Fangs

by Vella Munn

He probably should have said goodbye before ending the call, but was that how semi-adversaries ended a conversation? Putting the question on the back burner, he opened the SUV’s door. However, instead of getting out so he could walk to where the woman had said she’d be waiting, he called his co-worker.

  “Hey,” Darick said, “If you’re calling because it’s after five and you want to buy me a beer, I’m all for it.”

  They were using an official line, which meant Darick might get chewed out, but Darick didn’t concern himself with political correctness. Nearly dying two years ago had brought things down to basics for Darick, who maintained that breathing was a hell of a lot more important than dancing to anyone’s tune. Jeff’s mindset was less concrete. He’d survived his fiancée’s murder, a career change to keep from going crazy, and moving from Seattle to the southern Oregon coast. Mostly he needed to do his job and be left alone.

  “It doesn’t look as if I’ll be getting off work for a while,” he told Darick. “You’ll never guess who wants to see me.”

  “The governor?”

  “Mia Sandas. I just agreed to go out to her farm.”

  “Interesting. What was it she told us, that she intended to run her business her way, not ours? That she knew what she was doing?”

  “There’s a lot of independent people around here. What she said didn’t surprise me. It just got us off on the wrong foot. And now she’s calling.”

  “Keep me posted. All the wildlife she gets on her property, our paths are bound to cross.”

  Jeff wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Part of why he’d switched from being a cop to wildlife enforcement after Danna’s death was so he’d have less contact with people. Something about Mia wasn’t easy to dismiss. Yes, she bore a physical resemblance to Danna—same height, age, hair and eye color—but it was more than that.

  * * * *

  The strong, almost sweet smell of young evergreens slipped through the open window of the state-issued SUV Jeff was driving. As accustomed as he was to the scent of damp firs, he wasn’t prepared for the intensity that was part of a commercial Christmas tree operation. Noble firs of a uniform size grew to the edge of the dirt road leading to where Mia lived. They prevented him from seeing more than a few feet in any direction except directly ahead. From the highway, the farm looked like a well-designed operation, but being in the middle of it made him a little claustrophobic.

  The moment he’d informed her that he would occasionally check on things to make sure she was dealing with pest control in approved ways and kept a valid haze permit, she’d shut down. Refused to acknowledge the copy of the regulations he’d brought with him. It was as if she wanted nothing to do with him personally.

  As he understood it, Mia had bought the tree farm and hundred–plus-year-old farmhouse at a foreclosure sale soon after moving here, from where he didn’t know. Because she hadn’t invited him inside, he could only guess at what the interior’s condition. Today, he noted the weathered sides, new metal roof and foundation. The stone chimney needed work and the porch sagged. Those were the original windows, which meant they wouldn’t do much to keep out the wind and rain. She’d been working on it, but it was a money pit.

  Fortunately it wasn’t his problem.

  He parked behind Mia’s truck in the circular driveway, called his position into dispatch and exited. As a state police employee in the wildlife department, he was a sworn law enforcement officer and carried a gun. His Ruger had rested on his right hip for so long he barely noted what he was doing as he repositioned it.

  The front door opened as he climbed the sagging stairs and Mia stepped outside. Her arms were at her sides with her fingers tense. So, this meeting wasn’t easy for her. Like the other time he’d seen her, she wore jeans and a too-big T-shirt held in place by her surprisingly broad shoulders. Mia was a poster child for the word lean, undoubtedly a byproduct of her physical life. Although not particularly tall—maybe five foot seven—she had long legs and arms. Through the denim, he saw the outline of muscled thighs and calves. Her arms were well-defined, her breasts nearly lost beneath the fabric.

  Chiding himself for thinking of her as a woman and not just someone who might be in need of his services, he continued climbing. When he reached the porch, she held out her hand. He offered his and she gripped it with strong fingers. He didn’t think she had makeup on and had fashioned her long, dark brown hair into a single ponytail.

  “I appreciate you coming so soon,” she said as she indicated she wanted him to follow her inside. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do about this, but…” She stopped and faced him. “You’re probably surprised to hear from me. I’m surprised I called, but you’re the only one I could think of to call.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I gave you my card.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “I kept it. Did you think I wouldn’t?” When she glanced down, he noted that she was barefoot. “I’ve been on my feet for hours,” she said by way of explanation. “Up and down the south side of Dark Mountain.”

  Before he could ask why, a waist-high, powerfully built dog stepped into what he gathered was the living room. The mutt, which, he guessed, was part Rottweiler, gave little indication of its mood. Its stump of a tail didn’t wag but neither did it appear aggressive.

  “This is Banshee. He was with me today.”

  Jeff extended the back of his hand toward Banshee. After a moment the big dog sniffed it. “That’s one self-contained animal.” Like you.

  “That’s an interesting way of putting it and you’re right. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.” She pointed at a door to the left of the living room. “That’s where my computer is. The pictures came out clearer than I thought they might.”

  He nodded and she led the way across a sparsely furnished room that smelled of old wood. There were a couple of area rugs in decent shape, but the flooring the rugs didn’t cover wasn’t worth saving. Someone, Mia maybe, had put an efficient wood-burning insert in the fireplace. If that was the house’s only heat source, it must get damn cold in here in the winter.

