mumbling. “Don’t know what the heck you could do. You’re wetting and drooling yourself. Let me check my room.”

She was gone for a few minutes. Caldwell stared at her son. Mrs. Miller returned with forms from Piedmont Hospital and the pharmacy receipt with the date and time stamped on it.

“Thanks for your time, Mrs. Miller,” Lake said.

“Uh huh. I hope you officers find her before she hurts someone else.”

Lake grabbed Caldwell by the bicep preventing him from spinning around and putting Mrs. Miller in a similar state to her son.

She showed them to the door.

Caldwell sat in the passenger seat as Lake headed to Ansley Park to check on the dog. It was 9 p.m. They had spent the early part of the evening hashing over details and adding Li Liu to their crime board. The Missing Persons Unit continued to interview Liu’s circle of neighbors, friends, and family. The lieutenant had sighed when Caldwell insisted it was Larry Jones’s Shih Tzu in the woods. To shut him up, Lake finally agreed to ride with him to their home.

I did see that dog. I’m not a mad man.
Although he had been losing sleep and thinking disturbing thoughts about Lily Moore since the case began.

As the lieutenant swung the Taurus on to the Prado, Northeast, Caldwell drummed his fingers on the passenger door.
What’s the protocol for taking a dog into custody?

“Caldwell!”

Caldwell stilled his fingers, realizing it was putting Lake on edge.

Lake parked in the driveway. Caldwell puffed air like he had just bench-pressed three hundred pounds. It sure felt like he had.

“S’up with you, Simms?”

He breathed out long and slow. “It’s just, you didn’t see her, Lieutenant.”

“Not your fault Simms.”

“She...someone had worked her over.”

“She’s alive. We’ll find her. Can’t blame yourself. Whoever is doing this is smart. Li Liu was a master in Kung Fu. He let the perp into his studio. This guy knew his weapons. You gotta pull it together or you’ll get reassigned.”

Caldwell whipped his head around.

“Not my decision, so don’t look at me like that.”

“What? The captain wants to pull me off?”

Lake didn’t look at him. “Just stay focused. Now let’s go talk to these gentlemen and get DNA from their dog, okay?”

“Okay.”

They walked up the lit path to the Jones/Harding residence. Lake rang the doorbell and waited. Frank Harding opened the door wearing plaid pajama bottoms, a white undershirt, and a serious shiner.

“Mr. Harding?” Caldwell asked.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour. I’m Detective Simms and this is Lieutenant Lake. May we come in for a moment?”

“Sure.” For a fleeting moment, Frank Harding looked like he had been blind-sided, but he quickly regained a calm demeanor.

The detectives stood in the grand foyer. “I’ll just let Larry know you’re here. He’s already in bed.” Mr. Harding went upstairs calling for Larry Jones.

“Nice place,” Lake said, looking toward the double chandeliers in the dining room to the right.

“Yeah,” said Caldwell, distracted. “Where’s the dog?”

“What the hell happened to his face?” Lake added.

Jones came down the stairs, eyes averted. He clutched Kleenex in his hand and wore the same lavender paisley bathrobe from when Caldwell initially interviewed him. When he raised his eyes, it was evident he had been crying.

“Why don’t you officers come into the great room.” He walked down the hallway before getting an answer.

The detectives sat in black upholstered chairs across from Harding and Jones on the sectional. Behind the sectional, an abstract painting in shades of blue spanned half the wall. Caldwell could make out the moon and...a wing.

“You’ll have to excuse my appearance. I don’t know if Frank told you we’ve lost our Tashi.” He blew his nose, which sounded like a trumpet blast.

“What happened to her?” Caldwell asked.

Jones shook his head.

“We don’t know,” said Harding. “She’s a little Houdini. She’s gotten out by herself before, but she always comes back. I’ve tried to tell him that she’ll probably be crying at the door again in the middle of the night.”

“She was inside when I left for work this morning,” Jones sobbed.

Lake leaned forward. “I’m real sorry about your dog, but we’ve had some new developments in regard to Lily Moore. We have a few questions for you.”

“Lily?” Mr. Jones asked. “Have you found her?”

“No, not yet. Were you gentleman here all evening?” Caldwell asked. Both men looked at each other.

“No detective, we were at dinner at a tapas place in Buckhead with some friends,” Harding said.

“I didn’t want to leave because the dog was missing, but
he
insisted. We were with potential clients,” said Jones obviously still upset.

“Do you have a receipt from dinner?” Lake asked.

“Of course, I do. It was a business dinner. Why?” said Harding.

“Where were you both this morning?” Lake asked.

“At work.” Jones wiped his eyes.

“Larry works at Cartoon Network and I work at Bank of America,” added Harding.

“This is standard routine. We’re just checking your activities to rule you out as suspects in today’s events.”

“Suspects? What events?” Jones asked, his hand clutching his throat.

“Don’t suppose you saw the news?” Lake asked. Both men shook their heads. “Lily Moore was spotted this evening and appeared to be injured. A retired police officer was attacked as well and is missing.”

“Oh my God!” Jones exclaimed.

“So as strange as this sounds, we are interested in the whereabouts of your Shih Tzu,” Caldwell said. He had used his best “don’t fuck with me” cop tone, but the two still looked incredulous.

“I’m confused.” Jones leaned forward. “I thought this was about Lily?”

“It is,” Lake said. He uncrossed his legs. “Witnesses have given a description of a dog at the scene that matches your dog.”

Jones had a look on his face like the lieutenant had perhaps tapped into some contraband in the evidence room. “You’re here because you think our little Shih Tzu is involved with what happened to Lily?”

“Precisely,” answered Caldwell, fixing hard eyes on Jones.

“Okay,” he yielded. “What is it you need from us?”

“Picture of the dog and sample of her fur,” stated Caldwell. “If you have a dog brush, great. And, it would be helpful if you have a bone or something she has bitten or chewed on.”

Harding walked toward the chef’s kitchen complete with state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances. Caldwell watched him.
Is he limping?
Harding returned with a photo and the receipt from dinner. “Will this do? I’ll need the receipt back for tax purposes.”

Lake walked over, slipped on his glasses, and examined the picture. “Perfect. Simms, get some gloves and evidence bags from the car.”

“Her dog brush is in the laundry room along with a Nylabone,” offered Jones, starting to get up. Lake put up a hand. “We’ll let Simms retrieve it.”

“Oh,” said Jones sitting back down.

Once back in the house, Caldwell bagged the photo, dog brush, and bone.

Jones and Harding looked stupefied. Their faces were almost comical, but Caldwell didn’t laugh. “We believe Lily Moore is seriously injured and in tremendous danger. If she tries to contact you, notify us immediately.”

“Of course,” Harding said.

“We also need some DNA from the two of you. If you don’t mind coming down to the station to see our forensics expert, Tiny Hunt,” Lake said.