Blood Trail

fucking tell you!"

    "Hey!"

    Neither of them had heard the car pull up. They spun simultaneously, shoulder to shoulder, dropped into a defensive position, and went for their guns.

    Which neither of them are wearing. Celluci lifted a sardonic eyebrow. How lucky for all three of us. "You two might want to find another place to have your disagreement. Police officers screaming profanities at each other in the station parking lot looks bad to civilians." If he remembered correctly, a sergeant had once said the same to him and Vicki.

    Neither Barry nor Colin wasted a moment wondering how the stranger had known they were police officers even out of uniform. They were young. They hadn't been on the force very long. They weren't stupid.

    "No, sir!" they replied in unison, almost but not quite coming to attention.

    Celluci hid a smile. "I'm looking for someone. A woman. Her name is Vicki Nelson. She's a private investigator from Toronto. She's working for some people who own a sheep farm north of the city. I figure by now she'll have contacted the police, for information if nothing else. Can you help?"

    Colin stepped toward the car, trying to paste a neutral expression over concern. "Excuse me, sir, but why are you looking for her? Is she in trouble?"

    Jackpot first try. She's probably had this poor kid breaking into police files for her. "I'm a friend. I have information about the man she's traveling with."

    "About Henry?" The concern broke through. Information about Henry could mean trouble.
    Barry frowned at the tone but moved forward, ready if Colin needed him.

    "You know him?"

    "Uh, yeah, I do." Barry looked a little surprised at the change in Colin's voice and more surprised when he continued with, "I'm Colin Heerkens. Henry and Vicki are out at my family's farm," and then proceeded to give detailed directions. There was an undercurrent of amusement about Colin's whole attitude that made Barry very nervous.

    As the car pulled away, Colin gave a shout of laughter and slapped Barry on the back. "Come on," he yanked open the truck door and climbed in, "you're not going to want to miss this!"

    "Miss what?"

    "What happens when he gets to the farm."

    "What happens?"

    Colin rolled his eyes. "Christ, Barry, I know your nose isn't worth much but I don't believe you didn't smell that. That guy was so jealous he was practically green." He leaned over and opened the passenger door. "You know, if you'd learn to read nonverbal clues you'd be a better cop."

    "Yeah?" Barry swung up into the truck. "And if I'd wanted to be in the canine corps, I'd have joined it." He settled back against the seat cushions and buckled in. "I still want to know what happens when he gets to the farm."

    "Beats me." Colin shot him a grin as he pulled out onto the street. "But it oughta be interesting."

    "You think this is pretty funny, don't you?"

    "We think most of you humans are pretty funny. Laugh a minute."

    "Sheep-fucker."

    "Yellow peril."

    "You know, Colin, your uncle's probably not going to be too thrilled by you sending this guy out to the farm." Barry drummed his fingers against the dash and shot a look at his partner. "I mean, you lot aren't big on company just generally and right now. ..."

    Colin frowned. "You know, you're right. I guess I was reacting to his scent and the situation.
    Uncle Stuart's going to have my throat." He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. "I guess I just didn't think."

    "It's your least endearing trait." And one that would keep him from promotion; keep him on the street, in uniform. Barry doubted that Colin would ever rise any higher than constable and sometimes he wondered how the wer would manage when he moved on.

    "Barry, I did want to tell you."

    "I know. Forget it." And he knew that Colin could, the wer lived very much in the here-and-now. It would take a little longer for him.

Ten
    This is ridiculous. It's 11:30. Vicki's likely asleep. Celluci sat in his car and stared at the dark bulk of the farmhouse. Or at least in bed. He decided not to take that thought any further. The lights are on in the kitchen. Someone's up. I could at least make sure this is the right ...
    "Jesus!"

    The white head staring in the driver's side window belonged to the biggest dog he'd ever seen.
    It looked to be part shepherd, part malamute, and, if he didn't know better, he'd swear, part wolf. It didn't look angry, just curious and its eyes. ... Unable to decide if the eyes were as strange as he thought or