The Wolf at the Door

by Charlie Adhara

  “Is it possible this bastard snatched him right from under our noses?” Officer Harris said as Chief Brown put together a new search party, with no civilians this time, to return to the area Medes was last seen.

  “Who else was in Medes’s group?” Cooper asked.

  Harris flipped through a clipboard of papers. “You think our guy might be in the search party?” He handed Cooper a page of names and signatures that had been with Medes. Cooper skimmed them, though the chances of him recognizing a name were slim to none. He did notice most of the group had been civilian searchers, though. A local wolf might easily have joined. He wished Park was here to look over the list, but Chief Brown had radioed the groups that were still out, including Park’s and Christie’s, and instructed them to head straight to Medes’s last known location.

  “I’m not ready to jump to any conclusions,” Cooper said to Harris. “You do think we’re looking for a person responsible for these men’s deaths, though?”

  Harris gave him a puzzled look. “As opposed to what, Agent Dayton?”

  “Your colleague Officer Miller seems to think there’s a chance these are all animal attacks.”

  Harris shook his head and smiled grimly. “Sure, I think it’s an animal. A two-legged one.” He turned to watch Chief Brown directing small groups of officers and rangers back up the trail. Both Cooper and Harris had been asked to stay behind and finish checking in the returning searchers to make sure no one else had gone missing. “If Medes has been taken, what do you expect that means for Gould?”

  “Nothing good.”

  Fortunately, nothing but a bad ankle and poor judgment had happened to Medes, who finally made it back hanging between Park’s and a state trooper’s shoulders. “He twisted something and turned around to head back on his own. Didn’t want to make a fuss, so he didn’t tell anyone,” Christie grumbled in explanation when they returned, his disgust with the situation obvious. “Got lost and ended up a whole mile east of where he was supposed to be. Good thing your partner’s such a good tracker or he’d have been shit out of luck around now.”

  “Park found him?”

  Christie grunted an affirmation, but it was a little softer than before.

  It was long past dark by the time the secondary search party had returned. Cooper could just make out the missing Medes now, ten feet away. The man’s face was tight with pain and embarrassment, but there was obvious relief and gratitude there too as Park talked quietly to him with a tranquil and kind expression. Medes was slowly relaxing and even laughed a couple of times at something Park was saying.

  Smooth. That was exactly the sort of charm and manipulation Cooper expected from the Trust. And that was why you couldn’t trust them. Not because they were wolves, but because they were so damn good at playing politics and no one knew exactly what was on their agenda.

  Cooper watched them shake hands and Park neatly sidestep a hug before passing Medes over to Chief Brown and joining Cooper, Christie and Harris.

  “I suppose congratulations are in order. Christie was just gushing all about you,” Harris said as Park approached.

  Christie looked at the older officer with a blank, cold stare. Harris didn’t appear to notice and continued to smile pleasantly.

  “Group effort,” Park said casually, his eyes seeking out Cooper’s like he expected him to say something. Or perhaps wanted to tell him something himself?

  “Sure, you led and the group followed,” Christie was saying. His voice, though by no means gushing, had smoothed out a little in what sounded, annoyingly, like respect.

  “You a hunter, Agent Park?” Harris said. Cooper snorted.

  “I’ve done a little tracking,” Park said politely.

  “More than a little, it looks like,” Christie said.

  “And a damn good thing that is.” Chief Brown joined them. She made to run a hand over exhausted eyes and knocked into her glasses, surprised they were there. She took them off with a frown. “What a shit show of a day.”

  “Nothing lost...” Harris said.

  “And nothing gained.” Brown rolled her shoulders and looked at Cooper intently. Nothing lost was obviously Park’s contribution. He wondered if she was thinking that nothing gained was his.

  “It does show how easy it is to get lost in these woods,” Harris said.

  Christie sucked his teeth. “Robbie—Gould isn’t that stupid.”

  “What do you think, Agents?” Brown said. “Is Robert Gould a kid lost in the forest or do we have a serial killer in Florence?”

