Wolfheart

by Hallie Lee

  I flinched. “I tried to always be there for her. For the girls.”

  “But that’s the thing. You couldn’t. And now she’s gone, and I wanna get to the bottom of it.” He glowered at me. “The crime scene techs are about to finish on the inside. They’ll be here in a minute. Whose blood is this gonna be? Come on, Wolfheart, enlighten me.”

  A few deputies came out of the woods. Wet. Weary. Empty handed.

  Sheriff Rick whipped his head in my direction.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “’Cause see, it doesn’t add up. Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that there was an accident last night. You okay if we call it that for now?” When I didn’t respond, he went on. “So, you’re in the middle of this big, horrible ruckus at your sister’s house. This accident.” He paused for an exaggerated beat, glancing at the blood smeared across the ground. “I gotta wonder, did somebody meet their end here? ’Cause it kinda looks that way to me.”

  I held his gaze.

  “Was it Madhawk? ’Cause if that’s the case, I’d like to know where he moseyed off to, considering his condition and all.”

  Again, I refused to take the sheriff’s bait. “Why would you run off to the woods? What could be so important that you’d leave your beloved niece and her daughter here alone? That’s puzzling to me.”

  He glanced at the ground and back at me in disbelief. Under better circumstances, I would have enjoyed his befuddled expression, but the moment passed as Luke rushed over, phone in hand. “Sorry Sheriff. Uh, Mr. Wolfheart.”

  “What is it, Luke?” Sheriff Rick snapped.

  “It’s Mama,” Luke handed him the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”

  The sheriff snatched the phone out of Luke’s hands, cramming it to his ear. “I can’t chat right now, Desi. I got big things happening here. People rising from the dead and such—”

  Sheriff Rick’s expression changed as Desi interrupted. It grew angrier as he listened, and was livid by the time he spoke again. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t go and do that. I’m just asking him a few questions.”

  Luke tapped my elbow, wide-eyed. “What do you think that’s about?”

  “She’s your mama,” I shrugged. “It could be anything from world events to Southern Living recipes.”

  Luke considered. “She’s got a range, that’s for sure,”

  “Désireé,” Ricky’s mustache twitched at a furious pace. “You do realize I’m your husband’s best friend? And you do realize I set my sirens a’blazin when you went into labor with Micah? Got y’all to the hospital in Belle Maison in plenty of time, didn’t I?”

  “It’s ridiculous to go all the way to Belle Maison for healthcare,” Luke mumbled. “We should at least have an urgent care here in Shady Gully.”

  I pivoted to Luke, trying to get a read on the kid through the absurd goggles.

  “If we could just get enough signatures on the petition, we could vote on incorporation in the next election.”

  It was hard to believe he came from Desi and Lenny. Since he seemed to be talking mostly to himself, I let him go on. I had enough on my mind.

  “Dad blasted, Desi.” Sheriff Rick cursed. “You got just enough money to be dangerous.” As an expression of resignation spread on his beet red face, he acquiesced. “Fine then.”

  With an angry jab he disconnected the phone, pressing it into Luke’s hands. He scowled at me. “She hired you a lawyer. She said to tell you not to say another word.”

  •

  Madhawk watched, mesmerized, as the blood pulsed out of his shoulder and neck. He should feel pain. But he felt none. He should feel fear, but instead, he felt exhilarated. He was still alive. The blood that leaked from his body proved he’d beaten death. What had the sheriff said about people rising from the dead?

  The look on Wolfheart’s face! The Big Chief. The so-called Leader of the Creek. Mr. Bible Thumping Holier Than Thou. Stunned, shocked into silence when the sheriff questioned him at the foot of the back steps. When he found nobody there.

  When he found…no body.

  Madhawk swallowed back a laugh, bubbling over because he’d outfoxed them.

  Camouflaged in the underbrush behind a cypress tree, Madhawk spied the deputies as they fluttered in and out of the house, trailing one another like clowns. Like insects. Like little ants in uniforms, with their goofy hats and their shiny badges. And oh, the bright lights and bleating sirens! Caution, they screamed! Warning, they announced!

