Claw Back (Louis Kincaid) (19 page)

             
“Yes,” Katy said quietly. “He believed that if he could get the placenta of a mother panther he could use
it
to cure Aunt Betty’s sickness. That’s why he tried to take Bruce, to mate with Grace. But then he realized Grace was already pregnant.
And he came to get me to help.
”

             
Louis shook his head. “I have to ask, Katy. Is he mentally ill?”

             
She sighed. “No, just lost. And desperate to help Aunt Betty, to stop something no one can stop.”

             
They fell silent. The sun was hovering just above the horizon as the sky began its slow kaleidoscopic color shift.

             
Katy leaned forward, drawing her finger through the sand to make two intersecting lines.

             
“What’s that?” Louis asked.

             
“The world,” she said.

             
“I thought the world was round?”

             
“This is the world of man’s two souls.”

             
“I thought we only had one.”

             
In the waning light he saw her smile. “Humor me,” she said.

             
“Okay, go ahead.”

             
“The Seminoles believe we all have two souls,” she said. “The first one is the one that leaves our bodies when we die. The second one, the ghost soul, leaves the body when we dream and it sort of
just
wanders around until we wake up.”

             
“I’ve had nights like that,” Louis said.

             
“Well, our dream soul need
s
to travel to the north, but sometimes it gets lost and goes across the
solopi
heni
. That’s our word for the Milky Way, the road that leads to the west
. The west is
where the dead souls go.
If a ghost soul wanders into the west then w
hen the person wakes up their
ghost
soul is forever sick.”

             
She brushed the sand from her hands. “That’s what happened to
Hachi
.”

             
Louis was staring down at the lines in the sand. “Do we all go north in our dreams?”

             
She looked over at him and smiled. “Yes. The north is the place of happiness.”

             
Louis was quiet. A sudden breeze blew in from the water, cool and smelling of rain. Far out over the gulf, a zigzag of lightning lit up the purple clouds then it was dark again.

             
“It’s getting late,” Katy said. “I better go.”

             
“Want to go get a burger or something?” Louis asked.

             
“I can’t. I’m going over to see my aunt. And I want to talk to Moses about working part time on the reservation.”

             
“Really?
Doing what?”

             
“They can use a good vet.” She paused. “I want to get back inside. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Yeah, I do.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Louis stopped at the glass doors to the county building and squinted
at his reflection.

             
Not bad for an off-the-rack
Dilliard
’s
clearance suit. It fit him
perfectly,
though he knew it wouldn’t have six months ago before he started working out. He had hit for a
Ferragamo
blue tie and crisp white shirt to go with the charcoal gray suit. He looked like he
could be going to a job interview or a funeral.

             
He wished he knew which one it was going to be.

             
Louis yanked open the door and was met inside by icy air and a cacophony of voices. Suits and deputies were everywhere and radio traffic echoed through the tiled halls.

             
It had been almost a week since he had found Grace. Mobley had finally called him at seven this morning, waking Louis from a sound sleep.

             
He
expected Mobley would grudgingly concede the job, saying something like “It’s a done deal. Come in later to start your paperwork.”

             
But he hadn’t said that. He said something else.

             
We need to talk.
My office.
Two sharp.
             

             
Louis had crawled out of bed and sat there for a minute, his hopes slowly dying as he started to question the reasons for Mobley’s terse phone call.

             
There was a chance Mobley was just screwing with hi
m
again. Making him wait, making him hold his breath. Mobley had already
said he had
done a good job
, and the
sheriff
’s
photo with the kittens had been picked up
by
news
papers as far away as Arizona. How could Mobley not give him this job?

             
But
it might not be completely up to Mobley. Maybe there were other hoops to jump through, other people Louis had to face.
The undersheriff.
The lawyers handling the EEOC lawsuits Mobley was facing. Maybe even the county board of supervisors who probably weren’t too eager to let Mobley hire a P.I. whose face had been on the cover of “Criminal Pursuits” magazine.

             
Which is why Louis had gone to
Dilliard
’s
this morning and bought the suit he couldn’t afford and shined his only pair of dress shoes with a banana peel
,
a trick he had learned in the academy.

             
If he was going to stand up before a firing squad at least he’d look good.

             
Mobley’s reception area was empty. Ginger’s desk looked abandoned
.
Photos,
the pink ceramic
pen holder and the plants on her credenza
were
gone.
S
o was her nameplate.

