by Ware Wilkins
“Better not, Sadie,” he cuts me off. “I’m doing you a favor by pretending I don’t know anything. Don’t change that.”
“But you’re not pretending,” I grumble, shrinking further into my seat.
This seems to rub him the wrong way. “How’s that, exactly? I haven't said a damned thing to you about it.”
“You haven’t said a damned thing at all! Abe, you’re the most extroverted person I know. We’ve been in the car for over twenty minutes and you have said nothing to me. So don’t tell me you’re pretending you don’t know.”
The car picks up speed and I wonder if he’s trying to get there sooner, like he’d rather be with a dead body than me. Ouch.
“Look, you can’t expect me to know what I know about you and just go on acting like everything's normal.”
“You do with Ingrid. She’s been a stripper since the day she turned eighteen. You don’t treat her this way.”
“Stripping is one thing, Sadie. Whatever the hell it is that you’re doing is something else entirely. I mean, I didn’t even think Benji swung that way. Or left his house for any place other than the gay clubs in Asheville. But he was in your home, with two other men, and Henry was naked, and—” Abe cuts himself off, mouth sealed in a tight, white line. His eyes are locked onto the road with such intensity that I know he’s struggling to not look at me. “I just never thought of you as that kind of girl.”
“You know what you think we were doing, Abe. What you think I do. But maybe it isn’t what you’re picturing!” I know I’m digging myself a hole. What can I say? There aren’t many people whose opinions I value, but Abraham Murray is one of them.
“You said—”
“I said I provided services I didn’t want to talk about.”
“But what else could it be?”
“Would you believe me if I said I can’t talk about it, but it isn’t that?”
His knuckles look like they want to cut out of his skin, he’s holding the wheel so tight. “Maybe. I don’t know. My job tends to rely more on facts than belief, and the fact is there was some crazy shit going on in your apartment that night.”
“No one’s arguing that point.”
He relaxes a little. Not enough to lean back in his seat, but enough that his hinds slide from ten and two down to five and seven. “Well, okay.”
“Okay, you believe me?”
“Okay, I’ll try to stop being weird around you.”
Something thaws in me, and I pull a knee up and relax it against the door. We’re not okay, but I don’t think Abe’s as disturbed by me, either. If he knew the truth, that would change things for good. Best to change the subject. “Does Dr. Winston have to do this for a lot of bodies? He never talks about it.”
“There aren’t that many bodies in Grimloch. I mean, we’ll get some that skirt other jurisdictions, but it’s not like I’m investigating them all the time. But—and don’t you dare tell him I said this—Doug’s old as dirt. He’s been working with the station a long time, so he’s done his fair share of work.”
“Can’t computers do it?”
“Sure, but I find his opinion is more accurate and more discreet. Anyone can hack a computer, but you’ve been working for him how long? And you never knew.”
This troubles me a bit. Dr. Winston and I aren’t besties, but he feels like family. He’s like the uncle I call “Sir” because he’s so formal, but I know he’d be there for me at the drop of a hat. It’s hard to call him Doug if only because I see him in his white lab coat all the time. So he’s my Doc, my family. Only families shouldn’t have secrets like doing forensic dentistry and telling no one about it. “What can you tell me about the body?”
“I haven’t seen it yet. They called and said there’s been an animal attack and wanted Doug’s opinion. They were still identifying the victim last time I heard.”
A shiver runs through me and Abe sees, because he turns on the heat. “Thanks. So why Dr. Winston, though? He’s not an animal expert.”
“He’s gotten pretty good at determining what kind of animals we deal with. But there are some human bite marks, too, and we’ll want that looked at.”
Worry courses through me. Human and animal? There are quite a few things I can think of that would do that, but none were theories I could tell Abe about. “And you think I’ll be able to help?”
“Doug thinks so.”
