Sierra looked at her severely. “I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she said, feeling absurdly like someone’s mother. “Chaco’s not just another guy, you know. He’s not even human. Strictly speaking.”

  Kaylee sat on the couch, still with a dreamy expression on her face, and patted her hair into place. Her hazel eyes sparkled, and her tawny cheeks were flushed. Sierra groaned inwardly. It’s hard to be around people with crushes—unless you happened to be one of them. Any minute now, they’ll be calling each other ghastly little pet names. “Woofie,” maybe, and “Pumpkin”? Gack.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me, Sierra,” said Kaylee. “I don’t think I’m looking for the same things in a man that you are.”

  “Really?” asked Sierra, a bit stung. “What do you think I want?”

  “Oh, moonlight and roses, and eventually babies,” said Kaylee frankly. “Nothing wrong with that, but it isn’t what I want.”

  “You know he won’t stick around forever,” Sierra told her friend. “He’s a wanderer. And he won’t be faithful, either.”

  “But he’ll be a whole lot of fun while it lasts,” said Kaylee. “Those eyes! That gorgeous mouth! His…”

  “Yes, all right,” interrupted Sierra hastily. “I’ve checked out his inventory, too. You’re right. If that’s what you want, I’ll shut up.”

  “Good,” Kaylee said, but she said it sweetly, and smiled.

  Far too early the next morning, Sierra dressed in her running clothes, grabbed a baseball cap and stuffed her dark hair under it. She added dark glasses, and examined herself critically in the mirror. She could be any random runner, she decided. Kaylee and Clancy had spent the night in Sierra’s increasingly crowded home (for safety in numbers, Clancy had said), and everyone met for breakfast and went over the day’s plans over toast and coffee. Sierra and Chaco would arrive just after: six o’clock and take up their pretense of runner-with-dog.

  Sierra made sure there was plenty of water in the car. Chaco was right about the heat. It was now five-thirty in the morning, and though still on the cool side, the day promised to be warm. Chaco morphed into his fur and hopped into the car. Sierra clipped the new, leather leash to his beaded collar and added a water bowl, and they drove away.

  “Can we stop and get coffee?” pleaded Chaco, long pink tongue hanging between his toothy jaws. “I’m no good in the morning without it.”

  “C’mon, Chaco. How would that look? You slurping coffee out of a cardboard cup? Someone will turn me in for abusing an animal.”

  “Oh, all right,” grumbled Chaco, and stuck his head out of the window for all the world like a Labrador retriever, ears fluttering in the breeze. Within ten minutes, they pulled into the BDSC parking lot. Like many Silicon Valley companies, the parking lot was huge, open, and unguarded. Trees had been planted to provide shade, and the building had tasteful landscaping around the exterior, punctuated here and there with fountains. Open patios were dotted with picnic tables for the employees to use for lunch, or just to work outdoors—something the Mediterranean climate of Northern California permitted for much of the year. The air was still cool and clear, and the nearby hills rose up, gold against a clean, blue sky.

  Sierra parked near the main entrance and began her stretching exercises. Chaco sat on his haunches and kept his nose in the air, scanning for scent. They saw Kaylee drive up, park and walk in, with no acknowledgement on either side.

  “OK, Chaco, let’s go.” Sierra grasped the end of the leash and began her warm-up stride, easy, not too fast. She didn’t plan to accelerate to the next level, as she had no way of knowing how long they would be running around. She didn’t want either of them to get too tired or overheated.

  Chaco and Sierra trotted around the parking lot that surrounded all four sides of the building. There were entrances on three sides, and shipping and receiving docks in the rear. On the way, Sierra saw several BDSC employees she knew, but she kept her head down. No one paid the slightest attention to her. Intent on beginning the workday, they walked straight ahead with their computer cases, some seemingly talking to themselves as they chatted over their Bluetooth devices. It used to be when someone did that, they’d lock him up, she thought. Now it just means you’re a busy professional at work.