             
The office door opened and Mobley came out. His eyes swept over Louis. “Nice threads. What happened to your old blazer?” he asked.

             
“Don’t ask.”

             
Mobley didn’t smile but his eyes showed a hint of amusement as he led Louis into the office. It was ice cold, the force of the air conditioner rattling the closed blinds. Mobley’s desk was stacked with folders
and
papers. His inbox had overflowed into the empty outbox. The trashcan was stuffed. A pile of newspapers covered his back shelf.

             
“Sorry for the mess,” Mobley said. “I’m short-handed.”

             
“Where’s Ginger?” Louis asked.

             
“She got promoted.”

             
“To what?”

             
Mobley had to think for a minute.
“Executive Director of Compliance for Fair and Equal Employment
O
pportunities in Law Enforcement Environments.”

             
“Sounds like a lawyer’s job.”

             
“She is a lawyer,” Mobley said. “Passed the bar last month.”

             
Louis had always
assumed
Ginger
w
as
another of
Mobley’s empty-headed bimbos. He did that too often, he realized
, assuming things.
He had made assumptions about Katy, about Indians, about hunters and even about panthers. None proved accurate.

             
“Sit down, Kincaid.”

             
“I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.”

             
Mobley picked up a folder. “This is what took me
so long
to get back to you,” he said. “It’s the results of your background check.”

             
Louis said nothing.

             
“I suppose I should have made my original offer contingent on a background check since no matter how much I might want to hire someone, some things in a man’s past are automatic eliminators that I can do nothing about.”

             
Louis stiffened his spine, trying not to show his disappointment.

             
“I don’t particularly like some of the things you did when you were in uniform in Michigan,” Mobley said. “And I don’t like how you’ve handled some of your cases here in Florida. Or the large number of shitheads you’ve had to shoot.”

             
Louis stayed quiet, fighting the urge to just thank Mobley for the chance at wearing a badge and get the hell out of here.

             
“But,” Mobley went on, “no matter your methods, you’re an honest man. Your moral compass, to coin a phrase, is pointed in the right direction.”

             
He had it. He had the job.

             
“I can teach a man a lot of things,” Mobley said. “I can’t teach integrity. You’re hired.”

             
“Thank --” Louis cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir.”

             
“It’s only as a deputy,” Mobley said.

             
“I’m fine with that.”

             
“You’ll go through all the formalities,” Mobley said, opening a drawer. He pulled out another file, opened it and started through the papers inside.

             
“Here’s a packet of some of your pre-hire paperwork. You’ll have to report for a drug test, take a physical, take a psych exam --” Mobley looked up at him. “You can get through one of those, right?”

             
“I think so.”

             
“You’ll have two more interviews,” Mobley said. “The path is greased unless you say something to really piss someone off, so try to show some respect to the
oral
board, okay? They’re kind of old guard.”

             
“Yes, sir.”

             
Mobley handed him the folder. “Anyway, there’s more
junk
in there. Personnel and emergency contacts forms, health and life insurance, academy registration crap. There’s a guy down in Human Resources named Archie. He sets up all the tests. You need to see him before you leave here.”

             
“Today?”

             
“The next academy class starts September
15
,” Mobley said. “I called in a couple of markers with FDLE to get you admitted to it. If you want this job, you’ll make that other stuff happen. Am I clear?”

Lily...

The Academy was a sixteen-week course. Before today, making it up to Michigan to see her was going to mean
only
a two-week postponement. Now it would be four months. And there would be no vacation time for a year at least.

             
“Yes, sir, we’re clear,” Louis said.

             
Mobley motioned to the door. “You need to get your ass out of here,” he said. “I have the final interviews for Ginger’s job.”

             
Mobley reached for the door, but before he opened it, he put a hand out. Louis shook it.

             
“Thank you, sheriff.”

             
“Just don’t screw me on this, Kincaid.”

             
“Not a chance.”

             
Mobley opened the door
.
Three
striking
young women in business suits, sitting in chairs along the wall, looked up.

             
The first had flowing dark brown hair,
large
brown eyes and long shapely legs crossed at the knees.
Hispanic.

             
The second woman wore her black hair sleekly pulled back, set off with gold hoop earrings and red lipstick. African
-
American.

             
The third woman was petite, with silky black
h
air cut around her face in a swish-swish style that made her look younger than she probably was. She wore no make-up but she didn’t need any. Her skin was smooth as porcelain.
Asian.