  In contrast to the living room that looked as if she seldom used it, her office was everything he figured a businesswoman needed. She had a desktop computer with a monitor that was larger than some TVs, plus a laptop on the large wooden desk. There was an all-in-one printer-scanner-copying machine and a filing cabinet. He didn’t see a phone. Probably, like him, she relied on a cell phone. A quiet instrumental played from speakers attached to her hard drive.

  She turned down the sound. “Pandora radio. I’m addicted to it.”

  And maybe the music kept her from feeling completely alone. He continued to assess the room. There was a space heater near her office chair. The large window she faced when she was at work was thermopane. A bouquet of wild flowers sat on the window sill. A not-quite-professional oil painting of the ocean during a storm was on the wall to his left and a large poster of redwoods covered the right wall.

  “You did that?” He indicated the oil painting.

  She laughed. “Hardly. I bought it at a fundraiser for the high school. My friend who works there talked me into paying too much for it. Please sit down.” She indicted her office chair. “I have things set up so you can see the pictures in the order I took them.”

  He liked that she hadn’t wasted time getting to her reason for contacting him. Given how much he was expected to accomplish in a day, he had little patience for someone who wasted his time—like the ex who hadn’t given him anything he could build a case on. Undoubtedly Mia’s plate was as full as his.

  He sat and tried not to react as Mia reached out and punched several keys. She smelled of soap, probably because she’d recently washed her hands—hands she obviously saw as tools. How long had it been since he’d been close to an attractive woman? Maybe if it hadn’t been so long, the male in him wouldn’t be responding.

  He didn’t know what to do with the sensation.

  “I took these earlier toda
y not far from logging road three seven two. You know where that is, don’t you?”

  “You drove up there? The so-called road’s nearly impassable in places.”

  “I know. I hiked.”

  She made it sound like a stroll when it wasn’t. Someone who didn’t know the mountain could get lost.

  The slide show started, showing the ribbon of a trail she’d been on. “I had a case of cabin fever today,” she explained. “I’ve had my hands full keeping the deer away from the seedlings. Now that they’ve given birth, the does will eat anything.”

  “So how do you prevent—”

  She held up her hand. “Let’s don’t go there today. My methods are legal.”

  “All right,” he said, although she had to know he couldn’t automatically take her word for it.

  “Even though I took a risk by leaving,” she said, “Banshee and I can only stand guard so long before we go stir crazy. This is where I was when I heard shots, two of them.”

  “Rifle shots?”

  “Yes.”

  Leaning close again, she paused the slide show. “I didn’t take any more pictures until—maybe the best thing I can do is shut up and let you watch. We’ll talk after.”

  Her voice had become strained, as if she didn’t want to be saying what she was. He was more grateful than he wanted to acknowledge when she pushed another key and backed off. Two frames later, he was no longer thinking about her.

  In the first pictures, a medium-sized cow elk was down and bleeding at the shoulder, alive. Then Mia had taken a close-up of a slashed throat.

  “I didn’t shoot her,” Mia said, “because I was hoping not to let anyone know I was there.”

  “Poachers.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t just about some damned poacher. Watch.”

  He muttered a curse when he saw a calf standing alone. It didn’t matter that he knew Mother Nature wasn’t always kind, the thought of what lay ahead for the ungainly orphan knotted his chest. Maybe he’d have to go there and—

  “Notice the coloring,” Mia said. “Have you ever seen one that pale?”

  She was right. The calf was only a few shades off white. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier. The baby would never fade into its surroundings.

  He was still trying to come up with an explanation when a new form appeared on the monitor. At first, he couldn’t make out what it was, but frame by frame, as it approached the seemingly frozen calf, he realized he was looking at the largest dog he’d ever seen. Pure gray. “What the hell?”

  “Exactly. Watch.”

  He did, barely believing what he was seeing as the massive gray beast broke the struggling calf’s neck. He’d never seen a dog work so efficiently.

  “My god,” he muttered.

  “Banshee was quiet then. I think that’s because he didn’t know what to make of what was happening.”

  What about her reaction? Had she been horrified and repulsed or did she find the same relief at the calf’s quick end that he did?

  The question faded when the series of shots ended and another set started. This one focused on another canine. The newcomer was smaller than the gray one and multicolored. More primitive. A chill ran through him. “Wolf?”

  “At first, that’s what I thought, but I’ve seen enough wolves to recognize one. Besides, they haven’t returned to this part of the state, yet, right?”

  He shook his head. Everything he’d heard and read had him believing wolves were still only in eastern and central Oregon. “Then what the hell is it?”

  They again fell silent as her computer spelled out an unbelievable drama. He tried to tell himself the gray couldn’t possibly be ordering the wolf away from the dead calf, but what else could it be?

  A set of pictures showed the gray and the wolf feeding on the cow. Somehow Mia had gotten close enough for some clear shots of the pair.

  “I agree with you. That one isn’t pure wolf,” he said. “Not quite large enough and the color and confirmation is off. As for the gray, I’ve never seen a dog that big or with that coloration.”

