by Chase Connor
“Oma!” I screamed again. “No!”
Apparently, Oma hadn’t seen me burst out of the woods and come running across the backyard. My screams had obviously not reached her ears, either. When her eyes settled on me, her hand stopped in mid-air. I didn’t want Oma to suddenly send fire flying towards the woman when I was approaching from behind. Knowing my luck, she would miss, or the woman would duck, and we’d have Flame-Broiled Rob. A second later, I had reached the woman. I grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her from moving any closer to Oma. She stumbled awkwardly, her body turning to face me as I gasped for breath, my heart thundering within my chest.
How I kept myself from screaming, I wasn’t sure. Half of the woman’s face was melted away. One eye was missing, half of her long brown hair scorched away, her scalp, face, half of her torso and lower half all looked like melted plastic—with just a touch of blood and other fluids to make her look even more frightening. The woman’s mouth opened and one eye looked out at me in desperation.
“Help me.” She managed to croak.
Then she was collapsing into my arms. With no other option, I reached out with my arms, catching her around the middle as she fell into me, completely still. Slowly, I lowered the woman to the ground, wondering what in the Hell had happened to her and why she had wandered up into Oma’s yard of all places. Oma was finally standing from the steps as Lena stood meekly at her side. I looked over at them, and Lena shyly stepped behind Oma, partially hiding behind Oma’s legs. Oma looked down at me in shock. If it hadn’t been for the sound of Lucas approaching the tree line, I wouldn’t have known what to do.
“Lena,” I whisper-hissed, “hide.”
In less time than it takes to blink, she had jumped down and disappeared into the slight shadows cast alongside the stairs. Then there was nothing. Oma looked down at where Lena had been, and then her eyes shot back over to me. I shrugged and slowly pulled my arms from around the woman as I laid her onto the wet lawn and Lucas came barging out of the woods as fast as he could. Oma took a second to calm herself before she walked over to stand over the naked woman on the ground and me.
Then Lucas was next to us, his hands on his knees, doubled-over as he clutched his side and gasped for breath.
“How did you get here so fast?” He gasped for air.
I wasn’t exactly ignoring him, but I didn’t have an answer, either.
“What the fu—”
“Robbie?” Oma was aghast. “Who is that?”
“I have no idea,” I responded robotically as I looked at the naked woman I was kneeling beside.
“Why the hell is she buck-naked?” Oma asked. “What the hell happened to her? I came out here to look for y’all to tell you breakfast was ready and she comes stumblin’ up with her hoo-ha hanging out, looking like something that crawled out of a swamp!”
“Oma.” I shot a disapproving glance up at her.
“Well, her cooter is hangin’ out, Robbie,” Oma grumbled, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I know you don’t want to see that any more than I do, for God’s sake. What the hell is wrong with her?”
Lucas was still panting, his hands on his knees as he stood next to the woman and me and I had to control the urge to snarl at Oma that it was apparent to anyone with eyes what was wrong with the woman. The compulsion got swallowed when I took a moment to consider the burns that went from the top of the woman’s head down to her foot on one side. When I noticed that her one remaining eye—which was open and lifeless—looked like a mix between a human eye and something else, it struck me.
“She’s dead,” I said simply.
“What?” Oma gasped.
“She’s—she’s dead?” Lucas was starting to get his breath back.
Looking up at Oma, I felt my stomach sink.
“You better call the police.”
“I’ll do it.” Lucas straightened up and dashed towards the back steps, shooting a look at me over his shoulder. “Sheriff Dennard. I’ll call him.”
“Oh, fuckin’ great.” Oma rolled her eyes as the screen door shut behind Lucas. “Just what we need.”
“Could you try and show some compassion?” I snapped up at her as I felt the woman’s wrist, praying that I was wrong.
“I’m showin’ more compassion than whatever did that to her, ain’t I?” Oma threw her hands up. “Why the hell did she wander up in my damn yard? Couldn’t she have gone over to The Irish to cause trouble?”
