“Don’t let it clog your CPU. Call me if you come up with something.”
“Keep me posted so I can function at my highest level.”
I crammed the phone in my pocket but not before checking the time. It was now close to ten. I hurried on past the clearing where we had found Starnes and slowed my pace in this new terrain. I had no idea what I was looking for. In that regard, I was very much at home considering my detective work almost always put me into positions in which I was looking for whatever I could find. No presuppositions in my work, or at least in the way in which I did the work. Perhaps a really cunning detective would know for what he or she was searching. Not so with me. I remained in the dark almost to the end of each case. It would seem that I was waiting for someone else to flip on the light switch.
56
“Are you looking for me?” the husky voice spoke from off the trail to my right.
I turned to see K.C. Higgins standing there with an extremely large animal. It was mostly gray but had some streaks of black in it along with portions of white on each of its four legs. To say that the animal was massive would have been like saying that the Sears Tower in Chicago is a bit tall.
“Actually I was looking for my dog.”
“Your dog? Why are you looking for your dog here, in these woods?”
“Someone told me that he might be headed this way.”
“You’re trespassing, you know.”
“Your land?”
“No, not yet. My land is close by,” she pointed back over her shoulder and to my right. “But this land does belong to J.W. Roberts. He would not like it if he knew you were on his land without his knowledge or permission.”
“Maybe under the circumstances he might forgive me. Back down the trail is where we found Starnes Carver bound to a tree. She was nearly dead. Her injured dog was found in a ditch close by as well.”
“The woods around here can be dangerous.”
“Which is why I want to find my dog before danger finds him,” I said.
“Well, I have been walking the trail from the direction you are headed. I saw no signs of a dog or anything else for that matter. I think you were deceived about your dog being here. I suggest you go back to …” she stopped cold.
Her words hung in the air. I turned to look behind me in case she had seen something or was looking at something that I needed to see. There was nothing but trees and signs of potential foliage in sight.
“Well, it is fortuitous that I have run into you. I have some questions about some things in your past. Perhaps this is a good time for us to talk. You seem to be wandering around in the woods and I’m wandering about in the woods as well, so let’s talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” KC. said. “Besides, you are making my pet here a little nervous.”
“Sorry about that. I mean no harm to your … pet,” I said, doing my best to emphasize her word choice. “What species is your pet? He appears to be a wolf.”
“There are no wolves in the Blue Ridge Mountains.”
“So I have been told. If that’s true, then what is he?”
“She.”
“Oh, she … what is she?”
“She’s a mixed breed.”
“You bred her.”
“I did,” said K.C. with a note of pride in her voice. “I knew her mother and father, so I had access to solid information, and decided to breed her in order to make her species stronger.”
“And that species would be…” I said.
“Part wolf, part English Sheepdog, part coyote.”
“Interesting blend you have come up with. And the size?”
“I’m sorry, the size?” she said.
“She’s larger than most wolves.”
“She is. I attribute that to the English Sheepdog and coyote blend that was her father.”
“And the mother?”
“Part wolf, part coyote.”
“I thought you said…”
“I did. There are no wolves in the mountains of North Carolina, no full-bloodied wolves.”
“Her grandmother could have been a full-bloodied wolf,” I said. “That’s only a generation or so back.”
“You are interfering with things that are not your business,” K.C. said.
“Tell me what happened to you back in 1984?” I said.
“That’s a kinda vague question, is it not? I was young. I can’t remember everything that happened to me so many years ago. Do you remember everything that happened to you in 1984?”
“Well, let me be more specific. It seems that you may have experienced some trauma caused by some of your classmates that year. I was just curious as to what happened and how you dealt with it.”
“You ask strange questions, Clancy Evans. You almost sound like a head-doctor, you know, like a shrink. I’m not sure as to why you are interested in my past. What does this have to do with your lost dog?”
“You know I’m investigating the slayings of Rufus Ramsey, Randall Lee Carter, Hack Ponder, and Dottie Higgins. They are all connected. To each other and to you …in 1984.”
K.C. Higgins’ pet growled softly as I finished speaking. It was one of those low growls that usually mean a warning sound when coming from a dog. I took it to mean the same thing in this instance. I wondered why the animal in front of me chose that moment to growl. Did she understand my question to her master?
“She’s restless. She doesn’t wish to continue the conversation.”
“And you?” I said.
“I have no desire to talk with you. I don’t like your questions, and I don’t much care for your suggestion that I had something to do with the deaths of those people.”
“I didn’t say that. I only said that you were connected to those folk years ago. I am trying to discover if there is a present day connection.”
“I suggest that you leave now. She’s restless and hard to control when she gets like this,” she said as she lifted the leash attached to the massive animal standing next to her.
“I think you can control her enough for us to finish talking,” I said. “Tell me what happened to you during that school year.”
I knew that I was pushing her. I also knew that to challenge her was taking me to the edge of danger. Still, this just might be the singular opportunity I would have to get some answers that could help me connect those infernal dots that seem to plague me too much of the time.
