Page 9 of Wild Wolf
“Or late. Depends on how you look at it.”
“Have you been up all night?”
“Couldn’t sleep. That case got me all riled up. None of it made sense.”
I knew that tone. “What have you got?”
“It’s what I don’t have that’s interesting.”
6
“The bite radius doesn’t match a clouded leopard,” Brenda said. “The lacerations from the claw marks are too wide and deep to be a leopard. We’re dealing with something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to find something that matches this pattern.”
“You’re not buying into this whole werewolf thing, are you?”
“No. I’m just saying I don’t know what did this yet.”
“What about DNA? There’s gotta be some trace evidence.”
“I’ll let you know what comes back.”
“Keep me posted,” I said before ending the call.
I pulled myself out of bed, got dressed, and headed down to the galley to grill breakfast. Bacon sizzled in the pan, and I fixed French toast and hashbrowns. The smell of coffee swirled as it began to brew.
Paris Delaney was all over the news, reporting about the incident at the zoo. The segment cut to clips of Animal Control trying to recover escapees on the streets of Coconut Key. Responders tried to coax stubborn chimpanzees out of trees, round up sly foxes darting through neighborhoods, and lure prairie dogs back into captivity. Most of the exotic birds were long gone. The segment cut to a clip of Animal Control rounding up the leopard in question. The ferocious little beast was drilled with a tranquilizer dart that put it to sleep long enough to load it into a cage and return it to the zoo.
“Zoo and county officials will make a full investigation to determine if this clouded leopard is, in fact, responsible for the death of Ophelia Grace last night,” Paris said. “Authorities are still searching for the perpetrators who infiltrated the zoo and released these animals. If you have any information, please contact the Coconut County Sheriff's Department, or you can use our tip line." It flashed on the screen.
So far, no activist groups had taken responsibility for the incident at the zoo.
Paris ended the segment with her tagline, "I’m Paris Delaney, and you heard it from me first."
I rousted JD out of bed, and we chowed down on the skydeck, soaking in the amber rays of morning. I caught him up to speed on Brenda’s findings.
With full bellies, we set out to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Grace. Deputies had already done a death notification, but I wanted to get additional insight. We weren’t dealing with a leopard.
The couple lived in Whispering Heights in a nice two-story, coral-colored home. It had white trim and a large veranda supported by square columns. A white picket fence enclosed the manicured lawn, and a few lazy palms watched over the property.
Jack parked at the curb, and we hopped out, strolled through the gate, and up the walkway. I knocked on the door.
Someone shuffled down the foyer a moment later. A frail voice called through the door, "Who is it?"
I flashed my badge and said, "Coconut County.”
Bonnie Grace pulled open the door a moment later, looking hollow. Understandable, given the situation. She was in her mid-40s with short blonde hair, blue eyes, and soft features. The resemblance to Ophelia was obvious. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, along with her nose from an excessive use of tissues.
I offered my condolences.
"Please, come in." Bonnie stepped aside and motioned us into the foyer. She led us into the living room and offered us a seat on the sofa. It was a nice home with dark hardwood floors, pastel walls, and French doors that opened to the patio and the pool beyond.
"Can I offer you anything to drink? Water, soda, coffee?”
"No, thank you,” I replied.
