“I loved that movie. As I recall the crow brings Eric Draven back to life to avenge the murder of his fiancée then guides him along the way in the process.”
“The ultimate role of the spirit guide is to put their life force into the body of another so that person can live.” She smiled again. “Just one of the many thousand-year-old legends of the Nez Perce.”
When Josh spotted the wolf taking another path, he pointed that way. “Over there, she’s heading for that ridgeline straight through the low scrub.”
“Come on, we need to keep up.”
“I brought a portable GPS just in case.” He drew it out of his pocket.
“Good thinking.”
The well-worn path was littered with a carpet of fallen leaves in vivid shades of golds and greens. They both stood back and watched as the wolf stopped, sniffed the air, before taking another track farther in. They trudged on past low brush laden with brambles and burrs and a lodgepole pine shedding its needles.
Skye and Josh followed but when they got to a drop off, they had to scramble down a slope where they could peer below to what they hoped was Whitfield’s residence. Sure enough from up above they saw a valley, and in the middle of a clearing was a stunning house of glass and angles.
“That’s a cabin? Looks more like a luxury resort,” Skye muttered.
“Or a fancy ski lodge. That’s gotta be at least twenty-five hundred square feet,” Josh proffered as rain started to spit from the heavy clouds.
Through prickly shrubs and hedges, Skye crouched, sat on her heels. Doing her best to gauge the distance to reach the back door, she turned to Josh and whispered, “I don’t like it. It’s too quiet.”
“I keep forgetting your wolf instincts are stronger with Kiya around. Whitfield’s gotta be inside, right? Why wouldn’t it be this quiet?” Josh wanted to know in a soft voice as he bent down even with her level.
“I don’t know. In all the times I’ve been coming out here, though, I never once got this eerie feeling crawling up my spine.”
“Probably because you were never this close to the cabin,” Josh reasoned.
“True. I only got as far as driving down that dirt road on the other side and past where that stupid trailer sits. Which obviously he wanted people to think was his primary place of residence, all the while he hung out in his palatial digs hidden back here, surrounded by nature. It’s just that—” Her voice trailed off as she thought she heard something. She put her finger to her mouth to shush Josh. But the guy just kept talking.
“I gotta say I’d trust your eerie feelings with my life. What do you want to do now?”
About that time Skye heard Kiya snarl in warning. Branches crackled and crunched to life behind them. At the sound, Josh looked up in time to see a swipe of iron pipe cross his line of vision in a blur.
The thud of metal hitting bone caused Skye to whirl then pivot to avoid the same fate. She came face-to-face with the monster from her past. His hair had thinned. He’d gained a few pounds. His face might’ve shown a few lines, but he still had those same cold, blue eyes that sent paralyzing terror running through her body. She spared one shaky glance over at Josh’s form crumpled on the ground, blood trickling along the side of his head, his glasses knocked off, broken in two.
Whitfield was too close and it was too late to pull out the Colt from under her jacket. Doing her best to focus on Whitfield rather than Josh lying still, not moving, Skye shrieked, “Same old coward, chicken-shit bastard to the core. Ronny Wayne has to come up from behind a man to take him out.”
“As I recall you like it like that. From behind, that is. Who is that son of a bitch? If you brought the cops to my door, little girl, I’m going to make you pay.”
“Go to hell.”
Ronny licked his lips. “Man, you’ve grown up to be a real looker.” He whistled through his teeth before rubbing a hand over his crotch. “But I’d know you anywhere. Let’s have us some fun for old time’s sake. What do you say?”
“Not in my lifetime. I’ll die first.” And with that, in one motion Skye reached down and pulled the knife from her boot. “Let’s see what you can do with a grown woman this time and not a little kid.”
“My pleasure,” Ronny sneered as he lunged at her swinging the pipe again. But Skye dodged and sent the knife into the only thing she could reach, Ronny’s forearm. The blade grazed a ribbon of skin, deep enough that he screamed in pain and rage. “You bitch! You’re gonna pay for that!”
