A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery) Page 5

  She turned to me and nudged her car door closed with one hip. “Yes?”

  “My name is Grace Wilde. I was hoping I could ask you about Brooke Ligner.”

  “Who?

  “She’s one of your . . .” I wasn’t sure of the term. Client? “You’re her probation officer.”

  And just like that a switch was flipped.

  “If you want to report a problem or file a complaint, you’ll have to call the office Monday.” She turned away before she’d even finished the sentence.

  “Wait, that’s not why I’m here.” I faltered at the entrance of the poofy orange tunnel leading to the front porch, then hurried through, nearly bumping into the woman as I walked up the steps and emerged on the other side. “I think something may have happened to Brooke.”

  “Then I suggest you contact the police.”

  “Come on. We’re talking about a sixteen-year-old girl.”

  “So are most of my other cases.” She spoke without looking at me and unlocked her front door.

  “So, what? You only care Monday through Friday?”

  “Pretty much.”

  The door slammed in my face and I stood there for a moment, too stunned to move. I had a hard time equating the cheerful decorations with the cold woman I’d just met.

  Maybe she was married to someone with a sunny disposition and a love of hyperbole. Either that, or she was like the witch in “Hansel and Gretel,” and the decorations were Mrs. Johnston’s version of the gingerbread house. A tool to lure children close so she could snack on them later.

  “The witch gets it in the end, you know!” I called out before turning with a sigh to walk back to Bluebell.

  Discouraged by my lack of progress with Mrs. Johnston, I was not in the best mood when Kai called.

  “Hey. Sorry about earlier. Did you find anything?” he asked as I drove back to Happy Asses.

  “Yes. Mud, dirt, leaves, and pine needles.”

  “No squirrels to interrogate?”

  I knew he was only teasing, but after last night, I was feeling sensitive so I didn’t reply.

  “Grace?”

  I choked back the snippy comment I wanted to make and tried to be logical.

  “No squirrels. But I’m hoping to talk to the other volunteer. Maybe she can tell me something.”

  “One of the other teens in the rehab program?”

  “Her name is Caitlyn. She and Brooke are friends—or at least I hope they are. I’m batting zero today.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Trust me, I feel like I’m running on a hamster wheel.”

  “I mean you might not want the girls to be friends. If Caitlyn and Brooke are buddies, she’s probably not going to tell you anything. Loyalty is big with these kids. Snitching is a no-no.”

  “Snitching? How can talking to me be snitching? I’m not a cop.”

  “You’re an adult.”

  Crap.

  “So what do I do?”

  “If you talk to her, don’t jump in with a bunch of questions. Talk about something else. Find something you have in common.”

  “In common?” First Emma, now Kai. My people skills must have been worse than I thought for them both to compare me to juvenile delinquents.

  “If you can get her talking first, you’ll have better luck. Trust me.”

  Great, I had to chitchat. I sucked at chitchat.

  Over the phone, I could hear a gruff voice speaking with the abruptness and cadence of a Yankee.

  “Is that Jake?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He wants to talk to you. Hang on.”

  A moment later, I got Detective Jake Nocera’s signature greeting.

  “Yo.”

  “What’s up, Jake?”

  “When are you bringin’ Moss over for a playdate?”

  “Soon. How’s Jax doing?”

  “Getting fat. Mary says I need to take him for more walks, but with this knee I’m lucky to make it off the toilet in the morning.”

  “Nice. Thanks for that visual.”

  “No problem. So, I’m thinking if you bring Moss over, he and Jax can play and I’m off the hook.”

  “For a day.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  I understood. Keeping up with a young Doberman pinscher who was trained as a personal protection dog wasn’t easy. But Jax was such a good dog, it was worth the time and effort.

  “Okay, I’ll call Mary and set something up.”

  Jake handed the phone back to Kai with what might have been a thanks, but with Jake’s Northern accent and general grumpiness, it was hard to tell.

