Blue moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,44

in my apartment, but his nicely stacked papers were now scattered all over my table - we must have knocked them over while we were otherwise occupied. His shoes were off. Damn, his jeans weren't buttoned. I could see a slice of smooth, dark skin across his belly. My mouth still tasted of him.

I had to get out of here. "Thanks. I - "

"I'll call you," he said.

Mandenauer snorted. I gave him a dirty look and he shrugged. "Your phones are not working. The sheriff tried to call, as did that foulmouthed harpy who says she is your friend."

Hell. I had turned off the phones. I wasn't going to have much of an ass left when Clyde got done chewing on it.
Chapter 18
We climbed into my car and I picked up the radio. "Three Adam One is ten-eight on that ten-eleven. I need a location."

"Judas Priest, girl, where have you been?" Zee's voice, already scratchy from a lifetime of cigarettes, had become even rougher with anger.

"At home. Off duty." I glanced at my watch. "Why are you on the radio now anyway?"

"The shit has hit the fan around here. I got rid of the dingbat on second. She couldn't handle it."

I sighed. Dispatchers came and went with regularity in most departments. The job did not pay enough to offset the high level of stress. But in ours, thanks to Zee's vile tongue and perfectionist nature, we went through them quicker than dogs went through dog food.

"Head to Three-one-five Cooper Court."

"Anyone on-scene?"

"Brad. He's been ordered to secure only, then wait for you."

Brad was on early, too. We must really be strapped.

"I assume creepy crawly found you."

I shot a glance at Mandenauer, but he continued to stare through the windshield as if he couldn't hear every word that was said.

"He's right next to me."

"Good. Ask him the details."

Zee clicked off. I replaced the receiver, cleared my throat. "Urn... she's not - "

"Nice?" He raised a brow.

"For want of a better word."

"Do not worry, Jessie. I have dealt with far worse than Zelda Hupmen in my life."

Considering his life span, I had no doubt he was right. I nodded and moved on. "What happened?"

"A wolf went through the window of a residence."

I frowned. Cooper Court might be at the edge of town, but it was still town. A new subdivision complete with minivans, bicycles, and kids. I hit the lights and the siren.

"Then what?"

"The wolf was injured from the glass and no doubt disoriented. It ran around the house, and when the owner tried to direct it outside, the animal bit him, then left through the hole in the window."

"Obviously this is one of our special wolves."

He shot me a quick, unreadable glance. "Why obviously?"

"Wolves don't come near people. They particularly don't come into town, or dive through windows in the middle of suburbia. The only known wolf attacks on people have been by rabid wolves or wolf-dog hybrids."

I wasn't sure, but I thought his gaze became a bit more interested. "You've been doing research, Officer."

"You'd be amazed at what I've learned," I muttered, thinking about Cadotte and his werewolf army.

But I wasn't going to share that little delusion with Manden-auer. Not when he'd finally stopped treating me like some kid who didn't know her job.

I killed the siren several blocks from Cooper Court.

No reason to wake the entire neighborhood. Unfortunately, that had already been done.

As we turned into the small subdivision at the edge of town, an electric halo pressed against the night sky.

Every house blazed like a Christmas tree; every yard light blared. People milled about on their lawns, in the street, in various states of dress and undress. I had to slow to a crawl to avoid rolling over a citizen.

"Hell." I shut off the revolving red dome and ignored the questions people shouted as we passed. There would be no keeping this quiet any longer.

Brad had done a good job with the scene. He'd taped off the entire yard and stood in front of the door.

A few other summer cops formed a loose circle at the perimeter. My estimation of Brad's intelligence climbed several notches.

The house was like a hundred others in Miniwa - a ranch that resembled a log cabin - except this one sported a great big hole where the front window ought to be. Glass sprinkled across the bushes and sidewalk, catching the lights and shining like icicles on a moonlit night.

But there was no moon - or rather there