  Cooper looked at Park, who nodded back at him. Short and grim. Whatever else Cooper felt about Park and his motivations, he knew that on this they were in agreement.

  “Gould’s not a kid. He didn’t wander off on his own.”

  Whether he was being held somewhere or already dead in a bog was just a matter of time.

  Chapter Five

  Cooper sat at the bar frowning at his phone. His dad had phoned twice, Jefferson had texted asking if there had been any trouble yet and SAC Santiago had left a voice mail asking for an update. He wanted to group-message them all: No. Just no.

  The waitress slid his Pied Piper’s Protein Salad in front of him. “Can I get you another one, hon?” She nodded to his neat gin, nearly empty though he’d ordered it minutes ago.

  “Why not, thanks.” Cooper winked out of habit and she dimpled back. Forced, calculated. Nowhere close to reaching her eyes, which avoided his just enough to discourage a connection but not a tip. She was pretty, with long legs and long hair she kept swinging forward to cover her chest. He’d watched her read him the minute he sat down. Out of town, thirtysomething, dissatisfied with his day, a chip on his shoulder and an anxious energy boiling his blood. A man with something to prove and no one to prove it to. An ugly, dangerous look. He didn’t blame her for shifting away from him warily. He didn’t find it an attractive look on men, either.

  Cooper intentionally softened his eyes and relaxed his jaw. “Actually, never mind. Can you make that an iced tea?”

  She returned to the kitchen and Cooper went back to studying his phone. Without that second drink he wouldn’t be responding to his dad tonight. Especially not this late.

  By the time they’d checked into the motel, it was after nine and Cooper had considered just staying in his sparse but clean room and going to sleep. It had been a hell of a long day and if dreams really were the brain’s way of sorting shit out, he wanted to start dreaming ASAP. Unfortunately a full day had led to an empty stomach. He was supposed to eat small meals frequently throughout the day to allow his shortened small intestine to absorb the necessary amount of nutrients, but it was hard to do on the road. Cooper didn’t want to draw attention to himself as weak or, god forbid, stopping everything when a boy was missing so that he could get a snack. His guts would just have to deal.

  But now, belly aching and head pounding, Cooper had wandered to the main street of town in search of walking-distance nourishment. The Bear’s Den had been the only place open. Illuminated beer signs in the dingy windows called like an oasis in the desert and his salad—a cranberry, pecan, goat cheese and spinach concoction—exceeded expectations. Granted, his expectations had been extremely low. He hoped Santiago’s expectations were equally low. That was the only way he’d be able to impress her.

  Cooper worked on a quick email to his boss, trying to find the best way to say they got nothing accomplished without saying the words “nothing accomplished.” What had felt like progress at three in the afternoon—ATV tracks and a mysteriously dead bear—seemed absurdly flimsy at the end of the day with nothing else to add.

  Perhaps Park was right and they should have gone to the victims’ homes, or set up base at the station and gone through statements. The best way to find Gould, Cooper was now convinced, was not search parties in the forest but figuring out what connected the three victims. Choo
sing to join the search party wasn’t necessarily a mistake, but doing so just to exert power over Park definitely had been. He’d overthought it when he should have gone with his gut. What was left of it, anyway.

  “Your head’s so far up your ass you’re choking on your own brain” was what his dad would say. Not that he’d ever know the specifics, but it held true just the same. Whatever issues Cooper had with getting partnered with a Trust member was getting in the way of being a good agent.

  It also, counterintuitively, had nothing to do with Park, who had been nothing but professional and probably hadn’t wanted to be put on this case any more than Cooper had wanted him here. They were both cogs being ordered to spin. Cooper was the only one getting gritty about it.

  Park hadn’t argued with his decision to join the search party. This had felt like a concession to Cooper’s authority at the time, but now he was starting to wonder if Park bothered to argue with anyone. Not because he seemed like a doormat but because he had been beyond even-tempered all day. An almost annoyingly laid-back, Zen sort of person who didn’t so much avoid confrontation as he seemed uninterested in it entirely. Bored by it, even. There was something about that kind of self-control that simultaneously drew Cooper to it and made him want to break it.

