Only Human

Chapter 5

THE SUN HAD set, but the sky still flew crimson and purple flags in the west. A boy who should have been inside at this hour whizzed by on his skateboard. Lily's breath heaved in her chest as she neared the outdoor stairs to her apartment. Sweat trickled down her temples and stung her eyes. Worf s claws clicked dully on the concrete beside her. His big head drooped, but he was panting happily.

Lily's dog was undoubtedly a good deal more satisfied with their run than she was.

It had been four days since the last killing. She knew little more now than she had when she had looked down at the ripped throat of the first victim, a young man whose only crime seemed to be that he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There was nothing to link the two victims other than the manner of their deaths. She'd found no hard evidence, and only two possible witnesses. An old man and a teenage girl both spoke of seeing a tall, well-dressed man—an Anglo— near the park where Fuentes was killed. The timing fit, and the man's clothes, bearing, and race had made him stand out in an area mostly Hispanic. Neither witness had gotten a clear look at his face, but they thought he was smooth-shaven, neither especially old nor very young.

When they reached the iron stairs Worf stopped, whimpered, and looked up at her with pathetic eyes. "Forget it," she told him. "I'm not lugging seventy pounds of lazy up those stairs."

His tail waved twice hopefully. Her lips twitched. Worf was a peculiar-looking fellow. His body looked like a barrel set on stubby legs, his ears drooped along with his jowls, and his kinky fur was the color of mud. Lily's vet thought the dog might be a mixture ofLabrador, basset, and poodle. She'd found him huddled in the alley, looking pathetic and half-starved, about six months ago. He was scared of cats and he hated stairs.

"Forget it," she said again, and started up the stairs. Worf heaved a huge canine sigh and followed. They were near the top when she heard the phone ringing inside her apartment.

It might be Rule.

She cursed herself even as she scrambled up the last steps, nearly tripping over Worf, who decided they were racing and tried to get to the door first. She wasn't supposed to want the man to call again, dammit. But whoever was calling, it wasn't police business—Dispatch would use her beeper.

And so far Rule had called every day, discussing the case and then asking her out.

Every day, she'd turned him down. So he just might be getting tired of calling. Which was a good thing, she told herself firmly as she grabbed the phone, cutting off her answering machine's spiel. "Hello?"

"You've been out running again, haven't you? At night, Lily. You know how unsafe that is."

Lily sighed. "Hello, Mother. I'm a big girl now, and a cop, and I keep to well-lit areas where there are people."

"None of which makes you invulnerable."

Her lips quirked up as she thought of Rule's opinion of her driving. "I had Worf with me."

"As if that lazy creature was any kind of protection! I don't know why you kept that animal. You aren't home enough to take proper care of him, and he's too large for an apartment. Besides, you know how Grandmother feels about dogs."

"Grandmother isn't living with Worf. I am." She picked up

his water dish and carried it to the sink. "What's up? You didn't call to lecture me about pet ownership."

"I don't need a reason to call my daughter. But I did think it was time to finalize some of the details for Grandmother's party. It's this Friday."

Lily managed not to groan. "I know that, Mother. The cake's ordered, the invitations went out weeks ago, and it's being held at Uncle Chan's restaurant. He won't let anyone mess with his menu, so there's no point in discussing the food. I've bought a dress, and yes, I've bought a present, wrapped and ready. What's left to discuss?"

Stupid question. Her mother had plenty to say. Lily's older sister was attending with her husband, of course. And her brother was bringing his fiancee, a young woman whose virtues included the possession of a good Chinese family, a position at an accounting firm, and respect for her elders. While Worf slurped up his water and Lily grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator, she learned that her younger sister was bringing a doctor from the hospital where her older sister worked.

She also learned who each of her cousins was bringing, and their financial and family histories. By the time her mother reached the real point of her call, Lily was sprawled in her favorite chair, one leg dangling over the padded arm, prepared for what came next.

Her mother didn't disappoint her. "So who will you be bringing, dear?"

"I haven't asked anyone." Lily slumped farther down in the overstuffed chair. "I don't see that it's necessary."

"Of course it's necessary. This is a formal party, Lily. You will look foolish if you attend without an escort. You will cause your father and me to lose face, and Grandmother, too."

