Chapter 8: Next in Line

David closed his eyes and leaned back in the park bench. He
inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of grass, still wet from the rain hours
before. As a kid, he used to hate the smell of wet grass; it made him nauseous.
But now he found it relaxing. It made him think about how the rain washed
everything away and left the world clean and ready for a fresh start. 

Perhaps that was what he needed: a fresh start. He felt he
had been taking unnecessary risks and wondered if it were really worth it in
the end. Now that his relationship with Lori was becoming more serious, maybe
it was time to consider her happiness. Unfortunately, her happiness was part of
the problem. He saw the way people looked at them, a human with an anthro, when
they walked down the street. No one had done anything more than stare, but it
still made him wonder how she felt about it.

He opened his eyes at the feel of a finger gently poking him
in the shoulder. He turned to the intruder to see Lori looking at him, smiling.

“What'cha thinking 'bout?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

David sighed and looked up at the tree above them, its
leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. “Nothing. Just thinking about how we look
like an old couple sitting in the park."

“Really? Sitting in the park makes us old? I personally like
sitting in the park and talking with you. It's easier than trying make
ourselves heard in some noisy bar or overcrowded restaurant." She leaned her
head on his shoulder and sighed. “It's feels peaceful here."

David continued to stare at the sky through the canopy of
leaves above them and didn't respond. He could feel Lori shift as she turned to
face him.

“But that's not the only thing on your mind is it?"

“I also wonder about our relationship. I just…We get stares
whenever we go out together. It kind of bothers me."

“So?" she asked. He could hear the slight irritation in her
voice. “You're thinking about breaking-up with me because of what some random
strangers think?"

“What? No. It just makes me wonder if your parents will look
at me the same way."

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," said Lori calmly,
replacing her head on David's shoulder, “They already know and they're okay
with it."

David looked down at her in surprise. “You told them?"

“Uh-huh. My mom thinks you're sweet and my father can't wait
to meet you."

David flattened his ears to hide them turning pink with
embarrassment. His tail, hanging off the edge of the bench, started wagging. He
didn't want to admit that the looks and whispers from other people did in fact
at times made him consider breaking-up with her for her sake. He couldn't live
with himself knowing that he was causing her grief. For the longest time, he
questioned if he should stay with her if her parents didn't approve to avoid
driving a wedge between her and her family. He couldn't begin to express how
happy he felt knowing her parents didn't care.

“David, we've been going out for two years. If I really
thought my parents would have a problem with you being a husky, don't you think
I would have said something by now?"

David's tail stiffened. “How'd you know that's what I was
thinking?"

“Psychic powers," she responded, in a slow, dramatic voice.

“Well, since you're psychic, can you tell me tomorrow's
winning lottery numbers?"

Lori gasped in mock surprise. “David Somerson, are you
suggesting that I use my powers for my own personal gain? I could never do such a thing."

“Well, actually, you're using your powers for my personal gain. You getting to date a
millionaire would just be a convenient coincidence."

Lori started laughing. For a moment, the sound of her laughter
made David's tail start wagging again, but it soon stopped. His stomach began
to knot and his ears flattened against his head. He knew her laugh and this was
not it. She sounded like when someone was pretending a joke was funny to be
polite. Granted, it wouldn't be the first time she'd done that, but somehow
this felt different, like she was laughing to keep from crying.

When her laughter began to die down, he asked, “Lori, is
something wrong? You never laugh that hard at my jokes."

Lori stopped laughing immediately. For several minutes, the
sound of leaves rustling in the wind was the only thing breaking the awkward
silence. He thought about saying something, but decided against it. It would be
better if she spoke up on her own. Her grip on David's arm tightened when she
finally spoke. “I'm sorry. I just…needed that. I've been pretty stressed out at
work; Luther's been getting on my case about that stupid production report."

David's tail relaxed, but the knot in his stomach grew
tighter like it always did whenever Lori brought up her boss. He couldn't put
his finger on it, but he for some reason, he didn't like that guy.  “Oh. Anything I can do?"

“Actually, I would love it if you could send them a virus
and crash their entire network,"  she said
sweetly. She leaned on him again and closed her eyes.

He knew she was joking, but he still smiled and said, “You
got it. One 'get out work special' coming right up."

Lori chuckled and the curtain of silence fell over them once
more. David looked up at the sun peeking through the branches overhead. He
loved these quiet moments when it was just him and her together. He wished they
could sit there forever, their bodies pressed together like this, feeling her
heartbeat against his. Of course, he knew the moment couldn't last forever, but
he intended to make sure their relationship lasted as long as it could.

David rested his chin on her head. “I'm quitting you know."

“You mean your job with Mr. Caldwell? Why?"

David chuckled. “Not that one. Although, I wouldn't mind
quitting that one; his son's a dick. I meant the other job."

It was no secret that David's always like computers. He
joined a group of hackers back in high school that called themselves “The
Phantoms." They were a group of computer geniuses with too much time on their
hands. They mostly pulled pranks: hacking social media accounts, or sending
people chain e-mails. What Lori didn't know was that they also used their
computer skills to pull scams. While he wasn't sure exactly how much he made
swindling people, he was certain it was somewhere in the tens of thousands.

Ever since he started dating Lori, he'd felt an increasing
need to distance himself from the group. Their leader, Scott Reid, was getting
reckless, and his 'pranks' were getting out of hand. Once he sent a fabricated
video of a store owner accepting bribes simply because he thought it would be
funny. By the time it became known that the video was fake, the man lost his
marriage and was in danger of losing his business. Sadly, the man's business
still went under and he wife refused to take him back. David realized then it
was only a matter of time before something went wrong and he was spending the
rest of his life in a federal prison or worse.

Lori sat up and looked David in the eye. “Really? I know
it's illegal, but you love hacking."

“I know. But after Scott nearly got us caught, I started
thinking about how I'd be leaving you alone if I went to jail or got killed.
Truth is, I don't want to risk getting you caught up in something I did. There
are other things I can do with computers. Besides, how am I supposed to prove
to your parents that I'm a good guy if I—Lori are you crying?"