To prove his point, he swung the pipe a third time. Skye avoided the blow and jammed the knife into Ronny’s thigh, slicing open more flesh through the jeans he wore.
She had the satisfaction of seeing him writhe in pain before he struck back, this time the pipe connected with the knife. Metal clashed with metal. Skye held her own for about fifteen seconds, but Ronny’s sheer strength forced the blade to fall from her hand.
Skye staggered back two steps, tried to gain her balance. A quick scan told her the knife was well out of reach. She had no choice but to try to reach the .380 inside her jacket.
But when Ronny spotted the gun, before she could take aim and fire, he kicked it out of her hand. The Colt went airborne and landed in the underbrush, a good ten feet away. He tried to snatch her arm but Skye swept out a leg, cutting Ronny’s out from under him. He buckled. She kicked and punched with a series of jabs into his face, connecting with his nose before smacking him in the gut. But with the last blow Ronny managed to grab her arm. From his knees, he pulled her down and began hitting her torso and any other place he could reach.
They slammed into the ground and rolled, giving Ronny the advantage when he came out on top. Skye took each punch until she rammed her fingers into his eyes then into the cut on his arm. Each time she tried to wrestle out of his grip the flow of blood from the gash seemed to make each attempt a slippery mess.
Skye bucked, and did her best to fight back. Clawing and kicking, it became hand-to-hand combat as her nails dug into skin. But despite her efforts, Whitfield’s hands finally reached around her throat. Fingers locked, putting pressure on her neck, slowly cutting off her air.
Kiya kept a keen eye on the fight as it ramped up. Snarling, the wolf paced with fury building inside knowing there was nothing she could do physically to help her charge. Trotting over to the unconscious body of Josh, Kiya sniffed his face. The wolf howled in rage trying to force the man to wake up, nudging him with her mind to help her human. But after several seconds, it became clear Josh was fading away. In fact, he was almost gone.
It was then Kiya knew what she had to do. It hadn’t been done in a thousand years. But there was no other way. It would cost her. Dearly. But she would gladly pay the price. Skye had to be saved whatever the sacrifice.
Kiya began to shake and shiver.
With all the energy she could muster, the wolf shoved into Josh, forcing her spirit into his lifeless form. Seconds ticked off before the transformation took hold and the merge became complete. Once the crux of her life-force finished running through the man, his eyes fluttered, then opened.
For several long seconds, Josh saw nothing but bright, white light. The headache from hell felt like a migraine with a force ten surge. Everything inside him burned hot about the same time a flash of energy spread through his body.
His vision became crystal clear. So did his hearing. The sound of grunts and fists pummeling flesh made him aware someone was in trouble.
Skye.
Josh got to his feet. His eyes immediately settled on Whitfield where the bastard sat atop Skye, straddling her, his hands clutching her neck.
The need to protect his mate was instant and fierce.
The merge of man and beast had Josh pouncing. The force knocked Whitfield off Skye. Razor-sharp teeth and claws dug in, tore open flesh. Whitfield’s throat became Josh’s feast. His first taste of blood caused him to raise his head long enough to howl at the drizzle spitting down from above. But that only lasted a few seconds before Josh began lapping at
the man’s blood again. His teeth shredded more when they moved to the man’s chest.
Bruised and battered, with some effort, Skye finally managed to gain her feet. It took three tries before she could pull Josh off what was left of Whitfield just as a misty fog rose up out of the ground shrouding them in a dark haze.
The earth shook and rumbled. The wind picked up, swirled in angry gusts.
So did the rain. It batted down in sheets.
Skye tried to make her feet move again but when they wouldn’t budge as if they were stuck in a bucket of cement, she simply dropped down where she stood. She rested her head on Josh’s shoulder, stroked a finger down his bloody face along his jawline. Her voice raspy from having Whitfield’s hands trying to force the life out of her, she shrieked, “I thought you were dead! I thought he’d killed you!” She reached behind Josh’s neck, brought him into her. “I’ve never been so scared.”