  As they went around for the third time, it was beginning to get warm, and Chaco was panting slightly. “Not to worry, Chaco,” she said softly. “We’ll stop for water at the car this time.” As they rounded the corner of the building, Chaco came to an abrupt halt. Sierra, running ahead, came to the end of his leash, and nearly tripped. “What..?” she started to say, then saw he had his eyes fixed intently on a figure approaching the front door of the building. Chaco’s black nose worked furiously.

  “That’s him!” she heard Chaco whisper.

  “That’s the guy who took the feathers?” she asked incredulously. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Chaco looked at her with his feral eyes and gave the smallest of nods.

  “But that’s Jack Clapper!” Sierra exclaimed.

  Chapter 26

  Heart pounding from more than just a few laps around the building, Sierra pulled her cell phone from her shorts pocket and dialed Kaylee, who answered promptly.

  “Kaylee, Chaco found him!” she hissed into the phone.

  “I’ll be right down. What’d he look like?”

  “You don’t need to identify him. I know who it is—Jack Clapper.”

  “Who? You mean the PR agency guy? The one you used to work for?”

  “Yes!” Sierra said. “Chaco says Jack is the one. He’s positive.”

  “Wow,” said Kaylee. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. Listen. I’m going to find his car,” she hesitated, glancing at Chaco. “I mean we’re going to find his car. Maybe he hid the feathers there. Or maybe we can find out where he’s staying.”

  Kaylee seemed alarmed by this scheme. “Wait a sec, Sierra. That could be dangerous. That’s not what we planned…”

  “I know. What choice do I have? I’ll call you.” Sierra broke the connection. “C’mon, Chaco. Let’s get some water. Then do you think you can find Jack’s car?”

  Chaco looked at her, affronted. “I already know which car is his,” he whispered. “I’m not nose-blind, you know.”

  “I never took you for nose-blind, whatever that is,” she said, rummaging in her car for the water. She took the bowl from the back seat, set it on the asphalt and poured water in it for Chaco. While he lapped it up, she drank deeply from the rest of the bottle. Then she looked around carefully, assessing the likelihood of being observed by employees on their way into work.

  “Where is Jack’s car?” she asked Chaco softly. Chaco looked up at her, drops of water caught in his whiskers. He jerked his head to the right, and began to walk in that direction.

  Sierra hastily caught up the end of the leash and followed him. Chaco stopped by a black Boxster, low-slung and gleaming in the bright sunlight.

  “It’s a convertible,” said Sierra. “I could cut through the top if I had a knife. But I don’t.”

  “Not a problem,” muttered Chaco. Screened by cars on every side, he reared up on his hind legs and bared sharp fangs. Within seconds, he had slashed a hole in the tough fabric near the passenger side door. Sierra regarded the sheared gap with respect. It ran through her mind that it was better to be Chaco’s friend than his enemy. She reached in through the hole, and stretching, was able to reach the door release. To her intense relief, no alarm sounded. She opened the passenger door, and was inside in a flash, opening the glove compartment. Registration. A bottle of aspirin. And oddly, gloves. But no silver feathers.

  She found a compartment between the seats and opened it, but it was full of CDs. The trunk! she thought, and looked for a release on the driver’s side. She couldn’t see it, so she unlocked the driver’s door and walked around to climb in. Chaco was anxiously scanning the lot to see if anyone was taking an interest, but the only people around were in the distance, walking purposefully toward the front entrance and paying them no attention.

  “Found it!” Sierra crowed, and popped open the trunk. She hopped out of the driver’s seat, leaving the door open, and went to the back of the car. The trunk lid revealed a small, carpet-lined space that was completely empty, with not so much as a fleck of lint to mar its pristine black interior. Frustrated, she climbed back in and scanned the interior of the car for more storage, but saw no more compartments. She leaned back against the leather seat and sighed.

  “Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and more nothing!” she said between her teeth. Then she noticed that Chaco was standing at the front of the little car. He was mouthing something, but she couldn’t make out what.

  “Come closer,” she said. “I can’t hear you.”

  Impatiently, he trotted to the open driver’s side door. “Front!” he muttered between his teeth, keeping his head low.

  “Look, I know you don’t want anyone to notice you talking. That’s very intelligent, but I have no idea what you mean,” she replied.

