First Born Page 6

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  Seth slept curled in a ball, blankets pulled over his head while morning light flooded into his sparse Buckhead apartment. He was on the black futon in his living room. When he opened his eyes, he was convinced workers were blasting dynamite inside his skull. He squinted as his eyes adjusted. The microwave clock in his galley kitchen told him it was time to get up.

  He shook his head when he noticed a half bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream left on his coffee table. That explains the headache. He extricated himself from the blankets before stumbling toward the bathroom.

  The warm spray from the shower did little for his headache. As he sang Linkin Park’s “What I’ve Done,” he felt a sensation rush up his spine as a high-pitched sound reached his waterlogged ears. He cracked the sliding door and peered out into the steam.

  “Where did you come from?”

  The neighbor’s cat, Cocoa, reposed on the toilet lid. She had been singing her eerie accompaniment to Chester Bennington’s lyrics of erasing himself and starting anew.

  “This is not my life,” Seth said closing the door.

  Cocoa shadowed him through the apartment as he finished getting ready. Seth donned the standard uniform of black pants and a white oxford shirt. The cat walked out the front door with him after a breakfast of tuna fish compliments of Chef Seth. He tried to prepare himself for his reunion with his dad’s ex-partner. He heard Mr. Liu had renovated an old farmhouse and kept horses.

  But Seth wasn’t up for a pony ride. It felt more like he was hurtling down the first hill of a rollercoaster at Six Flags. Seth had been sixteen, Lily twenty, when Gerald Owens shot their father. The emotions were still so raw; they caused his stomach to drop, his body to experience a disorienting weightlessness.

  Burping up banana, he leaned across to turn on the radio. Marilyn Manson’s “Beautiful People” blasted from the radio. Ah mind-numbing distraction. He didn’t need to think about the stranger who killed Barney, the police dog, and Arthur Moore. He turned up the volume, allowing the blaring guitar to clear his head as he sang along. It was a bit painful with his headache, but he preferred it to the other sensation.

  His singing turned to swearing as he exited Interstate 75 by Town Center Mall. He gritted his teeth, weaving in and out of traffic until the congestion dispersed and he reached Stilesboro Road. Four miles further north, he saw red paint bleeding through the white blossoms of the Bradford pear trees. The barn told him he was in the right place as did the horseshoe archway over the entrance.

  As he pulled in front of the gray ranch home, two German shepherds raced toward the car. The retired police dogs emitted that high-pitched cry a canine makes when it’s identified something irresistible. The flash of white teeth sent Seth dashing across the yard like a scared little girl. He rang the doorbell just as the larger dog pinned him against the side of the house. He felt its warm breath on his neck. The screen door creaked then Mr. Liu’s round face peered out.

  “Tonka. Spike. Down!”

  The dogs dropped to their bellies behind Seth as their master emerged from the home.

  Seth remembered to breathe. He dug deep inside to recover his pride after such a display.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you okay, Seth?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you feed them?” joked Seth while his eyes darted behind him to check on the dogs.

  “They’re usually so well-behaved,” Li said as he shook his head. “So strange.”

  They both looked at the dogs that drooled and panted.

  “Please, come in.”

  Seth crossed the threshold then bowed to Mr. Liu out of habit.

  Li Liu returned the bow. “Look how tall you are now!” he said beaming.

  Seth flashed a self-conscious smile.

  “Six foot like your father?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Seth.

  The two dogs whined through the screen door. Mr. Liu peered around Seth and commanded, “Go now.” The dogs obeyed.

  Seth followed him across the wide-plank hardwood floor of the 1930’s home. The décor was comfortable and eclectic. Above the stone fireplace hung a colorful robe that caught Seth’s attention.

  “That was my great grandfather’s ceremonial robe.”

  “Cool,” Seth said, his mouth agape. The red silk robe was aged, but maintained with meticulous care.

  “Sit.” Liu said.

