The cops were baffled. For a while they focused on a locksmith who ran a small key-and-lock store on Chestnut Street, but that didn’t pan out. Somehow Victor got wind of this and we did some investigation of our own. It turned out that the person responsible was a teenage kid with a flash of talent. Usually we find out about these kids early, before they get into any real trouble, and mentor them. Sherwood in particular was good at this. She spent a lot of time working with these kids, and almost without exception they loved her. And were scared of her. Sherwood has enough talent to be scary indeed to a novice, and none of them wanted to cross her.
But once in a while, one slips through the cracks. Jenna, the teenage girl we’d taken off the streets over a year ago, was one of those, although that hadn’t worked out well for anyone, especially her.
These untrained talents can’t control their abilities most of the time. They accidentally find something they can do, and it never occurs to them they might be capable of more. The parlor trick they’ve learned is all they know and all they do. But interestingly, sometimes they stumble onto something that even an experienced practitioner can’t manage.
All metals are difficult to work with, and especially iron. Trying to affect an iron lock, for example, using magical talent is almost impossible, even for the strongest practitioner. But this kid could unlock any door, defeat any lock, with only minimal effort. He was a one-trick pony-like an idiot savant who can instantly tell you the day of the week for any date in history, but that’s all the math he can do. Even so, that’s a feat outside the realm of the possible for even the most brilliant of ordinary mathematicians.
So this kid would wait until he saw the resident leave, defeat the lock with a snap of his fingers, unlock the front door, and stroll in to take whatever he wanted.
That was how we first met Macklin. He was in charge of the makeshift task force the cops threw together to solve the rash of burglaries-this was Cow Hollow, after all, not Bayview, and thus worthy of police notice. And although we obviously weren’t about to turn the kid over to the cops, we did take him off the streets and the burglaries stopped. Also, we were able to help Macklin out by doing some magical forensic work on an unrelated burglary, one where a cool half million in jewelry was taken. It helped to solve the case, and although he couldn’t figure out how we’d come up with the information, he was glad to have it just the same. So he was well-disposed toward us, as they say. But he was never entirely sure about who we were.
He was a sharp guy, and he knew there was something not quite right about Victor and me. I think he decided Victor was some sort of government black op. I have no idea what he thought I was about, but we got along.
It also turned out he was a jazz buff, and we ended up keeping in touch afterward. Not exactly friends, but more than casual acquaintances. He liked hanging with musicians, and for my part, well, having a cop as a friend is never a bad idea. Besides, he was a good guy.
I hadn’t bothered to call him before, because for one, Victor didn’t like the idea of having a sharp cop becoming interested in us and our doings. Besides, I’d thought I already knew what was killing those hikers-the fake Ifrit. But I’d been wrong. And civilians were dying-so getting some useful information was worth the risk of making him curious about us.
When I called his extension he picked up on the first ring.
“Burglary.”
“I want to report a crooked cop.”
“Which one? We got hundreds to choose from.”
“Some guy named Macklin. A real thug, if ever there was one.”
“I know him. A bad apple. We’ve been trying to get rid of him for years.” He laughed. “What can I do for you, Mase? Played any good gigs lately?”
“All my gigs are good. The audience occasionally sucks, though.”
“You want a tough audience? Try being a cop sometime.”
“No, thanks. I don’t possess the people skills or the superb intelligence necessary to do that job.”
“Hold on a second. Let me find my shovel.”
“I mean every word.”
“Oh, I see. You want something.”
“Of course. Why else would I flatter a stupid-I mean, not at all, Inspector, but now that you bring it up…”
“Shoot.”
“You know those animal attacks? The ones that have everyone in a panic?”
“I seem to recall hearing something about them,” he said dryly.
“The paper just says the victims were all torn up. I know you’re not directly involved, but cops talk. Have you heard anything else about them?”
“Why the interest?”
“Let’s just say I’m a concerned citizen.”
“Sorry, Mason, but you know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. Wish I could help, but them’s the rules.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I understand. Thanks anyway.”
We talked another couple of minutes about other stuff and I invited him down to my next gig before hanging up. Thirty seconds later, my phone rang.
“That was quick,” I said.
“Cell phone. It’s not a good idea to talk on department lines, I assure you.”
“I know, but I couldn’t find your cell number.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. So what’s your interest here?”
“Just an idea I had. But I need a description of what really happened to those hikers.”
“I don’t have access to any official reports, but I can tell you this. If the state of those bodies was common knowledge, there’d be more than just panic.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, from what I’ve heard, they weren’t just mauled; they were completely eviscerated. And the internal organs were missing-heart, liver, kidneys-even the brain. The heads were all cracked open and it looks like some animal just scooped them out and ate them.”
“Are you sure it was an animal?”
“What makes you ask that?” he said, his tone sharpening as the cop sense kicked in. Then it softened. “No, it’s an animal, all right. One of the victims was seen being attacked. His friends were hiking with him and they were lagging back a ways, which is probably what saved their lives. They saw something come out of the bushes and drag him off. It happened so quick they couldn’t give a good description, just that it was large and dark in color, but they swear it wasn’t a mountain lion. But it certainly wasn’t a person. Whatever it was tore the boy apart, just like the others. The wildlife guys are saying it can’t have been a mountain lion, either-about the only thing that could do that to a person would be a bear. But there aren’t any bears around these parts. And even if one escaped from captivity, bears don’t act like that anyway. The whole thing is just spooky.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Interesting. Well, thanks for the info.”
“No problem. Does any of it mean anything to you?”
“Not really.”
“Right. Like you said, just a concerned citizen. And speaking of which, I do remember hearing about another guy asking very similar questions a while back, offering to help. Homicide was very hot on him for a while. They thought he was just a bit too curious. But that was before the animal was actually seen. Turned out he was just another nutcase.” Warning bells went off in my head. Macklin might think it just an odd coincidence, but I didn’t.
“Huh,” I said. “Curious. You don’t remember his name, by any chance?” Now warning bells were definitely going off in Macklin’s head.
“What’s going on here, Mase?” he said.
“Nothing. Just thought it might be someone I know-a lot of my friends have been discussing this case.”
“Yeah? Well, I can’t remember his name, but it was something like Rocky or Rambo.”
I almost blurted out, “Ramsey?” but caught myself in time. One more coincidence and Macklin would start paying me serious attention, animal sighting or no. Cops hate things that don’t add up. I guess all of us do, for that matter.