Thanks once again to everyone following this fic. You all bowl me over with your kind words and just the fact so many people have this on alert. Big thanks as always to hotshow, this was written for her as well as with her guidance. Okay, for those of you disappointed in the fact 'Lion-o' did not eat 'Catwoman'; c'mon - seriously? What kind of fics have you been reading? Anyway, Jeffries will get everything she has coming to her. Just wait. And it starts here:
Chapter 20
Mike Green felt the anticipation of action as he brought his cruiser to a screeching halt at the entrance to Singer's Auto Salvage.
"Easy, rookie," Reid chided. Reid was almost as old as the town, but a well respected law enforcement officer. Reid rolled down the window to talk to the people standing outside the salvage yard by a car. It was a man and a woman, and they looked like they were in the middle of a heated argument.
"Hey! What's going on here?" Reid shouted. When the couple continued to argue, Reid motioned with his hand. Mike flipped the siren on for a moment until the couple turned to look at them. "I said, what are you people doing here?"
"My patient is in there!" The woman shouted, charging toward their cruiser. Mike went for his gun, but Reid shook his head. She sure looked like a threat to Mike. "They're holding him at gunpoint!"
"Where?" Reid asked, his voice as calm and cool as if he just asked directions to the coffee shop. Mike admired that about his mentor. He tended to be a bit hot-tempered.
"Just follow the road, they're on it." The woman pointed into the entrance to the salvage yard. Mike waited for the look from Reid before letting his foot off the brake. "You should shoot first!" she shouted as they passed.
"We'll have to check them out once we know what's happening inside. I'll call for backup." Reid got on the radio and requested a second unit as Mike drove slowly through the rusting cars. Reid used the bright spotlight to search until the flashing lights of the ambulance appeared around the next turn. The older officer was out of the car in an instant, leaving Mike to run to catch up after slamming the cruiser into park.
Paramedics were loading a man into the ambulance as a voice shouted, "Wait! Him, too!" Mike spun toward the new voice as he reached for his pistol, until he recognized Old Man Singer. Singer looked really upset. When Mike looked down, he saw why. There was another man in the dirt at Singer's feet, out cold from the looks of it. Mike rushed forward, eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. When he came upon them, he noticed several nasty gashes in the man's shoulder, which was soaked with blood.
Using his left hand, Mike reached down to gently feel the man's chest. The victim was still breathing. His other hand held his gun as he swept the area for any sign of what caused this. "What happened, Singer?" he demanded as one of the paramedics ran back.
"Mountain lion," Old Man Singer said. "Came outta nowhere."
Mountain lion? Here? "You serious? I don't remember the last time I heard of a mountain lion in these parts." Mike continued his sweep of the immediate area.
"Me, either," Reid said, joining him. "Must have been rabid, to come all the way in here and attack like that. Who are those guys, Bobby?"
Singer looked worried, anxious, and a hundred other things Mike would never have attributed to the Old Man.
"My, uh, nephews. Here visiting." Singer took his hat off, wrung it in his hands as the paramedics loaded the second man on a stretcher.
"Where is it, Bobby?" Reid tapped Singer on the arm. "Is it still out there?"
"Nah. We managed to kill it." He waved at a lump of blankets off to the side.
Reid motioned and Mike followed. He covered his partner as Reid checked under the blankets. "Definitely rabid," Reid said as he straightened up. "You planning to burn it, Singer?"
"Uh, yeah," Bobby nodded, eyes straying to the ambulance. "I, uh…"
"Tell you what," Reid walked back, rested a hand on Old Man Singer's shoulder, "how about if I help you burn it and then we give you a ride up to the hospital? My rookie partner here can go find out what's up with the woman out front."
Singer rolled his eyes. "Is that bitch still out there? I thought she woulda high-tailed it by now."
"Why is that, Bobby?" Reid asked. Mike recognized that tone, it was the voice his partner used during difficult interviews.
"The lion, it came after her. We heard her screaming from inside the house and came barreling out. Sam managed to hold it off with a crowbar long enough for me and Dean to get something to shoot it with." Singer's hat was really getting a workout tonight. Mike wondered if it would still fit on the man's head.
"And that's how those boys got hurt? Getting that woman to safety and tackling a rabid mountain lion?" Reid asked as Singer nodded, eyes following the path of the ambulance away from his house.
"Mike, go find out why that woman is still here. Any sane person would have at least gone for help." Reid's head jerked toward the entrance.
"Right." Mike holstered his gun, walking swiftly back toward the bickering couple. That was an interesting interview. He had no idea you were supposed to burn the corpse of rabid animals. He would need to remember that. As he approached the couple, whose shouts were louder now, if that were possible, Mike realized he should have asked where the weapons they used on the mountain lion came from. He made a mental note to do that after talking to the couple.
"Excuse me," he called out, but the argument ensued. "Excuse me!" There was still no reaction to his presence. He thought about firing his gun to get their attention, but that kind of showboating was only allowed in Hollywood movies. Mike doubted he could get away with it even as a rookie but at the moment it was really, really tempting. He stepped between them, holding up his hands. "Shut it!"
