The Night Bird (Frost Easton #1)(5)

“Sorry,” Frost told her. “He always waits to hit the litter box until I have someone in the car.”

“Your cat?”

“Yeah, sort of. Long story. This is Shack.”

“Shaq? Like the basketball player?”

“No, Shack as in Ernest Shackleton. The Antarctic explorer.”

“Oh,” Lucy said.

“I’m sort of a history buff. Sorry, are you allergic?”

“No.”

Shack took that as an invitation. He padded from the dashboard onto Lucy’s lap, kneaded her thigh briefly, and stretched across her legs, exposing a black stomach with a single white stripe that looked like an Oreo cookie. The cat was barely a foot from nose to tail. Lucy lifted a hand and stroked under Shack’s chin, and Frost noted the movement in her arm.

“Looks like you’re not paralyzed anymore,” he pointed out.

“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed. She wiggled her fingers. “You’re right. I told you, it’s always temporary.”

“Do you want me to put Shack in the back? I have a carrier for him.”

“No, he’s fine,” Lucy said. “Is he like a police cat? I didn’t know they had such things.”

“No, he’s just a cat cat. He likes to ride along with me sometimes.”

“I thought cats hated cars.”

“Not Shack. He goes everywhere. He’s got the heart of an explorer. Hence the name.”

“I think that’s sweet,” Lucy told him. “I mean, that you take him with you.”

“Yeah, homicide inspectors. We’re as sweet as they come.”

Lucy’s eyebrows arched. “Homicide?”

“That’s my department. We look at any death that’s considered suspicious. Based on what you’re telling me, Brynn’s behavior is way out of character for her, and I’d like to know what caused it.”

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Lucy asked.

Frost hesitated. “Extreme behavior usually makes me think about PCP or certain synthetics. What you’re describing sounds like a severe hallucinogenic reaction.”

“I’m telling you, Brynn never did drugs,” Lucy insisted. “Not even a joint. She was a vegan. ‘My body is a temple.’ That kind of crap.”

“Did she smoke?”

“No.”

“And did you notice anything unusual prior to her breakdown?” Frost asked. “Did anything strange happen while you were stuck on the bridge?”

“No, nothing at all.” Lucy chewed her lower lip, and her eyebrows squeezed together, making crinkled lines on her forehead. She rubbed Shack’s stomach, and the cat stretched luxuriously with its front and back paws. Shack had very clear likes and dislikes among people, and he’d obviously decided that he liked Lucy Hagen.

“Nothing?” Frost asked, watching her face. “Are you sure?”

Lucy glanced at the other cars around them. A trickle of vehicles pushed westward through the one open lane the police had carved out for traffic. “There was the mask thing. That was odd.”

“The mask thing?”

“There was a car stuck on the bridge with us, and the driver was wearing a creepy mask. At least I thought he was. His window opened and closed so fast that maybe I just imagined it. Brynn didn’t see anything.”

“What kind of mask was it?” Frost asked.

“Scary. Bone white. Big, weird, exaggerated smile, red lips. Fly eyes. The hair was fake, too.”

“It doesn’t sound like you imagined it. Do you remember the car?”

“I want to say it was a Cutlass, but I’m not sure. It had smoked windows. Black, I think.”

“Could the car have been following you after you left the party?”

“I guess. I never looked back, so I don’t know. It’s not like the guy did or said anything while we were stuck on the bridge. He just opened the window and stared at me.”

“You’re sure it was a man?” Frost asked.

“I assume so, but I guess I don’t really know for sure.”

“Did this person get out on the bridge deck when Brynn began behaving strangely?”

Lucy shrugged. “If he did, he didn’t have the mask on. I was too freaked out to notice who came out of which cars. By the time I even thought about it again, the car was gone.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think it means anything?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t know. It’s strange, but the whole thing is strange.” Frost added, “You said you’ve never heard of a woman named Monica Farr. Are you sure about that?”

“Pretty sure. The name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Have you or Brynn ever been to the San Francisco Film Centre at the Presidio?”

“No, I’ve never been there. I don’t think Brynn has, either, at least not since I’ve known her. Why are you asking me these questions? What does this have to do with Brynn?” When Frost didn’t answer, Lucy went on: “You know I’m just going to Google this woman when I get home.”

Frost knew that was true. There were no secrets anymore.

“Okay, the fact is, Brynn’s not the first person to go crazy like this,” he told her. “Two months ago, a woman named Monica Farr had a similar breakdown during a wedding reception at the Film Centre. She died, too.”