Feral by Brian Knight Page A

reading.
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    C harles called the detective handling the local murders to ask about Shannon Pitcher, and Gordon knew from his face that she hadn’t been found yet.
    â€œI think I made a mistake,” he told Gordon.   “I’m sorry, man.”
    â€œWe’ll find them,” Gordon replied, refusing to give despair a foothold.
    Charles nodded.   “We’ll start in Normal Hills.   Her father-in-law might know where she is.   Even if he doesn’t, it’s the logical place to start.”
    â€œHer ex-husband’s house?”
    â€œThat’s what I was thinking, if it’s still empty.”   Charles pulled his gun from the desk drawer and began the cleaning ritual.   “Even if she’s not at her ex’s place, Normal Hills is her home.   She’s only been in Riverside for a few months.”
    â€œIf she’s running, it’s probably back home,” Gordon concluded.   “Familiar territory?”
    â€œYou catch on quick, Gordon,” Charles said.   Finishing with his gun, he reloaded and tucked it back into its holster.   “You’ve been spending too much time with me.”
    â€œYou’ve been spending too much time with me, I think,” Gordon replied, hating what he was about to say next.   “It’s not like you to screw up.”
    Charles’ brown cheeks darkened, his mouth pulled into a frown.   “Look, friend, I said I was sorry.   We should have followed her.”
    â€œDon’t be sorry,” Gordon said.   “Do me a favor and it’s forgotten.”   He handed the book over.
    Charles looked uneasy as he accepted it.   He read the cover, then looked back at Gordon.   “Still haven’t got that bug out of your butt?”
    â€œJust indulge me,” Gordon said.   “Please, I promise to shut up about it.”
    â€œSure,” Charles said, shaking his head.   “What do you want me to do?”
    â€œSee if you can find the author for me, I’d like to talk to her.”   Gordon braved Charles’ disbelieving stare and continued. “And I’d like you to read some of the passages.   I’ve marked the pages for you.   I know you think I’m losing touch, but I think you’ll be surprised.”
    â€œIf I do this and I’m still not convinced, you’ll leave me alone, right?”
    â€œSwear,” Gordon said.
    â€œFine,” Charles replied and dialed his secretary back east.   “I have been around you too long.   I can’t believe I’m doing this.”   He cradled the receiver between his shoulder and chin, opening the cover with obvious distaste.   “Dee’s going to think I’ve lost it.”
    Gordon waited silently.
    â€œDee, it’s Charles,” he said, bracing himself against her wrath.    Why haven’t you called, and you need to let me know what’s going on, etc.   “Yeah . . . I know, Dee.” He rolled his eyes.   Gordon knew she was an asset to Charles, but sometimes she acted like his keeper.   “I know, I’m sorry.   Listen Dee, I need you to do something for me.”   He paused, rolled his eyes again, and said, “Okay.    Please , could you do me a favor?”
    There was another pause, and then he grinned and shook his head again.   “Yes, I know . . . and yes, you are.”
    Gordon couldn’t sit any longer.   As foolish as it all seemed, it felt very important to him.
    Charles watched him pace for a second and looked back at the book.   “I need you to locate someone. Jeannine Carter, a writer, she wrote a book called Legend Of The Bogey Man: The Truth Told In Centuries .”   More silence, then he frowned.   “Yeah, I know,” he said, giving Gordon an annoyed look.   “She may know something.”
    Gordon paced, feeling more foolish as