Chapter 1

July 1977

"Why does this foolishness always happen to me?" Detective Wilson groaned from his empty stomach as he stood above the still smoldering corpse of the large animal lying on the ground in the alley.

Surrounding him that scorching hot morning was not only other police officers who were milling about the scene, but also little black children who were sequestered behind a fence. Their small, curious hands were clinging to the fence's links as they observed the creature on the ground in awesome wonder.

Wilson, wanting to at least unbutton the top of his short sleeved shirt, stood above the stinking cadaver with a disgruntled, almost depressed appearance on his sweaty face. All the man could seem to do was glance back and forth from the animal to the children who were either "oohing" and "ahhing", or simply watching with their mouths hanging wide open. He wanted to shove them along on their way, but Wilson knew that he had more pressing matters to attend to that didn't involve the intrusive little ones.

Blowing smoke away, the man cautiously knelt down and began poking at the burnt animal that resembled a large dog with a stick that was lying on the ground next to him.

"Eww, look, he's messin' with it!" One of the little girls squealed out from behind the fence. Soon, the other kids joined in on the chorus of disgust.

Wilson simply ignored them the best he could while prodding at the animal's charred fangs and snout.

"What in the blue hell is that?" Wilson whispered with a turned up nose.

"What do you make of it, Detective Wilson?"

Surprised, Wilson looked up to see a middle-aged Hispanic man standing above him. Wilson stood back up and asked in an arrogant tone, "Do I know you?"

With his right hand extended, the man replied, "Inspector David Ortega."

Taken aback for a second, Wilson smirked, "Inspector?"

"That's right, just started this morning." Ortega beamed.

Holding on to his smirk, Wilson leaned into Ortega's ear and whispered, "I take it you've met O'Dea?"

"As a matter of fact, I haven't, Detective."

"When you do meet him, ignore the fact that he'll make a big deal out of your race."

"I didn't realize it was an issue with the man." Ortega whimsically whispered back.

Wilson only stood back and laughed before turning back to the burnt animal on the ground. "Well, Inspector, what we have here is a mystery that is beyond me."

"So I can see." Ortega said as he knelt down to gain a closer view. "Tell me, Detective, just what kind of animal do you believe this once was?"

"That's exactly what's got me thrown for a loop. I'd say it was a dog, but I've never seen a dog that big before. Mind you, we speculate that the thing had been smoldering since around three a.m. this morning; so much like anything else that's been on fire for quite a while, it's decreased in its size."

"I can understand that, Detective, but looking at its teeth, I can honestly say that I have never seen such a dog that fits such a description."

Wilson knelt back down beside Ortega. "I bet you've never seen anything like this back where you're from, huh?"

"My friend, I'm all the way from Chicago."

"Chi-Town," Wilson looked startled. "What brings you all the way out here to Ohio?"

Sniggering, Ortega said, "I thought an easier life for me and my family, but, now that I see burned up animals in the middle of an alley."

"Old Cypress has its days." Wilson muttered as he eyed the beast from head to toe. "Forensics measured it at five foot six."

"Is that the measurement before or after?"

"After."

Ortega looked hard at Wilson before saying, "That means this thing was a lot bigger before it was set on fire. Maybe it was a timber wolf or something of that nature."

Wilson just stared on and on at the thing as though he was in a cold trance. Not once did the man's eyes leave its snout.

"Detective, is there a problem?"

Shaking his head, Wilson replied, "Yeah, I was just thinking of something for a second."

"Well, share with the rest of the class, if you please."

Wilson swallowed before clinching his fists and murmuring, "A few months ago we had—

"Detective Wilson, we got a report of a shooting just three blocks from here." An officer approached Wilson and Ortega from behind.

"Let 'em know we'll be there soon." Wilson despondently replied.

Looking downright confused, Ortega asked, "Shouldn't we be hauling ass over there?"

Without looking at the man, Wilson remarked, "We're only the cleanup crew. One matter at a time, Inspector."

Ortega glanced around his surroundings before calming down and returning his attention to the cadaver.

"So, uh, what are you planning on putting in your report concerning our friend here?"

Wilson contemplated the man's question and said, "Captain Brickman is a reasonable, if not stubborn man. All I can say is that we happened upon an incinerated animal, possibly an escapee from the zoo."

"Wait a minute, there is a chance that this thing was a whole helluva lot bigger before last night. And if that's the case, then how do we know for sure that there's not another one running around out there?"

Wilson stood back up with Ortega following in suit. He then took the inspector by the arm and led him over to where three trash cans were located, away from the other officers and children.

"Look, I'm not the kind of man that gets into all these conspiracy theories and stuff like that. That thing lying on the ground, you and I can't put too much into it. It could be something from the zoo, or it could be something that just blundered into this city. Who knows?" Wilson shrugged his shoulders. "All I know is that someone may have done this city a favor by putting that big old thing down for the count. Apparently someone saw it, it was about to attack, and they killed it before it killed them."

Ortega studied Wilson's face methodically. "I was speaking with one of the officers over there, and he said that someone reported seeing a man and woman out here before the fire was set."

"There you go." Wilson tossed up his hands. "They were probably out here fooling around, saw the thing, and did what they had to do. What would you do if you saw something like that coming at you in a dark alley? Stand there and pet it? Hell no, you'd kill the damn thing."

Ortega looked back at the creature on the ground. Steady streams of smoke were still emanating from out of the animal's stomach and eyes.

"It doesn't even look real." Ortega whispered.

"And yet, there it is, dead as a doornail. Good riddance. It's just an animal." Wilson dropped his shoulders.

"I take it this happens on a regular basis here in Cypress?"

Wilson offhandedly snickered before asking, "Why do you think I've taken three vacations this year so far? I'd be more than happy to take your place in Chicago anytime."

Both men then looked up at the blazing hot July sun before glancing back at the kids behind the fence.

"Does it always get this hot in Ohio, Detective?"

"Last month we had three teenagers get shot on three separate sides of town. Last week, a woman stabbed her husband to death for farting in the bed. Last night, someone sets fire to a...thing. It's not hot yet, Inspector."

Wilson then simply turned and walked away from Ortega. At long last the man undid the first two buttons on his shirt and exhaled. He was finding that the further away from smelly creature he got the more he seemed to be able to breathe comfortably.

The second he reached his brown sedan, the man opened the driver's side door and grunted, "I could go for another vacation."