Turning her head away, she responded between sniffs, her
voice breaking, “No, I'm not crying. I just…got something in my eye." She wiped
her face before turning to face him with an over-convincing smile on her face.
He could see the wet streaks on her face where she wiped the tears but decided
to drop the issue. She was never the type to talk about her feelings and
pushing the issue would only make her defensive and start an argument. She laid
her head back on his shoulder and pulled herself closer. “I don't deserve you,"
she whispered.

David looked down at her. “What do you mean?"

“…Nothing. Just that you're a good guy."

****

“Hey, David?"

David started at the sound of Carol's voice. He looked
around as if he had no idea where he was and no memory of how he got there. He
almost began looking for Lori before it sank in that he was in the present and
sitting in the park with Carol. Everything came rushing back, like watching a
movie being fast-forwarded. Carol called him earlier that day and asked him if
he wanted to meet her. He agreed and told her to meet him at the park just a
few blocks away from their apartment building. He got there early and figured
he would just wait around for her show up. That prompted his trip down memory
lane.

“David, are you okay?" Carol asked, “You were out of it for
a pretty long time."

David didn't answer. He sat on the bench, the same bench
where he and Lori once sat, wringing his hands. He couldn't even blame anyone
for it this time. After all, Carol said she wanted to meet, but he chose this place. He thought coming
to a place that was familiar would help him and set his mind at ease, but it wasn't
helping. He mentally kicked himself for deciding to come here. He still
remembered his last trip down memory lane when Rob took him to Kitty's. Why did he think coming here
would have a more desirable outcome?

He remained silent, hoping she would take the hint and drop
the subject. But after several minutes, he could still feel Carol's gaze on
him. He once again cursed putting himself in this awkward situation.

David wrung his hands tighter, ignoring the pain in his
fingers. “It's nothing. Don't worry about it. What did you want to talk to me
about?" he asked, forcing a friendly smile.

She looked how he felt, which was surprising since for as
long as David had known her, she had never so much as picked up her mail without
making sure she was well-groomed. She looked slightly neater than when he first
saw her outside the apartment building two days ago, but it wasn't much of an
improvement. She wore a dark hoodie that was covered in lint and smelled like
something that had been sitting in the bottom of a clothes bin. She kept the
hood pulled over her head despite that she had to be uncomfortable wearing it
on such a sunny day. Her baggy jeans she wore matched the hoodie, and it looked
cleaner than her last outfit, although it was still wrinkled. Unfortunately,
her clothes were the only part of her that'd improved since then. Beneath the
hood, her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and her fur had somehow become even
worse. David could even swear that it had become thin in places, but with the
hood over her head, it was hard to tell. Whenever she moved, she looked as if
she was stuck in slow-motion or she was afraid of doing something wrong.

“I haven't been sleeping too well lately…" Carol looked over
her shoulder before continuing. “I think—know someone's after me."

David's stomach dropped. He started thinking about Oliver
and the dark sedan then his conversation with Stephanie entered his mind. “Have
you…seen a dark sedan anywhere while you were out? Or questioned by a man named
Samson?"

Carol shook her head, her long feathered ears flapping
wildly underneath her hood. “No. I don't know. I don't think so—it's just…David
it doesn't make any sense!"

“Okay, okay, calm down," he said, placing a reassuring hand
on her shoulder. “Just take a deep breath and start at the beginning."

 She did as she was
told. He could feel her muscles loosening under his hand. Carol pulled a plain
white envelope out of her purse. “A few days ago, maybe a week, I got this
letter. I have no idea what it means."

David took the envelope and pulled out its contents. Inside
was a single picture of a tall brick building. Even though the full building
was not in the shot, he recognized it immediately as their apartment building.

He raised a brow and held the picture up. “It's the
apartment building, so what?"

“Turn it over," Carol mumbled, staring at the ground.

He flipped the picture over. On the back, written in black
ink, is a single sentence:

you're a liar

A slight chill ran through him. He didn't get it, but he
understood enough to know why Carol was scared. Someone sent Carol this picture
with the message to inform her they knew what she did and where she lived. It
had to be someone's idea of a sick joke. But why? If whatever she did was so
awful, why not confront her directly? There was no name on the envelope or the
picture, so whoever was doing this either didn't want to be known or Carol
already knew who it was.

“Carol, do you know why someone would call you a liar?"

Carol continued to stare at the ground and began chewing on
her nails.

“Carol," David repeated with a note of urgency in his voice,
“You asked me to meet you here because you want
to talk about it. It's okay. Whatever you did, I won't judge you."

“No. You will judge me, and you should. I lied about you."

David cocked his head. “What?"

“I…When the police asked me about your relationship with
Lori, I lied and said I didn't know you very well." Her eyes began to tear up
and she buried her face in her hands.

She covered her mouth with her hands and her voice kept breaking
up, but he could clearly understand what she said next: “I told them there was
always a lot of yelling coming from your apartment. The day she died, I told
them you chased Lori out of your apartment. David I'm so sorry! I sold you out!
I made you sound like a monster and I didn't even try to defend you!"

David was grateful she had her face covered and couldn't see
the look on his face right now. Every time he softened his expression, it
changed back to disgust as if it was his natural look. He tried to bury the
feelings of hatred building up—he wanted to,
but the words “you're a liar" appeared before his eyes every time he considered
forgiving her.

When Carol stopped talking to him a few months back, he
never paid much attention to it. She wasn't one of the ones spreading rumors
(so far as he knew) and when he saw her in the halls, she never showed any
animosity toward him. But now he knew the reason behind her sudden silence:
guilt.

As he watched her crying, looking as if she fought her way
out of a clothes bin, he didn't feel an ounce of pity for her. “Why?" he asked.
He tried to fight back the anger in his voice, but he could hear it rising.
“Why would you say that? What the hell did I ever do to you?"