It was then through the gloom, Skye spotted Kiya’s body lying in the mud several feet away and realized for the first time the sacrifice her wolf had made. Grief had her sobbing out, “She gave her spirit…to you…to save me. She’s gone.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Fat drops rolled down her cheeks and mixed with the steady downpour hitting her face. Her breath hitched in unbelievable heartache for the wolf she’d known for a lifetime. “Nez Perce legend speaks of what happened here today but until now, I didn’t believe it was possible.”
Josh shook his head as if coming out of a daze. He wiped Whitfield’s blood from his mouth with the back of his hand before running the other through his dripping hair. He spit out blood and worked his jaw back and forth in an attempt to speak. Slowly, with each word an effort, he declared. “No, Skye, Kiya isn’t gone. I feel her heart still beats. But she grows weaker. Her strength is almost gone after what she did. Somehow, not sure exactly, I just know. We seem to be…connected now. If she were dead I’d sense it. She isn’t.”
“Really? I have to check for myself.” She started to rise but about that time a sapped Kiya lifted her head in acknowledgement. “Well, look at you, both of you. You seem to be able to read each other, in sync with each other.”
“Even with the throb in my head I can hear what she’s thinking,” Josh stated flatly. “Your wolf is weak but grateful you’re alive.” He looked into Skye’s violet eyes, the bruises beginning to form on her swollen, beaten face. He reached out, took her chin, and examined the damage. “You never have to think about that son of a bitch ever again.”
“I know.”
Leaning on each other for support, together they both went over to the wolf, ran their linked hands through Kiya’s thick coat of fur.
“If you truly hear each other’s thoughts, then it’s true. That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” Skye rested one hand on the top of Kiya’s head, the other in Josh’s hair, ran her fingers along the open gash at his temple. The metal pipe had left that side matted with blood mixed with bits of twigs and dirt. “I was so afraid you were dead, Josh. You were so still. And I couldn’t get to you.”
“Not with that bastard beating on you, you couldn’t. I think I was. Dead that is. Not sure yet. Kiya brought me—back from somewhere.”
“You didn’t move after he hit you—here, on the temple. Not a muscle.”
“Tell me about it. My head’s still pounding like a freight train’s roaring inside. Last thing I remember was that pipe connecting to bone. Lights out. Next thing I know I’m looking down at this piece of shit and I’ve ripped out his throat.”
“Where are your glasses, Josh? I remember they were knocked off your face, broken, in bits. The pieces are around here somewhere. I’ll look for them.”
“Don’t bother. I can see just fine, thanks. In fact, I can pick out that caterpillar crawling up the bark of that tree over there from twenty yards away, make out its shape, its size, even the way it wiggles. Plus, I hear the rustle of leaves, hear animals foraging for food.” He lifted his head, sniffed the air. “And mating. Two bobcats about a half a mile back. That way.” He pointed to the woods behind them.
Skye’s eyes went wide. “I suppose that explains how you went primal. I’ve never seen anyone so—fierce before.”
“Yeah? I’m pretty sure I said the same thing about you the first night I saw you back in that alley when the odds weren’t in your favor.”
Skye shook her head, spared a quick glance over at Whitfield’s body, or rather what was left of it and said, “Oh no. He had me dead to rights. If it weren’t for you…you were magnificent, Josh. I’m still trying to absorb the fact you were dead. Whitfield killed you. And here you are—”
For the first time, his eyes honed in on her face and the glazed look in her eyes. If she wasn’t already in shock, she was definitely heading there. After rubbing her arms up and down through the jacket she wore to get her warm, he took hold of her trembling chin again. “Hey, you okay?”
“I am now. In fact, I’m wonderful. But…are you okay with what happened here, Josh? I mean…” She inhaled a shaky breath, glanced up into his eyes. “Whitfield’s dead.”
He nodded, pursed his lips. “Sure. What else could we have done? Think of it this way. The bastard will never again have the chance to put his filthy hands on another kid.”
“Thank God for that.”
“We need to get out of here, but first we need to make sure…” Josh’s voice trailed off as he scanned what was now a crime scene. “We cover our tracks; leave nothing that can be tied back to us.”
