Jaguar Bound: Nocturnal Awakenings, #2

By Amanda S. Green

Twenty years ago, the world first learned of the existence of shapeshifters and other paranormals. It hasn't always been easy but now Normals and Paras live in relative peace. Mackenzie Santos played a large role in making that happen. Mac has spent most of her adult life enforcing the law. Once she started turning furry, that law included Shifter law. Because of her and those like her, the world is a safer place.

Or is it?

A new threat appears on the horizon, one that puts both Paras and Normals in danger. Will Mac be able to meet and defeat this new challenge or will it turn into her greatest fear: war between Paras and Normals?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hunter's Moon Press
• Release date: Jun 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781949901559

Amanda S. Green

I’m older than twenty and younger than death and that’s all you’ll get from me about my age. After all, it’s not polite to ask a woman her age. I’m a mother, a daughter and was a wife. I’ve spent most of my life in the South and love to travel. The only problem with that is my dog always thinks I’ve abandoned him and it takes weeks to reassure the poor thing. Then there’s the cat who resents the fact I came back before he could figure out a way to kill the dog and hide the body. My house is haunted – it really is. I swear it. What else explains the table that plays music and the light that comes on by itself? – but it’s mine and I love it. Okay, I’m a little strange. But that makes life interesting.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The van slowed and carefully pulled into the surface lot. Overhead, lightning cut a path across the night sky, briefly illuminating the white van against the dark of night. Thunder sounded almost directly overhead, rattling windows as the first raindrops splattered against the windshield. As they did, the van parked at the rear of the lot. Engine running, lights out, the driver checked his surroundings. Even though he knew the area well, he took no chances. One didn’t become successful by leaving anything to chance.

His old man taught him one lesson he remembered to this day: never take unnecessary risks.

That meant carefully choosing the time and place for any action. Between the threat of serious weather and the lateness of the hour, few people were out and about. The location was not one that would see much traffic until the workday began. Then there was the van. It looked like any number of other utility vans in the area. The storage compartment contained no windows, and no one could see into it through the front windshield, thanks to the equipment racks and curtain separating the two sections of the van. That was so very important. Precious cargo such as what he carried demanded special protections, not only for it but for himself.

Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. With the engine idling, he remained behind the wheel, carefully scanning the surrounding area. It simply wouldn’t do for someone to come upon him at this critical moment of his experiment. He would not risk all his hard work to a chance encounter with anyone who might wonder why he happened to be in the parking lot at three in the morning.

Satisfied no curious eyes looked on, he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed to his feet. The van rocked on shocks that needed some work as he moved from the driver’s seat into the rear compartment, carefully stepping around one of the equipment racks. He paused long enough to pull the curtain closed behind him. No sense in getting careless now. Not when he still had so much to do.

He dropped to one knee next to a blanket-covered bundle in the center of the compartment. With a deceptively gentle hand, he pulled back the blanket. Curled into a fetal position, she looked little like the woman he chose as his volunteer a week earlier. He had remade her. She had been perfect—or at least as perfect as any of her kind could be. It wasn’t his fault she failed to embrace her new role.

Such a disappointment.

He ran a hand over her blonde hair and shook his head. Regret and disappointment warred with the frustration of wasted time as he watched her chest rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths. He held such high hopes for her when he chose her. She seemed so perfect for his plans. But she failed him, just as all the others had. Still, he learned from her as he had them. As a scientist, he knew failure often played a major role in any experiment.

Those failures were all part of the process. They gave much needed information and helped refine the parameters of the work. He knew it, and now he needed to remember it.

I will miss you, my dear.

He smiled slightly before turning. The side door slid open with barely a sound. After one last check of the area, he carefully lifted her out. She hung limply against him, a lover who drank too much or one so exhausted she gave in to sleep. But he knew better. She was more than a lover, so much more important to him and to his work.