It feels like there’s something more Abe’s not telling me, but I don’t press him. Finally, we pull off onto a small utility road that tracks into the border of the Pisgah National Forest. The dried leaves and gravel crackle under the tires of his car and it’s a bumpy ride. It’s gorgeous. Here and there the tree leaves are starting to change. Blasts of yellows, oranges, and the occasional red peep out from all the green. In another month, this forest will look spectacular. After about a half a mile I can see other cars and people standing around, along with the yellow tape that lets you know something bad has happened.
Abe parks and I get out, rubbing my hands on my jeans to dry them. I don’t know “here to look at body” protocol, but I know I’m sweating because my hoodie feels a bit damp and my palms are slick. If I have to shake a bunch of hands, I want to be prepared.
“Come on,” Abe says as he leads the way. It’s chillier than I expected it to be, but that makes sense; we’re deep in the woods. Very little sunlight hits and it’s the end of September. I zip up my sweatshirt and cross my arms in front of my chest.
It turns out I don’t need a lot of introductions. I know most of the guys from the local station and the men I don’t know don’t seem to be interested in getting my name. We duck under the tape and head down a small hill, where I have to slow down because my sneakers aren’t great hiking shoes. Not a lot of traction. Abe stops, and I stop near him.
The smell is the only indicator that something isn’t right. Instinctively I cover my nose. “That’s awful.”
“Look down,” Abe says softly.
That’s when I see the body. It’s hidden underneath large fern fronds, covered in dirt, and barely noticeable. “Oh, God.” I’m not sure about how I should feel that, this being the fourth body I’ve seen in my lifetime, I don’t feel sick for the first time. Like I’m getting used to it. That’s unsettling. “Am I supposed to go up to it? Do I have to touch it?”
“Not yet, but yes and yes. I have to get the clear that they’ve finished scouting the ground and taking photographs of any footprints.”
“Wouldn’t there be tracks, too? If it was an animal attack?”
Abe gives me an appraising look. “You’d think, right? But there aren’t any tracks.”
There wouldn’t be, if the killer was on two feet instead of paws. “And the body’s hidden,” I muse. “Like someone put it there. Animals don’t do that.”
“Yep,” is all Abe says, but his hands go into his pocket and he bumps me with his elbow, like a flirty well done. It’s a boost in my confidence, which is currently plummeting. What can I possibly offer in this situation? “I’m going to go see what’s going on. Don’t move closer until I come back, okay?”
I nod and listen to him move away, his voice calling to some of the other men. It sort of fades out, though, as I focus on what I’m looking at. It might be the fourth body, but this looks totally different from my past experiences. Because I’m not numb with shock, I can actually look at it, for one. There’s no blood anywhere. Not even on the leaves covering the body. But Abe said it looked like an animal attack, so there should be blood all over the place.
Also, none of the plants look disturbed. No broken branches, no smashed or ripped-up plants. Nothing to indicate that a scuffle happened. So the body had to have been brought here and covered. Which means I’m now aiding in a murder case.
My pulse races. This is good! If I can learn from Abe and get an “in” at the station, then maybe it will help me as I track my parents’ (and Nash’s?) killer. Learning what to look for and how to investigate will go a long way.
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The sound of boots crunching and half-sliding down the hill pull me from my thoughts. Abe’s beside me again, frowning. In all of my memories of him, he’s got this giant and goofy grin on his face. A naturally happy and optimistic guy. Seeing him so anxious and serious is strange.
I thought he was handsome before, but the broody, stoic look he’s got now has my number written all over it. He and Benji might be equal in a brood-off. That’s some slash fiction material, if there ever was. Ingrid and I had tried to write a Xander/Oz slash one time and had failed. But Benji and Abe...
There’s a twinge of regret inside of me, a yearning for Abe that I’m sure I’ll never shake. “What did they say?” Because I can’t stand and stare at him all day. It would break me into pieces.
“Here’s some gloves. We can go over.”
“They didn’t find anything,” I guessed. “No foot prints.”
“Exactly.”
“And it drizzled out here this week?”
“Yep.”