The Kelly’s were “The Irish” that Oma was referring to as she stood there, flinging her arms in the air like a crazy person. A rotating cast from the Kelly brood had lived a few hundred yards away from Oma for more than a few generations. All Irish, red hair, annoying to Oma, and constantly being described as “ugly assholes” by her. Regardless of her thoughts on the Kelly family, I felt it was wrong to wish this upon them.
“She’s been burned bad.” I swallowed hard, ignoring my grandmother merely to state the obvious.
“No shit.”
“Oma.”
“Well,” Oma sighed, “bless her heart. I don’t mean nothin’. But this is certainly not how I saw my day startin’.”
“I’m sure this wasn’t how she wanted to start her day either.”
“No one wants to wake up dead, that’s for sure.” Oma shrugged. “How the hell do you think she got burnt up like that?”
“No idea.”
Lying hadn’t been on my agenda for the day, wasn’t how I saw my day starting, yet that lie was just the beginning.
Chapter 3
Lucas, Oma, and I were seated around the kitchen table, all of us with a mug of coffee and half-finished plates of food. None of us had found that we had a massive appetite after the Sheriff’s Department showed up, so we all had some eggs and toast left on our plates. Somehow, we had all found the ability to eat all of our bacon. Funny how that happens—even death couldn’t keep a person from wanting to finish any bacon that has been cooked. We all sat there, sipping at coffee, merely exchanging glances instead of talking, while the coroner worked out in Oma’s backyard and Sheriff Department employees milled about. Some were coming into the kitchen for coffee, which Oma happily kept making for them, while others were walking around the backyard and the woods. Apparently, in upper Ohio—especially within the city limits of Point Worth—a burned up naked woman wandering into someone’s yard, collapsing, and dying was a strange event.
“So, none of y’all know who this is?” Sheriff Dennard, who I had met for the first time an hour prior, poked his head in through the backdoor. “Because she obviously doesn’t have a purse or a wallet with her.”
“I done told you we don’t know who she is, Wesley!” Oma turned sharply in her chair to growl at him. “Stop pokin’ your damn head in here and asking every five minutes.”
Lucas and I glanced at each other.
“You got a dead naked lady in your backyard, Esther Jean Wagner.” He grumbled back. “You ought not act so rude to me.”
“Unless you’re gonna charge me with murder or interfering with your investigation, get your damn head back outside.” Oma wasn’t bothered one bit. “You’re letting all the damn stank out.”
My nose turned up of its own accord as Lucas snorted into his coffee mug. Sheriff Dennard squinty-glanced at Lucas, then snarled at Oma before he pulled his head back and closed the door.
“Bastard.” Oma spat as she turned around in her seat to reach for her coffee mug again.
“I heard that Esther Jean!” Sheriff Dennard hollered from outside.
“I hope to hell you did!” She shot back over her shoulder. “Didn’t exactly whisper it did I?”
“Oma.” I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Well, I’m older than his damn parents.” She looked at me. “He can go take a running leap off—”
“Just stop.” I shook my head at her as Lucas snorted again.
Shooting a reproachful, though amused glance at my boyfriend, I was glad to see that he had the common sense to look
at least a little bit chastened. Though Lucas realized laughing at a situation such as the one we found ourselves in was inappropriate, Oma seemed to be taking everything in stride. She was so unbothered by everything going on that I had to wonder if there had been other incidents in the past where she had to explain dead bodies on her lawn to the police. In slightly more than a quarter-century of living, I hadn’t had a single run in the with the police. At least not in a way that I would have been questioned.
Police often provided security at film premieres, film festivals, at Hollywood events, or even private parties. However, I’d never had to sit in a kitchen and pretend that nothing was wrong while a dead body was dealt with a few yards away. Considering the fact that I was pretty sure that I knew how the woman had been burned on one half of her body made me uneasy. I found myself stuck between pretending I knew nothing and was completely innocent and confessing to Sheriff Dennard that I shot fire out of my hand while the woman was in wolf form and burned her all to Hell. Of course, the only thing a confession such as that would lead to was me in a “Me Time” jacket in a padded room where I would be watched through one-way glass. Additionally, I hadn’t been honest with Lucas about the night before, nor had I mentioned anything to Oma about the incident.