He slung her arm over his shoulders and then slid a supporting arm around her waist. Moving carefully, he guided her away from the van. As he did, her feet dragged against the pavement, scuffing the toes of her shoes. Or it would have had she worn shoes. Another lesson his old man taught him was to wait until the subject was in place before adding the finishing touches. After all, why ruin the overall picture just to save a few moments unless you had to?

Carefully, almost lovingly, he helped her to the park bench resting under an Oklahoma redbud just beginning to bloom. Two years earlier, the Dallas Independent School District built the small picnic area at the back of the parking lot. It became a gathering place for teachers before and after school. He first saw her here, talking with several of her co-workers. The sight of her laughing, her head thrown back, a love for life radiating from her drew him to her. He knew she would be the one.

He'd been wrong. He came closer with her than he had with the others. So much closer. He took comfort in that as he carefully settled her on the bench. The bulb in the light post at the edge of the sidewalk was out. Or at least that was what the casual observer would assume. He dealt with it earlier that evening when he scouted the location. After all, there was no reason to advertise his work until he was ready to reveal it.

It didn’t take long. He had the process down to an art now, as he should. Experience taught him the old adage about practice making perfect was true. That made everything he did before now worth it. Soon, he would have all the data he needed for the successful conclusion to his experiment. Then the world would see he and his old man had been right to raise the alarm all those years ago.

His vindication would be his greatest accomplishment.

My dear, you should be more careful. He tsk-tsked as he lifted her right foot in his hands and saw the blood at her toes and tops of her feet. You ruined your pedicure.

No, she slurred, her head falling to the right.

A smile touched his lips. This was always an important moment. That moment when the subject let herself believe the experiment was finally over and they would soon be freed. It was the last piece of data he needed. Once he recorded it, he could return home and update his records. Then he could turn his attention to the next test subject.

His expression turned to speculation. Perhaps next time he should look for two volunteers and see what effect that might have on the data.

Shh. Rest now. He leaned forward and ran a gentle hand over her short hair, almost as if soothing her, as she moaned softly in protest.

She turned her head away from him through instinct more than conscious thought. Awareness was beginning to return. Her blue eyes blinked blearily as she looked around. Before she could speak, he reached into his jacket pocket. She blinked again, her brain struggling to make sense of what she felt, what she saw. He watched, mentally taking notes, before pressing a wide strip of flesh colored tape across her mouth and carefully securing it.

We don’t want to wake anyone, my dear. Let them get their beauty sleep. They’ll find you soon enough. He gave her cheek a light pat and stood.

He reached inside the van for his backpack. After placing it on the sidewalk at his side, he studied his companion. It wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. He had a vision in mind for her and he wouldn’t let her ruin it. Not this time. This time she would do as he wanted, whether she liked it or not.

And she most definitely would not like it.

With deceptively gentle hands, he moved her down the bench until she sat at one end. Her body was slightly angled, that elbow supported on the arm of the bench. Better. But still not quite right, and it needed to be right.

No, it needed to be perfect.

Her head lolled to one side as he reached for her hands. He folded them together, almost as if she might be in prayer, before wrapping a wire so thin it was almost invisible around her wrists. Then he adjusted the sleeves of her blouse over the wire, obscuring it from sight even more. With her hands folded almost demurely in her lap, he sat back on his heels and considered the image he created so far. It still wasn’t right. Not yet. But it would be soon.

Another adjustment of her position and then he lifted her feet onto the bench until her heels almost touched her bottom. Yes, that was the image he wanted. She looked as if she curled up on the bench to rest or perhaps to read a book. Now to make sure she did nothing to ruin the picture.

He reached into the backpack and produced two more lengths of wire. Keeping a wary eye out, he wrapped the first piece around her legs, just above her knees. The second piece secured her ankles. After making another slight change to the angle of her legs, he reached for a third piece of wire and slipped it through the wire around her ankles and used it to anchor her legs to one of the slats forming the bench’s seat.

Still not quite there.

He wrapped one last wire wrapped around her chest, under her breasts, securing her to the back of the bench. Now she wouldn’t fall over and ruin the image he wanted to present to the world. Now to finish it.

