by DG Wood
Darkly and Gus had arranged to investigate the crime scene themselves at two in the morning, and she had been unable to get any sleep before then. She was overcome with feelings of dread since the inquest. If history was anything to go by, these feelings were not to be taken as insignificant. She tiptoed over to Gus’s room. He opened the door before she could knock.
My God, did clouds never obscure the moon in this place? Darkly and Gus looked up at the night sky that revealed their activities almost as clearly as day. She could see a mouse scurry across the street in front of them and disappear down the alleyway. Darkly would have preferred to take a closer look in daylight at the spot where Christopher’s body had lain, but that really would have drawn attention. She examined streaks of blood between the service door to the hotel and the dumpster and gave Gus a knowing look.
“He tried to get inside,” Gus said as he tried the handle. “It locks automatically from the inside.”
He took out a credit card from his wallet and slid it between the lock and door frame. The door opened, and he left it propped open with a rock.
“What do you think about the naked girl, Gus?”
How could Darkly explain to him the death she tasted when she sipped the cup of coffee poured by Victoria?
“The magistrate was pretty quick to attribute it to trauma and a trick of the light. The thing is, nobody heard him scream.”
“Fear and shock are a recipe for muteness.”
Darkly was keen to see if Gus led this back to Geraldine’s slip of the tongue.
“It could also mean he wasn’t afraid. At first. He didn’t see it coming.”
“So, he wasn’t scared of bears?”
“People are killed every year at picnic sites, getting too close to wildlife to capture a once-in-a-lifetime photo.”
“True. The alternative being--”
“It wasn’t a bear.”
“Okay. But, what are we talking about here, Darkly? Those weren’t knife wounds on the body. If it was a person, how do you explain that?”
“Maybe they brought a large dog with them? Have you ever seen a death from a mastiff attack? I have! It isn’t pretty.”
Darkly walked around the crime scene and tried to piece the possible scenario together.
“Christopher steps out the back door for fresh air.”
“Wouldn’t he just use the front door like all the other hotel guests?”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you? So, he doesn’t want anyone to see him leaving the hotel. Because he was going someplace he shouldn’t?”
Gus carried the thought further. “Or he was exactly where he wanted to be. A nice secluded place for a conversation with--”
“A friend. Or at least someone he knew. Someone who knew him by the name--”
“Sam.”
Gus was enjoying being on the same page with Darkly. It wasn’t the norm for him, as he suspected it wasn’t for her.
“So, you’re saying that Christopher--”
“Sam.”
“Sam came out to meet a naked girl with a dog? She didn’t like what he had to say, so she set her dog on him?”
Darkly didn’t reply. She was still thinking. Gus continued with his deduction, though.
“So, is the girl a member of the cast or one of the townsfolk? And is she even real? Is Carter making it all up for some reason? Is he involved?”
Gus assaulted Darkly with questions. At least the answer to the girl question was an easy one.
“Town,” Darkly answered. “Besides me, Serena is the only woman associated with the film. She didn’t bring a dog with her that I know of. And if it had been her, Carter’s been around Serena enough to know the way she moves. He would have recognized her and said something to someone. You’ve observed them all. Have any of them blown you away with their acting skills, let alone the director?”
“What? Who blew the director?”
“Funny.”
“Who’s to say Carter didn’t tell someone?” Gus was back on track.
“But, where does the dog, bear, killer bunny rabbit fit in?”
Darkly and Gus were only creating more questions, not solving them.
“No, I don’t believe it was Serena, and yes, I do think Carter was telling the truth about the girl. But, I’m confident that Christopher, or Sam, knew that girl. Which leaves the question as to why she was naked.” Darkly wasn’t beaten yet.
“There is one reason more plausible than the rest,” responded Gus. “She knew Sam really well, and they were caught in the act by a passing bear. She got away, and he didn’t. Simple accident of fate.”
Before she opened her mouth, Gus knew she thought this explanation implausible at best.
“If it is a simple case of the naked girl who got away because she ran faster, then why doesn’t she come forward?” Darkly asked.
“I don’t know. She’s married?”
“We’re talking about a man’s death. That trumps infidelity, doesn’t it?” At least, Darkly hoped it would.
“In my experiences with small towns, I’d have to say no.”
Gus started to chuckle, but was cut off by Darkly’s intent study of the dumpster.
“What are you thinking?”
“Let’s go with the Gus theory, Gus.”
“I never said I have a theory yet.”
“Okay then. Let’s go with the Gus hypothesis that he’s about five percent committed to. Sam arranges to meet a local girl in back alley. Either he’d been to this town before or charmed her when we weren’t looking. He gets her clothes off, while remaining fully clothed himself. That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Again, from my experience--”
“They’re interrupted by a grizzly, jealous husband, or Cujo. She runs off scared out of her wits and keeps her mouth shut. So, where are her clothes, Gus?”
Gus didn’t have to be asked twice. He lifted open the rusty, creaky lid to the dumpster, throwing it back with some effort. The loud bang of metal against metal set off a domino effect of dogs barking. Gus and Darkly held their breaths and standstill position for what felt like an eternity. If Darkly’s looks could kill, Christopher wouldn’t have been the only person to see his life end in this alleyway.