She looked up from her hands, revealing her tear-soaked
face. Her eyes were now puffy in addition to their redness, and her already
messy fur now resembled a wet rag sitting on her face. “You didn't do a-anything,
D-David. I said those things b-because I wanted to s-sound interesting. After
watching those crime dramas, and then to have it happen in real life…I…I
actually thought it was cool. It was l-like I was actually living it.

“But after I heard about what was happening to you, it sank
in. You're life is r-ruined and it's all…it's my f-fault. I-I realized that I
never sh-should have said those things. If I h-hadn't, maybe…maybe things would
be different."

He stared at her, no longer making any attempt to hide his
scorn. He thought she called him here to catch up and maybe take his mind off
things, but instead she just wanted to clear her own conscience. If she never
received that strange message, would she even be talking to him right now?

He swallowed his anger and decided to hear her out anyway.
“Carol, why am I here? Why didn't you go to the police?"

Fresh tears started streaming down her face as she glared at
him. “I-I did go t-t-to the police! They—they t-told me it was probably j-just
kids playing a-a prank."

“Well, maybe it is kids playing a prank," David shot back.
He didn't mean to sound annoyed, but it felt as if the whole conversation was a
waste of time. Carol wouldn't even have bothered to speak to him if she weren't
desperate.

“Then how do you explain these?!" Carol snatched two more
envelopes out of her purse and flung them at David.

For a moment, he fought the urge to throw the letters to the
ground and storm off. Tell her she deserved exactly what was happening to her
and leave her to wallow in her fears. But curiosity won him over and he took
the envelopes. Like the first one, these two had nothing written on them and
each contained a single item inside. Opening the first one, he found a picture
of the front of the apartment building. At first it felt like someone was just
sending her the same picture with the same message over and over again. But
after taking a second look, he noticed that whoever took the first picture was
standing further away than when they took the second. Whoever was taking the
pictures was getting closer to the building. But it was impossible to know if
the difference in distance was intentional or not.

He flipped the picture over and read the message on the
back. The message was written in black in and was just as simple and to the
point as the last message:

you're a traitor

He scoffed and moved on to the third envelope. Another
harassing photo. The first message had caught him off-guard, but the second one
didn't have the same impact. They made it clear they knew where she was and
what she did. At this point just say what you wanted or do something already.

Looking at the third picture, however, made his blood run
cold. He told himself that it was just a prank; someone's poor attempt to
punish Carol for her lies, but it didn't stop his tail from shaking or his
heart increasing its tempo.

The picture showed a door. On the door, the numbers 306—Carol's
old apartment number—were visible on it, plain as day.

The second picture made little sense, but this one drove the
point home: the point of getting closer wasn't about being scary. It was a
countdown. With each message, they were telling Carol that she was running out
of time. They wanted her to know they planned to do more than harass her with
random pictures. All the rage he felt before was gone. Liar or not, Carol
didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be toyed with, to be hunted like
this.

With trembling fingers, he flipped the picture over to read
the final message:

It's too late to confess

That's why she was so afraid; she was out of time. He had to
swallow twice before he found the courage to speak again. “What did the police
say after you showed them these?"

Carol smiled bitterly and gave a short humorless laugh. “The
cops still think I'm overreacting. One of them even had the nerve to accuse me
to taking the other pictures myself so people would take me seriously. Everyone
else I talk to thinks I'm exaggerating. But David I know someone is after me."

“Is this why you moved?"

Carol nodded. “I figured someone in the building didn't want
me there anymore, and if I left they would leave me alone. So, I grabbed the
first place I could find available. I'm assuming it worked since I haven't
gotten any more messages since I left."

“If you think they're leaving you alone, then why are you
telling me about this?"

“As much as those messages scare me, I can't deny that
they're right: I am a fake—and a liar. I wanted to apologize to you. Not just
for lying on you, but for also taking things so lightly. You lost someone you
loved and I never once thought about how you must've felt. I hope you can
forgive me, or at least let me try to make it up to you."

David sighed and passed a hand over his face. Part of him
wanted to be happy; Eric told him that things would start looking up, and they
were. People were starting to apologize for leaving him to rot. The nightmares
were…different. They still frightened him a bit, but at least he wasn't waking
up in a cold sweat anymore. Now all he needed was to find a steady job and for
the murder charge to go away and he could start trying to put his life back together
and mourn in peace.

But the problem was it didn't feel like it was enough. For
almost a year—no, longer than that, the people he once trusted had been trying
to make his life a living hell. Was “sorry" good enough? After everything, didn't
he deserve a little more than just an apology? But what else could he possibly
expect from her?

“Carol, don't worry about trying to make things up to me.
You have enough to worry about. For now, just focus on staying safe until this
whole thing blows over."

“Actually…about that…I kinda have a favor I want to ask…"

David raised a brow. “Seriously? Now?"

“I know, I have no right to ask for anything after what I
did, but I have no one else to turn to and I'm desperate—wait that came out
wrong. I mean, I'm scared and I need your help." She reached into her pocket
and pulled out a key. “This is a copy of my apartment key. Could you just stop
by every now and then and see how I'm doing?"

David took the key and looked at its previous owner,
confused. “You're giving me the key to your place after you told me you stabbed
me in the back?"

“David, as strange as it is to say: I actually trust you,"
Carol said, a nervous smile spreading across her muzzle. “I know where I stand
with you. And you're not the type to lose my key or anything, so I know it's in
safe hands."

“Look, Carol—"

“No. Don't say anything…please," she said. Her voice was
full of desperation, and her tired, bloodshot eyes stared at him pleadingly. “I
have no one else to ask. My family thinks I'm crazy, the cops don't believe me,
I'm afraid one of my so-called 'friends' is behind it all. You're all I have
left."

David's ears fell. It stung that she was pretty much telling
him that he was a last resort, but given her circumstances he decided to give
her a break. He understood all too well how it felt not being able to trust
anyone.

“All right, Carol. I'll watch your back."

Carol's face lit up as if she just learned Christmas was
coming early and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tear-soaked face
left his fur feeling wet. “Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you. I'm so
lucky to have you as a friend right now. You are such a good guy."

