Rare Find (22 page)

He shrugged his shoulders. "Damn if I know. The guy's face is all distorted."

"Yeah, he's a floater."

"We've had a few of those come in the last month. None around this guy's age that I know of though."

Brent said, "How can you tell what age?" Brent peered more closely. "Guy could be anywhere from twenty to sixty."

"The water is never nice to flesh, but this guy doesn't look like he was in all that long. I've seen worse."

With that announcement, several of the guys grabbed their coffees and headed back to their desks. Brent handed the picture back to Ronin. "Good luck."

Ronin watched him walk away. He would check on the recent floaters from the morgue and check with the lab techs to see if they could help improve the image.

Ten minutes later, he knew that wasn't going to work.

"Sorry, but the guy's features are too distorted," said the lab tech. "We can set up a facial recognition scan and run it through the database looking for someone, but it's a long shot."

"Run it anyway. Besides, I have a second problem for you. Is there any way to figure out this location?" He handed over the second picture.

They fell into a discussion about the minor landmarks in the picture. Finally the lab tech shook his head. "Sorry, Ronin, but there's not much to go on here. No skyline. No physical landmarks. It's just a few old buildings."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of." Ronin picked up the picture and walked out.

What was the chance that Stefan could return to the same place and find some landmarks this time? Possibly keep his eyes open, for heaven's sake.

***

4:30 am

The warehouse was steeped in darkness. And silence.

The darkness was a bit too dense to see much. Fez wanted to open a window, maybe turn on a light. Something.

Tonihgt this place was giving him the creeps. He'd come in and relieved the idiot, Keeper, about a half hour ago. Keeper had been asleep when Fez arrived. Now, alone at 4:30 in the morning, Fez wished he'd left Keeper asleep and just stayed here to keep watch over the tiger.

He'd never been afraid of the dark before. Neither had he been afraid of being alone.

Tonight, he had to admit to both.

He was tired and chilled with a powerful need to constantly look around. He just needed a good night's sleep. Keeper had slept through his shift – lucky bugger. Sleeping wasn't exactly the best way to stand guard, but it sure as hell helped pass the time.

Happy with his decision, he curled up in a far corner of the warehouse where he had a good view of the front entrance and the tiger's cage and closed his eyes.

Every sound was amplified in the dark. Somewhere in the far side of the warehouse he heard the scurrying of little feet. Probably rats. The damn place was infested with them. The dampness from the river brought them in. At least it was dry in here. And a few rats didn't bother him.

It's not as if there were any animal control or health inspectors that came around this corner of the world, and if they did stop in, there was always money to grease the wheels to make them go away.

He struggled to get comfortable, shifting his fat bottom on the cement floor, wishing there was at least a chair to sit on. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Then opened them.
What was that?
He caught his breath as he heard something over by the tiger's cage.
Voices.

Quietly Fez regained his feet and tiptoed toward the cage, his head cocked in the direction of the sound. He stopped and waited breathlessly. Then he took another step and thought he heard it again. He took several more steps toward the tiger's cage and waited. The warehouse seemed alive with weird sounds. Air whistled from the blowing wind. Timber creaked with age. And he swore there were sounds of people moving.

What the hell was going on?
He hopped to his feet and walked over to the tiger, peering into the cage. The tiger lay sleeping on her side. Calm. Quiet. Peaceful.

He turned around to face the empty warehouse. Shadows seemed to shift even as he watched. Now he knew his imagination was working overtime, and that pissed him off as much as it scared him.

Seeing nothing to justify the sounds, he slowly retraced his steps back to his spot. Then he heard something that sent shivers down his spine. Breathing. As in human breathing. As in a person. So loud he imagined the hairs on the back of his neck lifting.

He willed himself to turn and see who it was. Wishing he had a gun, he spun around.

The blow came out of nowhere. It smashed into the side of his head.

And he dropped like the heavy weight he was – to the ground.

Monday early morning

N
ow that she had some inkling that Trinity had come from the wild with this coloring, she suspected Trinity to be a Maltese tiger. Tabitha dredged through her memory for all the information she could find about them. And there was damn little. Maltese tigers hadn't been seen in decades in the wild. She knew of none in captivity, but that didn't mean there weren't any. It was an endangered species and the whole world would celebrate if they knew Trinity existed.

If
they knew.

Which, considering Trinity was being smuggled, they weren't likely to ever learn. And she was old. By any medical standards, being pregnant at her age was rare. Not that Mother Nature cared what humans deduced. She was forever throwing up new and wondrous things. But did the smugglers truly understand what they had?

Understanding the problem and the precious cargo helped, but not enough. So what if there were buyers and sellers and good guys and bad guys out there? If she couldn't see any to identify them or find a way for others to find her, none of that mattered. Somehow she had to get Ronin the information she'd found. But what was that? Just a name. And a vague face.

She needed more.

She wondered if she could create enough energy disturbances to upset the asshole standing guard. She’d learned his name was Fez and she’d managed to stretch her energy out enough to raise the hairs on the back of the guy's neck. But he'd gone back to sitting down. She'd been trying to get a good look at his face, but there were so many shadows she couldn't see it clearly enough. She'd tried, but unfortunately didn’t have a photographic memory.

