Page 129 of Whispers and Wildfire
“Yeah.” I put in my order, then went over to see what the SPS members were up to.
The owner of the Copper Kettle, Rob Landon, was dressed in his SPS T-shirt and carrying a clipboard. He nodded along as he conferred with several other similarly clad SPS members, and wrote something.
“Hey Rob,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“We’re responding to the crisis.” He gestured to the other SPS members. “Obviously, we can’t sit around and do nothing.This is our town, damn it, and we’re not letting this happen again. We’re setting up a booth in Lumberjack Park to hand out whistles and pepper spray to anyone who wants them. We’ve got sign-ups going for a buddy system, so women don’t have to be out and about alone. And volunteers are on hand to walk women to their cars after work and so forth, especially if it’s after dark.”
I had to admit, I was impressed. “That’s great stuff. I’m sure everybody appreciates it.”
“We’ve got the sign-up sheet over there if you want to take a shift.”
“I’ve already been assigned a special detail. It’s kind of a twenty-four seven thing.”
“Understood. You need any help, just let us know.”
“I will. Thanks, Rob.”
“Does your girlfriend want a whistle?” He grabbed one, dangling from a bright red lanyard, from the counter. “We’re out of pepper spray, but Mayor Bill is working on getting more as soon as possible.”
I took the whistle. “I’ll give it to her.”
“You can have one too, if you’d like. So far, the victims have been women, but we’re not ruling out anything.”
“I’m good, but thanks.”
“Stay safe out there,” Rob said.
“You too.”
I went back to the front of the restaurant to wait for my lunch order. It wasn’t long before Heidi brought it in a to-go bag. I paid, thanked her, and headed back to work.
What was going on? Tilikum wasn’t immune to crime, even violent crime. But incidents were usually few and far between. This guy had taken four women in a matter of weeks. Granted, they hadn’t all been from Tilikum, but the fact remained that a potential serial killer was on the loose.
The heat pressed at me as I walked. I noticed a squirrel splayed out on the sidewalk, flat on its belly, legs sticking out.
“Are you hot, little guy?”
I took one of the bottled waters out of the bag and opened it. Crouching down, I trickled some water near its face and sprinkled more on its back. It perked up, lifting its head to drink, so I gave it a bit more.
It popped up onto its back legs, bushy tail twitching. I gave it another drink, trying not to douse it. It wiped its face with its front paws and scampered away between two buildings.
“You’re welcome.”
Closing the water bottle, I stood and walked the last block to my shop. I rolled my eyes as I walked in the lobby door, thinking about The Whisper. They shouldn’t have given him a nickname. He was probably getting off on it.
Melanie looked up from the front desk and a smile lit up her face.
“There’s my girl,” I said as the door shut behind me. “Hungry?”
“Starving. I didn’t know you were surprising me with lunch.”
“It’s for my own good. No one’s safe if you’re hangry.”
She stood. “I’d be offended, but you’re not wrong. Did you get pickles?”
“All the pickles, my beautiful weirdo.”
We went into my office and got our lunch out, using my desk as a table. The hot weather was dragging on, so nothing had sounded good except cold sandwiches. And pickles for Mel, of course.