She closed her eyes. The "face" argument was one she couldn't counter. "I'm not seeing anyone right now. Do you want me to ask someone from Homicide? Or there's a very nice Vice officer—his name isLawrence, but we all call him Curly. I think he'd agree, and he might even shave, since it's formal. He works undercover a lot," she explained. "The three-day beard helps him blend in."

Stony silence greeted that bit of flippancy.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Mother. But there really isn't anyone I want to ask."

"I'm well aware that your job exposes you to the wrong sort of men. This is only one of the reasons your father and I had hoped you would choose a more appropriate career. Who do you ever meet, other than police officers and criminals?"

The words came out before she could stop herself. "I did meet a very good-looking man a few days ago. His family owns quite a bit of land—a vineyard, a cattle ranch, some other properties. He manages some of their investments and, ah, has contacts in the government. He's asked me out several times."

"And you haven't accepted? He is single, isn't he?"

Extremely single. From what she'd heard, lupi didn't believe in marriage. "I would hardly have mentioned him if he weren't."

"I don't know what you are looking for, but you must be realistic. You aren't getting any younger, and while you're a very pretty girl you don't always take the care you might with your appearance. And your job—well, we've covered that subject many times, so I won't go into it now. You must learn to make some accommodations, dear. I suppose this man isn't Chinese, but surely you don't think that would make him unacceptable?"

"Ah ... no, he isn't Chinese. Actually, he—"

"Asking him to accompany you to the party is not a lifetime commitment. You make too much of a simple thing. Of course, I can arrange an escort for you, if you prefer. Su Lin Chen's nephew is doing very well. He will inherit the restaurant, you know—"

"Freddie Chen?" She sat up, alarmed. "Mother, if you ask Freddie Chen to escort me to Grandmother's party I'll never speak to you again. He's an octopus. A sweaty octopus. With bad breath."

"Then ask this other man. What is his name?"

"Rule—" Lilly's beeper went off. "Just a minute. I've got a call." She unclipped the beeper from her belt and checked the number quickly. "Got to go, Mother. I'll call you later."

"Ask him," her mother said. "Or I will speak to Su Lin." She hung up.

The number on Lily's beeper was one she knew all too well. She had it on speed dial on both her land line and her cell phone. Lily punched it listened, asked two questions, then headed for the door, grabbing her holster on the way out.

THIS TIME THE victim was a woman. Charlene Hall had been forty-eight, African American, probably single. No wedding ring, and her credit cards were in her name. She had a California driver's license, an unpaid traffic ticket, and a whole slew of those wallet-sized school photos millions of parents buy every year.

A dozen pictures, Lily thought, her gut clenched tight with pity. All of the same two boys, taken over many years. The two pictures on top were the most recent. One showed a young man in a sailor's dress uniform, his dark face solemn, his eyes gleaming with pride. The other was a family shot minus the husband-father element. The boy who in one photo had been missing three teeth was a young man now, his smile still wide and happy. He wore a suit in this photograph, and stood behind a young woman holding a baby dressed in blue ruffles and lace.

Charlene Hall had taken these photographs with her everywhere. Even when she went for a run by the lake atMissionTrailsPark.

Lily glanced at the body, almost ignored at the moment. Charlene had worn the same brand of running shoe Lily favored. Lily sighed. It was too much to hope that her mother wouldn't read about this.

There was no crowd this time, and so far no press. Just the police, a couple of park rangers, the victim, and the poor guy who'd found her. They were only twenty yards from the start of the trail near the sturdy adobe building where tourists bought sodas, postcards, and film. Charlene had nearly made it back when the killer struck.

Lily was talking with the man who'd found Charlene when Rule arrived.

"Detective?" called one of the patrol officers from farther up the trail. "This the guy you're waiting for?"

She turned. Rule stood beside the officer at the edge of the lights cast by the police spots. His face was shadowed, his expression shuttered. He was wearing black.

Rule waited for Lily to come to him. He was a patient man, he reminded himself. Which was just as well. He would need to be. If she felt what he did, she was fighting it. Maybe she

felt nothing more than a sexual buzz. He rubbed his chest, but the ache wasn't one he could touch.

The scents were rich here, away from the nose-clogging odors of the city. The green smells of growing things mingled in a pattern too complex to easily yield its separate notes, but he was aware of creosote, cypress and sumac, wild mustard and cholla. The lake, invisible from where he stood, was a rich, damp presence blending water, fish, a whiff of decay. He smelled dust and people, one or more of whom gave off the faint, sour tang of fear.