  Seth obeyed. Mr. Liu plopped into a worn recliner while Seth settled into the microsuede couch continuing to examine his surroundings as he gathered his thoughts. This was not your typical southern farmhouse. Atop the entertainment center was a jian in a green ray skin scabbard. Seth resisted the impulse to forget everything and go study the sword.

  “So, you’re retired now?” Seth asked, pulling his eyes back to Mr. Liu. Interesting retirement.

  “Yes, I spent four years with the Marietta Police Department’s K-9 Unit and then I hung up my hat.” Mr. Liu pushed the armrests forward bringing forth the footrest. “I keep busy, though. I have the horses and recently opened a Shaolin martial arts studio. Both bring me tremendous satisfaction.”

  Mr. Liu leaned over, his eyes wide and bright. “You do kung fu?”

  “Ah, no,” said Seth. “Tried karate when I was nine, but I lacked discipline. I...quit.”

  “Ah, perhaps it was not you that quit, but the Master who quit you,” said Mr. Liu furrowing his brow.

  Seth smiled in appreciation before leaning back further on the couch.

  “So. What can I do for you?” asked Liu.

  Could I borrow that polearm for a few days? Seth glanced at the large weapon hanging on the wall behind Li Liu’s head. It occurred to him that he was in the belly of a warrior’s den; surely he could summon some courage.

  “I have questions about my father.”

  “Yes,” stated Liu. “I expected to hear from you or Lily one day. I have tried to call both of you several times.”

  “I’m very sorry, Mr. Liu. We didn’t mean to be rude. I guess we were both so self-absorbed.”

  “No apologies necessary.” Worry flashed across his face. “Sorry to hear about Lily’s disappearance. Have you learned anything about her whereabouts?”

  Seth hesitated. The way Mr. Liu posed the question made it almost impossible to respond without lying. “The police haven’t shared much with me. I think she’s alive, but has been hurt.” Seth’s Adam’s apple bobbed erratically in his throat as he attempted to swallow.

  Out of courtesy, Mr. Liu dropped his intense gaze. “Disturbing circumstances—her boyfriend. Now the neighbor.”

  Seth cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “That’s why I’m here Mr. Liu. I’m trying to gather information about Dad; well, about me and my family.”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  Seth stalled.

  “Anything,” repeated Liu.

  Seth looked into the eyes of the dragon on Li Liu’s familial robe. “My Dad shifted, didn’t he?” He never met Liu’s eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Seth didn’t breathe. He hadn’t expected such a quick response.

  “Barney?”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Liu, suddenly puzzled. “I thought your grandmother explained this all to you and Lily.”

  “Waipo?” Seth asked, finally meeting the man’s gaze. He tried to squelch the anger that ignited in his stomach. “I’ve only seen my mom’s mother twice in my life. She didn’t stay long when she came for Dad’s funeral. Why would she know about Dad’s situation?”

  “Arthur insisted she was the only person who understood.”

  “My father never talked about my mom’s side of the family.”

  “That’s disappointing,” Liu said looking troubled. “You must be so confused. Are you having some...problems?” He posed the question like they were engaged in an awkward father-son talk about sex.

  It made Seth chuckle. “You have no idea.”

  “Oh, I have some idea,” said Mr. Liu. “Remember, I dealt with your father.” Hi
s eyes grew wide. “Seth, are you a Malinois?”

  “No.”

  “Have fur?”

  Seth looked at the ground.

  “Or feathers?” whispered Li Liu more to himself.

  Seth bristled. “If you don’t mind, I don’t like to talk about my issues in detail.” A sense of foreboding crawled over his skin as he looked around the house at the Chinese prints of warriors and the sporadic display of antique weaponry.

  “Sure. Why don’t I let you ask the questions?”

  “Thanks.” He unclenched his hands. Where do I start? Seth finally settled on one word. “How?”

  “Shapeshifting?”

  “Yeah. Is there a logical explanation?”

  “Logic? Hmmmm. I suppose there are a myriad of elaborate explanations or hypotheses out there. I can only tell you what I believe from my years as a witness.”

