Lover Beware

chair in her living room. He was wearing a red T-shirt, black hightops, black cargo pants, and a black jacket.
    Gang colors. Not that she thought this was a gang killing. The bloody paw prints leading away from the body were a pretty good clue about that.
    A pair of size eleven shoes, black and dusty, moved up beside her. They were connected to long, skinny legs encased in uniform trousers. “Careful, Detective. Don’t want to get your pretty dress dirty.”
    Lily sighed. Officer Larry Phillips was half of the patrol unit that had been first on the scene. She hadn’t run across him before—the San Diego PD was too big for her to know many beat cops. A few minutes spent taking his report had given her a pretty clear picture, though. He was pushing fifty, still on the streets and sour about it. She was female, twenty-eight, and already a detective.
    In other words, he didn’t like her. “This is your turf, Officer. You know him?”
    “He’s one of the Devils.”
    “Yeah, I got that much.” She stood and glanced up at him. Way up—he was a long, stringy man, well over six feet. Of course, Lily had to look up to meet almost anyone’s eyes. She’d persuaded herself that didn’t irritate her anymore. “You think you could look at his face instead of his clothes and see if you can ID him?”
    “Why? This wasn’t a gang killing.” He had a toothpick in his mouth. She found herself staring at it, waiting for it to drop, wondering if it was glued to his lip. “Not even murder, really.”
    Three years ago a case like this would have been handled by the X-Squad. Now it went to Homicide. “The courts say otherwise.”
    He snorted. The toothpick didn’t budge. “Yeah, and we know how smart those bleeding heart judges are. According to them, we’re supposed to treat the beasts like they were human. That mess at your feet proves what a great idea that is.”
    “I’ve seen uglier things done by men to other men. And to women. And I still need an ID.”
    Another cop joined them, this one young, short, with shiny black hair and a greenish cast to his complexion—Phillips’s partner, the other half of the responding unit. “I, uh, I think it’s Carlos Fuentes.”
    Phillips raised one scornful eyebrow. “You basing that ID on his shoes? Not much else to go on.”
    “It looks like him around the eyes. I mean the eye. And the build is right. Fuentes is supposed to be good with his knife,” he added. “Fast.”
    “Was he left-handed?” Lily asked.
    “No. No, I’m sure he was right-handed. That fits—it’s his right arm with the defensive wounds. If he were attacked by a dog—”
    “Dog?” Phillips was incredulous. “You think a dog did this?”
    “It could have been,” Rodriguez insisted. “You always tell me not to jump to conclusions. Well, until they run the tests we won’t know that this was done by a—by—”
    “A lupus,” Phillips drawled. “That’s what we’re supposed to call them now, right?”
    “It could have been a rabid dog. Or one trained to attack. Maybe Fuentes was meeting someone, making some kind of deal. When it went sour the other guy sicced the dog on him.”
    Phillips made a disgusted sound.
    She flicked a glance his way. Phillips wasn’t much of a partner if he wouldn’t take the time to educate the kid. Lily looked back at the younger officer. “Where’s Fuentes’s knife?”
    “I don’t…” His voice trailed off as he looked around. “He must not have had time to draw it.”
    “Right. Now look at the body, and think. You said he was good with a blade, and fast. He’s right-handed, so when some animal comes at him out of the darkness, he uses his left arm for defense. Like this.” She flung up her own arm. “He reaches for his knife at the same time. And the beast didn’t pay any attention to the defensive arm. It knew he was reaching for a weapon. Went for his right hand, bit it off, and spat it out. Dogs don’t do that.”
    His throat worked as he stared at the corpse. “If—if it had been trained to go for the right arm…”
    “It bit the hand off,” she repeated patiently. “And flung it away. You can’t train an animal to do that. What’s more, Fuentes looks like he could have bench-pressed three-fifty or better, but he couldn’t even slow the beast down.”
    “Where do you get that?”
    “Observation. Aside from the blood and the body, you can’t tell there’s been any kind of fight here. The beast hit him quick and hard. He