Fixation Read Free Page A

you okay?” Meg put hand on my shoulder.
    I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah...just a little dizzy. Should’ve had a bigger lunch.”
    “Let’s finish up here and go to El Puerco.” Meg grinned at me. “I could use a plate of those carnitas. How ‘bout you?”
    “I think I’d better head home,” I said regretfully. I did love El Puerco’s carnitas, but knew that anything that rich would put me into a food coma. Not a good idea when I had the hour-and-change drive from FPC’s isolated location in the Santa Cruz mountains to home in San Francisco.
    I stared at Nagual, who continued to stare back at me as if I was the only other thing in existence. What the hell were some of those thoughts doing in a jaguar brain?
    “Maya, get your butt in gear and help Farrell pull the crate.” Patrick barked orders like a drill sergeant, breaking the moods. “Meg, get him some food and water.” He paused, staring at the jaguar, now pacing back and forth in the front of the cage, making the coughing noise that constitutes a jaguar’s roar. “Damn, he’s one fine cat.”
    No one argued.
    Farrell and I pulled the crate out and loaded it back in the truck. As I got in the cab and shut the passenger door, Nagual started up a series of urgent bellowing coughs, long and throaty. These were followed by a succession of shorter, more rapid grunts. Some of the bottle-fed jaguars did this when Jeri was around and they wanted her attention.
    Farrell gave me a sideways glance as he started the truck. “I know you’re good with the cats and all, but that bad boy definitely has a thing for you.”
    I shrugged and grinned. “Don’t they all?”
    We drove to the supply shack where Farrell helped me take the crate off the truck, then left me to clean it out in the dim light of the three-walled structure. This means checking to see if the former occupant left any little surprises, take out water dishes or any toys, et cetera. Nagual had indeed left some tokens of his esteem, which was not surprising after a plane ride from Belize. I grabbed a small rake and retrieved the stinky prize, then gave the box a quick hose-down before poking my head and shoulders in, rake in hand, to get the metal water dish and anything else possibly hidden in the shadows in the back.
    I wasn’t expecting to find anything beyond a stray piece of poop, so when the rake hit something with a dull thunk , it surprised me. Leaning in a little further, I hooked the tines around whatever the object was and rolled it out.
    Roughly oval in shape, kind of like a bumpy egg with one side partially flattened, it looked to be made of reddish clay. I picked it up, holding it closer to the single light bulb on the ceiling. About three or four inches tall and about three quarters that in width, it was roughly in the shape of a seated figure, arms clasped around bent knees, head resting on the forearms. The face was odd, blunt features that could be human or feline—or both. It looked old, the clay pockmarked and weathered.
    How the hell it got into Nagual’s crate was beyond me. Anyone with any knowledge of jaguar physiology and behavior would know better than to put anything so fragile in with the cat. Teeth that can take chunks out of bowling balls could make short work of hardened clay, especially during a long and no doubt boring plane journey. The fact Nagual hadn’t trashed it was a bit of a miracle. It had to have been a mistake, an oversight on someone’s part.
    Now the question was what to do with it. I mean, should I play finders keepers? No one else knew it’d been in the crate. It was awfully cool. Or would that be unethical?
    Too physically wiped to think this one through, I decided to table my decision until later. Tucking the little idol in my hoodie pocket, I forgot about it for the time being. Time to get on the road so I could get home before I fell asleep behind the wheel of Agnes, my ancient Nissan pickup.
    But first..
    I went back to the quarantine area