Animal Instinct by Rosenfelt, David (novels for students TXT) 📕

“I didn’t expect you to answer your phone.”

“Why? Where did you think you were calling? Buckingham Palace? We’re now a two-person firm and the other person went out for coffee. What’s up?”

“I want to know if Gerald Kline was instrumental in hiring a woman named Jana Mitchell to work at Midwest Medical Networks in Cincinnati.”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Would you have records that would have a clue?”

“Possibly, but it will take some time. Did I mention we are a two-person firm?”

“I believe you did. The faster you could—”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Jana Mitchell was murdered last night.”

“Whoa … let me put you on hold. I’ll be back.”

Her phone system has music playing when the caller is on hold, as most of the systems do. This system has two major positives: For one, it plays music by U2. For another, it doesn’t keep interrupting to tell me how important my call is to them.

In this case, I listen to U2 for almost ten minutes; I think Stephanie must have forgotten me, deliberately or not. I’m about to hang up when she comes back on the line.

“Got it. Jana Mitchell attended a seminar at the Cincinnati Hilton two years ago. Gerald wound up interviewing her and recommending her to Midwest. They obviously hired her, though our records don’t show that. So your apparent instinct is correct.”

“Thank you, Stephanie. If I asked you for a list of all the people recommended that got hired by Ardmore and the other companies that do the same thing, could you get it for me?”

“I’m afraid not. Once Gerald or I would recommend someone, then it’s up to the individual companies to decide one way or the other. They don’t even necessarily communicate their decision to us, at least not formally. They might do it in a phone call, but I wouldn’t have a record of that.”

“Okay, I understand. Thanks, Stephanie; I appreciate the help.”

“Anything I can do. Just call.”

I get off the phone and tell Andy and Laurie what I’ve learned, that Jana Mitchell was recommended by Gerald Kline. “That means it has to be connected to the business,” I say. “Something is going on in that world, some secret, that has gotten three people killed.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Laurie says. “And I’m not saying we shouldn’t pursue it; of course we should. But it’s a conclusion we cannot take as fact. Yes, the three people were connected to that industry, but that is also how they met. Kline and Lisa were in a relationship; Jana and Lisa were friends. They could have been involved in something outside of their business world, something that they couldn’t handle. Let’s not forget Lisa’s Rico email to Doris Landry; that is the one piece of tangible evidence we have.”

“They were killed because of something they knew,” Andy says. “That much seems clear. It’s more likely than not that the secret is related to business, but I agree with Laurie that it isn’t necessarily the case. The drug angle also remains a definite possibility.”

Laurie frowns. “The problem is that the business end of it is basically impenetrable, at least to us. We have no idea what we’re looking for, and no way to look. Sam could probably get into their systems, but the data would be enormous, and he’d be feeling around in the dark.”

“I may have a way in,” I say. “He could be our answer, even though he wears pajamas with feet.”

THE digital clock on my night table says 2:31 A.M.

Simon is up and alert, emitting a low growl that tells me that he has detected something. Simon is not subtle when it comes to situations like this.

Waking up fully at this point is easy and instinctive for me; I’ve learned that when Simon is alert, I had damn well better be alert as well.

I get out of bed quickly and shake Dani awake, motioning for her to be quiet. “What?” is all she can muster; she doesn’t understand Simon like I do.

“I believe there is someone in the house,” I whisper. “Take the phone, go into the closet, and call nine-one-one. Talk softly, but tell them there is an intruder in the house … with a gun.”

“There is?”

“Trust me; whoever is in this house didn’t bring a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift.”

“I want to help.”

“You can help by calling the police. Now, Dani. There’s no time.”

“Be careful.”

“Not to worry. We’ve got this.”

She quickly gets up, grabs the phone, and goes into the closet, closing the door behind her. I’ve already taken my gun out of the night table drawer. Later I will stop and think about why I am approaching this moment with an anticipation that borders on relish, but this isn’t the time.

I’m not going to leave the bedroom; I’m going to let the son of a bitch come to me. I put some pillows under the covers so it appears a person is there. It’s a trick they do in the movies and on television; I just hope it works as well in real life. Even if it doesn’t, Simon and I will take care of things.

We have the home field advantage.

Simon gets even more tense, so I know the enemy is approaching. “Stay,” I whisper, so that he is about five feet to the right of the door. I am a little farther away on the left side. He obeys, as he has every time for the past eight years.

We’re ready and waiting.

We don’t have long to wait. I see his gun before I see him. He calmly and deliberately fires three bullets into the bed where Dani and I had been sleeping; there is no deafening sound because his gun has a silencer. He then steps into the bedroom to admire his handiwork.

Big mistake.

“I think you missed, asshole. Freeze and drop the gun.”

He doesn’t drop it, so I say, “Take him, Simon.”

The intruder had been looking at me, so he is stunned when Simon leaps through