  “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch,” Kai said, “but I’m going to be stuck here awhile. What are you doing for dinner?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “How about the Pizza Bar?”

  “Sounds good.”

  I heard more voices in the background.

  “I’ve got to go. Maggie is turning things over to us. I’ll see you tonight.” I knew from past conversations that Maggie was the medical examiner, and the fact that she had only just turned the crime scene over to the police meant Kai would be busy for a while.

  After we hung up, I concentrated on divining a way to approach Caitlyn.

  I thought about calling my sister for advice. Emma could make small talk with anyone. Infant or octogenarian—people loved my sister. But I knew the glam Goth wedding was later that night and Emma was probably up to her eyeballs in black tulle and brocade velvet.

  I was on my own. Hopefully, I would do better with Caitlyn than I had with Ms. Nasty Pants Johnston.

  I parked near the Happy Asses office and hopped out of Bluebell. It didn’t take long to spot my quarry. Caitlyn was dragging a large trash can toward the donkey pen and carrying a fan rake and an oversized shovel. Though she was taller than me—not hard given that I’m barely five foot three—she was fine boned, a bit scrawny, and was having a tough time maneuvering the can along with the tools.

  I sighed and started toward her.

  It looked like I was going to be cleaning up donkey poop. The glamour of my life is almost too much to take sometimes.

  “Hey, let me help you.” I held the gate and took the rake and shovel.

  “Thanks.”

  The donkeys, eager as ever, had surrounded us by the time we took two steps into the enclosure.

  Their expectations were clear. Even if I hadn’t been inundated with Treat. Treat? Where treat? Have treat? the nosing at our pockets and hopeful expression in their large, liquid eyes would have told me what they wanted.

  I pulled up my mental shield to cut off the pleas.

  “So, how do you plan to scoop if we can’t move?” I asked with what I hoped was a casual smile.

  “Dang it. I forgot about their treats. Brooke always brought them.”

  I kept a supply of dog and cat treats in Bluebell but was fresh out of donkey snacks.

  Peppermint.

  I remembered Boris saying Brooke smelled like peppermint.

  “Do they like candy? I have some in my truck.”

  “Yeah. That would be great.”

  I went and grabbed a packet of Skittles out of the bag of Halloween candy I’d picked up in case we had any trick-or-treaters. No peppermint, but they’d have to do.

  We fed the donkeys the Skittles and I offered to help Caitlyn rake the pen. As we worked, I tried to chitchat about the only thing we had in common.

  “So, you like volunteering here?”

  “It’s a lot of work, but it’s fun, you know? The animals are cool.”

  “Brooke liked working with the animals, too, didn’t she? It seems weird that she’d just take off.”

  Caitlyn shrugged. Maybe I’d jumped the gun on asking about Brooke. I started to go back to the chitchat stuff and had an idea.

  “Hey, I wanted to ask you about last night.”

  Caitlyn glanced at me before dumping a load into the can. “You mean what happ
ened with Boris?”

  “We’ve been trying to figure out what upset him. Did you see what happened?”

  “Yeah!” Caitlyn perked up. Apparently Hugh getting treed like a raccoon warranted her interest. I was happy to use that to my advantage and not only get her talking but also see if she could provide insight into what had triggered Boris’s attack.

  “It was crazy. Like, I was standing right there with everyone else. One second, Boris was on his back getting his belly rubbed and next thing he’s up and after Dr. Murray.”

  The fact that Boris had been on his back was probably the only reason Hugh had been able to make it up the tree. It was also interesting because by exposing his belly, Boris was expressing trust. Something that had clearly changed in the blink of an eye.

  But why?

  “So you didn’t hear Dr. Murray say something or hear a noise that might have frightened Boris?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “You said you were watching with everyone else. Who else was there?”

  “Ozeal, me, and the maintenance guy, Paul. It was crazy. I was afraid Ozeal was going to have to dart Boris. And that wouldn’t have been good.”