He carefully smoothed her clothes, using them to hide her bindings even more. Unfortunately, he could no nothing to keep her head at the proper angle. That was a flaw in his plan, one he should have anticipated. But he could make it work. He would make it work.

With that mantra running through his head, he leaned inside the van and searched for the final items needed to make it perfect, make her perfect. Nothing else mattered.

Here’s your book, my dear. He placed the novel in her hands and frowned as it dropped to the sidewalk. Now, dear heart, you shouldn’t throw your book down. I’m going to have to make sure you don’t do that again.

He pulled a tube from his jacket pocket. Blue eyes no longer as glassy as before watched as he squirted some sort of liquid into her palms before brushing it over her fingers. A soft moan escaped from behind the tape as he placed the book once more in her hands and held it there. When he let go thirty seconds later, the glue had done its job. The book adhered to her skin. She wouldn’t drop it again.

One more thing, my dear, and then I will leave you alone. He once again dug into his jacket pocket.

Her nostrils flared and she jerked against her bonds, suddenly awake, as he broke the ampoule under her nose. Her mind clear, or as clear as it had been in days, she threw her head back and tried to scream. Nothing came out but a muffled cry. Still, he knew better than to risk more. One hand closed around her throat, fingers tightening. Her pulse raced and her nostrils flared as she fought in vain to breathe.

Shh, my dear, shh. Remember, this is for everyone’s good.

Her eyes bulged and as he slid a long, thin blade between her ribs and into her heart. It went in smoothly and he smiled in satisfaction. It was amazing how simple it was to do once you knew the right way. His first few times had not been so easy or so bloodless.

He withdrew the blade and pressed a fresh cloth against the wound, holding it with one hand while the other taped it in place. He made no attempt to save her. Instead, he did what he could to prevent prying eyes from realizing what they saw until he wanted them to.

Patting her cheek one last time as the light faded from her eyes, he climbed to his feet. Before returning to the van, he snapped several pictures of her and then a short video using his phone. After all, as a scientist, he needed to memorialize the end of this phase of his experiment. All that was left to do was make a few notes. Then he could return home.

Climbing into the driver’s die of the van, he smiled to himself. Lightning once again slashed across the sky and thunder rolled after it. The promised storms had arrived and, with them, a cleansing of the area and of his failure. By the time the rain moved out, there would be nothing left to tie him to his latest failure.

Thank you, Mother Nature. You will give me another layer of data to factor into my observations and conclusions.

1

M orning, Mac!

Mackenzie Santos Caine stepped outside and crossed to the edge of the front porch. As she did, she scanned the front yard before looking down the street. A smile touched her lips, and she lifted her mug in greeting as she spotted her next-door neighbor. It might not be much later than dawn, but he wasn’t the only one outside cleaning up after last night’s storms.

Any damage?

He straightened and tossed a branch onto his driveway to be dealt with later.

Nothing serious. A few good-sized limbs down out back and some more out here. But we didn’t get any water inside and everything is still standing. He bent to collect another branch. A moment later, it flew through the air to join the other branches on the driveway. How about you?

The same.

She hadn’t taken time to check, but her husband had. Jackson’s frustration as he came in from the backyard greeted her when she came downstairs. Not that she blamed him. He and Xander, their eight-year-old son, spent much of the weekend working in the yard. With Cam’s birthday coming up the next weekend, the entire family pitched in to get as much ready for the celebration as they could. Unfortunately, Mother Nature didn’t seem to care.

You be careful driving into work this morning, Mac. The traffic reports make it sound like it’s a nightmare out there.

We had rain, Charlie. When isn’t it a nightmare after a storm?

Especially when it is also Monday.

He laughed and admitted she was right. Texans seemed to forget how to drive during or immediately after a rain. It didn’t matter if it was a brief shower or hours of downpour. That was a lesson Mac learned very quickly upon her graduation from the police academy what seemed a lifetime ago.