  He pitied his ancient mother, the old bat, as she gawked at the clowns, and then reluctantly spoke to Wolfheart. Not only had he escaped the deputies, but he’d also escaped her clutches as well.

  During the search, one of the uniformed clowns had almost tripped over him, but Madhawk hadn’t felt threatened. He could have easily eliminated him. If it had been Quietdove, Madhawk wouldn’t have hesitated. Quietdove was a disgrace to everyone on the creek. A traitor to his people.

  The only real threat to Madhawk were the dogs. And so far, only the clowns hiked through the woods looking for him. With their sticks, their chatter, and their lights. The dogs wouldn’t be so stupid. Their noses would sniff him out.

  Madhawk hated dogs.

  Madhawk also hated Meadow. Hard. Judgmental. Unappreciative.

  And Bella. Always trying to be something she wasn’t—trying to be like them.

  And Madhawk despised Wolfheart, who had planted doubt into Peony’s heart long ago. Wolfheart had come between them. And worse, he’d brought the Spirit Warrior into their lives.

  Of them all, Madhawk loathed the Spirit Warrior most of all. They’d all fawned over the Spirit Warrior. Especially Peony.

  Not any longer. Meadow, Bella, and Wolfheart all deserved to die. They’d soon realize they’d placed their bets on the wrong warrior.

  Chapter Four

  But I Didn’t Sing

  Luke

  I

  tapped my brakes as I neared the four way stop sign in Shady Gully. I’d made it all the way from the creek to the center of town in a little over thirty minutes. Impressive. And yet, I found I didn’t want to abandon the thoughts rattling around in my head.

  It was the girl. This Bella, whose existence I didn’t even know about until this morning. Micah’s friend. The one with the voice. It was true her words held a melodic, lyrical tone, and were careful in a thoughtful, measured way, but it was her wild, unpredictable nature I couldn’t shake. She was stunningly gorgeous as well, with her long, shiny hair, so black it reflected light. And her eyes, strikingly blue. Unusually blue. Not green like her mother’s, or her great Uncle Wolfheart’s, but the distinctive blue the sky turns just before a storm. Just before it morphs into gray…and the storm descends.

  A familiar cackle and a blast of a horn shook me out of my reverie. Bubba and Daryl, in a red truck adjacent to me at the four way stop, waved their hands out the window. They pointed to the Cozy Corner, one of the four businesses occupying the crossroads of Shady Gully. My auto body shop took up one of the corners, the town’s gas station another, and finally, Jesse’s and James’s churches (they each had their own) shared the other.

  “You want us to get you a bacon cheeseburger?” Bubba raised his meaty fist in a cheerful gesture. “Charlie Wayne’s got ’em two for a dollar.”

  Daryl, riding shotgun, bobbed his head enthusiastically.

  “No, go ahead,” I waved them off.

  As delicious as Charlie Wayne’s cheeseburgers were, I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat. Not after seeing all the blood, the body bag, and beautiful Bella’s streaked mascara. Once again, I couldn’t seem to move past her eyes.

  The thought prompted me to text Micah, who I considered calling several times on the way back to Shady Gully. Afraid she’d have her hands, or her face, as she put it, in some grumpy patient’s mouth, I’d put it off. I didn’t want to shar
e the news via text, so after I parked at the shop, I typed, Call Me!

  Within minutes Bubba and Daryl returned with their hot burgers. Oblivious to the life changing events of the day, they pulled their truck to a stop beside me.

  “What’s cookin’, Mayor?” Daryl, the taller, skinnier of the pair, scratched his neatly trimmed, sandy-colored beard. “You on a diet?”

  The three of us headed into the shop. “You’re the second person to call me that today.”

  “What?” Bubba took offense. “That’s our pet name for you. Who else called you that?”

  “Quietdove.”

  “Oh yeah, he helped us come up with it.” Bubba chewed, “Speaking of which, where’s our lunch buddy? He always eats with us on two-for-a-dollar day.”

