First Born Page 2

  One of the officers on the scene approached him. “Detective Simms, anything?”

  “Nothing of significance here. We’ve recovered her purse and torn clothing from the vehicle at the high school. There’s blood all over the outside of the car. Lake’s at Piedmont Hospital with the male victim. He has some strange bites and scratch marks.”

  “Some sort of animal get ’em?” asked the officer.

  “No idea, but if Moore survived, she’s in bad shape. We’ll continue to check hospitals.”

  “I’ll keep patrolling this area. Let you know if I see anything,” said the officer.

  “Thanks. I’m going to see about rousing more neighbors.”

  Lily must have been unconscious for a while if the police already had been to the high school. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she recognized a scent. So close. It was the man from the field. She knew his smell now, a fact she couldn’t explain. Creeping backwards into the neighbor’s hedges, she peered out, scanning the street. Police, some nosy neighbors, but no man in black.

  With the police all over her home, she couldn’t hole up inside. No matter how many deep breaths she took, she couldn’t comprehend the night’s events. How would she explain things to the cops? To Detective Simms?

  She slunk away and ran the streets until she came to a halt at the end of a long driveway. Instincts drove her toward a home with white columns that seemed to reach toward heaven.

  She hesitated. The scene she left behind twisted her thoughts. Her left eye had started to swell shut and throbbed. Confused, she looked around with her right eye. Her surroundings felt familiar, so she continued up a tremendous flight of stairs coming to rest before a storm door. A cacophony of deep barks pierced the night. Every muscle in her body tensed. As suddenly as it had erupted, the dog quieted and stared at Lily with glowing green eyes. It raised its hind leg and began to scratch.

  Much better. Relief washed over her from an itch properly addressed. Did I just? Nah, I couldn’t have.

  But she had. She glanced down at furry paws then back up at her reflection in the glass. Fur, tail, pink tongue, bum eye.

  They say life doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle. Well, they could just stuff it because she was not handling this at all. She finally allowed herself to cry. Phil, the asshole, had drugged her, attacked her, and now she was on some sort of whacked-out trip with no signs of recovering soon.

  She was in bad shape. And what of her date? I hope he’s not dead. Or maybe...it would be better if he were.

  The foyer light came on in the house. Its beam spilled onto the porch, dispersing her dark thoughts and suspending her whining. The door opened an inch at a time to reveal a hulking figure in dark silk pajamas.

  The man turned toward someone behind him. “Larry! There’s a skunk on the front porch.” Lily heard a commotion before a round figure appeared before her. Dressed in a lavender paisley bathrobe, Larry peered down at her with his colossal peridot eyes. Straight from toon town, her Larry, was the size of the Jolly Green Giant. “Geez, Frank, don’t be ridiculous.”

  Lily knew she recognized this house. If someone is going to find you bleeding and hallucinating, it should be a dear friend. Larry was her co-worker at Cartoon Network where she worked as a graphic designer.

  Larry picked her up, “Oh puddin’, what happened to you?”

  “What is it?” Frank asked.

  “It’s a Shih Tzu!” Larry said, crinkling his nose as he got a whiff of her. The two men peered out into the night as if it held the answers. She wasn’t sure what they expected to see. A stork, the Shih Tzu fairy perhaps?

  Larry looked at her with gentle eyes. “There’s no collar or tag,” She buried her head in his neck and cried. The noise she made was more like a cat’s tortured purr.

  Frank looked at her, his eyes wide. “That doesn’t sound right.”

  Lily held her breath and pouted.

  “Frank, don’t be an idiot. Maybe she has a cold or something,” Larry said.

  She was so confused she had to remind herself to breathe. Lily had experienced rough nights, drank too much in college, but this “trip” was intense.

  “Now, now, it’s okay. Are you hungry?” She knew food was Larry’s solution to all of life’s woes.

  One ham and cheese omelet later and Lily couldn’t keep her one functioning eye open. Her demonic growling precluded Larry’s attempts to attend to her wounds. He must have felt sorry for her because he allowed her to sleep at the foot of the bed. Safe at last, she fell asleep.