Seriously, Mac, watch your back out there. I’ve got a bad feeling right now.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment before nodding. When she first moved into the neighborhood, shapeshifters and witches were things that existed only in books and movies. That was before her life turned upside down and she started turning furry. Now she knew the truth and when her neighbor, who had the gift of foresight, said he had a bad feeling, she took him seriously. He’d never steered her wrong.

Anything solid?

He shook his head and she nodded. The warning was enough. Not that she was likely to get into any trouble on the job. She didn’t get into the field very often these days. The most dangerous thing on her schedule that day was the Chief’s weekly briefing. She doubted Charlie would warn her against extreme boredom, something that came all too often with the briefings. She would much rather be out there solving cases or doing whatever she could to make sure those under her command had the best tools available to help them close cases.

You take your own advice, Charlie.

Always do, Mac.

She chuckled softly and moved to stand on the top step. As she did, she breathed deeply. The smell of coffee from her travel mug mixed with the fresh smells of the morning. She loved this neighborhood. It had been home for years, since before she started furry, before she met and then married Jackson. She almost died here when a perp from her past shot her not far from where she now stood. A shudder ran through her, and she cursed softly. She hadn’t thought about that day for a long time.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have much choice now. She received word less than an hour ago that one of those involved with her shooting had filed a motion for parole.

God, she hated Mondays.

You’re stalling, Mac. There’s nothing you can do about Wysocki right now and you don’t have time to pick up the yard. Get to work, call the yard service to come out and then face the music with the Chief.

She drew a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling. Part of her wanted to head straight to work, while another part wanted to head back upstairs to bed and pull the covers over her head. Tempting as it was, she couldn’t. Jackson would want to know what bothered her. If he knew about Wysocki, he’d go ballistic. Besides, she couldn’t miss the Chief’s briefing, much as she wanted to. She was one of three scheduled to present their proposed budgets for the upcoming year.

God, she hated that part of her job.

C’mon, you’re wasting time. Traffic’s going to be a bitch and you know it.

That, she knew, was an understatement. The morning newscasts were filled with reports of accidents and road closures. After all, idiots would always be idiots. In Dallas, that meant forgetting rain leads to slick roads and high water. She could only guess at the number of accidents officers responded to overnight. Swift water rescues teams had responded to at least half a dozen calls when drivers foolishly decided their fancy sports cars or expensive SUVs could handle high water in low crossing areas.

Idiots, all of them.

Welcome to Spring in the DFW Metroplex.

Mac lifted her travel mug and took a sip of coffee. As he did, she shouldered her purse and started down the steps to the path of pavestones leading across the front lawn to the driveway. Her SUV waited where Jackson parted it while she finished getting ready for work. If she knew him—and she did—a second travel mug of coffee waited inside for her. After almost two decades together, he knew she didn’t begin to function until after her third cup of that glorious liquid. Since she had no desire to face morning rush hour under-caffeinated, she thanked her good luck for having the man in her life.

The engine roared to life as she turned the key in the ignition. A moment later, the sounds of yet another traffic report filled the cabin. Mac winced as the reported called off incident after incident. Between standing water and still-slick streets, her commute to Dallas Police Headquarters promised to be much worse than usual. The list of wrecks in the area seemed to go on forever. As she listened, Mac counted herself lucky that she no longer worked Patrol. On days like this, the only job worse would be as an insurance adjuster.

The SUV slowed to a stop at the end of the street. Mac looked left and then right, checking for oncoming traffic, her turn indicator clicking a soft rhythm. A frown touched her lips as she did. Acting as a harbinger of potential trouble for the rest of her drive, the unmistakable flashing lights of a squad car pulsed against the early morning sky. At least it didn’t look like the road was closed.

She hoped.