David's face fell. “You're
such a good guy." The words repeated over and over in his mind, alternating
between Carol's voice and Lori's. The last time he had heard those words, it
was just before he found out something shocking that changed his life forever.

 As if on cue, his
cell phone started ringing. David had never felt happier to be interrupted in
his life.

“Um, yeah…sure. Carol, I have to take this," he said quickly
as he rose from his seat. He snatched the phone out of his pocket and answered
the call without even bothering to see who was calling him. Not that it made
much difference anyway. There were only three people who would bother to dial
his number.

“Hello?"

“David, it's Michael. I got your message," Michael replied. “Unfortunately,
there is good news and bad news."

David sighed and stepped off the path to lean against a
nearby tree. “Oh, I actually got good news? My luck is turning around already.
Give me the bad first, that way I'll have something to look forward to."

Michael chuckled, but sounded more like an attempt to be
polite rather than a genuine response. “Well, first, Oliver Peers was supposed
to testify against you. His death complicates things."

“Of course it does. Oliver was always complicating things."

“The good news is that the police already arrested his
sister who confessed to killing him. Since there is nothing tying you to that
murder, they can't use it against you. But just to be safe, I have to ask: Did
you know anything about this? We can't risk it coming up later at a bad time."

David's tail began to curl. He didn't know what bothered him
more, that Michael actually asked him that question or that Michael expected
him to admit to it even if he did. A jogger appeared and stopped just a few
away to tie his sneaker. David watched the human carefully. The man showed no
signs of paying him any attention, but he lowered his voice anyway. “No. I
didn't know Pepper was going to snap and off her brother. I was as shocked as
you were when I found out."

Michael was silent on the other line. At first, David
wondered if he hung up or the call was dropped. Then Michael spoke again, but
his voice sounded distant as if he were away from the phone. “Okay, I just
wanted to make sure nothing was going to blow up in our face. Unfortunately,
it's not stopping Alex Fields from running with it."

David growled. “Doesn't surprise me. Isn't there some way
you can shut her up? Issue a gag order or something?"

“Sorry, I already tried that. Surprisingly, she's got
friends in the right places—or dirt on the right people, so there's not much we
can do about her. But her opinion doesn't matter in this case. What matters is
the lack of physical evidence.  Without
it, they have very little to hold against you, so they're going to pick apart
every aspect of your life to find some way to paint you as the bad guy."

The jogger still hadn't moved, so David rolled his eyes and resumed
walking down the path again. He made a point of checking over his shoulder to
make sure the guy wasn't following him. “You think that's why someone named
Samson is asking about me? He was hired to dig up dirt about my life?"

“Well, they don't normally hire private investigators. But
nothing about this whole thing has been standard, so I wouldn't put it past
them. I'm still looking into it on my end. Are you sure you don't know this
guy?"

“Yes, I'm sure. I've never known any—" David froze as a
sudden thought crossed his mind. Samson knew where he worked. If he talked to
his other former co-workers, sooner or later, Stephanie's name would come up. “Wait
a minute, they're not going to go after Stephanie are they?"

“Who?"

“Stephanie Lodes. She and I used to work together."

“Well, that depends. What's your relationship with her like?"

“We're friends. We used to work together, which is how we
met. We went out for drinks a few times after work. But there are a lot of
rumors floating around…We're just friends, though," David added quickly.

Michael was silent again. It wasn't until David was nearing
the edge of the park that he spoke again. “Huh. This complicates things. Even
without proof, just mentioning it will put ideas in people's heads. We can't risk
them muddying the waters—or maybe…" there was a sound of papers shuffling and
things falling over.

David's tail ducked between his legs. “Mike? What's going
on?"

“I'm right here, David. Listen, this Stephanie, you two are
close, right?"

David hesitated before answering. Somehow he knew he wasn't
going to like where Michael was going. Whether he liked it or not, he had to
answer the question, but he thought it best not to mention how he and Stephanie
mended their friendship after she recently cut ties. “I guess. I'm not really
sure."

“But the two of you never dated or slept together, right?"

“I said, no. Where are you going with this?"

“Good. Listen, if we suggest that Stephanie is madly in love
with you and would do anything for you, we may be able to plant doubt in the
minds of the jury," Michael said a note of happiness his voice. “So long as we
make sure no one thinks you put the idea in her head, we can make the jury
wonder if she killed your girlfriend instead."

“I'm not doing that," David said flatly. “The fact that you
would even suggest it—"

“Don't be stupid, David," Michael said firmly. “Your friend
won't be seeing any jail time if that's what you're worried about. We just need
them to think there's the possibility of more than one suspect."

“THERE IS MORE THAN ONE SUSPECT!"

David immediately regretted his outburst. A sudden hush had
fallen over the area around him. Even the wind stopped blowing, and there was
no telling how many people were looking in his direction. But he couldn't help
it. How could Michael even think to suggest he betray Stephanie like that?
“Look, I'm sorry I yelled," he said in a quieter, calmer voice. “Stephanie gave
up her job because of me. She has to endure rumors and insults because of me. We wouldn't even know about this
Samson guy if she hadn't warned me, so I'm not about to throw her under the bus
to save my own ass. If you want to use someone, use that Samson guy. Some
random guy stalking me has to raise a few questions."

Michael was silent for a moment before answering. “Alright,
fine. We won't play that card, okay?" His voice suggested he wasn't happy about
the decision. “But you do know that Samson is a long shot?"

David sighed. “Yeah, I know."

“Good. Just remember that even if we don't use your friend,
the prosecution could. If they make it look like the two of you planned this,
they could add conspiracy to the list and cement a conviction. Or they'll
dangle it over your head to make you plead guilty."

“They won't. Going after me is one thing, but to make
conspiracy stick, they'll need proof that Steph and I were more than friends.
Even then, they still need to prove that I knew what was going to happen.
There's no evidence of that. If there was, we'd be having a different
conversation."