“He kicked the .380 out of my hand and it went into those bushes over there. The knife’s around here somewhere.”
“You look for the knife, I’ll retrieve the gun.”
“There’s not much we can do about the tracks or the sign of a fight.”
Josh stared up at the sky and the rain beginning to pick up. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Mother Nature seems to be on our side. ”
It took them ten minutes to gather up what they needed. Once they’d collected everything, once they started heading back the way they’d come, the rain began to pour down in sheets, covering whatever tracks they had left behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
That night when Ronny Wayne failed to show up for supper at the main house, the man’s aunt and uncle went looking for their nephew in the pouring rain. They’d gone about three hundred yards from the cabin before they’d discovered his body on a hillside above his house. His throat had been ripped out, his chest torn to shreds.
It took two days for the medical examiner in Pierce County, where the body had been found, to rule on Whitfield’s exact cause of death. The man died as a result of a vicious animal attack.
Because of bureaucratic red tape and a stack of other cases piling up, it took another two days for that information to reach Detective Harry Drummond in Seattle. Harry had to read the report a second time for it to actually sink in. He didn’t buy it. But he was a man who lived by autopsies and facts and DNA results.
The DNA had been a slam dunk for a wolf bite. Mostly. According to that same Tacoma coroner the test had also indicated traces of human blood in the saliva. The doctor’s explanation, the wolf in question had simply bitten another human before biting Ronny Wayne.
A bite was one thing, but the guy’s shredded throat indicated in the autopsy, was a totally different game entirely.
But after what the Pierce County authorities had discovered in Ronny Wayne’s cabin, Harry wasn’t sure anyone cared too much about how Whitfield had met his demise. For starters, they’d discovered the registered sex offender had in his possession expensive video, camera, and editing equipment. All of which Whitfield had used to make his own films. His home computer contained in excess of a three-hundred-thousand images of child pornography, and enough trophies to indicate there were a slew of underage victims. It would more than likely take months to sort through both the digital and still formats to assess and identify all the young girls involved. Then there was the inventory
list of what appeared to be a thriving sex-trafficking trade between Whitfield and a group of like-minded individuals strung across the world from South America to Europe to Asia.
Harry was pretty sure few people, other than maybe Ronny Wayne’s aunt and uncle, cared a great deal about how a wolf had taken down Whitfield. But even the mysterious death of scum piqued Harry’s curiosity because none of it felt right to him.
For now though, Harry intended to pursue the sex-trafficking angle because King County and Pierce had formed a joint task force. Harry had known it existed. Hadn’t Skye mentioned it to him during countless conversations? How many times had she tried to get him to do more than talk about the active groups in Venezuela and beyond? But with actual evidence on record in another county now, Harry could follow and track Whitfield’s paper trail and digital connection to other sex offenders, starting with the man’s most recent emails to people in places like South America and Thailand and anywhere else Whitfield had made a connection.
After all, he still had a missing twelve-year-old to find, which had to come first. For all he knew, Jenna Donofrio could have already been whisked off to any number of foreign destinations. Of course, Harry had no proof of that. And until he did, he didn’t intend to give up his search to find out what happened to Jenna.
Brandon Hiller had been on the run for the better part of a week, dodging Ronny Wayne and his associates. He’d taken turns parking his van in various neighborhoods, from Ballard to Roosevelt and any place in between. The area couldn’t be too upscale otherwise his rusty paint-deprived van would raise suspicions and might be targeted by a crime watch enthusiast or two. He couldn’t afford to draw the attention of cops because he hadn’t checked in with his parole officer in more than a week which meant if he ever crossed paths with a member of law enforcement they’d send him back to Clallam Bay for good.
All this stress was making him crazy. He needed a release. He checked the time on his thirty-five-dollar Timex. Two-thirty. He decided it was the perfect time to take another pass around the nearest elementary school. If he didn’t have any success there, he’d try the park at Town Center Drive and Lawson.
The Bones of Others Page 24