  “That’s a start,” responded Seth.

  “I believe that shapeshifter abilities run in families. Your ancestry determines form and skills. Look back into your family’s history and you may find stories to explain the how and why.”

  “Fairy tales?”

  “Perhaps,” Liu said. “Folklore indicates that the animal shape was based on your ancestry, lifestyle, spirit, and personality. Your needs at the time also determined your form. If you were a Native American fighting off an enemy at night in the woods, you would transform into a wolf in order to conquer your foe with the power of strength, speed and the pack.”

  “And my father?”

  “His shift was triggered by a traumatic event. A man pulled a knife on us when we were walking to the MARTA station. We were just two seventeen-year-old boys coming back from a Braves game planning to catch the train.” Seth noticed Li Liu look off to the fish tank; his eyes tracked the movements of the angelfish, his brow furrowed.

  He turned back to Seth. “Your father shifted into a Belgian Malinois, a guard dog. We were in an urban setting and we needed protection. He saved our lives.”

  Seth stared at him, wondering what happened to the man with the knife, but respecting that Mr. Liu, perhaps, didn’t want to discuss the details.

  “Afterward, we shared a tremendous trust. We were inseparable, even attending the academy together. I felt responsible for your father and he felt protective of me.”

  “You were a good friend.”

  “I tried.”

  “What did my mother think of all this?” Seth asked, feeling his anger flare again.

  “She didn’t know.”

  “Hard to believe.”

  He nodded. “You know, your mother chooses to see only certain things. She acknowledges something only if it fits into her perfect world. That’s how she copes.”

  And that’s why she no longer acknowledges me. “How did Dad keep it from her?”

  “Well, obviously it was easier after the divorce and they lived apart.”

  “But they divorced when I was ten,” Seth said.

  “Yes, before then, your father did his best to control his shifting. Some days he partnered with me in human form, but changed to Malinois if K-9 assistance was required.”

  “How could he keep something that important from her?” Seth asked.

  “He just did. He realized that she couldn’t handle it. Your mother is...delicate. Once they had you kids, Arthur couldn’t risk her reaction to the truth. He was terrified of losing you.”

  “Why didn’t he tell us?” Seth asked.

  “I think he planned to someday.” The two men didn’t discuss Arthur Moore’s shooting. Seth was relieved that Mr. Liu didn’t bring it up.

  “What about Dad’s parents?”

  “We learned early that his parents had no idea,” said Mr. Liu. “We asked funny questions trying to bait them into discussing the topic of people turning into creatures. They never showed the slightest indication they were aware of any such thing.”

  Seth shook his head. People behaved badly quite often, himself included. But this was major. Lily was suffering. Dad had suffered. Waipo knew. Yet no one bothered to tell them. How did his Chinese grandmother know about Dad, but his mother was left in the dark? Lily’s current predicament may have been avoided if she had known.

  He reined in his frustration and focused on gaining more insight. “How did he shift?”

  “Initially, he could only transition at dark. After a while, he gained control through use of visualization and breathing techniques. It remained easier for him to shapeshift at night, but he mainly worked days so that he was available to you kids after school. He didn’t want to miss anything.”

  Seth nodded. It really would have been okay if he had missed some of his football games. “How did he manage work?”

  “The Captain knew. He assigned your dad to partner with me often. If a call required a K-9 unit, your dad shifted. Otherwise, he was a patrol officer. Overall, it worked. The days he took his own patrol car, I used my German Shepherd, Spike. The other officers knew that I worked with the two different dogs. They concluded that Barney was smarter than most people they knew, but Spike was more loveable.”

  “Anyone look in the back of the unit while Dad was in human form in the front.”

  “Windows were tinted, but we had some tricks we used, like a recording of a dog barking.” Liu smirked.

  Seth laughed. He could totally see his father pulling some pranks with the situation. It was surreal to be discussing his father in this way. He regretted that Arthur Moore hadn’t confided in him. “Could he change into different creatures?”