Mac made her turn and slowly approached the traffic stop. A slight frown dragged at the corners of her mouth. A single patrol officer stood next to a fire engine red Camaro. The officer bent slightly, talking to the driver through the driver’s side window. Then, as if sensing a car approaching, she straightened, her hand dropping to the butt of the gun at her hip. Her eyes narrowed until she recognized the SUV as one belonging to the Department. Relaxing, the officer lifted a finger to her forehead in a salute of sorts. Mac flashed her lights in response, trusting the officer to give her a head’s up if she needed backup. Then, getting a better look at the car next to the curb, Mac chuckled softly, almost evilly. The neighborhood was all too familiar with this particular car, its driver, and his lead foot.

Brock, you chose the wrong morning to be an idiot behind the wheel.

Without a second thought, she flipped on her turn indicator and pulled over in front of the Camaro. With her emergency lights flashing, she checked for oncoming cars before climbing out. As she did, she pulled her badge from her pocked and clipped it to her belt. It probably wouldn’t do any good where Brock was concerned, but she had to try.

Good morning, Officer. What do you have? she asked as she approached.

Morning, ma’am.

Mac had to give it to her. She didn’t show any surprise at having the brass suddenly show up at her traffic stop. Mac’s eyes flicked to the younger woman’s name plate, taking note of it. She might be one to keep an eye on.

Mr. Manning here thought it would be a good idea to run a stop sign about a mile back. Then he decided to see how fast he could get his Camaro to hit sixty.

Mac shook her head and looked past the officer to where the blond-haired seventeen-year-old sat behind the wheel of the Camaro his parents bought him less than six months ago. Then she walked around the car, her eyes taking in every detail before rejoining the officer.

Are you writing him up or giving him a warning, Officer?

Writing him up, ma’am.

Seeing the look of question in the officer’s eyes, Mac nodded in approval. Then she motioned for the officer to join her at the rear of the vehicle.

Officer Gumble, I’m not here to bust your chops. Far from it. You see, I know Manning. He lives in my neighborhood. Believe me when I say everyone knows to get out of the way when they see him driving down the street. He puts us all in danger whenever he gets behind the wheel. With your permission, I’d like to drive that point home to him.

Ma’am, if it keeps him from wrapping his car around a pole somewhere down the line, I’m all for it.

Long night?

Very. You know how it is, ma’am. Rain brings out the idiots and that means accidents and tempers shorter than usual.

I remember. There’s a reason I don’t miss my days riding patrol. Now, let’s see if we can’t make a point with Brock. Then both of us can get out of here.

With that, she moved back to the driver’s door, Officer Gumble on her heels. She saw Brock’s expression change from resigned to getting a ticket to hope as he recognized her. She planned on shattering that expectation without delay.

Brock, she said simply.

Mac, talk to her, please. My folks will kill me if I get a ticket.

Don’t you mean another ticket? She shook her head, her expression all-business. And it is Assistant Chief Santos, young man.

He swallowed hard and paled. Not that she blamed him. Normally, she didn’t put on her cop persona in the neighborhood. But this was different. This wasn’t a friendly barbecue. At best, this could be called an intervention.

List the charges, Officer Gumble.

The uniform made a show of pulling her notebook and flipping through it. Running a stop sign, speeding, speeding in a school zone, using his cell phone in a school zone, inoperable rear brake light, expired inspection, just to name a few.

Mac arched one brow.

Insurance?

Negative, ma’am. He couldn’t provide proof of insurance when I asked.

Tsking, Mac shook her head. He hasn’t left you much choice, Officer. Call for a tow. The law is clear in situations like this.

Mac! Seeing the looks the women aimed at him, the teen sank further down in his seat. Assistant Chief Santos, you can’t! Please. My folks will kill me.

Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to run that stop sign or speed through the school zone.

Please, don’t tow my car. I won’t do it again. I swear.

Maybe if we did and you were forced to go without a car for a while, you’d realize what a danger you’ve been to yourself and to others.

Ma’am, there is an alternative.

Mac fought her grin. The patrol officer was playing it perfectly. The only question was what she had in mind. Curious to see, she nodded, waiting for Gumble to continue.