Several minutes later, the barking dissipated, and Gus climbed inside. Darkly turned on her flashlight and shone it down into the steel box.
It was disgusting. Lewis was clearly using the dumpster for compost because Gus found himself standing in thigh-high egg shells, moldy bread, leaves and old grease.
“You’re forgiven,” Darkly said cheerfully.
She scanned the muck until her light picked up a corner of something white poking up out of the organic sludge. Gus grunted as he stuck his hand into the stew. What he pulled out was a woman’s blouse, ripped at the seams. Wrapped inside the blouse, was a knife with an unusual blade.
Gus held the blade under Darkly’s light.
“The handle’s made of bone. Not sure about the blade. Maybe pewter?”
Darkly pressed a finger to the blade and felt the electrical vibration run up her hand and into her wrist.
“It’s pure silver.”
And so Darkly made another trip to examine a body, in hopes that questions would give way to revelations. Remaining as much under cover of shadow as they could, Darkly and Gus made their way to church.
Gus had taken a closer look at the town that day, under the guise of photographing the quaint surroundings. He captured Buck and his son transporting Christopher’s body to the church basement in preparation for burial.
The sanctuary’s stained glass windows were dark at this hour, but the windows of the basement, whose panes opened at the level of the grass yard, were brimming with light.
The sound of boots trudging through soggy ground made their way up the church yard. D
arkly and Gus crouched behind a holly bush, doing their best not to prick themselves on the thorny leaves. The boots stopped a few feet from the bush. Darkly heard a key slide into a lock, and a small door open. The light from the basement illuminated the churchyard for a moment threatening to reveal their hiding spot, but the soles of the boots smacked the solid stone inside, unaware of the hidden observers.
Darkly acted quickly and slid on her belly, reaching from under the bush to grab the base of the door before it shut. She crept up onto her feet and peered in through the crack of the door. A lit, empty passageway led down stone steps to hanging, thick, red curtains.
Darkly gave Gus a silent hand gesture telling him to remain where he was. He didn’t look pleased, as she made her way inside and let the door shut behind her. She slipped off her shoes and proceeded silently down to the curtains. She grabbed hold of the dusty satin and pulled apart the two panels just enough to see but not be seen.
The room was the typical church basement hall. Classroom chairs lined the walls like they would at a school dance. A small stage and lectern was positioned below the pulpit of the sanctuary above. In one corner, Darkly saw the gathering of men. All had been present at the inquest. Reverend MacIntyre stood among them, studying a pocket watch in his hand. The men encircled a coffin perched on top of a sturdy, oak table. The casket was a charcoal black with pewter handles.
MacIntyre looked up from the watch.
“Where’s the sheriff?”
No one answered him. MacIntyre looked at the curtains. Darkly closed the panels and held her breath. After thirty seconds and no movement from within the room, she dared to look again.
One of the townsmen rested his ear on the coffin lid. He raised his head and looked at one of the other men.
“Will it hold?”
The other man took offense in his reply. “I’ve been a carpenter all my life.”
“I’m sure that no doubt in your skills was intended, George,” MacIntyre intervened.
The coffin suddenly shifted several inches, and the men leapt back with surprise. Darkly distinctly heard the sound of wood cracking. The men looked at George for reassurance. He looked concerned.
“It’ll hold. That was just the inner casket. The outer one’s lined with lead.”
“We should have burned him by now.”
One of the other men kept a greater distance than the rest.
MacIntyre maintained his nerve.
“His sins are great. But we wait it out as agreed.”
Darkly thought she could hear a low growl emanate from the coffin, as the hand reached over her head and silenced her scream.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Darkly caught site of the holly bush from the passenger seat of Buck’s truck. Gus was gone. The sheriff sat with his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes locked on the church basement windows.
Buck didn’t look at Darkly while he questioned her.
“Why were you spying on the mourners?”
“What was I doing? Mourners? What the hell were they doing? And what’s with all the cloak and dagger? From where I’m sitting, you were spying on me. You couldn’t simply tap me on the shoulder?”
“We keep the old traditions alive in this town.”
“Stalking?”
Buck looked genuinely taken aback by the suggestion that he had taken a liberty with Darkly.
“Mourners stand watch over the deceased the night before burial. A 19th Century precaution against narcolepsy. I was trying to save you any embarrassment from being discovered. Spying. On a sacred observance.”
Darkly wasn’t buying it.
“Narcolepsy, huh? Well, that coffin moved. That’s one active dead guy.”
Buck looked Darkly in the eye for the first time that night.
“You imagined it,” Buck said, as he started the truck engine. “I’ll drive you back to your hotel.”
“Who’s in that coffin?”
“Your friend, Christopher. You saw for yourself that he is very much dead.”
“Those men in there didn’t seem so sure about that.”
“What are you saying? We bury people alive for fun?”
Darkly knew what she saw. She wasn’t crazy. But, she wasn’t so sure she had nothing to fear from Buck. She decided to put self-preservation above indignation.