  At least Lily thought it was sleep. Perhaps it was another chain of hallucinations. Somebody make it stop. Please.

  Chapter 3

  Reality Bites

  Lily shot up in bed, somehow catching the scream before it burst forth from her throat. Trembling, she pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness. Just another violent nightmare like the others she had experienced since Peter’s death. She heard a masculine moan next to her. Oh my God. This isn’t my bed! She rolled off the bed and landed with a “thud” on the floor.

  “Frank?” Larry asked, from the other side of the bed.

  Reality sunk in. She was in Larry’s bedroom returned to her original form, minus clothing. Purple bruises and red gashes mottled her legs and arms. Her left eye now opened halfway. What did I do last night? Had Larry nursed her through a drugged state? The thought of Phil Miller had her burping up vomit.

  She distinctly remembered thinking she was a dog. She scanned the floor for something to cover herself. Spotting a throw on the chaise lounge, she crawled across the plush carpeting in order to yank it down. Just as she considered how to apologize to Larry for the previous night’s indiscretions, he sat up in bed, turning toward the hallway, “Frank! Do you have the dog?”

  Dog? She flattened to her stomach before worming her way under the bed. Lily heard the rattling of dishes in the sink downstairs. Frank hadn’t heard him. The light switched on.

  Larry shuffled around the room calling, “Here, puppy.”

  Cowering under the bed, Lily held her breath and stifled a sneeze as he explored every room of the Ansley Park home. She didn’t dare move from her hiding place.

  As he circled back around to the bedroom, Lily grew more anxious. Larry shuffled to the bed. His crepitus knees protested as he knelt on all fours before lifting the bed skirt.

  PPPPPPFFFFFTTTTT.

  “Good Lord! No more eggs for you,” Larry said looking her squarely in the eye. Her mouth hung open in a pant. She looked down to see furry paws. I am a dog. And a flatulent one at that. When she panicked, she had become a Shih Tzu again. What is happening to me?

  After he lured Lily out, Larry lifted her in the air to study her face. “Your eye is much better, but you still smell like an old sponge. We’re taking you to get groomed today.”

  Frustrated, Lily squirmed. How could she explain to him that they had grossly different agendas? She needed to return home and lock herself inside until she stopped growling, rumbling, and panting.

  Larry carried her downstairs where they found Frank standing in the foyer looking all kinds of fine in his tailored Armani suit and gelled hair. His lineage had blessed him with olive skin. Blue-green eyes gleamed in contrast to his dark complexion. A scar over his left eyebrow made him look like a rugged Greek god.

  He furrowed his brow as he studied their new pet. “He’s a funny little creature, isn’t he?” She didn’t bite him, although it was tempting.

  Larry scowled.

  Lily eyed the food on the counter.

  “I need to tell you something,” Frank said.

  Larry’s head turned to the TV where the morning news anchor was talking about a current story. Lily’s ears perked up as she listened to the anchor mention her name and that she was missing.

  “Oh my God,” Larry gasped.

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Frank said looking somber. He attempted to slide a biscuit across the counter to Larry.

  “I’
m not hungry.”

  Frank sighed. “They found her car at Houston’s Restaurant on Peachtree Street. The date’s car was at Grady High School. It looked like...well there was some blood, apparently.”

  Larry’s jaw dropped. “I need to call her brother.”

  “Good idea. And a Detective Simms with the Atlanta Police Department left his number. It’s still on the machine.”

  “The police called us?” Larry asked.

  “Well, you specifically.”

  “I just can’t believe it.” Larry snagged a bit of biscuit and stuffed it in his mouth.

  “What do you think she was into?” asked Frank raising his thick black eyebrows.

  “Into?”

  “Her boyfriend offs himself and then she is brutally attacked. I’m thinking drugs.”

  “No, Frank, she wasn’t on drugs,” he hissed. Lily backed him up with a snarl.

  Frank stared at her with a glint of fear in his eye. “Geez Larry, we don’t know if that thing’s had its rabies shots.”