  Even with her limited experience, Caitlyn knew the risks in tranquilizing a large animal, especially in an uncontrolled situation.

  “I’m glad we didn’t have to,” I said.

  “Because of you.” She looked at me, wide-eyed.

  “Yep. I’m like the Ghostbusters.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. Ozeal mentioned Brooke had been doing some work trying to get some more toys and stuff for the cats.”

  “Yeah. Brooke is real smart. You can apply for all this money and stuff. She spent a lot of time filling out forms. She even wrote a paper or something.” She made a face as if she found the idea of writing truly horrifying.

  “I wonder if that’s what’s upsetting Boris: Brooke leaving.” Grace Wilde, Queen of Subtle.

  “That can happen?”

  “Sure. Animals are affected by separation anxiety just like people.” We dragged the can to the other section of the pen, our shadows stretching out in front of us in the late-afternoon sun. The air was still and warm enough to make sweat bead on my brow as we raked.

  “Do you think Brooke is coming back?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “So she didn’t tell you she was leaving?”

  “I wasn’t here.”

  “I mean before that. She never said she might take off?”

  “Me and Brooke have different shifts. We overlap sometimes and grab lunch or whatever, but we don’t spend much time together. I mean, like, we talked some, but she wasn’t really into sharing.”

  “I wish I could talk to her. Maybe let her know that Boris was upset. Do you know how I can get in touch with her?”

  “Ozeal said she’s been trying to call her.” Caitlyn hesitated before admitting, “I tried to call Brooke, too, but she hasn’t answered.”

  “Maybe I should go look for her. Do you know any of her hangouts? Someplace she might’ve gone?”

  “She said she liked to hang out at the Regency Mall sometimes. But, you know, they make you stop hanging out with most of your old friends. I used to go out to Jax Beach but my PO says I can’t do that anymore. I mean, how is hanging at the beach supposed to be a bad influence? We even have a fu—” She caught herself and cast me a sidelong glance. “Uh. A freaking curfew. It sucks.”

  “Sounds like it. Was there anyone in particular Brooke wasn’t supposed to see?”

  “Her boyfriend, Stefan. He got busted for drugs.”

  “Do you know his last name?”

  She shook her head. “Sometimes, Brooke would call him Butter.”

  “Butter? Is that like calling someone honey?”

  Caitlyn giggled. “No. It’s his street name. ’Cause he thinks he’s smooth as butter.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I take it you don’t think he’s so smooth?”

  “He’s kind of a dick.” Her eyes widened. “Sorry.”

  “Hey, call it like you see it—that’s what I do.”

  She nodded. “I met him a couple of times.”

  “He came here?”

  She shrugged. “Me and Brooke would go to the movies; he’d meet her there.”

  I thought it was really stupid to risk getting in trouble to see a boy. But it wasn’t my place to point that out. “You think he’s a jerk, huh?”

  “He’s a total wangster. Like he’s all bad or something because he thinks he looks like that guy on Pretty Little Liars—you know, the bad boy, Caleb?” She rolled her eyes again. “Like you can grow your hair out and look like Tyler Blackburn.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded anyway. “Total wangster. Do you know where Stefan lives?”

  “Somewhere off Cesery, I think.”

  Cesery was a long road with access to everything from housing projects to mansions, if you crossed over into Oak Park. Not the greatest lead, but it was a start.

  We were quiet as we finished our task and finally I asked, “Do you know what’s up with Brooke’s parents?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They haven’t reported her missing.”

  Caitlyn shrugged. “Brooke said her mom told her if she ever ran away again, she shouldn’t come back. And her stepdad said she was cut off or something.”

  “So Brooke and her parents didn’t get along?”

  “She said her mom was just emotional but her stepdad’s a real asshole.” She shot me a guilty grimace. “Sorry.”

  “Apologize to the donkeys, not me.”

  She blinked at me. “Huh?”

  “You know—they’re asses and . . . never mind.”