  “No, I’ve heard some legends tell of that, but have not personally known anyone that could.”

  “You know others besides Dad?” Seth asked in a whisper.

  “I know of others. Don’t necessarily know them.”

  “Can it be suppressed? I mean can you choose to never change into an animal again,” he asked, leaning forward now.

  “I think it is too powerful a force within you. Your father would get headaches if he didn’t shift every day. He learned about himself and adjusted so that he could have a happy, healthy life.”

  Mr. Liu looked troubled. “Seth, it’s best not to fight nature. We must have balance. If we do not, we become very ill.”

  Seth diverted his eyes.

  “Your father coped with his condition in the most healthy, natural way he could.”

  “I get it,” said Seth, not entirely understanding why he was telling him this.

  Li Liu caught his gaze, his lips pressed in a tight line. “I am so sorry for these circumstances, but very glad for the opportunity to talk to you.”

  Seth nodded, then looked at his watch. “Thanks for taking the time. I really should go or I’ll be late for work.”

  “Yes, of course.” He hesitated. “I am forever indebted to your father. If you or Lily ever need my help, I am here. In fact, you should come by my studio some time. I will train you at no cost.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Liu, I will consider it.” Seth balked when he heard the two German shepherds whining outside, waiting for him.

  At the door, Mr. Liu grasped his shoulder in a paternal manner. “I’ll walk out with you.” The male shepherd whined and paced as Seth walked past.

  “What is it, pengyou?” Mr. Liu asked the dog.

  Seth shrugged. Who was he to judge if the guy called his dog “friend” and talked to him. He had been singing with a cat in the shower earlier.

  The retired officer put the dogs in a down-stay position as Seth climbed into his truck.

  Seth turned the truck around so he could drive forward down the long, winding driveway. Once headed in the right direction, he glanced in his rearview mirror, noting Mr. Liu sitting on the front porch stroking one of the shepherd’s behemoth heads while talking on his cell phone. As Seth exited the driveway, a dark SUV pulled away from the shoulder in front of Mr. Liu’s property, headed in the opposite direction.

  Weird.

  It wasn’t the hangover. Seth’s gut was telling him Mr. Liu knew
things. He knew things that weren’t being said. Seth tried, but just couldn’t trust the fatherly warmth. It made him squirm, maybe because it had been so long since he had experienced it.

  Chapter 8

  Family Dynamics

  Caldwell set his soft drink on the edge of the table while Lake donned his reading glasses. They sat in Lake’s office on the third floor of the APD headquarters on Peachtree Street with the various agencies’ lab reports spread out before them.

  Ms. Sinclair’s lab results suggested an overdose of Inderal, a beta-blocker used to address stage fright, high blood pressure, cardiac arrhythmias, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD.

  Sinclair’s primary doctor had prescribed thirty-milligram tablets of Inderal to be taken twice daily to address her severe PTSD. He couldn’t explain the injectable form found at the home. Inderal was not typically injected. However, in an emergency such as during a surgical procedure, a medical team may administer it via an IV bolus or continuous drip. People didn’t inject it directly into a vein otherwise there was a chance they would suffer significant heart complications.

  “Why would she procure the injectable form and from where?” Lake asked peering over his glasses.

  Caldwell couldn’t resist, “I don’t know, professor. What’s your hypothesis?”

  “Piss off Simms,” Lake said, adjusting the readers. “Generally Inderal is prescribed in oral tablets, capsules, or liquid. The sharps container indicates she was injecting herself frequently.”

  “Taking the pills and injecting herself,” Caldwell added. “That’s overkill.”

  “The number of pills missing from the container indicates she was taking the oral dose sporadically.”

  “ME found only one injection site. If she was using the injectable regularly as the container suggests, wouldn’t she have track marks or some bruising?”

  Lake shook his head. “Not adding up. She has no history of swallowing difficulty; there’s no logical reason for her to need the injectable.”

  Caldwell drummed his fingers on the table. “If it was suicide, why not just toss back the whole container of pills?”