 “Keep talking like
that and I'll feel like you don't need me," Michael said jokingly. “But you're
right. Unless they can prove the two of you did more than hang out, they'll
keep her on the sidelines. But remember: As long as she's their secret weapon, don't
do anything stupid. Stay away from Samson and keep your contact with Stephanie
to a minimum."

“Well, I guess I shouldn't tell you about Carol…" David said
jokingly.

“That's not funny. I'm serious, all they have to do is make
you look like a womanizing asshole, and this whole thing will be sunk," Michael
said and hung up the phone.

David nodded and continued his walk back to his apartment.
The joke wasn't funny, but after his conversation with Carol he needed to do
something to offset the negative morning he'd had.

****

David stopped right in front of his apartment building. An
image of Carol, sitting in her apartment alone and scared shitless entered his
mind. It couldn't hurt to ask a few of the neighbors. Someone had to see
someone suspicious in the building. The stalker couldn't have taken the picture
of her front door without physically entering the building. Unless…someone in
the building took the picture for them.

David shuddered a little at the idea and quickly forced it
from his mind. Now was not the time for conspiracy theories. Right now, he
needed to focus on getting a lead on Carol's mysterious messenger. He entered
the building and went straight to Otto Landoran's apartment, 101.

Otto was the building's landlord, and he kept eerily good
records of everyone who entered and left. If anyone had seen a suspicious
person in the building it was Otto. But when David pounded on the door and no
one answered, he feared Otto may not be home. It seemed typical the one time he
needed the old man, he wouldn't be where he always was.

He began contemplating whether or not to slip a note under
the door when a distant voice shouted, “Hold on, I'll be there in a sec…"A few
seconds later there was the unmistakable click of a door being unlocked before
a middle-aged, balding man appeared in the doorway. An unfiltered cigarette
dangled from his lips, sending a thin trail of smoke over his bony shoulder. Otto
pushed his glasses up on his flat nose before giving David a quizzical look.
“Somerson? What are you doing—Oh, Lord, don't tell me you're going to be late
on your rent. You've always paid on time."

“No, Otto, you've got it wrong," David said quickly. While
he did plan to talk to Otto about paying his rent in cash and what would happen
if he went to jail, it could wait till later. “I just want to ask you a few
things."

Otto stuck one his thick fingers into his ear before
answering. “Well, if we hafta talk, you mind if we go inside?"

David nodded and Otto led him into his apartment. He immediately
regretted the decision when he saw Otto's wife, Clarissa, sitting in the living
room. Clarissa was nice woman, but she had a fur fetish which she made no
attempt to hide. David hated how she always rubbed her hands through his fur,
her long manicured nails scratching his skin, and making innuendos of what she
would do to him if she weren't already married.

Sometimes he didn't think she was joking.

Thankfully, Otto steered him into the kitchen, and Clarissa
didn't so much as glance in their direction. She was too engrossed in the court
show she was watching on TV. David complied when Otto told him to take a seat.

“So, what'd you wanna talk to me about?"

David relayed everything Carol told him earlier that morning,
the envelope, the photos inside, and how no one believed her. As he talked, he
gauged Otto's reaction. Much to his surprise, Otto just shifted his weight in
his seat when he mentioned the strange letters. The old man never once
interrupted or showed any shock in his face.

When David finished talking, Otto took the cigarette from
his mouth and put it out on the glass ashtray sitting on the table. “Is that all
you wanted, Somerson?" he asked in a voice laden with boredom.

David's ears rose at the man's reaction. “Is that all? I
just told you one of your tenants—"

“Ex-tenant," Otto corrected. 
“She moved out. And to be honest, she wasn't a favorite of mine."

“What difference does it fucking make?!" Before David even
realized, he was on his feet, leaning on the table, and glaring at the old man.
“Someone is stalking her. They came
in this building and took pictures of her apartment, and you act like you don't
even care."

“Everything all right in there?" Clarissa asked from the living
room.

Otto leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, honey, we're fine." His
brown eyes remained just as emotionless as when he first sat down. He plucked
the cigarette from the ashtray, placed it between his lips, and lit it using
the lighter in his breast pocket. The cigarette waggled as he spoke. “First,
Somerson, Carol already came to me with this the day she moved, so it ain't
news to me. Second, I'm gonna tell you the same damn thing I told her: No one
strange has set foot in this building in the last few days. If they had, I'd've
known about it."

David continued to lean over the table. So what if Otto
already knew, it didn't excuse his indifference to the whole situation. “Did
you at least ask around the building?" he asked through clenched teeth.

“No, I didn't. If I had, people would get the idea in their
heads there's a perv running loose. Can't have that. People'll start panicking
and they'll all wanna move."

It took everything David could muster not to shove the
cigarette down Otto's throat. Since when had Otto been so uncaring? Otto had
always put the safety of the residents before anything else. Of course everyone
knew he only did it because if the building developed a bad reputation, no one
would want to live there. But even that logic was better than living under a
slum lord who didn't give a damn.

There was no point in continuing the discussion. Otto was
either lying or incompetent, and David found it hard to believe either one. He
shot Otto one last disapproving glare before storming out the landlord's
apartment and heading up to his own.

He slammed the door hard enough to make the walls rattle. He
just couldn't believe Otto's reaction. Carol moved out because she feared what
her stalker was going to do. Otto just lost a tenant, and yet he just didn't
care. Why? The theory of someone in taking the pictures entered his mind again.  What if someone approached Otto and offered
him money to take a few pictures of Carol's apartment?  The whole theory sounded ridiculous. Why
would Otto give up a monthly stipend for a one time handout?

He couldn't figure this out on his own; he needed someone
else to bounce ideas off of. First he thought of calling Stephanie, but they
had just become friends again. It didn't feel right to suddenly call her up so
soon and burden her with something so serious. He called Rob instead, but all
he got was Rob's voicemail.

David sighed and hung up without leaving a message. He didn't
want to sit around alone with his thoughts until Rob finally called back. He needed
to talk to someone now. Carol's
stalker was out there planning their next move.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was inside his
bedroom, making a direct line for the computer. He wasted no time powering it
on and logging in to Chatline. The
thought of what he was going to do if Eric wasn't there never even crossed his
mind. He couldn't explain why, but somehow he knew Eric was going to be there.
Eric was going to talk to him.