All around, and in every way, I was what the kids referred to as “fucked.”
Whether I liked it or not, whether or not my conscious was happy with the decision, I had no choice but to sit and be Robert Wagner, innocent and normal. Sheriff Dennard hadn’t asked much about Lucas and me when he first arrived on the scene, and it was evident that he was well-acquainted with Oma. Of course, if memory served, Oma had fired a shotgun at the Kelly kids once for sneaking into her yard, so even if Sheriff Dennard hadn’t been from Point Worth, he knew of her. Also, I remembered that Jackson Barkley, Lucas’s grandfather, who owned the hardware store, had said that Sheriff Dennard had been the one to deal with the case of the old lady and the shotgun.
Regardless, due to his familiarity with Oma, and probably Lucas, Sheriff Dennard didn’t ask us many questions. Being Oma’s grandson probably made him a little suspicious of me, but at least I qualified as a “local.” That got me excused from a lot of initial questions. The fact that I was trying to rein Oma’s mouth in probably won me brownie points with the Sheriff, as well. Of course, once the woman’s body was gone, I didn’t doubt that Sheriff Dennard would have follow-up questions. If I could get through the day without being outed as “Jacob Michaels,” I would go to bed shocked.
“Ya’ think they’ll take much longer?” Oma sighed.
“They’ll take as long as it takes, Oma.”
“I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” Lucas added.
“Well,” Oma grumbled, “I was thinking about doing some planting today. Ground ain’t gonna freeze back, the ground’s nice and soft, it would have been a perfect day. Come afternoon, the sun’s supposed to be high in the sky, and I thought—”
“Do you think they can figure out who she is?” I interjected, suddenly nervous as I saw two people—coroner employees, maybe?—lifting a gurney with a filled body bag. “She obviously didn’t have ID on her, and it was kind of hard to make out a lot of her face.”
“I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” Lucas patted my hand, reluctant to actually hold it with all of the police around. “Surely, someone will report someone missing, two-and-two will get put together, and they’ll find out who she is. Then maybe they can figure out what happened to her.”
“Great.” I swallowed.
“Probably a meth-head.” Oma clucked her tongue.
“What?” I frowned at her.
“Burned all over.” She shrugged. “Been a lot of them places been blowin’ up, catchin’ on fire. Hell, watch the news any night of the week and, well, them idiots just don’t know when God is tryin’ to tell them somethin’.”
“Oma.” I shook my head.
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ bad about her for fuck’s sake.” Oma rolled her eyes and waggled her head. “Just sayin’ that this is probably something innocuous like that. I doubt anyone went and set her on fire is all’s I’m sayin’. Poor thing probably just didn’t have enough sense and done did the wrong thing, and—”
“Mrs. Wagner.” Lucas shook his head at her when he saw my expression.
“I ain’t meaning to upset ya’ none, Robbie.” Oma reached over to pat my hand. “I know ya’ been away for a minute. The Midwest is littered with them meth-houses. It’s a disease…well, maybe a cancer. It’s been spreading.”
“Let’s just…let’s not talk about it.”
Oma shrugged. Lucas patted my hand again. I felt guiltier than I had before. If this woman got labeled as some junkie when that wasn’t the case at all, I’d never have forgiven myself, even if she had tried to attack me while in wolf form. If that was what happened at all. Maybe I really was in a mental hospital somewhere half out of my mind, waiting for some drugs or therapy to do their job. All things considered, I didn’t know if I was crazier for wanting to confess to the previous night’s events or because I didn’t doubt that those things happened.
