Jack Beale 00 - Dangerous Shoals

Satisfied that it wasn’t there, Kurt moved quickly toward the bedroom. Before going in, something made him pause in the doorway and looked back. He listened and heard nothing. He began searching the bedroom as quickly and efficiently as he had the kitchen. But, as he stood by the bed he began to lose focus. He peeled the sheets back, and then he bent over and inhaled deeply. He couldn’t help himself. He could smell her and he wanted more.
    Cat watched the shape of evil as it moved around the apartment. She followed on velvet paws, silently stalking him. At the door to the bedroom, she stopped and peered inside. She watched as he moved through the room. She heard the subtle sounds of things being shuffled, turned, and moved. She listened while the heavy breathing increased. When he finally turned her way, she retreated, still watching while remaining invisible to him.
    Finished with the bedroom, he moved toward the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway. Something made him turn and look back, but he was so fixated on his new mission that he didn’t recognize it for what it was, so he turned back and continued on. As his anticipation of satisfaction increased, so did his heart rate. His vision tunneled, time seemed to stand still, and he held his breath. There, on the bathroom floor, he saw them. He reached down, picked up the pair of lace panties, and slowly, like a wine connoisseur inhaling the bouquet of a fine wine, he held them to his face. It was better than he remembered.
    As he breathed in her essence, something distracted him. He looked up, dropped the panties on the floor, and listened. He wasn’t sure what had caught his attention, and it didn’t matter. Whether it was a sound or just a feeling, his instincts were now on high alert and he froze without turning.
    When he disappeared into the bathroom, Cat had inched forward. Silently she crept toward the door until she could see him. Then, she stopped and watched. What he did, she didn’t understand, she only knew that he didn’t belong there and that there was something terribly wrong. Curiosity overcame fear and she continued to creep forward as if stalking a mouse in a field until she was in the doorframe.
    Cat. It was that cat. Again he lost focus on his true objective, as a different kind of obsession overwhelmed him, a more deadly obsession.
    The cat was there. He could feel its eyes staring at him. Slowly he slid his hand into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around the ever-present knife and carefully began to ease it from his pocket.
    Cat had retreated from the bathroom door when she heard something soft drop on the floor. Now she moved back another few inches, remaining on full alert. All of her senses were fully aroused as she continued to watch. Something had changed. There was a tension in his stance that wasn’t there before. He remained nearly motionless, but something was going on. She could feel it. She crouched, ready to either attack or flee.
    They were both fully engaged in the same very dangerous game of predator and prey. Only neither knew which role they would ultimately play. He knew she was there, in the doorway. He took a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled. The time had arrived.
    The next split second was a blur. He spun and despite the low light, he spotted his quarry on the floor just outside the door. In that same instant, he raised his arm while his finger pressed the button that released the blade on his knife. Then, even before he heard the blade click into place, his arm moved forward. With practiced accuracy, the deadly missile was released.
    Cat sensed the first hint of movement before she actually saw it. Her reaction was immediate. She jumped just as something came hurtling at her. All of the lessons learned over the many tens of thousands of years that Cat’s ancestors had roamed the earth flooded forth. The difference between survival and death was infinitesimally small, and at this moment the successes of her ancestors meant life. She yowled as she felt something hit her in her haunch. It knocked her off balance, but she was able to regain her feet and escape.
    “Shit!” he hissed. He saw that his throw had been on target. There was a blur as the cat jumped and cried out, but then he heard his knife clatter and slide on the floor. He had expected instant victory. He had expected that now he would be pulling his blade out of the mortally wounded animal, reveling in that exquisite rush that defined his