Jack Beale 00 - Dangerous Shoals

being: the power to control life and death.
    Off of the farthest corner of the living room was the nook that housed Jack’s large antique secretary with his computer. Throughout the year, the top of that secretary provided a cozy and warm place where she always felt safe and secure. Now she scrambled for her refuge. Behind, she heard Kurt’s cry, then his footsteps as he left the bathroom. But when Cat jumped for the top of the secretary, her leap fell short and she fell to the floor. For the first time, she felt a searing pain in her rear leg. Puzzled, she looked back. A dark stain was slowly spreading over her haunch, and when she tried to move, that leg didn’t respond. Fear and confusion flooded over her. There was a small space under the cabinet, and in her panic she dragged herself into that dark, close space instead.
    Outside the bathroom door, Kurt picked up his knife and looked around. “Here kitty, kitty,” he said in a voice that would not fool even the most genetically challenged feline. He was now fully engaged in the hunt. The sun had finished setting and it was dark inside Jack’s place. Shadows hid features, and colors became shades of gray. He moved slowly through the living room and then paused to listen. He was sure that he had hit the cat, he just didn’t know where or how seriously. As he began to move again, he felt his shoe stick to something on the floor. He stopped and bent down to touch the floor. His fingertips touched something wet and sticky. Blood. He had hit the cat. His heart rate increased as he reveled in the knowledge that he had hurt the cat.
    Cat pressed herself back into the farthest corner under the cabinet. She could smell and hear him moving about. Afraid to move, she waited to lick at her wound.
    The blood trail was difficult to follow in the near dark so he moved slowly. He worked his way around the corner until he came to a stop in front of the secretary. He was so focused on the cat that he didn’t even notice the computer or the discs beside it. The cat was there. Kneeling in front of the cabinet, he reached under for his prize. He was so focused on his quarry that he never noticed the car lights that had just been turned off.
    Cat froze. She saw two feet stop in front of her hiding place. Then there was a rustling sound and an arm shot under the cabinet and began to sweep back and forth, searching. She watched wide-eyed as it came closer and closer. As the hand came within striking distance, she lashed out. As many a mouse had discovered, her claws were like extra-sharp needles. She hit as hard as she could, and she felt those needles dig deep into that evil hand. In that same split second, she delivered the coup de grace: she sank her teeth into it.
    “Ahhhh!” A bloodcurdling scream filled the room as Kurt yanked his hand out from under the cabinet. “You bitch! You are so dead!”
    Cat could smell his blood on her paw. She tasted it in her mouth and knew for sure that she had hurt him.
    * * *
    “Okay, Jack, you get the grill going and I’ll go upstairs and make the burgers.”
    As Max turned for the door, Jack said, “Wait a minute.”
    She stopped while he walked toward her. “I need a beer,” he said as he reached into the grocery bag. But before Jack could even twist the cap off his beer, the still of the night was shattered by a scream.

CHAPTER 70
    THE SCREAM SEEMED to come from inside Jack’s apartment. They both looked up at the dark windows. Jack dropped his unopened beer and ran toward the door. “Max, call the police!” he shouted.
    “Jack … be careful!” Her words were lost as he rushed toward the door. Panicked, she dumped the contents of her bag on the ground in a frantic search for her phone.
    When his hand hit the doorknob, Jack paused for just a split second. He could feel his heart pounding as adrenaline pumped through his veins. On some level he knew that rushing in was probably foolish, but he wasn’t thinking that carefully. He wrenched on the knob, making no attempt at silence, and threw open the door. Then he stopped and listened.
    Over the years, Kurt’s successes had been due in large part to two abilities: to appear as no more than a shadow and to eliminate the irrationality of emotions from the performance of his job. Now the sound of his own scream shocked him back into the present. In that moment the safety of darkness seemed to have disappeared and he felt as if he were under a spotlight at the center stage of a