Page 27 of Seer
“Okay, okay, what do we know?”
I opened the notes app on my phone and made a list.
Victim:
Female-presenting
Hidden wings
Young? (short skirt, Docs)
Park:
Wood bench
Wide gravel walking path
Blue “pick up after your dog” sign
Lots of trees
No road visible
And that was it.
The only real lead I had to identify the woman was her wings. I considered calling Delphia, but I’d confirmed that Greg Shaw would be at the pet resort today.
He’d better be willing to help me.
The sun was above the horizon when I pulled out of the Starbucks drive through. It was closer than Pour Some Sugar on Me, and I needed fortification before meeting Greg Shaw.
There wasn’t much traffic, but I did have to stop suddenly when an idiot in a Tesla SUV cut me off. My truck was too old to have cupholders, but fortunately my mocha latte had been in my hand instead of tucked between my legs. The resulting coffee dribble down my “Moist” t-shirt was unfortunate, but less important than the winged woman’s life.
I finished my coffee and, wincing, tossed the cup on the floor of the cab with last week’s coffee cup and bakery bag. Why hadn’t I noticed those when I was at the dump on Saturday? I’d make time to clean the truck after all this was over.
The Bark & Purr Pet Resort was surprisingly busy, but most of the clients were taking their dogs to a fenced-in area for what had to be doggie daycare. Hopefully the lobby wouldn’t be too crowded.
And if Greg Shaw wasn’t at work yet, well, I’d wait.
I got out of the truck, throwing my laptop bag over one shoulder. A woman in expensive-looking athleisure walked past me on the sidewalk with a large fluffy-haired... poodle mix? Whatever it was, it seemed excited to go play with its doggy friends.
I pulled open the lobby door and entered. Several years agoI’d had a vision of Felix in this very lobby, but the memory was faint.
“Hi, we’ll be right with you!” called a blond, curly-haired man wearing a Bark & Purr polo and standing behind the long counter. He was probably about ten years older than me. I knew Greg had a business partner named Craig—Felix went to game nights at Craig’s house. This might be him. I kicked myself for not googling their photos before I came over.
But the winged woman was the important thing now.
Probably-Craig handed a piece of paper—a receipt, I assumed—to the customer across from him. She tucked it into her Chanel purse. Not that I know fashion, but even though the bag was hideous and appeared to be made out of faded denim and bedazzled with a few silver beads, the giant “CHANEL” across the front of it was a big clue.
A few feet away, a twenty-something girl wearing the same polo as Probably-Craig spoke to an older man who had a basset hound on a leash. This guy at least was wearing basketball shorts and a Nike t-shirt. His arm was stretched out as the dog pulled on the leash, wagging its tail and straining toward a display of dog toys and treats along one wall.
The blond man said, “Okay, if you’ll wait over there, someone is bringing Princess up right now.”
The woman smiled, thanked him, and moved to stand near a door at the far end of the counter.
Probably-Craig was looking at me now. “Sorry about the wait. What can I help you with today?”
I walked closer. “I need to talk to Greg Shaw.”
