Predator. Faye Kellerman

through the hallway.

      The animal, however, was magnificent, even as it paced amid the wreckage. Her fur gleamed amber and black, and she had reflective gold eyes, massive sharp claws, and ivory-colored fangs. Decker had never seen a tiger that close, nor had he actually heard an animal’s roar at such a high decibel level. It sent shock waves coursing through his body. He stood aside from the viewing spot and gave Marge a chance to see. She peered inside and then backed away with a single shake of her head. “She’s dragging a chain around.”

      “I noticed,” Decker said. “It’s attached to a collar around her neck.”

      Wilner said, “She probably broke it off from her mooring. We’ll saw it off when she’s out.” The animal agent was looking over his carefully devised schedule. He had a checklist of supplies, and an animal gurney along with a steel enclosure had been placed outside the apartment’s front door. Wilner had also acquired the key to the service elevator, since the passenger one was too narrow for the cage.

      “This is the plan.” He was still reading off his list. “Jake’ll get a clean shot off. After she’s tranquilized, we’ll bust in and take her out on a gurney, load her into the pen, and take her down in our truck.” Wilner looked up. “After Jake fires the shot, no one moves a muscle until I give the all-clear signal.” He demonstrated the sign to his fellow officers: a hand in the air swooping down.

      Decker asked, “What if the tiger busts out before she’s tranquilized?”

      “We’ve got big game guns, Lieutenant. As much as I hate putting an animal down, we know where our prior-ities are.”

      “I want to stick around,” Decker said. “This is my community.”

      “Me, too,” Marge said. When Wilner looked skeptical, she said, “Cross my heart I won’t get in your way.”

      Paul Hathaway threw them a pair of protective vests. “Stay way down the hallway behind the barriers we erected. If something goes wrong, we’ll take care of it. Don’t try to help out.”

      “That’s a Roger Wilco with me,” Marge said.

      Jake Richey was looking through the hole. “Ideally, we could enlarge this area so I could see and aim through the same hole. But I’m worried if I make the hole too big, she can get a purchase and stick a claw through.” He was still assessing the situation. “How about I drill right about … here?” He marked a spot eye level with the first hole but about two inches to the left. “Just big enough so I can stick the bore through it. I think that’ll work.”

      Wilner handed Richey the drill. As soon as the noise came on, the animal began to scratch furiously at the door. When it bellowed, Decker’s heart took a jump. The sound enveloped him in a 360-degree cage of anger and muscle.

      Richey was unperturbed. A minute later, he stopped and placed the bore through the new aperture. “I think I’m okay. Let’s give it a whirl.”

      Hathaway ordered Decker and Marge behind the makeshift barrier. The protection wasn’t much more than wood beams temporarily nailed across the hallway. Decker took out his gun, and Marge did the same. She gave him a smile, but she was nervous. That made two of them. The scene suddenly became devoid of human voice, the aural vacuum disturbed only by the fierce grunts and clawing that came from behind a wall.

      Richey lifted the gun and positioned the tip of the bore inside the hole. Then he peered inside the sight hole with his left eye. If he was tense, there was nothing about him on the exterior that registered anxiety.

      Waiting.

      The seconds ticking by.

      Waiting again.

      More time.

      Richey squeezed the trigger and then immediately took several giant steps backward. Amid a pop, a howl, and a roar, the animal crashed against a wall. The building shook on its foundation, a quick jolt underfoot as a razor-sharp claw suddenly splintered through the upper section of the door. Wilner kept his hand in the air, indicating that no one should move as the tiger mauled the door in a feral rage.

      It was one of the longest thirty seconds of Decker’s life.

      Eventually the ferocious howls dwindled to halfhearted growling, then mewling until the claw fell back into the apartment and all was quiet inside. Wilner nodded to Richey, who looked inside. “She’s down.”

      Wilner gave the signal, and like horses out of the gates, the control officers went to work. Within a matter of minutes, the front door was down, the agents were in, and the tiger was loaded onto the gurney. The poor girl was sacked out, her mouth agape with her tongue hanging out. As if the animal didn’t weigh enough already, a steel collar encircled her neck, and that was attached to six feet of chain.

      Using brute muscle strength and extreme caution, they transferred her from the gurney into the enclosure, which lifted up on pneumatic wheels. Before they shut the steel door, Wilner gave her another shot of dope. “A quiet ride is always a happy ride.”

      “Did you see a body inside?” Decker asked.

      Wilner shrugged. “I didn’t see anything like that, but I wasn’t searching for one. That’s your bailiwick. Wear a mask. It stinks inside.”

      The service elevator doors opened, and the tiger along with her keepers were gone.

      They had left the door to the apartment wide open. The hot air inside the hallway had become foul … gag inducing. Decker’s heart was still racing as he and Marge emerged from behind the barrier.

      “Quite a show.” He put his gun back in his shoulder harness. “Now our real work begins.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      Marge began to suit up in earnest: a paper cover for her hair, paper shoe covers, a face mask, and double latex gloves. Even with all that protection, her stomach roiled. The fetid odor was overwhelming. “We’re walking into a biological hazard as far as I’m concerned. There must be twenty generations of bacteria growing inside by now.”

      Decker said, “Wait out here and I’ll go look for a body. If there isn’t one, why should both of us be grossed out?”

      “Thanks, but I’m coming with you. Suppose there are a bunch of tiger cubs hidden in the bedroom or something. Or maybe he kept other exotic pets like a Gaboon viper or a monitor lizard. Someone has to call 911 if you get bit.”

      Decker smiled as he put on his face mask. “Your loyalty is admirable. C’mon, Dunn. Let’s get this over with.”

      The living room was a hurricane with putrid waves gassing up from the steamy floors. Deep claw marks striated the walls, and the furniture was torn to tatters. There were enormous piles of feces flecked white with maggots and bread crumbed with flies and beetles. Insects hummed everywhere. The refrigerator had been knocked over, food spilling out onto the wood floors turning them as sticky as tar. Butcher paper had been shredded to confetti. Most of the meat from the fridge had been consumed, but what hadn’t been eaten was gray and oozing brown liquid. It took a steady foot and good balance to avoid stepping in something toxic.

      Marge felt light-headed, but she soldiered on, following Decker into the bedroom.

      That scene was made even more appalling by the presence of a distorted, bloated body. The corpse had partially liquefied, vital fluids and tissue soaking into the sheets and dripping on the floor below. Blood and guts were everywhere, sprayed on the walls and splashed onto the furniture.

      Marge said, “I’ll call the coroner’s office.”

      Decker nodded.

      “Mind if I make the call from the hallway? Even with the mask it’s still stinky.”

      “Sure. Then we’ll figure out a to-do list.”

      Marge fished out a