But Stefan did. She'd been trying to tell Ronin the details earlier but she'd been yanked away before she could say anything. Now maybe she had a better idea.

She closed her eyes and sent out a strong message.
Stefan. Stefan? Stefan!

Taking a chance, she told her subconscious to transmit the images to Stefan. They could be the answer to saving Trinity. And for good measure, she told herself to send anything else that might be useful.

What the hell? Where are you and why?
Stefan's voice growled in her head. Faint and odd sounding but still identifiable. The diction was off, but it was clear enough to hear.

I need you to see some images. Pictures I can see but can't remember.

Silence.

Not sure that will work.

You can often connect in such a way that you just see into my mind and save me from trying to explain. Why can't you do that now?

Because you aren't here in front of me. You're in someone else's mind.

Damn it. I've seen one of the men that's holding the tiger. His name is Fez. I can see his and Timothy's face, but I'm no artist.

You know every step away from the original blurs the details. You'll have to try and grab the details.

He was right, but she didn't like it.
Suggestions?

Clear your mind and use the energy. Try to remember and come home. I'll tell Ronin.

Crap.

Stefan disappeared and the fog moved in again.

She needed another look. She stared through the tiger's eyes out at the warehouse. It drained a lot of her energy to do this but the rewards could be worth it.

She closed her eyes and stretched a bit of her energy away from the tiger's cage toward where she'd sensed the asshole the last time.

The idiot appeared to be sleeping. She stretched out a little more, trying to get a look at his face, but there was something wrong. There was blood around his head. Lots of it.

He'd been attacked.

And she hadn't heard it.

That terrified her. Had she been so focused on contacting Stefan that she'd missed it? Or had the attackers been so quiet, she'd not have heard them?

The shock zapped her back to the tiger where she curled up into a ball. A new fear took over, blending with that of the tiger's.

Who the hell had hurt Fez? Were they still here?

In the background, she heard a door rattle.

***

Ronin had walked a lot of seedy streets in his time, but these slums were pretty bad. He'd already seen several drug deals go down. Life here was a whole new world. The hookers strolled the sidewalks, looking ready to call it a night. Businesses thrived down here, but at this hour of the morning it appeared only the underbelly was alive. During the day, it teemed with people from all walks of life. Many were visiting. When this was your life, escape was damn near an impossibility – so many never did.

He walked around the corner to find Land's End Cafe. From the outside it had that tired, worn down look – the same as so many of the other local businesses. Open twenty-four hours, there were likely more cockroaches eating at the restaurant than clients. Still, he ordered two coffees and watched the grizzled waiter pour them. As he accepted the steaming cups from him, he was surprised to see the rich color. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. He'd taken his chances on the coffee here – it could've been anything from sludge to a tea-looking brew.

The diner was empty, but the traffic outside was steady. From a table in the corner, he watched the world walk by. His eye caught on an old couple holding hands. His smile warmed. He'd planned on having a wife and a family to grow old together. The growing old together was what he was looking at. The comfortable reassurance that they knew each other inside and out. That their love had been the light they'd walked with for every day of their lives.

He had to admit, he wanted some of that for himself – with Tabitha.

But that girl seemed to thrive on trouble. He didn't feel in sync with her world. As much as he wanted to be, that didn't guarantee he'd find his place in it. And he hadn't been able to help her. Yet.

"Ronin?"

Ronin glanced up. A scraggly looking man in oversized pants and jacket, with a full and unkempt beard and an old flattened hat stood in front of him. Just a middle-aged man down on his luck. Nice disguise, except the man's eyes were clear and direct. And faintly familiar.

Ronin nodded and motioned to the seat across from him and the waiting cup of coffee. "Take a seat."

"Thanks." The man sat in the chair.

Trying not to stare, Ronin studied the coffee swirling in his mug. "What do you know?"

The man took a sip of his hot drink first. "There's some talk about a rare cat. Doing poorly."

Now they were talking. Ronin leaned forward. "Where?" he asked in low undertones. He didn't know if it was a rare cat Tabitha had hooked up with, but that made sense. He should have asked her. The various states had different laws regarding owning and breeding large cats, but he’d also learned that anything was available for the right price.

The other man shrugged. "Can't be sure."

"What
can
you be sure of?"

"It's rare. It's hurting, and there is some in-fighting going on between buyer and seller." The older man inhaled the caffeine fumes, then lifted his cup and took another sip, then sighed happily.

"Names?" Was he an informant or an undercover cop? That Ronin couldn't tell said much for his disguise.

The other man took his time then shook his head. "That I can't do." He put down the empty cup and stood up. "Thanks for helping an old man out. Appreciate it."

He shuffled passed Ronin and went out the door.

With a snort, Ronin stood, pissed at not having more. As he turned to leave, he saw a crumpled piece of paper on the table. He could've sworn it hadn't been there before. He snatched it up and raced out the front door so he could see which direction the old man had gone.

There was no sign of him. He'd disappeared.

Ronin glanced down at the paper in his hand. He smoothed it out. And found what appeared to be a phone number scribbled across the sheet.

***