“All right.” Sheriff Dennard coming in through the backdoor once again, looking official and concerned snapped me out of my reverie. “They’re going to take her away, Esther Jean. Your plans to get out in the garden won’t be completely ruined.”
“Stuff it, Dennard.”
“Mrs. Wagner.” Lucas couldn’t help but grin.
Sheriff Dennard wasn’t amused.
“Esther Jean…”
“Yes, Wesley?” She waggled her head.
That was fair. Sheriff Dennard hadn’t shown proper respect to an older lady of the community by calling her “Mrs. Wagner” or “ma’am,” so why the hell should Oma have to use his title?
“I’m the Sheriff of this county.”
“I’m the owner of this house.” Oma started to stand, but I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into her seat. Of course, that didn’t slow her mouth. “And I ain’t got nothin’ to do with Miss Naked as a Jay Bird out there, anyway.”
“Oh, calm down.” Sheriff Dennard waved her off. “I didn’t say nothin’ about this even being anyone’s fault.”
“Damn right you didn’t.” Oma nodded once. “And you better not, either.”
“I don’t think none of y’all hurt her.” He grumbled. “I wouldn’t be standing here being nice if I thought y’all were responsible for what happened to her.”
Regardless of how it made me morally feel, Sheriff Dennard’s statement made me feel physically relieved.
“But you know that there might be more questions later on.” He reached into his breast pocket for a small notebook and a pen. “I know she just stumbled up into the yard looking like that and then…Robert?...you eased her to the ground and she just…well, she died.”
He was reading from the notes he’d made in his little notebook when he had first arrived and asked what happened.
“Yessir.” I nodded. “She wasn’t alive long after she came into the yard.”
Oma threw her hands up in a “are we done now?” fashion.
“And, Lucas?” Sheriff Dennard glanced up at him. “You came running up after?”
“Yessir.”
“Esther Jean, you were cowering on the steps of the backdoor here?”
“Look here, Wesley—”
“The…woman…frightened Oma, I guess from sneaking up behind her like that, Sheriff Dennard,” I interjected to avoid another round of fighting. “Lucas and I were coming back from a walk by the lake when I saw the woman stumbling up to Oma. I ran up to help Oma—obviously, the woman being naked and stumbling around wasn’t exactly normal—and then when I pulled the woman away, saw her condition, and eased her to the ground when she collapsed, she just…died.”
“All right.” He shrugged.
“Jesus.” Oma huffed.
Sheriff Dennard shot her a look. “What were y’all doing walking down by
the lake?”
Lucas and I glanced at each other.
“Walking?” Lucas frowned at Sheriff Dennard.
“It’s a way to get exercise, Wesley.” Oma snorted. “Maybe try it.”
My grandmother gave the Sheriff’s waistline a long stare.
“Oma.” I scolded her. “Be nice. You’re like a toddler.”
She shrugged at me.
Sheriff Dennard pointed his finger at me. “I like you, Robert.” Then his finger went to Oma. “But you are walkin’ on thin ice, Esther Jean.”
“Callin’ a cop tubbly in your own home ain’t a crime.” She laughed. “You gonna haul me in and tell ‘em to book me for hurtin’ your feelin’s?”
Lucas snorted again.
Sheriff Dennard glared at him.
Great.
Two of us were now on The Shit List.
For what seemed like forever, Sheriff Dennard glared at Oma and Lucas, as though he were trying to figure out some misdemeanor—or even felony—with which he could charge them. Oma glared back, and Lucas averted his eyes. The whole time, all I could think about was that this was all so unnecessary. Even if I confessed to what I thought happened, it would do no good, and the woman would still be dead. Oma and Sheriff Dennard having a pissing contest wasn’t fixing anything, either. Finally, I cleared my throat to break their concentration on each other.
“Sheriff Dennard?” I asked. “Do you think you can figure out who she is? Was?”
He finally looked over at me. “Eventually we will, Robert.”
“Good.”
“Esther Jean.” He snapped at her. “Don’t you put a toe out of line.”