  Larry’s look sent him scooting out the door.

  “Asshole,” Larry said. She couldn’t agree more.

  As Larry reheated breakfast, Lily gazed out the back sliding glass door pondering her current situation. Her nightmares over the last several months perhaps were not a result of past events, but some warning of what was to come.

  A bacon biscuit torn into bite-size pieces pulled her from her reverie. Larry served it with panache on their fine china. The first taste had her stomach grumbling. The biscuit overwhelmed all her senses. Her sadness was a dull ache in the background.

  As she was devising a plan of how to score more, the doorbell sounded. Larry looked at her while pulling the belt tighter on his bathrobe. Low demonic barks came from her as she charged the front door. “Easy Cujo,” he said to her.

  She knew before he flung the door open. Detective Caldwell Simms. Despite her grief, Lily had developed a schoolgirl crush on the detective. It seemed to be getting worse each day.

  Larry gasped. Oh for God’s sake Larry, he’s not that good looking.

  Simms waited on the doorstep, charcoal gray slacks fitting his muscular legs just right, blue oxford shirt showing off his eyes.

  “Mr. Jones?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’m Detective Simms. I left you a phone message. It’s about Lily Moore.”

  “This is embarrassing. Excuse my pajamas,” Larry said. His hands fluttered to the lapel of his robe. He blinked rapidly as splotches of red bloomed on his neck and spread to his face.

  “No big deal. I just have a few questions for you.”

  He shook the detective’s hand and invited him inside. Detective Simms stepped in, eyes immediately dropping down to her. “Wow. Did that bark come from him?”

  “Oh yeah. She’s a killer.”

  As they walked down the hall to the great room, Lily ran circles around Detective Simms’s legs, wagging her tail while jumping on him.

  “Oh yeah. You’re terrifying,” Simms said with a smirk.

  “I’m so sorry,” Larry said. He scowled at her while attempting to shoo her away.

  Desperation pumped through her veins. She followed Simms onto the couch and looked at him with imploring eyes.

  Up close, she noted his unshaved face and dark circles under his eyes. He smelled like musk, woods, citrus, spice...and stale coffee. You’re dreamy.

  Detective Simms took a quick glance at her before absently rubbing her long ears, which set her hind leg to tapping out Morse code on the couch. “Is that a good spot?” he laughed.

  Any spot’s good, buddy.

  Turning toward Larry, Simms pulled his small notepad out of his shirt pocket. Then, he turned back and stared at her. “I’ve never seen green eyes like this on a dog before,” he said.

  I’ve never seen eyes like yours!

  “She’s definitely unique,” Larry said. “Actually, she showed up injured on our doorstep last night. I’ve not seen her around here before.”

  Simms kept looking at her eyes. Lily stared back, willing him to understand.

  “Don’t you wish they could talk?” he asked.

  “Yeah. You get a load of her eye? Somebody hurt her,” spat Larry. “Wish I knew who. I’d hunt the bastard down and introduce him to a crowbar or a tire iron or possibly a bludge...” Larry censored his murderous rant. Lily realized he was staring at the firearm on the detective’s hip.

  Simms flashed a good-natured smile.

  Sigh.

  “Dog! Hello!” Larry clapped his hands to break her relentless gaze. “Stop mooning over Detective Simms.”

  Mooning, I’m not mooning over him. She sat next to him, refusing to relinquish her front row seat. So what if she had memorized his left ear, his broad shoulders, and strong callused hands. She wondered what his calluses might feel like...

  Detective Simms focused on his job of questioning Larry about Lily’s dating life, personality at work, and her habits. He asked about her relationship with her mother, Maggie Moore, and her brother, Seth. Simms returned several times to her “relationship” with Mr. Miller. He asked why Lily got in the car with the man when she had driven herself to the restaurant.

  Ice cream. We were going for ice cream. It was no use. She knew he thought she got into Phil Miller’s car for other reasons.