The Pisgah National Forest gets almost double the rainfall the rest of North Carolina gets, and North Carolina gets a decent amount of rain. It’s how the mountains here keep their misty, romantic look. It rarely rains hard, but it’s constant, like how people picture Seattle or Scotland. In fact, there’s a bunch of Scottish surnames in the region even now, because of the large settlement of Scots when the nation was just forming. They probably liked it here because it was so similar to home.
That much rain means the ground is almost always a little soggy this deep into the forest. And soggy soil means footprints. Lots and well defined.
If there are no footprints, the person who put the body there worked hard to avoid being discovered. Or has the magic to help them cover their tracks. All off this is adding up to major trouble for me. I’m certain this isn’t a human attack, and I don’t know how to help Abe when I can’t tell him the truth.
We pull on latex gloves and I follow behind him, stepping where he does. They said it was okay, but there’s no point in making the crime scene muddled. He reaches down and pulls up a leaf.
I gasp.
“Sorry,” he says, a hint of red in his cheeks. “Should’ve warned you.”
“You said animal attack, that’s about as good a warning as you can give me.”
The body is mangled. It’s a female, I can tell that much, though only one of her breasts is intact. The whole other side of her is pulpy, like they used her as a chew toy. From the neck to the hip is just red and torn clothing. I feel a bit of relief that clothes still remain on the body. A paranormal who did this could have done... well, other assaults, too. Not to say it hadn’t happened, but this looked like a straight attack.
“This level of attack suggests multiple animals to me,” Abe says. With his free hand he points along the worst of the damage. “There’s just too much damage to be one animal.”
“Do we even have animals that can do this?”
“Maybe a black bear, but they wouldn’t work in a group. Wolves, I suspect.”
Wolves are my suspicion, too, though not the kind he’s thinking of. He’s probably thinking of a rogue pack of red wolves, which were reintroduced around 1987. They’re still considered endangered and a wave of nausea hits me because if they are the conclusion for the officers looking at this body, an already low population would become a lot lower.
“Maybe,” I say, coming close and stooping down. “But look—” I show a clear indent of teeth on a sliver of exposed belly flesh, toward the girl’s navel. “This is a large mouth. The wolves around here don’t get this big.”
“No, they don’t,” Abe agrees. “But what else could it be?”
Werewolf. I can’t say it, but it’s obvious. A werewolf killed this girl. Briefly, I wonder if the victim is a bone witch. The bone witch. Had Alec and his pack tracked down Nash’s murderer? My parents’ murderer? A blanket of disappointment wraps around me, smothering my ability to think clearly. Rationally, I know that the wolves were hunting for his killer and they’d exact revenge immediately. They wouldn’t know about the connection to my parents, or, I realize, my need to just see another. Someone like me. To see the evil thing that everyone is so worried I’ll become.
Then I stop myself from spiraling. Wait, be smart. I can be smart about this. I’m jumping to conclusions without much information. “Hey, can we look at her feet?”
Abe gives me a look that is clearly what in the hell for, but he pulls a leg up and shows me. The foot hasn’t been chewed on. It’s still covered in a sneaker that’s coated in mud, the laces undone. “Take off her shoe, please, and the sock.”
He does. The bottom of the girl’s foot is clear. No magic tattoos. Maybe they don’t all start there, but I’m not convinced anymore that this girl is a bone witch. Her exposed belly and arms are unadorned, too. But I do still think this is the work of the pack. Maybe just one werewolf. One could do this much damage, and I doubt that Alec would just leave a body around.
“You said there are human bite marks, too.”
“Yeah. Are you going to explain the foot thing?”
“Not yet.” Also probably never. Sorry, Abe.
He sighs and stares down at the body. The eyes are open and I hate the dead-fish stare and her open mouth, like she just needs a good shake to come to. He tilts her head, which flops to the side. I taste bile, but hold myself together. Pointing to the curve of her neck, I see it.