And just like always, Eric responded immediately.

CH27:  Okay you are not going to believe what
happened.

Eric:
Let me guess: another one of those traitors came to you begging for
forgiveness.

CH27:
Well, that's not entirely what happened but you're pretty close. How'd you know
that?

Eric:
Psychic powers. I'm just joking. It's all we've been talking about for the last
several days.

CH27:
Oh. Sorry.

Eric:
Don't sweat it. Tell me what happened.

David told everything he and Carol talked about, the
mysterious letters, her reasons for leaving, and how he felt when she told him
the truth behind her silence. He also mentioned how Otto reacted when he heard
the news and what he thought of it. As always, he made sure to leave out or
re-word anything that may lead to their identities, but it felt a lot harder to
do so this time. Part of him questioned why he bothered to protect their
identities. He wouldn't lose sleep over it if the world learned who they were
and what they did. He hunched over the keyboard and his fingers jabbed harshly
at the keys. With each sentence, each word, each letter, he could feel some of
his frustration draining as if the computer was absorbing all his anger at Otto
and his frustration with Carol.

After he finished typing, he felt exhausted as if he had
finished running up and down the stairs several times. Eric's response was
almost immediate.

Eric:
Ha! I told you. Once they get a taste of what it feels like to be on the pointy
end of the knife, they start crawling back. But I don't think you should have
agreed to help her. She had no problem leaving you flapping in the wind.

CH27:
After I saw those pictures I just couldn't blame her anymore. I don't like what
she did, but I don't think she deserves to be harassed like that. What if her
life is really in danger?

Eric:
She should have thought of that before deciding to live out her Law and Order
fantasy. If she wants forgiveness, she can find religion.

CH27:
That seems a little harsh.

Eric:
It is harsh. Life is harsh. They were harsh when they lied on you and ruined
your life. They don't deserve forgiveness. When you found out one of those
backstabbing bastards died, did you feel like that was harsh?

David stared blankly at the screen. Eric did make a strong
point. When he found out about Oliver, he actually wanted to smile. What Carol
did wasn't much better. Granted she never went on TV or tried to set him up
recently, but her statement could have very well kept the situation from
escalating the way it did. If she hadn't lied, maybe he wouldn't be their
number one suspect.

But did her punishment really fit her crime? All he had to
go on were a bunch of “what-ifs" and “maybes". There was no guarantee his life
would be different if Carol told the truth.

CH27:
I got to think on this one.

Eric:
Cool. Just don't get soft on me. We can give certain ones a pass so long as
they stand by you in the end. But the others have to burn.

David cocked his head as he read Eric's message. What did he
mean by, “We can give certain ones a pass"? Pass from what? Regardless of his
feelings, he was not the one passing judgment on people. Things would take
their natural course regardless of how he felt about it.

He didn't force Pepper to kill her brother. He didn't tell
anyone to threaten Carol and stalk her.

CH27:
I see your point. But I still don't like leaving her at the mercy of some psycho.

Eric:
Listen to me. She's not your friend. She's only coming to you 'coz no one else
gives a damn. She's just in it to save her own skin and nothing else. Now let's
stop talking about that. Hearing about her is pissing me off.

CH27:
Yeah, sure. What do you want to talk about?

Eric:
That asshole landlord. I don't like him. He can't get away with treating his
tenants like that.

CH27:
I agree. But what can I do about it?

Eric:
Let him feel the pointy end of the knife.

His ears fell as he reads the message. Part of him hoped
Eric was using a figure of speech. While he had never heard that particular phrase
being used as a figure of speech before, it seemed unlikely Eric was suggesting
he actually stab Otto or something equivalent. But another part—albeit a very
small one like a single small light in a large dark room—secretly wished it wasn't
a phrase.

A sudden knock on the door, made him nearly fall out of his
seat.  He told Eric he would talk to him
later and logged out of Chatline.

He cautiously approached the door. It was silly and he knew
it, but it didn't stop a small voice in his mind from telling him not to answer
the door. He eventually succeeded in telling the voice to shut up, and answered
the door anyway. There weren't many people would visit him now.

He expected to find Rob or even Stephanie standing at the
door. Instead he was greeted by a woman standing next to the largest bulldog he
had ever seen. The woman was closer to David's height and she didn't appear to
be that much older than him. But the bulldog looked much older, like approaching-retirement-age
older. Both of them had serious expressions on their faces suggesting it wasn't
a friendly visit. David stared at the pair stunned. He had no idea who they
were or what they wanted from him.

“Uh, can I help you?"

The woman held up a detective's badge. “David Somerson, my
name is Anya Corázon and this is my partner, Detective George Watson. We have a
few questions we'd like to ask you."

****

Anya looked over the husky staring at them from the doorway.
His ashen gray fur stuck out all over the place reminding her of a
stereotypical, sloppy college student. With all the rumors floating around
about him, she half-expected a large, vicious looking anthro with a killer look
in his eyes. This guy didn't look half as vicious or as threatening as she
believed.

When David continued to stand there and watch them with a
stupefied expression on his face, Anya spoke again, “Are you going to invite us
in, Mr. Somerson? I'd prefer not to have this talk in the hall."

David flinched as she just yelled at him. “Sorry," he said,
smoothing back his fur. It went straight back to sticking all over the place
the moment he dropped his hand. “I thought you were someone else."

“That someone being who?" George asked as they followed the
husky inside.

“It's not important."

“We'll decide that," Anya said as she looked around the
apartment. Although a little cramped, it didn't look any different from her
place—excluding the male ambiance. All the furniture looked worn and there were
no boxes or bags anywhere, so he had no plans to make a run for it yet.

Seeing the web of cracks on the TV on the wall reminded her
how appearances could be deceiving. She pointed at the broken TV on the wall.
“What happened to your TV?"