  Then Simms broached another dark subject—Peter. Simms shifted forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He held his hands together and studied them. “I know you are close to Lily. I’ve had several conversations with her myself regarding Peter Marx. This kind of tragedy could unravel anyone.” Simms’s slate-blue eyes sought Larry’s. “I need to make an accurate assessment of her mental state in the last several weeks. It will help us to look at things from every angle.”

  Lily snarled, surprising herself as much as everyone in the room. Simms turned his head to study her. He drew down his eyebrows while his mouth fought with amusement. “She sounds a bit possessed.”

  She chuffed softly before settling back down to rest her head on her front paws and shift her eyes to Larry. I’m not crazy. Possessed? That’s entirely possible.

  Larry adjusted his bathrobe for the sixth time while pressing his lips in a thin line. “Lily’s one of the most resilient people I’ve ever met. I know she was depressed, but never unstable.”

  Simms nodded.

  “I’ve never heard her mention this Miller guy,” Larry said, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I worry because we all pushed her to be more spontaneous, get back out there, and find some joy again in life.”

  This isn’t your fault, Larry. She jumped down from her perch next to Simms. Placing her front paws on Larry’s knee, she nuzzled his hand earning her an ear scratch. Larry’s eyes were wet.

  Simms asked a few more detailed questions regarding co-workers and friends. As the detective finished up, Larry pulled himself together, sitting up straighter in his chair.

  “Detective Simms, have you completely shut the case on Peter’s death?”

  The taut muscles in Simms’s jaw twitched. He swallowed before flashing a tight smile. “Sorry, Mr. Jones. You know I can’t discuss that investigation.” He clicked his pen shut before putting it in his pocket along with the mini notepad.

  Larry looked down. “Isn’t it odd that a young man dies and in less than a year, his girlfriend is attacked?”

  “We’re considering all the circumstances,” Simms said.

  “You know I always wondered about Peter’s work at that lab. He was very intense and worked crazy hours with Professor Hitomi. I mean, he was just a part-time grad assistant.”

  “Workaholic, huh?”

  “More like fanatic,” Larry said.

  Simms’s phone buzzed. After checking the number, he excused himself before walking to the foyer. She followed him.

  “Lieutenant?” His face turned gray. “Cause?” He paced the marble floor of the foyer. “Time of death? I’ll be down there in fifteen, just finishing up with Mr. Jones.”


  Lily followed Simms back to the great room to find Larry unblinking with worry lines creasing his forehead. Apparently, he had been eavesdropping.

  “Not her,” said the detective.

  Larry let out a long breath.

  “Thanks again for your help,” Simms said as he handed Larry his card and encouraged him to call if he thought of anything else.

  After the door closed, Larry fanned himself. “Good-bye, Detective Hottie!” Placing his hands on his hips, he surveyed his new pet. “Don’t look at me that way. You were the one slobbering and jumping all over him.”

  “Wuf!”

  With Simms gone, Larry busied himself with the breakfast dishes, but Lily could see how shaken he was by the tension in his face. If only she could communicate to him that she was okay.

  She continued to shadow him, following him up the wooden stairs to his bedroom. It was serene with blue walls, antique walnut furniture and white linens on the bed in various textures. She hopped up on the chaise lounge, which was a coffee-colored leather.

  Once Larry was in the shower, Lily scurried across the room to the mirror.

  After several seconds of staring at herself, she looked at the ground. What have I become? She felt warm tears flood her eyes. She took another glance. Her familiar green eyes stared back at her from a black mask of fur. Her eyelashes had doubled in length. She wagged a large plume of a tail. A cross between a miniature mountain yak and Zorro.

  Lily fought panic as it closed in on her. Crying was not an option. Panic would not dominate her. Someone, somewhere had an explanation to what had happened to her and why.

  Chapter 4

  Take a Bite Out of Crime

  Caldwell and Lieutenant Lake stood across from the Victorian house on Myrtle Street. The yellow crime scene tape was a grim reminder of the tragedy that surrounded its idyllic façade.

  As Lake ran his fingers through his short hair, Caldwell chugged a Red Bull. His stomach gurgled in protest.

  The lieutenant’s whole face puckered in disgust. “Man, really?”