Page 38 of Last But Not Leashed

“We don’t. The fucker shaved and cleaned up after himself. We think he was a male because of Mr. Jones’s descriptions.”

I blinked. “He what?”

“Shaved, Dale. He removed his fur to limit DNA samples on the site. After the attack, practitioner magic was used to clean the scene.”

Ethel’s father chuckled. “The CDC ain’t got a hope in hell of figuring out who done did that one. Give it up, baby girl. We’ll have supper in not too long, then you can take your boy on upstairs and have fun with him for a few days.”

“Dad, that would be kidnapping.”

I didn’t agree, but I wasn’t going to get between them, especially as I wanted to be taken up to her room for a couple of days.

“I can afford the fine. You gonna put up a fight, boy?”

Since I couldn’t fight them, I’d join them, and I’d toss the last shreds of my dignity out the nearest window. “I’ve had enough beatings for one week, sir.”

“See? If he’s cooperating, it isn’t kidnapping. And we’re not relocating him. It would be a hostage situation. Hostages don’t have to be kidnapped.”

“We are not going to argue the nuances of kidnapping victims and hostages. If it’s against his will, it’s kidnapping.”

“And it doubles his payout so he can buy the house he wants. Just kidnap him and stop your whining.”

“Dad,” Ethel complained.

“At least go take your boy up to your room and get him into some clothes so you can help finish with the tack before supper. I’ll go have your ma see if she can get a hit on your lycanthrope attack so you don’t stress your pretty self on an investigation you ain’t got a hope in hell of solving. I don’t want your work getting in the way of my future grandpuppies.”

I scowled, reevaluating my base desire to avoid paying bail, realized murder might be the only acceptable solution, and set Ethel on her feet before reaching for the leash’s clip.

“You leave that on her, boy. I can’t wait to see what her ma has to say about it. Do remove those cuffs so she can help with the tack, though.”

“I’m pretty sure those cuffs are what’s keeping her from committing a murder, sir.”

“Nonsense. Our little Ethel just likes showing her affection violently.”

“Maybe if you stopped annoying her, she wouldn’t become violent, sir.”

“That’s no fun at all. Ain’t you done beaten the boy on the mat yet, baby girl? He don’t seem tenderized yet to me.”

“Dale’s fairly pacifistic,” she replied, straightening and keeping a firm hold on my bag.

“Did you hit your head to pick a pacifist?”

“Damn it, Dad!”

“What? You ain’t no pacifist, baby girl. You’re going to drive that poor boy crazy.” Ethel’s father looked me in the eyes and announced, “If you need to be rescued, you just give us a call, you hear?”

I was no king of relationships, but even I grasped the basics: when in doubt, supporting my partner would keep me out of trouble. I took my bag from Ethel, hooked a claw beneath the chain linking her cuffs, and lifted. The metal survived longer than I expected before separating. A single slash shredded the leash. “Try not to kill anyone, and I meant what I said about the bail.”

Ethel’s father spat curses, turned tail, and ran.

If the house survived Ethel, I’d be impressed. Once unleashed, she went from reasonable to a devil on a mission of destruction. Her father made it a few steps before she took chase, howling curses.

Ethel’s uncle cleared his throat as he stepped beside me.

“What?” I asked.

“Was letting her loose wise?”

“I’m a firm believer of facing the consequences of one’s actions.”