Set The Dark On Fire

Right?”

“I cleaned his teeth myself while he was under sedation a year ago,” she murmured. “At that time, they were all intact.”

“We made a mistake.”

“No,” she protested. “According to GPS, Hamlet was at the Graveyard.”

“Yes, but Yesenia wasn’t killed there. How unusual would it be for a lion passing by to investigate a corpse? Perhaps he only got close enough to recognize the scent. The scientists who performed the autopsy said his stomach contents indicated he’d eaten recently.”

She looked up at him, feeling bleak. “Then it was all for nothing. I killed him for nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and appeared to really mean it.

Sadness for the loss closed in on her, blurring the edges of her vision. That goddamned “track and kill” policy! If she’d used a tranquilizer gun instead of a rifle, this would never have happened. She wouldn’t have another unnecessary death on her hands.

“Shit,” she whispered, brushing her tears away angrily. She hated that he was seeing her like this. Every time she thought she’d shown him her worst, she sank a bit lower.

“My top priority right now is public safety. I need to know if there’s another collared lion in the area, and I could use your expertise.”

Her ingrained sense of responsibility took over, reaching out like a lifeline, giving her something to focus on besides grief. She twisted her hands together, thinking, and realized she was holding a pair of lacy thong panties. Shoving them back in the laundry pile, she hopped up from the couch and started pacing the living room. “Male lions are extremely territorial,” she said. “They don’t often cross paths.”

“You’re sure it was a male?”

“Relatively sure. The size of the claw marks indicated a very large lion. Males also tend to roam more. As far as GPS goes, no other collared lion was within fifty miles of Tenaja that night, according to the monitors.”

“Are all of the lions in the area collared?”

“No. GPS is expensive. And Dark Canyon is a wildlife corridor, so without tracks, finding the culprit may be difficult.”

“What’s a wildlife corridor?”

“Kind of like a natural highway. The canyon links the Santa Ana Mountains to the Anza-Borrego Desert, two vast habitats. Lots of animals use it to go back and forth.”

He let out a frustrated breath. “So what do we do?”

She stopped pacing and turned to him. “We set a trap.”

7

When Dylan got out of the shower, his sister was gone.

No big surprise there.

She was usually absent, working too many hours at Dark Canyon and hiking around the godforsaken wil derness all the time. That was fine by him. He didn’t need a babysitter. He’d been taking care of himself most of his life.

At least she left a note. And her car. The old Subaru was still in the garage, so she must have gone with the sheriff.

Luke seemed like an okay guy, but Dylan didn’t like the way he’d been staring at Shay when he walked in. Sure, he’d seen men check her out before. It happened all the time. Chad was particularly crude about it, but even he waited until her eyes were averted.

There was nothing furtive, or polite, about the way the sheriff had been looking at her, and Dylan knew damned well he wasn’t thinking about work while he did it.

Scowling, he examined the contents of the fridge. It was still empty. There wasn’t even any milk for cereal.

Shay usually went grocery shopping during the weekends, and sometimes she made him breakfast on Sunday morning. Most days he fended for himself, but when she did cook, it was good. His stomach rumbled at the thought of buttermilk pancakes and sausage links.

There were eggs, and even he knew how to scramble, so he heated up a frying pan and cracked about a half dozen into it, listening to the sizzle. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Shay had eaten a meal together.

Maybe after he left for college, she’d hook up with the sheriff and start a new family without him.

He tried to convince himself that the idea didn’t bother him, but it did. Everybody knew she’d had an affair with Jesse Ryan, and that bothered him, too. Jesse had been stringing her along for years, two-timing her, his wife, and whoever else he had on the side.

Why did women go for guys like that? Dylan couldn’t get any girls to notice him, but a shiftless dirtbag like Jesse Ryan had more chicks than he could handle.

Shaking his head, he turned off the burner and took the entire pan of eggs over to the kitchen table, shoveling forkfuls directly into his mouth. Before he was finished, he heard the rumble of a souped-up car engine.

Chad Pinter’s Chevy Nova.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dumping the mostly empty pan in the sink. His knuckles were still bruised from their last meeting. Now he also had a crescent-shaped bite mark, compliments of Angel Martinez, between his thumb and his forefinger.

Dylan enjoyed a brawl every now and again, but he’d had enough excitement this weekend. Besides, Chad outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, and probably wouldn’t be willing to let him off again so easily.

He outlined his choices. Pretending he wasn’t home sounded good. Telling Chad to get bent sounded better. Opting for the middle road, he went ahead and answered the door when Chad knocked, hoping his muscle-bound friend hadn’t come for blood.

When Dylan saw the purple half moon beneath Chad’s left eye, and the apologetic expression on his handsome face, he felt some of his anger fade.

He also experienced a surge of pride, because Chad deserved the shiner, and damned if it wasn’t a good one. Although he wanted to gloat and grin, he just mumbled, “What’s up,” and jerked his chin toward the living room.

Dylan sat on the couch. Chad took the only chair.

“Is your sister home?” Chad asked.

“No.”

They usually listened to music or played video games when Chad came over, but Dylan made no move to turn on either. He was willing to hear Chad out, not to go on as though nothing had happened.

Dylan also knew what he was risking. Chad was popular and influential; Dylan wasn’t. Chad could make his final months at Palomar High hell. Even so, Dylan waited in silence for him to speak, studying his wavy brown hair and broad shoulders, the well-arranged features and dark, thickly lashed eyes that made all the girls swoon.

After some more fidgeting and procrastinating, Chad cleared his throat. “It got pretty crazy the other night.”

Dylan leaned his head back against the couch, unimpressed. “Yeah.”

“Look, dude, we both said some things we didn’t mean-”

“I meant everything I said.”

Chad appeared startled. He’d probably thought Dylan was going to roll over quicker than this. “Okay. Fine. I said some things I didn’t mean. About your mom.”

Dylan felt a coil of rage unfurl inside him, and he was no longer interested in talking. One word about his mother, and his hand constricted into a fist.

“You gave me a black eye,” Chad pointed out, obviously thinking they were even.

“You left me and Angel out on the dunes,” Dylan countered in a cold voice. “Miles from town.”

Chad couldn’t offer an excuse for that. Instead, he looked for a bright side. “Did she give you any play?”