  I helped Caitlyn maneuver the can through the gate but hung around as she headed off. I had an appointment with a jackass of my own.

  CHAPTER 4

  I’d kept my eye on Jack-Jack while we cleaned the pen. As soon as Caitlyn was out of sight, I turned to find he’d moved away and turned his back on me.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, buddy.” I slipped back through the gate and crept toward where he stood.

  Here, donkey, donkey.

  As I edged forward, I nudged Jack-Jack’s mind with my own.

  Nothing.

  He wasn’t just ignoring me, he was . . . blocking me?

  “No way.”

  It had taken me years to learn how to block out the intrusive buzz of the animal minds around me. Pulling a mental shield into place was tricky and took practice. I couldn’t believe a donkey could do it—not even one as smart as Jack-Jack.

  I put my hand out and eased toward him. If I could get my hands on him, my connection would be stronger and I’d know for sure.

  The other donkeys watched as I stalked closer to Jack-Jack. I cast out my feelers to them, thankful to find they weren’t alarmed. Donkeys could be very protective when they perceived a threat. The last thing I wanted was to be the victim of a misguided donkey stomp.

  As I neared, Jack-Jack’s ears swiveled backward, listening. I was only a few feet away.

  Closer. Closer . . . just before my hand connected with his rump, he trotted away.

  I tried again with the same result. Each time, I would get within inches and he would prance off.

  A game?

  I glanced at my watch and saw I had time before I was supposed to meet Kai for pizza. If the little donkey wanted to play, so be it.

  How about hide-and-seek?

  I turned in a circle and began scanning the pen. Since Jack-Jack wasn’t going to let me come to him, maybe he’d come to me.

  The donkeys, being grazers of the highest order, had shorn every blade of grass to oblivion. Their main source of food was a large pile of hay by the barn.

  A small lean-to protected the hay container and feed buckets from the elements. I walked to the structure and looked for a good place to lie in wait. A glance over my shoulder told me Jack-
Jack still stood with his back to me.

  I edged closer to the hay, leapt into the pile, crouched, and covered myself as quickly as I could. I brought up my mental shield so I wouldn’t inadvertently broadcast my plan, and settled in with my back against the barn wall.

  Now, all I had to do was wait for Jack-Jack to get close and I’d be able to touch him. Simple enough.

  After a few minutes, I started to itch. Nothing horrible—just enough to make me want to squirm. I held still so I didn’t give myself away.

  I could do this. Mind over matter.

  The thought inspired a random Dr. Seuss quote to float through my mind.

  “Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

  My mother had told me this repeatedly as a child.

  It didn’t matter that I was different.

  Different was beautiful.

  But after the age of about five, people no longer thought it was cute when I told them I was talking to the squirrels. They thought it was weird.

  Mom had stuck to her guns. “Your true friends will like you the way you are. Forget everyone else.”

  I’d learned to forget a lot of people. Even people I thought loved me.

  In college, I’d been dumped in spectacular fashion by Dane Harrington—of the Harringtons, one of the oldest, wealthiest families in the Southeast. He’d broken it off when I’d finally revealed my ability. Not because he thought I was crazy but because he thought I was a freak.

  For a long time, I’d used that as an excuse to stay closed off, never letting anyone in.

  Then I’d met Kai. A man of science who believed in my psychic ability despite everything he’d been taught. A man who made me feel things that scared me. A man who . . . was probably already on his way to meet me for dinner while I was hiding in a haystack trying to ambush a donkey.

  I wasn’t crazy and I wasn’t a freak, but sometimes, I was really stupid.

  I shot to my feet and staggered out of the hay, brushing myself off as I marched past the donkeys, who were clustered in the shade of a tree around a salt lick.

  Jack-Jack coughed out a laughing bray—which I ignored—as I walked through the gate. As I climbed into Bluebell, I caught sight of the bag of Halloween candy. I knew one mini-donkey who would not be getting any more Skittles from me.