Now they noticed him. He looked from the man to the woman. "What is going on here?"
"Did you arrest him?" the woman demanded, stepping forward.
"Singer? No." Mike shook his head. "Why would I?"
"Not him!" she hissed, leaning into his face. Was that alcohol he smelled? "Mahogoff! He's a menace! He made that…that…that thing attack me!"
Mike looked her over. Not a scratch. "It attacked you, too?"
"Of course it did," she snapped. "He told it to!"
"He told it to." Mike rested a hand on his gun. He felt a little safer this way. His other hand fingered his cuffs. They were new and he had not broken them in yet. Tonight might be the night. "So this Mahogoff character told a mountain lion to attack you?"
"It wasn't a mountain lion!" she screamed, turning her face to the sky. "It was something else!" Her voice was lost in the darkness of the night sky. Mike was simply grateful the scream had not been directed into his ears. That woman had a set of lungs on her.
"Your name?" he asked, suddenly realizing he forgot that basic little detail.
"Doctor Elizabeth Jeffries," she said, her eyes dropping to look at him. Even though he was a good foot taller, Mike had the impression she was looking down at him.
"You?" he asked the man, who had not spoken.
"John Morgan."
"You with her?" Mike asked.
Morgan's arms crossed over his chest. "No."
"Asshole," she snarled.
"Ma'am, how did you get here? And what were you doing here?" Mike stepped closer to her, trying to get within reach.
Her hands fluttered up to rest on her hips as she glared at him. "I am a world renowned neurologist. My patient has been staying in this…this…" she gestured at the salvage yard, "place, which is entirely unfit. I intend to see him brought back to my hospital for his own safety."
Mike glared at her. "So what were you doing here?"
Elizabeth Jeffries, if that was indeed her name, held up a small digital camera. "Getting proof of these horrendous conditions."
Mike's jaw clenched. Old Man Singer might be a little odd, but he was a good man. "Ma'am? Have you been drinking this evening?"
He heard the man, Morgan, bark out a laugh, but Mike was not concerned with him. Maybe he should be? "Sir, what are you doing here?"
The man looked more than a little sheepish. "I drove. But I didn't go in there. I don't trespass."
"Why did you drive?" he asked.
An odd smile crossed Morgan's face. "I was afraid to let her drive herself, in that condition."
"I see." Mike nodded.
"What condition? You bastard!" Jeffries charged toward Morgan, but Mike caught her around the waist.
As she screamed profanities, Mike told the man to leave, but not to leave town. Morgan readily agreed, shouting the name of his hotel over Jeffries' screeching. Mike tried to drag her inside the salvage yard, to the car, but he was afraid of hurting her with the way she was thrashing around.
To his immense relief, Mike saw flashing lights approaching. He waited for their backup to stop. "Hey, guys! Take her in. Drunk tank."
"Drunk tank!" She squealed. "I am not drunk!"
He leaned down to tell his fellow officer, "She claims someone was able to control a rabid mountain lion, told it to attack her."
The other officer laughed. "Well, let's hope she's drunk. Don't worry, Mike," the officer jumped out to open the back door, "we'll take her from here."
"Thanks, guys!" Mike watched them pull away. He walked back toward his partner and the car, but both met him halfway in. Mike hopped into the passenger seat.
"What happened?" Reid asked as they pulled out onto the road.
"Something's wrong with that woman. She claimed some Mahogoff guy was controlling the rabid mountain lion." Mike chuckled.
"And?" Reid pressed.
"And that was when Joe and Gunth pulled up. They're taking her in. Drunk tank. Let her sleep it off." Mike shrugged. "Get rid of that thing?"
"Yep," Reid nodded, his eyes never leaving the road. "Won't bother anyone else."
"I didn't know you were supposed to burn the carcass of a rabid animal," Mike said. "Good to know."
"Yep."
Mike turned back to look at Old Man Singer. "Mister Singer? Your nephews? They named Mahogoff?"
"Nope," Bobby shook his head. Mike noticed the trademark ballcap did not fit nearly as well as it usually did. "Cooper."
"We might need to call Joe," Mike suggested. "He said if we were lucky that woman was just drunk."
Reid chuckled. "Joe and Gunth can handle it. They know what they're doing." He felt a tap on his thigh. "You can check in on them later, after we make sure Bobby's nephews are okay."
"Mister Singer?" Mike turned around again. "Mind if I ask where you and your nephew found something to shoot that animal with?"
"Bobby hunts," Reid said before Old Man Singer had a chance to answer. "Has guns all over the place. Good thing, too."
Mike nodded in agreement, facing front. "Yes, sir. Real good thing." Those guys were close to his age and did not look in good shape. He did not blame Singer for looking a bit green. One day his sister might have kids, and then he'd understand what it meant to have nieces or nephews to worry about. Couldn't be easy.