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This was very weird. How had the kid known where to find him? Jason did not lower his weapon. He did not like this one little bit. “Who? What are you talking about?”
“Boz.”
“What about Boz?”
“I think he…” Terry swallowed the words, managed, “Might come after me.”
“Why would he come after you?”
No answer. He saw motion as the kid shook his head.
“You’re not making a lot of sense,” Jason said. “If you’re afraid of Boz, why wouldn’t you tell me that this afternoon?” He threw a quick, uneasy look over his shoulder. The dogs had fallen silent. The floodlights had gone out again. The fuzzy darkness seemed to swirl around them.
“I have to go.” Terry began to sidle away.
Jason hesitated. Should he hold him for the cops? This whole situation was definitely hinky. But an arrest for trespassing? A little severe. And what if he was telling the truth?
“Wait. What is it you came out here to tell me?”
Terry stopped. “Michael Khan came to the shop Sunday evening.”
“Khan did? You’re sure?”
“We were closed. I came back to get my jacket. They didn’t hear me. Khan and Boz were in the back arguing. I snuck out again.”
“Did you see Boz attack Khan? Did you see him kill Khan?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”
“Nobody came to interview me but you.”
“Nobody’s interviewed you? At all?”
“Only you. I thought—it doesn’t matter. I think maybe Boz did something bad. I don’t know for sure. But if he did, he might start wondering if I noticed anything.”
“Did you notice anything?” Jason asked. “Beyond seeing Khan there that night?”
There was no answer.
He took a step forward, peering into the darkness.
Terry was gone.
* * * * *
A small, shaggy black and white goat was riding a chunky palomi
no pony around and around a large corral.
In the center of the ring stood a tall woman with long black hair. She wore jeans, a sheepskin coat, and a cowboy hat. Every so often she whistled commands to the animals.
When she spotted Jason and Dreyfus, she put her fingers to her mouth, gave a final sharp whistle. The pony slowed to a trot before a small red staircase. The goat dismounted as the woman climbed over the fence to meet them.
“That’s not magic.” Dreyfus’ tone was critical. “That’s animal abuse.”
“It’s supposed to be an animal rescue,” Jason said. “Maybe this is occupational training.”