  The sheriff’s substation sat just past the gas station, and Quietdove and Max loved to conspire with Bubba and Daryl. “Oh man, that’s right,” Daryl held up a fry. “Something happened across the creek, right? He and Max got a call. Like, a legit call.”

  Bubba nodded in agreement, taking a bite out of his second burger. “What happened? The storm knock a tree on somebody’s house or something?”

  “No, it’s worse than that.” I wasn’t sure how much I should say, but since the sheriff authorized an extensive search of the swamp and woods surrounding the victim’s home, I figured it was only a matter of time before the whole town knew anyway. “Miss Peony died. Got killed. I’m not sure really how to say it, but there was an…altercation of some kind.”

  “Meadow’s mama?” Daryl asked. “That’s terrible.” The post office stood just past the Cozy Corner, so as a mail carrier Meadow was well known among the crossroads businesses.

  Bubba put his burger down. “That ain’t right. I reckon she was one of the nicest ladies I ever met. Wolfheart would bring her in sometimes to get her old jalopy looked at,” he glanced at Daryl. “Dang thing was falling apart, but she loved it so much, we’d patch it together to make her happy.”

  “Yeah, we were always glad when Wolfheart brung her in, and not Madhawk. Meaner than a snake, that one. Did he kill her?”

  “And is Meadow okay? And Bella?”

  My stomach did a flip at the sound of her name. Was I the only one in Shady Gully who hadn’t known Bella? Maybe Micah was right, and I needed to get a life.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, then reached for my phone as it vibrated. It wasn’t Micah. It was Mom. One of her usual cryptic texts. Just a question mark and an emoticon of some kind. I had no clue what it meant, only that it wasn’t a smile. “I gotta go. I’m being summoned.”

  Bubba chuckled. “Tell Desi we said hi.”

  “And tell Micah her car is ready,” Daryl said. “We’ll warn Charlie Wayne.”

  •

  For some inexplicable reason I turned my radio on as I headed to my parents’ house. Even more out of character, I turned the volume up as Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band sang about finding “Real Love.” I opened my window at the notion, and stuck my head out, mumbling along with the song.

  But I didn’t sing.

  Instead, after a glance at my disheveled hair, I slowed past Dolly’s Diva Dome. Unforgivably shaggy, I couldn’t have made a good impression today. But I came to my senses when I saw a blue-haired old lady exit the salon. No way I could go into Dolly’s Diva Dome, even for an emergency haircut. Mama would have my hide.

  I had no idea what had caused the falling out between Mama and Dolly, only that it had happened when I was a kid and had something to do with my parents buying Dolly’s house. As happy as my parents were in the home now, a scandal involving Dolly’s ex-husband had been the nexus to the disastrous purchase.

  I pulled into the Piney Lake subdivision where I grew up, coasting down the windy road that led past the lake to my parents’ white siding house. The setting was perfect and picturesque. It was home. I couldn’t conceive of a scandal, a disaster, or anything unpleasant about this place or my parents.

  But as mama often said: “Luke, I know it’s hard to imagine, but we were your age once, and we weren’t perfect. And neither was this town.”

  •

  I smelled the roast beef as soon as I entered the house. The savory aroma of stewed carrots and potatoes combined with the buttery scent of rice made my stomach growl. I was suddenly glad I’d passed on Charlie Wayne’s two-for-a-dollar special.

  “Luke! In here, it’s hot,” called Mama. I turned the corner into the kitchen to find the table set for three and my dad pouring iced tea. Ginger and Mary Ann, Mom and Dad’s rescue dogs, rushed me with excited yaps and wet kisses. Ginger, a multicolored Papillion bounced on her hind legs to get my attention, while Mary Ann, a floppy-eared black and white cocker spaniel, collapsed on the floor and threw her paws into the air to receive her affection.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Dad said. “I’m starving.” Lately he was packing a little extra around the waist, so I shot him a dubious look. Still handsome, even with the added paunch, Dad towered over Mom, who was barely five feet tall. Despite her diminutive stature, she ran circles around my dad, who would have been content to live out the rest of his days with his family, his dogs, his detective novels—and his beloved Desi.