  “Front! There’s a trunk in the front!” Quickly, he shoved his head into the passenger compartment and flipped a lever with his black nose. To Sierra’s astonishment, the hood popped open.

  “Where the heck did they put the engine?” she demanded, but followed Chaco to peer into the opening now revealed. It, too, was empty, but Chaco stiffened.

  “Aiden’s been in this trunk,” he whispered urgently.

  “Aiden? There’s barely room for a suitcase,” Sierra protested. “Aiden’s a big man. He'd never fit."

  “There’s room for him if he were dead,” Chaco returned sotto voce. “And there’s blood.”

  Sierra peered into the space. It was, like the trunk, carpeted in black. She could see nothing. “Are you sure?” she asked Chaco, dubiously. He looked at her, and although his canine face had its limitations when it came to expressiveness, she could tell he was annoyed.

  “Of course I’m sure,” he hissed quietly. “And it’s Aiden’s blood. There’s no doubt about it.”

  Despite the growing warmth of the day, Sierra felt cold. Aiden wouldn’t fit into this cramped compartment…unless he was dead. Or if whoever had crammed him in wasn’t much worried about his survival. And his blood remained to show that he had fit into this small space. She had to do something. He might yet still be alive, though the blood proved he was wounded.

  “Back to my car,” she whispered to Chaco, and then she closed the storage compartment and doors and retreated to her own car. They sat inside her car for a few minutes in silence. Chaco, who had been panting, changed back into his human form and immediately seemed more comfortable. Sierra’s mind was churning with horror and anxiety. There seemed to be no good choices. If she called the police, they would certainly question her means of coming by her information. They would find the blood, but they would also see her as a probable suspect. Yet Aiden might be lying hurt and bleeding somewhere. Or—she shuddered—dead. She had to do something to try to help Aiden, assuming he was alive. And if he were dead, help bring his murderer to justice. Finally Sierra pulled out her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” inquired Chaco.

  “Calling Clancy. We need his help. Clancy? Listen, there’s some seriously bad news down here…”

  Five minutes later, still sitting in the car, they saw Kaylee and Clancy walk out of the building. Kaylee spotted Sierra’s Ford and began walking toward the car, Clancy striding beside her. Clancy was in his uniform, talking on his two-way radio, flashlight and other paraphernalia clipped to his wide belt. She thought he had a holstered gun as well. He was scanning the parking lot, on the alert, as always.

  Clancy said into his radio, “Roger that. On the scene, and it’s under control. Cancel the call to the police. Ten-four.” He holstered his radio and said, “We nearly blew it there. Surveillance video caught you going through a car, and if I hadn’t been there, the cops would’ve been here by now.”

  Kaylee came up to Sierra’s car window. “I was hanging around Clancy’s office, waiting for your call,” she said. “I think his staff thinks I have a thing for him. So, what’s up?”

  “Let’s walk off the premises,” Clancy said. “We’re going to be conspicuous, standing here and talking. Remember, we’re being watched now.”

  They walked out of the parking lot and went a few yards down the street. Satisfied they were out of view of the surveillance cameras, Clancy stopped and faced the others. “So what’s going down?” he asked.

  “We broke into a car,” Chaco began.

  “So you’re that kind of coyote, are you?” said Clancy.

  Chaco ignored this. He went on, “And we found blood, human blood.”

  On hearing the words, “human blood,” Clancy seemed to shrug on his cop persona like a coat. “Human blood. How do you know?”

  Chaco looked exasperated. He tapped his long, chiseled nose. “My sense of smell as a coyote is at least a hundred times keener than any human’s,” he replied. “Not only do I know it’s human, I know which human.”

  Clancy grew still at this. “Whose blood is it?”

  “His name is Aiden,” Sierra answered. “Um, I actually don’t know what his last name is. But he’s either in trouble or dead. We’ve got to find him!”

  Clancy seemed reluctant to move. “So how do you know this Aiden?” he asked.

  “Look, does it matter?” Sierra snapped. A man is wounded, he was transported in a car trunk the size of a shoebox, and he may be dead. What are we going to do about it?”

  Clancy sighed and looked at Sierra. “Right. Just trying to understand the situation. So where’s the blood?”

