As the late afternoon sun dipped below the rooflines of the overpriced condos in Missoula, Kent Markes and Gordon LeBlanc slipped from one shadow to the next. They didn’t need to wait for the cover of full dark. Most of the humans who lived here were still at work, toiling away like good little sheep. Besides, in Markes’s experience, the sheep never really looked beyond their own pens. The better to delude themselves about their safety.
He sniffed the air and ducked beneath the arms of a hemlock. The woods at the rear of the property gave the pampered humans who lived there the illusion of privacy and seclusion. It also gave the two predators perfect access to their yards.
They would have come in their animal forms, but neither a cougar nor grizzly bear’s paws were useful for picking locks.
“They’re still upstairs,” LeBlanc said in a whisper, nodding to the window above the back door. “I can hear the tub draining. We gonna kill the kid?”
Markes pocketed his lock pick and eyed his partner. “What do you care? She’s too young to be any fun.”
LeBlanc shrugged.
“Remember,” Markes said. “We’ve got to be quick. This Erlington bitch is a screamer. Dealing with the cops isn’t an option.”
“I know.”
Markes listened for another few seconds before opening the door. Silently, they eased into the kitchen. It smelled like a hot stove and cheese. Two dinner dishes lay on the counter. An empty box of organic mac and cheese sat on the island near a bag of those pinky-sized carrots and a picked-over branch of green grapes.
He looked at LeBlanc and rolled his eyes. Freakin’ humans. If he opened the pantry, he probably wouldn’t find anything that tasted remotely good. Ms. Jenny won’t be taking advantage of all that clean livin’ anymore.
Past the kitchen was a pale and fussy living room that looked like a lilac bush had puked all over it. Between the two rooms, a set of stairs went up two steps to a small landing bordered by a white wood railing, before taking a right up to the second floor.
A feminine voice drifted down. “Get your jammies on, Brooklynn. Then we’ll read some more Amelia Bedelia before bed.”
“Okay, Mommy!”
Markes nodded to LeBlanc, and the bear shifter hid on the other side of the landing when footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Markes moved down the hall, out of the woman’s line of sight. He almost laughed at her expression as LeBlanc grabbed her from behind, clamping a huge hand over her mouth and nose. LeBlanc pulled her over the landing rail with ease, the woman’s eyes darting back and forth like a fly in a window, her escape just as hopeless.
Too easy. It was almost disappointing.
“Hello, Ms. Erlington. My name is Kent Markes. Maybe you remember me.”
The cougar flowed into his eyes, throwing a golden glow over the pale-as-snow human. Markes grabbed her throat to silence her captured screams. “Now, now. None of that. Can’t have little Brooklynn join the party before we’re ready.”
“Nothin’ personal,” LeBlanc whispered in her ear. “Can’t have you telling tales ’bout your boss’s business with our employers.”
Overhead, the sound of little feet dancing was accompanied by a high-pitched voice singing a disgustingly sweet pop song.
The woman’s eyes bugged as she heard her daughter for the last time.