“My imagination could have gotten carried away.”
Buck was silent for a couple moments before responding.
“It has to be stressful for all of you. You’re so far away from home, and something like this happens. I can only imagine. Residual electric impulses can trigger in the brain many hours after death. I’ve seen it myself. That could explain what you saw.”
“You mean what I thought I saw?”
Why did Darkly find it so hard to contain her sarcasm when she knew it was in her own best interest to do so?
Buck pulled up outside the hotel’s front doors. He didn’t have time to put the truck in park before Darkly had leapt out the passenger door.
“Thanks for the lift. I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow.”
Just before Darkly could close the door, Buck called out to her, “You can tell your friend hiding in the bed of my truck that he can get out now. I’d hate to see him get hurt jumping from a moving vehicle.”
Darkly walked alongside the bed of the truck and slapped the side hard a couple of times.
Gus poked his head up and looked at Buck scowling at him from the rear view mirror.
The fact that Darkly fell asleep after the night’s adventure was a miracle. The fact that she hadn’t been asleep for more than half an hour when shots rang out through the night didn’t surprise her in the least. It took a moment to realize they were shots. In her dream, she was only three, riding her tricycle down a steep hill. The houses at the bottom were the size of ants. As the cycle picked up speed, her feet pedaled too fast. She had to fling them up into the air and rely on just the steering. The small tire at the front blew out, then the small back right tire, and finally the left. Little Darkly went flying into the air. She became a bird, a raven, and the houses below were no longer ants, but specks of dust on a white ball of snow. Then she was falling through the sky. Black feathers scattered themselves across the white ground.
The gunshots that rang in the now very much awake ears of Darkly Stewart competed with the banging at her door.
“Darkly! Please, can I come in?”
It was a very scared Serena on the other side of the door.
Darkly got out of bed and dislodged the chair from its position under the doorknob. A sensible precaution. She unlocked and opened the door and was nearly thrown to the ground when Serena grabbed hold of her and squeezed the breath out of her.
“I couldn’t wake the guys. Didn’t you hear it? The guns? The bear is back! It likes how we taste now. We can’t go outside ever again. We’re trapped!”
Darkly extricated herself from Serena’s embrace, while being careful to keep hold of the frightened girl’s hand. The two moved as one entity to the window and peered down into the street below.
Fog had rolled in from the mountains, but below her window, Darkly could see the men from the church basement hovering over a lanky, silver wolf. Blood poured from the wolf’s mouth onto the cobbles of the street that marked its final stand.
Out of the mist, Buck approached the kill, his rifle smoking in the cool night air.
Serena left Darkly’s side and collapsed onto the bed. Terror melted into relief, and she curled up into a ball. She was clearly not going back to her room tonight. Darkly stepped away from the window for a few seconds to cover Serena in a blanket.
She returned to the window intent on calling out to Buck to congratulate him on catching Christopher’s killer: a wolf, not a bear. She stopped herself on the cusp of reveal and sank back into the room.
<
br /> Where there had been a wolf lying dead on the cold, damp stone, there was now a man. It was Christopher. He was whole with his injuries from the night before healed, except for the trickle of blood that now ran down the corner of his mouth.
Darkly climbed onto the bed and wrapped herself around Serena, who was falling back into the protection of sleep. For Darkly, there was no such solace. She knew now she had to get out of this town. They all did. Their lives depended on it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Buck had been careless. He knew that. He could lay the blame at no one’s feet but his own. His authority rested in his ability to prevent violence and to preserve the viability of the town’s population. The one saving grace was that Sam had brought mainly men with him. Too many of the females of the town had been waiting for this opportunity.
Part of him genuinely felt bad about what awaited the visitors. Perhaps never to see the ones they love again. Wolf Woods was a prison to him, and he was his own warden. He could only imagine what it would be like to those who drank from the well of freedom every day of their lives.
Then, there was Darkly. She smelled familiar. Was there some distant cousin many hundreds of times removed in her bloodline? But how could that be? They were the last. The Inquisition had taken all but that small boatload of pilgrims who had escaped to Scotland and then eventually the New World. The great betrayal took most of those.
His ancestors had taken their revenge on the French, the great-grandsons of those men who had ravaged village after village, ripping babies from mothers’ wombs, burning whole families together at the stake, and forcing fathers to watch children set upon by baited bears.
How quickly their enemies had forgotten the past when Buck’s kind had repelled the Mongol hoards and then the Turks. Buck’s ancestors had saved Europe time and time again, and then received the decimation of their bloodlines as payment. But now, thanks to the plan recently set in motion, the tables would be turned. The damned would bring damnation to all, and thus all would be saved.
The Plains of Abraham floated above the British encampments. The torches of the sentries stood guard alongside the stars as the lesser lights of the dark sky. The solution was genius. General James Wolfe had gambled the French would never suspect an entire army could be moved up a small cliff-side path. And at the vanguard of that army was the great-great-grandfather of Buck’s great-great-grandfather. Nathaniel Mordecai Robertson would extinguish the insufficient sentries that dotted the pathway before they even knew he was there.