  As I bent to give her a hug, I felt the frenetic energy charging through her body. “Sit, sit, Luke. I made your favorite. I hope you didn’t eat already.”

  “No, I’m hungry.” Although it was only three in the afternoon, I’d grown accustomed to my parents’ early dinners. I knew they’d be eating ice cream by eight o’clock, as they’d somehow gained a meal in retirement.

  I took my usual chair, enjoying being fawned over, pampered, and served a hot meal, all of which I should enjoy while Petey was away. “What about Micah?” I asked when I noticed there were only three place settings.

  “Oh, they’ll be leftovers. Now,” she looked at me expectantly. “Tell me what happened this morning? I want to hear every detail.”

  I shook my head. “I should be asking you. You hired a lawyer?”

  “Oh, I didn’t hire any lawyer. I just told Ricky that.”

  “What? Are you serious? I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, Mom.” Horrified, I glanced at Dad, who appeared amused. These two. No wonder I had to look out for them. If I left them to their own devices, they’d wind up in jail.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Mama said. “Try your potatoes. I experimented with some herbs from my garden. Rosemary, for instance. I’m not sure I like it.” She squeezed her eyes in distaste.

  “I think it’s great,” chimed Dad, who thought everything Mom did was great.

  “I’m pretty sure interfering with an ongoing investigation is some kind of crime.” I ate a potato. “I’m never going to get this place incorporated if people don’t abide by the law—”

  “Oh, come on, sugar. You’re overreacting.” She shushed Ginger, who pranced beneath the table, begging for scraps. “If you’re going to beg, go see your Daddy,” she told the dog in mock irritation.

  “I’m not overreacting. You can’t do stuff like that, Mom. And I like the rosemary.”

  “Don’t be silly. Ricky knows Brad didn’t do anything wrong.” Mama ladled some gravy onto Dad’s potatoes. “I was simply trying to buy him some time.”

  “I think the sheriff was trying to get him to be honest about what happened.”

  “So, what did happen?” Dad slipped Ginger a piece of meat.

  “I don’t know.” I gave Mom the eye. “He stopped talking.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes. “Ricky was pretty hard on him,” I finally said. “I mean, Sheriff Rick. He’s kind of intense.”

  “Oh, he’s just doing his thing. Trust me, he’s a teddy bear. Just wait until Robin gets here.”

  “What? Aunt Robin is coming?”

  Dad nodded as he glinted at Mom. “They’ve been yacking on the phone all day about Peony. A
nd Wolfheart. I think your mom is excited about having reinforcements. And seeing Violet and Sterling.”

  “And Petey,” Mom added with a smile. “My baby boy has been gone so long and I’m worried about his hurt shoulder and his state of mind.”

  She trailed off, no doubt fretting over the prodigal son.

  “He’s fine,” I told her. “Probably holed up in some Kentucky holler drinking moonshine.”

  My mother was not amused, but Dad chuckled. “How’s the duplex? Need any handyman work done? I can bring my tools—”

  “No, thanks Dad.”

  “Your father and his tools,” Mom quipped. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he names them. Sometimes I think he loves them more than me.”

  I glanced at Dad. “I just got the carpet cleaned for the next tenant.”

  “You’re up to six now? Not counting yourself, of course. That’s good, son.” He pushed away from the table, rubbing Mary Ann’s snout. “Between that and the auto body shop, you’ve got your hands in a lot of things these days.”

  I nodded, pleased by the success of my duplex investment, despite one rather ornery tenant.

  “Dinner was good, Desi.” Dad meandered toward the living room. “I got some work to do over here.” He settled in his recliner. “Just gonna rest my eyes.”

  I helped Mama pick up the plates, and stack them by the sink. “How’s he doing? Seems a little slower than usual.”

  “Oh, he’s just tired.” She scraped the plates. “All those years on that oil rig took its toll. The back surgery helped, but he’ll never be able to run a marathon.”

  “I can’t picture Dad ever running a marathon.”

  She shot me a look. “I’ll have you know your father was quite the quarterback back in the day.”

  “No way. Seriously?” I teased because she recounted Dad’s accolades on a regular basis.