  She continued to stare at the image now taking up the monitor. The way she chewed on her lower lip, he wondered if she was trying to make up her mind about something.

  “That’s it?” he asked. “You didn’t take any more pictures after that one?”

  “No.”

  You’re lying. To a cop. It isn’t working. “Are you all right?”

  “What? Yes. Seeing the animals in my office got to me, that’s all. I don’t know of any wolf-dog mixes in the area. Do you?”

  “I’m going to make some calls.” He made a show of getting ready to stand. “In the meantime, can you email what you have to me?”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  “I’m not sure.” He felt no need to point out that he’d never come across anything like this and wasn’t sure how to proceed. “I’ll probably send the images to every wildlife and animal agency I can think of, see what kind of reaction I get. In the meantime, I need to see where it happened. Hopefully collect evidence, maybe find a bullet in the cow.”

  “You’re planning on going there then?” she asked.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  She sighed. “No.”

  The gray and wolf mix were outside his knowledge base, but he could concentrate on a poaching case. Either clear Mia of any involvement in the shooting or—no, he wouldn’t go there unless he had no choice.

  “Road three seven two wanders all over the mountain,” he said when she didn’t elaborate. “Finding the exact spot on my own won’t be easy.”

  She nodded. He couldn’t reconcile her to her modern office. Unlike Danna who loved city life, Mia should always be surrounded by nature. Funny that he’d come to that conclusion about her.

  “All right. I’ll take you.” She sounded resigned.

  “It doesn’t sound like you want to.”

  “Of course I don’t.” She held up her hands with her palms toward him. “I had to do something that’s going to haunt me, but whoever left that mama to die shouldn’t get away with it.”

  “No, he shouldn’t. Hopefully I can get my hands on a quad to get us up there.”

  “I have one. We’ll use it.”

  “You don’t— All right.”

  “What if we see the dogs, or whatever they are?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You won’t try to capture them? What about killing them?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  She opened her mouth and he readied himself for the unnecessary reminder that the gray had killed a calf. Instead, she covered her mouth. “It isn’t simple, is it?”

  “No.”

  Head up, she started for the living room. “Nothing ever is.”

  Staring at her back, he wished he knew how to comfort her—if she needed it—and that she’d accept the gesture. But an embrace or comforting words didn’t ease deep pain. He knew that all too well.

  * * * *

  Kendall Taft waited until his dad had cracked open a beer and Mom was sipping on her wine before winking at his cousin Lyle and leaning forward in the lawn chair in his parents’ back yard.

  “Lyle and I went up Dark Mountain earlier today,” he said. “Took our trail bikes and followed one of the logging roads.”

  Dad turned from tending the barbecue and settled his attention on Kendall. “Did you? Spur of the moment or something you’d planned out?”

  “A little of both,” Lyle explained. “We had the day off.”

  “Were the girls with you?” Mom asked.

  By the girls, Mom was referring to Melinda and Summer. Kendall had been dating Summer for the better part of a year, while Lyle and Melinda had hooked up three or four months ago. Summer had been trying to get Lyle and Melinda together ever since Melinda’s boyfriend had split. Melinda wasn’t Kendall’s favorite person, but Lyle didn’t seem to mind that Melinda kept nagging him to sign up for the military. According t
o Melinda, if a guy had no plans to go to college, the military meant he was at least doing something with his life.

  To hell with Melinda of the big tits and ass. Lyle and he were both twenty. Neither of them had any interest in being ordered around or sent to dangerous places. Lyle pumped gas at the station at the south end of town while waiting to get into trucking school, and he was working for a diesel mechanic. If he could get full-time work he could afford his own place instead of living in a trailer with Lyle. At least they weren’t living at home like the girls, who’d just graduated from high school.

  “We didn’t ask them.” He nodded at Lyle who was so tall and skinny none of his clothes fit him right. “There are some things they don’t need to know.”

  Dad turned over the tri tip and sat holding his beer in both hands. “What’d you see?”

  He shrugged. “There’s elk up there all right. Plenty of signs, but you know how the creatures are, always on the move.”

  “You took your rifles,” Mom said. It wasn’t a question.

  “You ever know us not to?”

  Kendall’s parents laughed, followed by Mom saying for the umpteenth time that it was a good thing she’d wanted her oldest child to grow up in the out-of-doors because she never had been able to get him to stay inside.

  “You’re no help,” she told Lyle. “I swear you and Kendall are closer than twins.”

  Lyle and he’d had their share of fights while growing up, mostly because they saw each other as a sibling and not a cousin. Judging by how Lyle was rubbing his thighs, Kendall knew he could hardly wait to get to the punch line.

  “It’s a good thing we were armed,” Kendall said.

  “Yeah?” his dad muttered. “Why’s that?”

  “She was what, a hundred yards from me?” he asked Lyle. “At least that far.”

  “Deer or elk?” Mom asked.

  Dad straightened. He didn’t need to say a word for Kendall to know his old man wished to hell he’d been with them today.

  “Elk,” he explained. “She was standing in the shadows. I wouldn’t have seen her if she hadn’t moved.” He swallowed against the excitement thrumming through him. “My first shot missed but the second—she went right down.”