"Mrs. McAllen, I know you feel like your personal property was stolen, but there's nothing about these photographs on your list of provisions from the divorce." Thayne Terra hated bored society chicks. And frankly, no one who'd looked at the crime scene could figure out how anyone could have gotten in to do the job. The doggie door was pretty small, and none of the windows or doors had been jimmied, picked or jammed. Personally, he thought it was an inside job.
"You don't understand! I've been violated! VIOLATED!" Lord, that woman could scream.
"We'll do all we can. Donny? Can you finish up the lady's statement? I need to check the escape routes."
He fled, the shrill screaming still sounding.
Donny was going to kick his ass, no sh...
He stopped short in the backyard, head tilting.
He knew that scent.
Sniffing hard, Thayne skirted the pool, ignoring the yapping little dog who followed him every step. There was a definite scent trail. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, eyes on the ground, lips twitching; he was trying so hard.
There. Just by the back fence, there was half a paw print. A big one. Damn. That would be why there were no fingerprints, no jimmied doors.
He bent down, fingers tracing the lines. Male, strong, full-grown... But still small enough in cat form to fit through the dog door, without the relatively massive shoulders of a human being.
A black hair was caught in the print, another couple of hairs atop the fence. That would help. Jags were unusual in these parts.
Unusual at best.
Cool. He bagged the hairs for evidence, even though there was no way he could turn them over to the lab. Hell, that was why he was a detective. There were some cases that the uniforms didn't need to know about.
The tree leaves rustled, and he went still, hairs standing up all over his arms.
Lifting his face, Thayne scented the air, seeing if it was just paranoia, or if someone was watching.
Bright yellow eyes peered down from the leaves of the elm, the little calico howling at him, the sound low, seductive.
"Oh, look at who's a pretty kitty." He grinned, purring a little, just for her benefit.
She preened, stretching along the branch.
"What can you tell me about the Jag, baby?" He was so not above flirting with a house cat for some information.
Oh, that got a sniff and a yowl. Somebody'd taken her favorite napping branch.
Twice.
)