I could write him up, take his keys and transport him to the station where he would wait until his parents came to pick him up. Of course, it would mean leaving the car here where it would be towed if they don’t pick it up within twenty-four hours..

Yes! Please. He didn’t fold his hands in prayer, but Mac knew he’d been close to it. I can call someone for a ride to school.

Mac made a show of considering Gumble’s suggestion.

That wasn’t part of the officer’s recommendation, Brock. If I agree, you will be taken to the station where you will wait until one of your parents can take off work and come get you.

Mac—Assistant Chief, please. I’ll miss class.

She had to give it to him. He almost had her convinced he wanted to go to school.

The officer could take my keys but leave me here. I can get one of my friends to pick me up.

Don’t even think about calling my daughter or any of her friends. In fact, Officer Gumble will call your parents and explain the situation to them. Then she will stay with you until one of them gets here. How does that sound, Officer?

Gumble pursed her lips, as if considering. Then she nodded. Sounds good to me, Chief.

Excellent. She glanced at Brock. Stay right there until Officer Gumble tells you to move.

He nodded, his eyes wide.

Walk with me, Officer. Mac moved toward her SUV. Once there, she turned so Brock couldn’t see what she said. Officer, I leave it to you to handle this situation as you see fit. If you want to cut him loose with a warning or if you want to write every violation up, I will back you. I think we’ve put the fear of God into him. The only question is if he will learn anything from it.

"Ma’am, I ran him while the two of you were having your little discussion. He should have lost his license long ago. With your permission, I’m going to write it all up and impound the car. I will make it clear that is my decision based on information you didn’t have. Maybe if his folks feel the consequences of his actions in their wallets, they will finally step up and do something about it. Otherwise, you and I both know he’s going to wind up wrapping the car around a pole or another car sooner, rather than later."

If you need any weight behind you, contact me. She handed the young woman one of her cards. Call me too if you ever decide you want out of Patrol. I will be more than glad to find you a place in my division.

I will and thanks, ma’am. She glanced over her shoulder. Guess I ought to go deal with him now.

Watch your six out here, Officer.

You do the same, ma’am.

Mac climbed back into the SUV. For a moment, she sat there, hoping Brock took this lesson to heart. The cynic in her, honed by her years on the force, told her not to bet on it. She’d seen too many people who felt the laws didn’t apply to them or who believed they would never lose control of their cars. God, she didn’t miss those days of responding to accident sites.

What she did miss was working as a homicide detective. But the decision to accept the promotion first to captain and head of Crimes against Persons and then the new Special Crimes Division had been hers and hers alone, done to give her more time with her family. Those decisions meant her days as an investigator for the Dallas Police Department were behind her.

For the most part, at least. She still managed to get out into the field from time to time. But those times were all too infrequent and she missed them.

Mac just feels sorry for herself because she must go to meeting this morning.

Mac chuckled softly. She couldn’t argue with the voice in her head, the voice that belonged to her jaguar-self. As usual, Cait cut right to the chase. While she didn’t exactly feel sorry for herself and certainly not for the decisions she’d made, she wouldn’t argue if something came up that prevented her from attending Chief of Police Antony Loera’s weekly briefing. She despised the sessions so much that sitting in traffic that still acted as if rain poured from the sky looked good. Not as good as being able to escape into a hot murder investigation, but good enough if it kept her out of the briefing. Not that it was going to happen. Her morning would be spent sitting in yet another of the weekly briefings that drove her to distraction at the best of times. Today’s briefing presented more of a challenge since she needed to be ready to support her preliminary budget for the upcoming year.

And she hated arguing about money when everyone knew the Department needed more funds and more officers on the street. Something that wouldn’t happen without more money to pay competitive salaries and provide state-of-the-art equipment. Unfortunately, the city council wouldn’t or couldn’t give the Department the funds it needed.

Not that it stopped them from crying to the media and promising changes whenever crime rates went up or a particularly heinous crime made the news.