“I had some friends over last night, and one of them had one
too many drinks," David said, leaning against the wall. “You said you had some
questions you wanted to ask me?"

George took a picture of Samson out of his pocket and handed
it to the husky. “Have you seen this man before?"

David stared at the picture. Anya studied his face
carefully. It wasn't as hard to tell when someone was lying as the movies tried
to portray. There were always little facial tics or unconscious habits that
people have no control over, and trying to overwrite those habits made the lie
even more obvious. Judging from the subtle changes in his facial expressions,
he had never seen Samson in his life. Eventually he gave the picture back. “No,
I feel like I should know this guy, but I can't say I've ever seen him."

“The man's name is Samson Thomas," Anya said. “Even if you
don't know him personally, maybe you heard someone else talk about him? Like
maybe a friend or co-worker?"

David's ear fell at the mention of Samson's name, but then
quickly lifted again. “Like I said, I have no idea who he is. Who is he and
what does he have to do with me?"

“Please, Mr. Somerson, we'll ask the questions," Anya said.
“Now can you account for your whereabouts on May 2nd?"

He frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “Think
you're funny do you? You guys aren't very good at probing people for answers. I
already told you I don't know the guy, so what do my whereabouts have to do
with anything?"

“Y'know, dodging the question is the first sign that someone
has something to hide," George said. “If you don't want us suspecting you, I suggest
you answer the question."

David sighed, “I was home. Alone. I don't get why it
matters. Why don't you skip to the part where you blame me for whatever it is
Samson claims I did?"

Now it was Anya's turn to frown. “Excuse me? We haven't
blamed you for anything, and if you don't like being asked twenty questions,
how 'bout you just tell us what you know?"

“You can start with why Samson Thomas was following you even
though you just said you haven't the slightest idea who he is," George added.

David's face fell. “Wait, was? What do you mean—" Underneath
his fur, he suddenly looked pale. “He's dead isn't he?"  

Anya had to fight to keep her surprise from showing in her
face. This guy was supposed to be a homicidal maniac? Just the mention of a
dead body had him ready to keel over. “You okay?" she asked.

David nodded. “Sorry. Can I ask…how-how long ago did he
die?"

Anya and George exchanged glances. What game was he playing?
They could tell he knew about Samson although he had never met him, but what did his
time of death have to do with anything? It all pointed to one thing: a third
party, but until she had a name to go with her theory, it was thin at best. For
now, they'll let him think he was in control in the hopes he'll slip-up.

And there were only two things connecting David to Samson,
Oliver Peers and Lori Price.

“We're still trying to determine that," George said. Anya
knew it was a lie. They had already determined Samson died at the beginning of
the month. “Are you sure you never heard his name mentioned?"

David stared at the floor and didn't respond.

“Mr. Somerson, do you need a moment?" Anya asked.

David shook his head.

“Then we'll need you to answer our questions. You still
haven't told us how you know Samson's name," she said.

David hesitated before answering, “I-I just heard that the
guy was looking for me, that's all."

She dropped onto the old sofa; its springs squeaked loudly. Things
weren't looking good for the husky. No alibi, and although the motive was thin,
it wouldn't take much to pin the whole thing on him. “Okay, let's change
topics. When was the last time you spoke with Oliver Peers?"

David shrugged. “Haven't seen him in months. Oliver and I
didn't exactly get along, so I made a point of staying away from him."

Anya nodded and wrote down David's response in her notebook.
There was their first official lie. The picture they found in Samson's
briefcase was time-stamped almost two days before his untimely demise and just
hours before Samson's. There was a good chance he already knew Oliver was dead.
Since Pepper already confessed to doing the deed, what did he have to lie
about? “So you wouldn't know if Samson and Oliver hung out then?"

David's tail curled and a ripple moved through his fur. “I
already told you I don't know the guy, so how the hell would I know who he was
friends with?"

“You didn't seem to worry about that when you wanted to know
how long he's been in a body bag," Anya replied, looking David square in the
eye. There was no mistaking it this time, the anger in his eyes and the way his
hackles were beginning to rise. She was touching a nerve. He hated Oliver's
guts all right. Maybe enough to vent to someone who wanted to take matters into
their own hands? “Answer my question or we'll take you to the station and drag
it out of you there."

“No. I don't know. Oliver and I didn't get along, so there's
not much I can tell you about him."

“You already told us that, David," George said, leaning on
the wall. “Most people don't make a point of emphasizing that they didn't care
for someone who had been murdered."

David took a deep breath and his fur relaxed, but the
trepidation in his eyes remained. “And I'm not stupid. You guys already know
Oliver and I didn't get along. I also know that Pepper confessed to doing it,
so why are you bothering me with this?"

Anya sighed as she closed her notebook. This wasn't working.
David wasn't stupid—not smart enough to lawyer up, but still far from stupid.
They needed another angle if they were going to get any information out of him.

“We feel that whoever killed Samson might've done it because
of Oliver Peers," she said. “Now, we already know Pepper didn't go on a killing
spree, but it just means that she beat someone else to the punch. We're trying
to figure out who."

“And I'm you're number one suspect?"

“If we believed that, you would already be in cuffs," George
said. “Look, David, I'll be straight with you: We already know Oliver had a
habit of pissing people off, and that he wasn't on your list of favorite
people. But what did Samson do to you? The man was stabbed in his own home. Did
he really deserve that?"

The look on David's face told her that George's words hit a
soft spot. Maybe David would give them a solid lead and they could have this
wrapped up by dinner.

Then the husky looked up, and she saw not an ounce of
remorse in his eyes. “Maybe Samson should've thought of that before he went
poking around in other people's business."

Or maybe she could start living in the real world where
nothing was ever simple and went exactly how she wanted.

“What is that supposed to mean?" Anya asked.

“It means what I just said. Look, all I can tell you is that
Samson was asking about me. I have no idea why."

Anya raised a brow. Did he really just tell them that
someone was looking into his life and then found murdered? So much for not
being stupid.