“I’m not sure that I want to control her if you insist on your nosey inquiry.”
“Being nosey is what I do. I’m a nosey kind of detective.”
“I suggest you change your ways or prepare yourself for the inevitable.”
“Too stubborn to change my ways,” I said as I moved my hand slowly to the grip of the 9 mm holstered on my backside. The moment had finally come.
“That’s too bad,” she said to me. Then to her wolf-pet she said, “Go,” as she unsnapped the leash that joined her to the beast.
The speed with which the animal approached me was staggering. The two of them were standing not less than fifty yards away from me. I calculated that I had plenty of time to draw my weapon and fire several shots with the first movement of her beast in my direction. I was facing my adversary straight-on. Draw and shoot. No other movement necessary. It was simple, clean, and easy enough since I had done it multiple times before. There was no need to hesitate. There was only the need for me to move decisively, skillfully, and quickly – draw and fire. Fire as many times as it would take to bring down the subject charging towards me.
The animal was on top of me before I could fire the first round. Talk about speed. She had pounced on me from at least twenty yards away from where I was standing. I was now on the ground in a panic. The hardest thing to do when one is in combat, as in any type of hand-to-hand combat, close-ordered combat, is to remain calm. You cannot think when in a panic mode. You have to keep your cool and stay within yourself. Be calm. Look for an out. Think quickly.
That’s what the te
aching manual suggests for you in these situations. Yeah, right.
As soon as I hit the ground from the force of her landing on top of me, I rolled over quickly and jumped to my feet trying my best to avoid that vulnerable position of being on the bottom with something larger-than-myself on top of me. Now on my feet, I still was vulnerable. My 9 mm was ten feet away to my right. The wolf was standing close, some six to eight feet in front of me. I had no weapon to help counter her next assault.
She seemed to be waiting. Perhaps she was waiting for K.C. to give another command.
“Is this the way in which you killed the others?” I said to K.C. without taking my eyes off the wolf.
“I am sorry that you have come into this …” she paused. She was searching for a word to explain whatever it was that I had come into. “You have no business here. This was my story, my life, my action. I am sorry that you have to die. But you know too much. You may yet piece it all together. I can’t risk such a thing as that.”
She seemed genuinely saddened by what she believed she had to do to me. I, on the other hand, felt many things at that moment, none of which were sadness. Desperation would be one good choice for what I was feeling. I think that feeling would be on the other end of the spectrum from sadness.
The other thing that crossed my mind was that I might die here at the hands of this wolf-creature without ever knowing the whole truth. That bothered me. It was the way my brain functioned. I had this strong inclination for desperately wanting to know why K.C. had used her wolf-breed to murder all of those people. I also had a rather strong affinity for wanting to stay alive.
“Go!” K.C. said again to the beast in front of me. The wolf lunged from her standing position and would have landed completely on top of me once again had I not waited until the last second to dive into a thicket of vines nearby. Unfortunately, the thicket was located in the opposite direction from my handgun. I wanted my weapon. I had a better chance of survival with a loaded handgun than with merely my aging and dubious skills of playing dodge the large creature.
“Kill!” K.C. said to the wolf as soon as I regained some sense of my surroundings in the dense thicket. I knew that I could not outrun such an animal, but I had no choice but to try to maneuver myself away from her since she was bent on devouring me in the next instant.
She moved closer to me. I was now standing in the thicket and a tad more restricted than before.
Suddenly there was a familiar barking. Sam was standing behind the wolf and snarling at her. She turned and faced him. Sam moved to his right slowly while the wolf-creature moved slowly to her left, still facing him head-on. I used the opportunity to leave my thicket and move quickly to the place where I had last held my 9 mm.
Sam began what I could only call a dance in front of the creature. He paced rapidly back and forth, side to side some ten feet from her standing position. Now and then he would take a step forward, then one to the left or right of the wolf, then a move to his rear, all the while Sam continued his ferocious barking and snarling at her. She lunged and he retreated doing his strange but effective dance. He seemed to be stalling perhaps to give me time to retrieve my weapon.
I picked up my handgun and aimed at the wolf creature. Instinctively, I aimed at the head of the beast. It would be the only shot to take it down. I was also thinking multiple shots to the head.
Sam danced again, this time to his left then to the right. Up, back, right, left, back, left … strange movements for an untrained dog. The wolf appeared confused by Sam’s seemingly controlled dance cadence. She seemed at a loss to know what to do.
I took aim at the large animal.
Before I could fire, the wolf lunged at Sam and its teeth caught him just above his left leg chiefly because of his continued dance steps. They sunk deep into his flesh and he howled loudly. But with a force that I had never witnessed before, Sam turned back into the monster and bit her in the same spot that she had gouged him. He bit her hard and held onto her upper leg as if holding on for dear life.