Why in the hell had she accepted this last promotion? It only put her closer to the politics of the job, something she detested.

Silly Mac. Had to accept. You are Alpha. You must command.

Mac rolled her eyes. Hush. I’ll be fine once I get more coffee.

The jungle cat sent an image of their shifted form taking down a deer, letting Mac know she felt that much more enjoyable than coffee. Laughing, Mac shook her head. Then she turned her attention back to the morning traffic. At this rate, she would be lucky if she had enough time to stop by her office to drop off her purse and briefcase before the meeting.

Ignoring the urge to turn on her lights and siren, she moved with the slow traffic toward downtown. Finally, her exit came into sight. She flipped on her turn indicator and shot down the shoulder, ignoring the outraged look of a few drivers. She didn’t care if some poor traffic cop decided to pull her over. If she spent one more minute in traffic going slower than she could walk, she would go insane.

They could put someone on the moon and find shipwrecks on the bottom of the ocean. Why couldn’t they build a highway system that didn’t turn into a parking lot for hours every morning and evening?

The tension in her shoulders eased as she left the highway behind. In front of her, the streets of downtown Dallas called. Cars filled the lanes, but the traffic lights were synced to avoid too much of a backup. At least so long as no one did something stupid like try to make a right hand turn from the left lane, something that happened all too often.

Please not this morning.

She silenced the traffic report when her cell phone rang as she neared the justice center. She reached up with her left hand and tapped her earbud, fully expecting it to be her admin wondering where she was. Her little detour to deal with Brock had cost her precious time she really didn’t have to spare.

Santos.

Good morning, Mac.

She smiled at the sound of her former partner’s and best friend’s voice.

Morning, Pat. What’s up? She guided the SUV into the left-hand turn lane and joined the queue of cars waiting for the light to change. Please tell me the squad called you about a mass murder of crazy cat ladies or something equally unusual and you need me to respond to the scene, making it impossible for me to attend the Chief’s briefing this morning.

Captain Patricia King laughed softly before answering. Sorry, but no. I was calling to see if everything’s still on for Cam’s birthday this weekend.

Mac grinned, remembering her daughter’s excitement as they discussed their plans over breakfast. It is. Will you and Mike be back in time?

Saturday, Pat and her son, Mike, left to begin a week of visiting college campuses around the state as coaches and alumni tried to woo the teenager. To everyone’s surprise except Cam, Mike announced he wanted to stay in the state despite the number of out-of-state colleges trying to recruit him. Once over her shock, Pat agreed. To her, education was more important than a school’s football program. Besides, she knew his father, if he still lived, would want him to attend Texas A&M just as he had.

We will. We should be back Friday night. We’ll be driving in from Lubbock. Tech is the last of the universities we’re visiting.

Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you two there.

Mac knew it would break Cam’s heart if her best friend and her godmother missed the celebration, especially since she hadn’t been able to go with them as originally planned. Her school was on a different schedule from Mike’s, thanks to their parents living in different districts.

You know we wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mac. The phone was muffled, but Mac heard her say something to her son. Sorry. Mike wanted to know if there’s anything you want or need us to do once we’re back.

I can’t think of anything right now. Mom and Gran are flying home Friday afternoon. Jackson’s parents are arriving Saturday morning. Moira assured me that she, John, and the girls have everything in hand for Saturday night at the pub and we’ve got everything set for Sunday.

She hoped.

You know you can count on Moira and John to make sure everything’s perfect.

Mac nodded even though Pat couldn’t see her. Still, it was difficult not to worry. Her daughter turned sixteen only once and she wanted it perfect, especially since Cam seemed so excited about it.

I’ll admit she surprised both Jackson and me when we asked what she wanted to do for her birthday.

Oh? You really haven’t said much about how the weekend plans came to be.

You know how Jackson and I wanted to make the birthday special for her.

Pat said she did, reminding Mac they’d discussed it more than once over the last few months.

"When we asked