“Before you say it: I didn't have anything to do with it,"
David added. “My lawyer is looking into why Samson was stalking me right now.
If you have any more questions you can ask him."

Anya couldn't help but smile. The husky was smart after all.
Now their theory about David stabbing Samson for following him was shot, and he
just lawyered-up on top of it. “Well, I guess that means we're done here. Hey,
before we leave, can I use your bathroom? I've had like four coffees since this
morning and not a lot of breaks."

David looked as if the last thing he wanted was for her stay
in his apartment longer than necessary, but he sighed and said, “Down the hall,
it's the door on the right."

Anya gave her partner a quick glance and disappeared down
the hall. Hopefully she brought her partner enough time for a few quick last-minute
questions while she searched the bathroom. There was no guarantee she would
find anything useful, but there was a lot to learn about a person by the
contents of their medicine cabinet. The bathroom was just as cramped as she
thought it would be although it was cleaner than she expected. The first thing
she did was check the trash can which was unfortunately empty. She then decided
to check the medicine cabinet, but only found some cold medicine, toothpaste,
and a toothbrush. Anya sighed and closed the cabinet. He played things closer
to the vest than she thought. The best she could derive was this guy did not
have much of a social calendar. Messy fur aside, he wasn't bad looking, surely
he caught someone's attention, yet there were no signs that anyone else set
foot in the apartment besides him. Just once she wished something about this case would go smoothly.

There was suddenly a lot of scuffling outside. Anya snatched
her Glock from its holster and rushed back to George and David.

Her partner had the husky flat on the floor, pinning his
arms behind his back. David was struggling, but it was a losing battle. His fur
stuck out all over the place making him resemble a grey pincushion. He was
snarling and growling as he thrashed beneath the hulking bulldog.

“What's going on here?" she asked.

“This bastard—hey, hold still—took a swing at me," George
said breathlessly as he took out a pair of handcuffs.

Anya sighed and holstered her pistol. “George, let him go."

He shot a surprised look at his partner. “Are you serious?"

“Yeah, I'm serious. Let him go," Anya repeated, forcibly
this time. Partner or not, she didn't like how this looked. David was perfectly
calm when she left those two alone. On top of that, George Watson was nearly
twice his size. Detective or not, this guy had to be suicidal to think he could
take George in a fair fight. The age difference might even the field, but Anya
had seen George handle himself pretty well despite his age.

She wasn't sure what her partner's aim was, but all it would
take was one call to Somerson's lawyer and they would be looking at witness
intimidation.

The moment George released him, David rolled away and rubbed
his wrists. “If you have anything else to ask me, you can talk to my lawyer.
Now get the hell out of my apartment."

They left as David said. When they reached the door, Anya
stopped and called over her shoulder, “You're gonna hear from us again,
Somerson. I suggest you learn some manners by then."

When they were halfway down the stairs, Anya turned on her
partner. “What the hell were you thinking?! George, you've done anything to
jeopardize a case like that before. You know full well provoking a witness or a
suspect to attack you is dangerous and destroys any statement they might give,
not to mention you risk your badge."

George continued to rub his jaw and nodded. “Yeah, I know.
I'm sorry, Anya, but he knew something. And honestly, I was just trying to get
some information out of him. I didn't expect him to snap like that."

“What'd you say to him?" she asked. She took a look at her
partner. His face was already swelling where David struck him. It was gonna
take one helluva story to keep anyone from looking into what happened.

“I tried to make him think that I agreed with him now that
it was just 'the guys'."

Anya nodded. “Okay, I get it. Make him think you're on his
side in the hopes he opens up."

“Right. So I tried to make it sound like he was doing a good
thing dating two women at once. He said he had no idea what I was talking
about. I figured he was playing stupid, so I played along. I said he was lucky
that Lori died. That way he didn't have to worry about the two-timing skank
coming after him for revenge. That's when he popped me."

Anya frowned. “That's a helluva reaction when you're dating
someone's fiancée isn't it?"

“Yeah it is. Unless he didn't know?"

“I don't know, George, something's off. Problem is I have no
idea what. We still don't have enough linking him to Samson and those pictures
aren't enough for a warrant."

“Actually, there's one angle we haven't tried yet. David is
accused of murdering his girlfriend, Lori Price."

“Isn't that case still ongoing?" Anya asked. As much as she
wanted to find a lead, it was doubtful they could get access to files for an
ongoing investigation. On top of that, she didn't like the idea of piggybacking
another detective's case.

“Don't worry about that. I have a few friends I can ask for
a favor. You do remember what a 'friend' is?"

“Ha, ha, very funny. I get it—I'm the stereotypical lone
detective with the bad attitude. But I really don't care what anyone thinks of
me so long as I'm good at my job."

“Stereotyping, huh? Y'know you might be onto something,"
George said. “We anthros are known for being quick to resort to violence when
angry. Unfortunately, Somerson's little outburst kinda reinforced it, but you
don't think we're jumping the gun with this guy because he's got fur do you?"

They exited the building. Anya blinked under the bright
sunlight as they made for her SUV.

“Yeah, but that's true for anyone, isn't it?"Anya asked. “You
push the right buttons and anyone'll turn violent."

“True. But you could say the same about pretty much every
stereotype," George said. “What I'm getting at though is we were told that
Somerson is a violent womanizer. Then we find pictures of him threatening
someone. Normally, we would already have him down at the station, so why are we
holding back?"

Anya sighed and followed her partner into the SUV. “George,
where is this coming from? How hard did he hit you?"

“Can you just answer the question?"

It wasn't like George to become so serious out the blue like
this. She decided it would be best to answer his question. “Somerson doesn't
fit the profile. He doesn't strike me as a violent person, and we still have no
idea why he would go after these people."

“Exactly. I think someone wants us to play off stereotypes
and arrest Somerson based solely on what he is."

Anya looked hopefully at her partner. Was he saying what she
thought he was? “You think we're being setup? Does this mean you believe my
third party theory?"

George's face remained grim. “Not completely. But something
is off. Like you said, certain pieces are falling into place a little too
neatly."