He’d caught the pillow an inch from his face and sighed as he’d grabbed his shoes on the way out. After dating her for the past two months, he knew he had to give her a break. Nearly half of their overnights had been interrupted.

He didn’t know how to tell her that the stats weren’t going to get better. Fine as her body was, and as much as he enjoyed it, he lived and breathed his work.

Except today. He couldn’t believe he was back. Here. Drawn now by something beneath the shelving unit, he put both his past and Cindy out of his mind and inched in a little closer.

There were no windows in the basement to let in the early sun. The electricity had been blown in the fire, which might or might not explain why the overhead sprinklers hadn’t gone off. There was nothing but the narrow beam from his flashlight guiding him as he followed a curious burn pattern underneath the large, heavy, unbudgeable metal shelving unit. He fired off a few more pictures, then swung the camera around his neck to lie against his back while he studied a particularly interesting find with his light.

“Anything?” his partner asked from behind him, still standing straight up, and probably nice and dry to boot.

“Yeah, I’ve got—” Joe broke off as his flashlight suddenly highlighted two glowing eyes only inches from his outstretched hand. Accompanying those feral eyes came an unwelcoming hiss. Shit. Jerking upright, he smashed his head into the metal shelf above him.

“What the hell is that?” asked Kenny from his helpful perch five feet back.

Joe waited until the stars faded from his vision, but his heart still raced, pounding his ribs as he eyed whatever was currently eyeing him right back. “I’m not sure.”

After the historic bushfires in the entire San Diego area two years ago, which had drawn rabbits, raccoons, deer, and even mountain cats into the suburbs, the gleaming, sorely pissed off gaze could belong to anything.

And nothing he wanted to be this close to.

“Well, don’t get bit,” Kenny said.

“Thanks.” Joe watched the animal as it watched him. Neither of them moving. “Helpful advice.”

“I try.”

Joe shifted his flashlight over the cornered animal, but it didn’t help because the shallow water covering the floor made a crazy reflection. “I can’t see.”

“Who needs to see? It’s growling like a wild possum on a bad PMS trip. Get the hell out of its way.”

“I think it’s hurt.” And Joe had spent enough years growing up as the underdog to be unwilling to just leave it. “Do you think you could come closer than the two miles you’re standing back and give me a hand?”

“I have a healthy fear of rabid, hissing animals.”