  Sierra led the way to Clapper’s car, leaving Kaylee and Chaco standing on the sidewalk. Clancy noted the slashed fabric of the convertible top, but didn’t say anything. Sierra reached in and popped the hood open. Clancy peered into the front compartment, shining a flashlight carefully around the interior.

  “I don’t see anything…wait!” He scrutinized a spot on the floor of the compartment. He touched it with a gingerly forefinger. “It’s dried, whatever it is,” he reported, scrubbing his finger on his trousers. He straightened up. “Whose car is this?”

  “His name is Jack Clapper. He runs a public relations agency in New York. Kaylee says he’s been working for Black Diamond since I was fired. I used to work for him.”

  “You know him pretty well, then?” Clancy’s green eyes caught the light as he asked.

  “I know him well enough to not like him. He was involved in some pretty sleazy stuff, in my opinion. I never thought he was a murderer, though.”

  Clancy’s expression softened, the cop receding for a moment. “OK, Sierra,” he said. “First thing, I’m going to call the police…” He broke off as Sierra began to protest. “Hang on! Hear me out. I’m going to call the cops and tell them I got an anonymous report of blood in a car parked here in BDSC’s lot. They’ll come out here and do their testing. They’ll find the blood if your furry friend here is correct. When they find the blood, they’ll take Clapper into custody and search his house. Or wherever he’s living. Did you find the feathers?”

  “No. Aiden is dead or in terrible danger. Let’s work on that, and I’ll worry about the feathers later.”

  “Go home, Sierra,” said Clancy. “I’ll wipe down the car—you probably left prints all over it. Then I’ll call the police.”

  Sierra realized with a sharp pang that indeed, she had left prints all over the Boxster. She’d never make a successful criminal at this rate, she decided. Leaving Clancy working on the Boxster, Sierra walked back to Kaylee and Chaco.

  “Gotta run,” Kaylee said. “I have a ton of work waiting.” She locked lips with Chaco, and they clung together. He gave her rounded hip a gentle squeeze, and released her. Kaylee looked like a Persian cat that has just discovered an open can of tuna.

  Chapter 27

  Sierra, Chaco, and Fred sat and talked in Sierra’s tiny patio garden. Red bricks made a more-or-less even footing for a round, glass-topped table with an umbrella and four chairs. The formerly sacrificial chicken was pecking around in the grass for bugs and clucking contentedly, black feathers shining in the sun. Sierra had planted climbing roses and star jasmine next to the redwood fence, and as these were now in full bloom, they were bustling with bees and hummingbirds.

  Chaco and Sierra sat on two of the chairs while Fred lay in the sun on the bricks, tummy exposed to the sun and basking like a cat. Sierra had noticed that with more exposure to sunlight, Fred was now a darker shade of green. Where he had been the gray-green of lichen, he was now mossier in appearance. Not a look that just anyone can carry off, she thought, but it looks good on Fred.

  “Mmmm,” said Chaco, turning his face to the sun. His chin was covered with dark stubble, which only contrived to make him look ruggedly handsome instead of startlingly beautiful. “Things are in play, you know,” he said obscurely.

  “No, I don’t know,” responded Sierra.

  “All I mean to say is, we don’t even know all the elements that might be in play around this situation. We might just be one of many checkers on the board, as it were. Also, now we have Clancy involved. That could make a difference.”

  Sierra brooded on this for a while, thoughts straying from the situation at hand into more personal territory. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Clancy. She barely knew him. Certainly, he had that rangy look that she was drawn to. She liked his eyes, jade green under black brows, and she liked his warm smile and sense of humor—when he chose to display it. But he was not a naturally trustful man, and he had a sense of distance around him. She wondered whether or not that distance could ever be bridged. She’d been in too many failed relationships with too many emotionally unavailable men to want to go down that road again. Then she felt guilty for dwelling on her emotional life instead of worrying about Aiden’s desperate plight.

  Chaco interrupted her thoughts by saying, “I mean, Sierra, that he could make a difference in contacting Jenna Simmons and getting the feathers in contact with her. He works at the company, and he’s in a position of trust. Right?”

 

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