The wolf released her jaw grip on Sam and howled. It was blood-screeching howl that must have echoed for miles around inside the dense woods. It was a distressed cry from a wounded creature in the wild. The howl was so agonizing that I could almost feel the pain myself. As she released her mournful howl, she began turning in rapid circles. It seemed to me that she was trying to sling him away from her by the rapid, circular movement.
It finally worked when she abruptly stopped. Sam flew through the air for several yards, but landed, like a cat, on his feet. The wolf backed up from him. She seemed bewildered by his attack. I don’t think she had been prepared for this type of battle. However, since Starnes had told me that Sam had defended her while she had been secured to the tree, I knew that this was not the first time that these two had faced off against each other.
This was a side of Sam that I had never witnessed. Apparently my dog was a true fighter in both heart and method. The wolf probably agreed with my assessment but she had no intention of losing to an animal less than half her size. I think ego plays a part even in the animal kingdom.
She began to move slowly, purposefully in an arc fashion toward Sam. She had nothing but murder in her eyes and I knew she was thoroughly capable of killing Sam given the right angle of attack or mistake on his part. I couldn’t let that happen.
The wolf paused as if preparing herself for a final jump onto her prey to destroy her mortal enemy.
I discharged four rounds from a distance of no more than twenty feet from the animal. I pride myself on my marksmanship skills. I take second place to no one except maybe Rosey and a contract killer named Diamond.
I am convinced that two of the four rounds hit the wolf in the head. Except for the fact that I later dug two rounds out of a tree, I would have sworn that all four bullets found their mark. By all rights, the beast should have fallen and remained still forever.
That’s not what happened.
57
There was blood spatter on the bushes and some trees as well as droplets on the ground around the spot where the wolf had been standing when I shot her. A large puddle of blood was also nearby. My shots had found their mark, but I could not say for certain how many at first. I counted on four shots hitting the target, but the fact that the beast turned and stared at me once the rounds hit her and had penetrated her body, left me wondering if I had been that accurate. I then watched the wolf-creature ramble into the thick woods towards K.C. Higgins’ place.
Sam was too tired to give chase. He lay down on the ground where he had made his stand against the fierce animal as if he had been the one shot instead of her. He was breathing rapidly. I could imagine that he felt relief, exhaustion, and some degree of success in holding off that humongous beast one more time. He also had to be in great pain, if not from this last round, then most certainly for the earlier fight he had with the same monster. Those injuries had been severe enough to force most dogs to convalesce for a few weeks. Sam was an exceptional protector.
I looked around for K.C. Higgins but she was gone.
“You okay, old friend?” I said to Sam who was still resting in a prone position on the ground. His breathing had quieted some and he was staring off into the bushes as if dazed by the whole adventure. He lifted his head a little off the ground but then put it down again. He was tired.
I rubbed my hand over his body to see if he had any life-threatening wounds which might need immediate attention. The singular deep wound from the bite of the wolf was all Sam had from his row. Amazing. He danced with the devil, and, in effect, won. Not the usual outcome for those who jump into such a fray.
“Okay, you rest a while. I need to trail that opponent of yours. I hit her at least twice, possibly more and she’s bleeding. I need to track the wolf now. I’ll come back for you.”
I headed off after the wolf by following the blood trail. A few minutes later I was joined in my tracking by Sam. He sniffed his way past me while moving at a much faster clip than I
wanted to take. Let’s talk about determination.
“Hey, not so fast. Slow is good. We’ll get there. Besides, I think I know where she’s going.”
He stopped, looked back at me, barked as if saying ‘come on,’ and then returned to his near gallop. I had to hustle to keep up with him.
An hour into our following the blood trail and still not arriving at K.C. Higgins’ place, I was beginning to have doubts about this plan. Sam had slowed his movements to a more methodical walk. His nose was still to the ground. He seemed to be going on odor while I was searching for traces of blood. The blood was clearly evident even after an hour of trailing the beast. Even for an animal of her size, she could afford to lose but only so much blood before she would have to succumb to my inflicted wounds. I was counting on that.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Rosey’s voice came from behind us.
I was surprised but oh so grateful to see him. We found some tree falls to sit on while I told him about our early morning encounter and adventure. Sam rested while I told the tale. I might have embellished a thing or two, but as a trained police woman, I try to do the Jack Friday thing and deal only with the facts. I did make Sam the hero of it after all.
“And you’re sure that you shot the animal at least twice?” Rosey said.
I got up from the log and walked back over to the trail and pointed at the blood we had been tracking. Rosey nodded.
“I saw the blood droppings after I picked up your trail. I was afraid it might have been yours,” he said.
“I’m practically unscathed. Close to my expiration date, but, alas, I have cheated fate once more.”
“And we’re headed towards K.C.’s place,” he said.
“That’s the destination.”
“Onward and upward,” he said.
Now rested, the three of us moved out with Sam in the lead still following the scent of his deadly enemy. Another forty or so minutes of tracking through the thick woods finally brought us to the backside of K.C. Higgins home and kennel.
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