  But make it work, Santiago had said. He’d let sleeping dogs lie. Or sleeping wolves. Day one was a bust. Tomorrow he’d make an effort.

  Cooper was just starting to respond to Jefferson when he heard his name called. “Agent Dayton!” Officer Miller sat down next to him at the bar. “What a coincidence running into you here.”

  “It was the only place open,” Cooper said, and Miller laughed like that was a joke.

  “What’s good?”

  Cooper looked down at his salad. “This isn’t so bad.”

  Miller laughed again; at what, Cooper had no idea. “I meant—never mind, man. Keep that green stuff away from me. I’m allergic.”

  “To spinach?” Cooper said, nonplussed.

  Miller guffawed this time and Cooper wondered if he’d been drinking beforehand. “Nah, just to nuts.” Miller waved his hand between them and what looked like a medical alert bracelet slid down his thick wrist. He scanned the bar as if searching for someone. Probably someone to make better conversation with, Cooper thought. To say he wasn’t great at small talk was an understatement.

  Miller ordered beer and a burger and they settled into an awkward silence. Cooper itched to pick his phone up again, but Miller was looking at him intently, like he expected them to have a conversation. Cooper wished he’d ordered his food to go.

  “Long day,” he said. Lame, but Miller latched on eagerly, nodding.

  “Long, crazy day. I guess you must be used to it. You must see all sorts of wild stuff with the BSI.”

  “You could say that,” Cooper said, and shoved another forkful of his salad in his mouth and chewed quickly. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could be out of here and in bed. “Did anything come of those tracks?”

  “Techs got a pretty good cast of the tread but couldn’t follow them. Flooding wiped out the trail.”

  “Park was right again,” Cooper muttered, more to himself than Miller. The thought that he might need to teach Park anything about crime scenes seemed vaguely ridiculous now. “What about that bear?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, did the ME determine—”

  Cooper cut off as the waitress brought Miller his beer. He then looked around the bar uncomfortably as Miller attempted to flirt with her, awkwardly asking if she had anything fun planned for this weekend while puffing his chest out so much he was close to falling backwards off the stool.

  It was mostly empty, a little too dark to be nice and a little too small to be popular. Still, when you were the only place in town open, you didn’t need too much else going for you and there were a handful of people finishing up meals and drinks. A family all talking over one another, a middle-aged couple arguing, a group of teenage boys all on their phones texting, probably to each other.

  Cooper wondered what they were all talking about. The discovered bodies, certainly. The missing Gould, too. Did the town think the two were connected? Or, like Chief Brown, were they hoping with their hands firmly over their eyes that this was just a bad coincidence?

  The waitress finally made her escape and Miller turned back to Cooper a little abashed, shrugging. “It’s not easy meeting people in a small town.”

  “You’re from Portland, right?” Cooper said.

  Miller looked pleased that Cooper had remembered the tidbit. “Moved here a couple years ago. Great place if you’re interested in nature. Not if you’re interested in dating. You have someone?”

  “No,” Cooper said shortly. That didn’t stop Miller. What was it about his face that made people think Cooper was interested in being friendly? Miller chattered on and on. Apparently he wasn’t the only Florence transplant. In fact, half the PD seemed to have moved here. Harris had only been here nine months, which explained why he wasn’t higher on the totem pole, and Christie had moved here from out west less than five years ago.

  Why? Cooper fought the urge to ask. Not that Florence wasn’t...sweet. But a golden opportunity in law enforcement it was not. Not unless you had big dreams of directing crosswalk traffic. But then again, he was here for a potential serial killer. Death could happen anywhere and usually did.

  Miller’s burger came, he ordered another beer and Cooper fidgeted. He didn’t particularly feel like talking about the case but didn’t know how to chitchat. Just one of the reasons he would never have made a good small-town cop, himself. Finding the right words was a struggle for Cooper. He was a firm believer that actions could speak twice as loud as words. If only other people felt the same.