The ground was hard and dry beneath his feet. A lumpy three-quarter moon squatted near the horizon, peering at them through the dark lace of leaves in the trees to his right. He felt its pull in his blood, a song without words or notes: one long, slow pulse timed to a rhythm those around him would never hear.

He couldn't see the body. Too many people were in the way. But he smelled blood, sweet and sharp. And waste, the body's involuntary surrender to the insult of sudden death.

Lily stopped in front of him, her pretty black eyes flat and official, but the pulse in her throat throbbing. “Thank you for coming right away."

"I want the killing stopped, too."

She nodded and turned. "This way."

The smell of blood grew heavier as he followed. A couple of the people standing near the body shifted, and he saw. Shock stopped him in his tracks.

"What is it?"

His voice came out hoarse. "You didn't tell me it was a woman."

Lily's frown mixed concern with puzzlement. "Does it matter so much?"

"It matters." He wasn't over the shock yet, but the rage gathering inside would clear it away soon enough. His hands clenched.

"Why?" she asked sharply. "I know lupi are patriarchal, but use your head. Carlos Fuentes didn't have any more of a chance than this woman did. Not against a lupus."

"Forget the PC talk. You don't understand. Women... women conceive. They carry babies—our babies, human babies. We don't hurt women. Ever." The rage was rising, threatening his control. He clenched his hands tightly, throttling back the need to howl, to seek and find the one who had done this. The need to Change.

Slowly his fists relaxed, and with the release of clenched muscles some of the need drained away. Not now. This wasn't the time or the place, but that time would come. He would make sure of it. "Whoever did this is a rogue," he said, cold and certain. "And subject to our laws as well as yours."

She closed her hand around his arm as if to hold him back. "The law he'll answer to is the one I'm sworn to uphold. Not some weird trial by combat."

He shook her off and moved to kneel by the body.

It had been a clean kill, at least. The dead eyes stared up, sightless and shocked, but the woman's face itself was intact, if blood-spattered. Rule picked up one of the cold hands and cradled it gently in his, silently apologizing for what one of his kind had done, promising retribution and asking permission for what he must do. Then he bent and sniffed the gaping wound where her throat had been.

This was why Lily had asked him to come, after all. The scent would be fresh.

The first whiff told the tale, but he took his time, wanting to leave no doubt. Then, gently, he laid the dead hand back on the ground and stood.

Lily was watching. "You know. This time you could tell who it was."

He jerked his head to the left. "Walk apart with me so I can tell you."

Her eyebrows went up. After a moment, she nodded. Together they moved farther up the trail the dead woman had taken—fleeing, at the last, from one she couldn't escape.

He stopped by a scrappy little oak, its leaves whispering to each other in the breeze. They'd left the pool of light from the police spots behind. Here it was dark, and closer to the lake. That strong, clean scent cleared some of the other smells from his senses.

Lily stood close enough for her scent to fill him, too. Not close enough to touch. "What did you learn? Who was it?"

"Leidolf."

"Is that a first name or a surname?"

"It's a clan." The rage was still there, simmering beneath

the surface. Waiting. "It wasn't one of the Nokolai who did this."

"You can tell by the scent?"

"Just as you could tell an Englishman from a Hawaiian by the way he looks."

She exhaled once, sharply. "So what does this mean? I don't know how to sort one lupus from another by clan. I didn't know there were any other clans around here."

"There aren't, not officially. But lupi travel on business or for pleasure the same as everyone else. It's customary for clans to offer hospitality when asked. My clan may be hosting the one who did this right now." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "We aren't that far from Clanhome, as the crow flies—or the wolf runs. He could easily have cut across the hills after he killed."

"That occurred to me. Rule." She gripped his arm. "You are not going to punish him yourself. If you want your people to be treated the same as everyone else, you have to be subject to the same laws. Justice from the courts, not private vengeance."

"Your courts have never given us justice. And this ..." He turned away, thrusting his hand through his hair. "I thought this was political, and so subject to your laws. Now ... it may be a clan matter."

"What do you mean?"

"Leidolf may be moving against Nokolai." There was so much he couldn't tell her. "It happens. Clans have warred in the past."

