Page 47 of Hoofin’ It

“Hello, Dr. Yasolovic. I have questions about a retiring office, one Shane—”

The lion’s fur stood on end, and his eyes blazed gold. A low, soft growl built to a rumble, the precursor to an infuriated roar. I clasped my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t succumb to the urge to cover my ears. The trick to dealing with most predators was standing one’s ground, and while the lion centaur could rip me to pieces if he wanted, Dad in a fury scared me a hell of a lot more.

All I had to do was stay still and remain calm.

“I see. And is this assessment something that can be verified through a more reliable channel?”

I really wanted to know what the CDC doctor was saying, because the captain grimaced. “I see. And—”

It took a lot of balls to interrupt Captain Martins not once but twice. I struggled to keep my expression neutral. Until I found out what was going on, I wouldn’t say a word or betray my amusement at the captain’s discomfort. If he lost his temper, something would be broken, and it was a coin toss whether it was me or a piece of furniture.

“And you can verify this?” Whatever Dr. Yasolovic told the captain didn’t go over well; the lion centaur blanched, and his gold eyes focused on me. “And you can verify he was in your custody for the past twenty-four hours? Okay. Thank you.”

Captain Martins hung up. “Considering it’s impossible for you to be in two places at the same time, you can’t be our suspect.”

“May I ask what I was being accused of, sir?”

“Murder.”

“Of?”

“Ironically, a gentleman named Mark O’Conners.”

My mouth dropped open, and I gawked at the lion centaur for so long he grunted, snapped his fingers, and pointed at the chair across his desk. I made it before my legs gave out and I thumped onto the cushion. “Mark O’Conners is dead?”

“His body was found two and a half days ago.”

“And I’m being accused why?”

“Someone called in and said a man fitting your description, right down to your artificial eye, had shot someone. You had a full shoulder cast, consistent with someone with a badly injured shoulder blade.”

I reached up, yanked on my collar, and pulled my shirt aside for the captain to see the pale scars. “The operation is why I was evaluated by the CDC. I scanned clean of the lycanthropy virus a full twenty-four hours ahead of schedule. They wanted to find out why.”

“Your doctor confirmed you’re immune to the lycanthropy virus, and that you’re probably an unidentified shifter rather than a lycanthrope.”

Later, I’d appreciate the captain’s sour expression. “I’ve been asked to go in for additional talent testing as well. I have a question, sir.”

“Ask.”

“Were you not notified? I was informed the Lincoln police and the NYPD had spoken to someone here about me.”

“The NYPD? What the hell have you been doing to involve the NYPD, too?”

“I witnessed a body fall from a skyscraper, land on a car, and kill the vehicle’s occupants, sir. I’ve been notified it was a murder connected to my shooting in Lincoln—to get rid of me, an eyewitness.”

Captain Martins snatched his phone and pounded the buttons. “Find out why I wasn’t notified Gibson had been shot. And while you’re at it, someone better have a good explanation for why I wasn’t told the NYPD had inquired about him.”

If he didn’t start roaring soon, I’d be shocked. “If you think that’s bad, it gets worse, sir.”

“How could this possibly get worse?”

“The FBI is involved in the case, as there’s evidence it deals with a multi-state sex trafficking operation.”

“I stand corrected.”

“I’ve already been questioned about what I know by the FBI and the Lincoln police department. How much information do you need?”

Captain Martins grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil. “Take it from the top and leave nothing out.”