  “So that bear,” Cooper said desperately, surprising Miller into choking on a fry. “What was the COD?”

  “Natural. Pretty much.”

  “Pretty much?”

  “Well, wounds consistent with animal attack, so natural for a bear.” Miller snorted.

  “Park said black bears didn’t have any predators. And what the hell was it doing so close to the dump site?”

  Miller pointed a fry at Cooper, which drooped obscenely. “All the more reason to think there’s an animal not right in the head out there. Rabid or something. Who’s to say that whatever acted abnormally and killed that bear didn’t also kill our two vics?”

  “Days apart?”

  “They died days apart. Doesn’t mean they weren’t attacked at the same time. Doe buried Bornestein—shallowly, because he was injured himself—and then died soon after, unable to make it back.”

  Cooper shook his head but didn’t bother arguing. It was a stupid theory. Possible, but that didn’t make it any less stupid. He was surprised Miller was sticking to it so hard. Maybe he’d moved to Florence to get away from violence and was ready to jump on the first lame explanation that didn’t require them to do any work.

  Or maybe Cooper was just being an asshole. He was too edgy today. Too riled up.

  The door to the bar opened and he looked over Miller’s shoulder at the newcomer.

  Park recognized Cooper the same moment Cooper recognized him. He hesitated in the doorway and, for an embarrassing moment, Cooper thought he was going to turn around and leave. But he let the door swing shut behind him and walked over to them. Miller turned at the last moment and nearly fell off his stool when he found Park directly behind him.

  “This is a coincidence,” Cooper said.

  “Not when it’s the only gin joint open past ten in Casablanca.”

  Cooper chuckled at that, realized he was pulling a Miller, and abruptly stopped. “Would you like to join us?”

  “I called ahead an order to go.”

  “Smart,” Cooper sighed, and realized that could be insulting to his dinner companion. Miller didn’t se
em to notice, but Park’s eyes narrowed in definite amusement. It was the first indication that maybe Park found the young officer just as annoying as Cooper did. Park was good at hiding his feelings. It made Cooper wonder what his hidden feelings about him were. Probably not very flattering.

  Cooper felt the smile slide off his face. Miller drank deeply from his beer and looked for the waitress to ask after his second one. She was already quickly moving toward them.

  “Shut up. No friggin’ way.” The waitress came around the bar and slapped Park’s arm with a resounding thwack. “The lost Park back in Florence? I don’t believe it.”

  “Hello, Jenny.”

  The waitress, Jenny, had a legitimate smile on her face now as she bussed Park’s cheek. “What the hell are you doing up here in the summer? Your family’s not in town, are they?”

  Cooper eyed Park curiously. Until this moment he hadn’t considered Park might have a family, wife and kids. He’d sort of just assumed...what exactly? Well, whatever he’d thought, he’d been wrong. Cooper pushed his unfinished salad away, his appetite gone, and wished he’d gone for that second drink.

  “No, no. Here for work stuff,” Park said, nodding toward Cooper and Miller.

  She leaned in close, and her voice lowered as she said, “You mean Robbie Gould?” Park inclined his head, not a definite yes or no, but Jenny straightened with a grim look, crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. “Poor kid. If they’ve got you up looking, at least he’s got a chance, though. Nobody knows the forest better than a Park.”

  Cooper looked to Park for an explanation and was ignored. “Did you know him? Gould?” Park asked.

  Jenny shrugged. “I wouldn’t say ‘know.’ Just in the Florence way. He came in here drinking with friends a couple of times a week. Came in here drinking solo a couple times a week.” She quirked an eyebrow to emphasize her point.

  So Gould had a possible drinking problem. That was a match with what Miller had said earlier that day, and even added a little weight to his theory that Gould’s disappearance wasn’t connected to the others and that he had just gotten lost somewhere. Maybe on a drinking binge.