"Killing random humans is a mighty roundabout way for one lupus clan to declare war on another."

"My father supports the Species Citizenship Bill." His smile was grim. "Do you think only humans oppose full citizenship for lupi? There are those among my people, too, who hate the idea. Citizenship means Social Security numbers and all those computers keeping track of us. It means limits, changes to some of our customs. They don't want to be that visible—or that subject to human law."

"Whoever did this is going to end up very visible. I'll see to that." Anger boiled up suddenly and she paced in front of him, taking short, jerky steps. "She had two sons. I don't know their names yet, but one is in the Navy. The other has a wife

and child. Once I've learned who they are, where they live, I'll have to tell them their mother is dead because someone had a political point to make."

He put a hand on her shoulder. She was all but vibrating with anger. "Killing has always been a political tactic for some. Why do you work homicide when it hurts you this much?"

She shrugged him off. "I don't know what you mean. I'm a cop. It's what I always wanted to do."

"It hurts you to see life wasted." Again he asked, speaking softly, "Why homicide?"

"Because murder is the worst! It doesn't kill just once. It throws out waves of destruction that poison so many lives."

"This happened to you. Someone you loved was murdered."

"My friend. My best friend. Sara Chen."

He ached. It took all his control to keep from reaching for her, holding her. But she wouldn't want that, not here and now. "How old were you?"

"Seven. A man grabbed her on the way home from school one day. I saw him snatch her. They found her body a week later. They arrested him a week after that." She swallowed. "I followed it in the papers. My parents didn't like that—they thought I was hurting myself, that I was obsessed and should let it go. I couldn't."

"No. I can see that. What happened?"

"He never went to trial. The police were sloppy. They didn't secure the evidence properly. Seven months later, he killed again. That time, the cops did it right. He didn't get away with it."

She'd given him a piece of herself, something important wrenched up from deep inside where it still hurt. He lifted a hand and rubbed his knuckles along her cheek slowly, thanking her. "This woman isn't dead because you were sloppy, Lily. You know that."

She blinked. "I didn't mean ... I don't think it's my fault."

Yes, she did. But she was pulling back now, embarrassed that she'd revealed so much. "That's good. I admire your passion. And your courage."

Oh, definitely she was embarrassed now. She turned away, trying to get her cop face back. "The point is, the law has to

be the same for everyone. Fuentes has to matter as much as Charlene Hall. And whoever killed them, for whatever reason, has to be stopped."

"Of course. Aside from the personal injustice of murder, if there's sufficient outrage it will affect the vote next fall. Especially if there are killings elsewhere."

She stopped moving. "You're talking about a conspiracy."

"I'm speculating. I have no evidence. But with this latest death ..." He drove his fingers through his hair. "Killing a woman will garner a great deal more outrage than killing a gang member did, won't it?"

"This is going to make trouble for you. She was killed much closer to the Nokolai Clanhome than the others. Rule, I have to talk to your father. I have to talk to a number of your people, but your father first."

"He'll be back tomorrow. I'll speak to him." He took her hand, closing his fingers around it firmly. "When are you going to go out with me?"

Her laugh was uncertain. "I mentioned something before about your odd sense of timing. We're at a murder scene, for God's sake."

He stroked his thumb along the pulse point in her wrist. "So let's agree that we have to stop meeting this way, and meet some other way. Over dinner, perhaps. I'm growing impatient."

"That's not my problem."

"I want to discuss something other than death and politics with you. I want to see your face when you're not being a cop."

"I'm always a cop."

Perhaps. But she was a woman, too. And her heart was beating fast and hard right now, like his. It took all his control to keep from bending to taste that pretty, unsmiling mouth, but he knew how little she'd appreciate that. Her people might see. His mouth crooked up. "I guess tonight is out."

"Good guess," she said dryly. But she didn't snatch her hand away.

"Tomorrow won't work, either. As I said, my father returns then, and we'll have a good deal to discuss. How about the next night? I can get tickets to a play, reservations for dinner."

She eased her hand away from his. "That's Friday night,

and I'm booked. A family party—Grandmother's eightieth birthday." She started back down the path, but had taken only a couple of steps when she paused, looking back at him. The tilt of her lips held challenge. "Ah ... it's formal, a big bash at my uncle Chan's restaurant. Would you care to go with me?"