Something Deadly. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ hope,” she agreed.

      The wine was crisp on his tongue, and he rolled it around, savoring it.

      “So,” Markie said as she began to serve salad into bowls, “what’s going on with the quarantine?”

      “Maybe nothing.” Which was true.

      “And maybe something?” Her eyes caught and held his, drawing him to places that seemed as haunting as her wolf’s gaze. “Something to do with Carter Shippey?”

      “We don’t know what killed him. That’s all.”

      Her eyes narrowed slightly, letting him know she didn’t believe that was the full story, but that for now she was going to let it pass.

      “How was your day?” he asked her, seizing on any safe topic he could think of.

      “The usual,” she said, as if he would know. “The same thing you do, I expect, except I do it on animals.”

      A smile flickered across his face. “Dogs and cats?”

      “Mostly. Today I had an iguana and a rabbit, too.”

      “Your job is harder than mine. You have to know about many more species.”

      She laughed. “You know, the basics are pretty much the same for mammals. I have a different slew of diseases to know, that’s all. It gets interesting with the exotics, though. Since coming here, I’ve had to do some cramming. Iguanas, turtles and snakes weren’t something I focused much on before. But if worse comes to worse, I can always call a specialist.”

      “The way I do.”

      Smiles again, exchanged over the wineglasses.

      “I bet,” he said, “you do more sterilizations than I do.”

      At that she laughed outright, her eyes dancing merrily. “By far.”

      The mahimahi was just coming out of the oven when Kato suddenly appeared in the kitchen, standing at the counter and staring out the window over the sink.

      “Kato, get down.”

      He ignored her.

      “He listens well.” The remark was offered with a laugh.

      Markie rolled her eyes. “It depends. When he’s in the mood, he’s obedient. It’s just that he’s rarely in the mood. Kato, get down.”

      The fish, on its baking pan, sat on the nearby stove, but the dog didn’t spare it a glance. He was intent on something out back, something in the darkness. And his tail was down.

      “I hate that,” Markie sighed.

      “When he doesn’t listen?”

      “No, when he stares out the window like that.”

      “Maybe you’re picking up on his feelings.”

      “Could be.”

      Then, low in Kato’s throat, a deep growl began.

      Markie swung around quickly to look. The chef’s knife had returned to her hand as if by magic, seemingly without her awareness. Declan saw Kato’s hackles rise.

      “There’s someone out there,” she said.

      “I’ll go look.”

      But her free hand shot out, gripping his forearm. “Don’t, Declan. Whatever it is, it won’t try to get past Kato. It’s probably just somebody crossing the backyards.”

      The knife in her other hand belied the confidence in her eyes.

      “Maybe,” Declan said. “Does he do that often?”

      Her gaze wavered. “No.”

      “Then maybe I should look anyway.”

      “Please. Don’t bother. Whatever it is, we’re safe in here.”

      He forced himself to relax onto his stool because it seemed her wish, but he looked at the dog again and didn’t at all like what he saw. Maybe that was what Markie was reacting to, the strength of Kato’s response.

      The hair was raised along Kato’s entire spine. His head was lowered between his shoulders as he stared out the window, a definite don’t you dare come near me posture.

      “Kato?” Markie called him again.

      This time he glanced at her, his golden eyes inscrutable, a small whine coming from his throat. Then he turned back to the window.

      The neighborhood erupted.

      Declan had his limits, and he reached them as the barking spread like a wave through the surrounding area. Dogs did that sometimes, he knew, but rarely were so many barking at the same time, both indoors and out, and he remembered how they had done that last night, about the time that Carter Shippey had died. It made him wonder about things like poisonous gases. Surely the dogs couldn’t smell a virus?

      But maybe they could. Recent studies seemed to indicate that they could smell nearly undetectable enzymes in cancer cells. Why not a marauding virus?

      Leaving the delicious aromas behind, he ignored Markie’s protest and stepped out through the sliding glass door onto her patio. The night smelled the same to him as it always did, the soft scents of the sea, the greener scents of the growing things. The ceaseless breeze blew gently.

      A sliver of moon rode above, and the light from street lamps helped illuminate the backyard areas of the nearby houses. There was nothing to be seen, except the tossing of palm fronds and shrubbery in the stiffening breeze…and a few dark, deeply shadowed places where nothing appeared to move.

      But there was plenty to hear. The yapping and barking filled the night. This wasn’t the idle barking of canine conversation. Something was seriously disturbing the dogs.

      He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Kato firmly planted at the sink, still looking out the window. Their gazes met, and there was something in Kato’s stare that made a shiver run down his own spine.

      Gradually, however, the barking stopped, a wave of silence moving across the island. Then Kato dropped down out of sight. Whatever the threat had been, it was gone.

      Back inside Markie’s kitchen, Declan tried to brush aside the chill that insisted on creeping up his nape. Kato certainly didn’t appear distressed anymore. He was sitting at Markie’s edge of the island, nose lifted hopefully toward the mahimahi.

      “Do you feed him from the table?” Declan asked.

      “Sometimes. I’m a softie.”

      He managed a grin he wasn’t feeling. “Somehow I expected that.”

      Markie scooped a serving of pasta into a glass bowl, then put a dinner plate upside down atop the bowl and flipped them over. She quickly spread a ring of diced tomato СКАЧАТЬ