Bite marks, the human kind, the bruising already dissipating. “Those look like love bites,” I mutter. “And they’re already fading. I’m pretty sure they happened before she was killed. Do you have pictures of them?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, I doubt it will help, because we’re a small town, but I have dental impressions of most of Grimloch’s citizens. Anyone who’s seen Dr. Winston has one on record. I could compare the marks to the impressions and see if there’s a match. We’d at least know who she was seeing.”
“That’s good, Sadie.”
“Do... do you know who she is?”
“Yeah, Gina Long. Seventeen, a senior at the high school. But we haven’t been able to talk to her family yet, so that’s off the record, got it?”
“Sure.” Gina... I knew her. She’s a patient of Dr. Winston’s, though she hadn’t been in since she’d started going to Asheville for her braces. I guess she’d found a dentist there and just got both of the appointments out of the way at once. The name is familiar, though, and I don’t think it’s from the office.
Then I remember Nash. Oh, fuck. “This is Nash Kincaid’s girlfriend. I’m guessing those bite marks are his.”
“His girlfriend? And you know about her?” The judgment is so heavy and acerbic in Abe’s voice that I wince. Apparently he’s not fully trusting me when I say I am not up to inappropriate activities with Nash.
“He told me about her when I was—” I almost say extracting his molars, but I catch myself. “When I was tutoring him.”
“You’re still calling it tutoring?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus Christ, Sadie.” Abe lets go of the fern fronds and they flop back over Gina’s body, covering her face and chest. He leans in, whispering. “Nash has been missing for a few days, Sadie. You were the last person to see him.”
“He didn’t say anything to me,” I offer, but I’m dizzy.
“It makes you a suspect.”
“A suspect of what?” I hiss. Paranoia has cold fingers, let me tell you. I know because it’s like they’re squeezing my heart, trying to stop it from beating. That’s how scared I am of where Abe’s going with this.
“Look at it from my point of view, Salt. I come for a noise complaint and you tell me you’ve got Nash in your apartment. You are covered with blood. He’s making a racket that sounds like pain in the back. You won’t let me in, and you tell me you’re doing something that sounds a lot like sex club stuff and prostitution. I leave because, frankly, I’m too freaked out to push the matter. Now I have Gina’
s body and it has bite marks on it, probably from Nash, as well as being half-chewed by God knows what. There’s no evidence here. Did he kill her? Put her here? Did you help? Are you tutoring in mangle-murder? Does he have dogs? I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but you have to admit—you look connected to it.”
I mean, yeah. I’m connected in the sense that I’m sure this is a werewolf attack and I know Nash is dead. He couldn’t have done this. It is so monumentally frustrating to know the truth and not be able to say anything. It’s heartbreaking how much Abe’s view of me keeps getting more and more distorted.
“If you recall,” I respond after taking a deep breath, “you also saw Benji, Alec, and Henry with me. They saw Nash leave my place.” That’s what Alec said and thank goodness he saw this coming. “So I am not the last person to see Nash. They are. And I’m telling you, Abe, that I only know about Gina because Nash was gushing about her. I don’t know where he is—” (lie) “—and I don’t know who or what did this!” (truth).
Just to make sure, I check her mouth. Her teeth are still there, except... my finger pushes in, feeling along her gums.
Take a tooth. Take all the teeth. You’ll need them, later. The insidious voice of my magic is demanding. It wants to be fed. I do my best to ignore it.
Her back molar is missing. Which shouldn’t be a big deal. When people get braces, sometimes teeth are removed to make space for the new smile. But the sharp snag of a wire catches on my glove. Someone ripped it out and cut the braces’ wire. Someone stole a tooth from Gina, too.
The bone witch. I’m certain of it, now. There’s another one in town, one just like me except a fucking murderer. My skin feels electric as I convince myself. Did Gina see something? Was her body thrown in the dirt because she knew who’d killed Nash?
“Okay, let’s say you’re telling the truth,” Abe says. Which is about the most obnoxious thing he can say. “Do you think Nash did this? That he’s responsible?”