The Wolf at the Door

by Charlie Adhara

  In the darkness, alone, the last of his anger leaked out of Cooper as quickly as it had appeared.

  Fuck. How had that gone so wrong so fast? Was there a professional equivalent for it’s not you, it’s me? Probably not, since it wouldn’t come up if both parties were acting professionally.

  Cooper got out of the car and followed Park across the parking lot to the motel. It was oddly less dark outside than it had been in the car due to the light of a not-quite-full moon. Not that the moon had any effect on werewolves. That had been one of the first questions Cooper had asked. Though it may as well be having an effect on Cooper, he was behaving so poorly. When had he become so suspicious? So unkind? So...wounded?

  He couldn’t quite catch up to Park, who somehow managed to move quickly without full-on running away from him. He wasn’t far enough away not to sense the frosty distance that had settled between them. Nothing had overtly changed. Nothing that he could complain about in his report. Park was still quiet. His expression as blank and polite as when they first met. But there was a subtle shutting-out. That quiet awareness Cooper had felt from him was gone.

  If Park was indeed a campfire, Cooper had been banished into the cold.

  Well, that’s what you’re best at, Dayton, he thought as he followed Park up the stairs to their rooms. Driving people away. Right after Park had opened up and started getting personal.

  Because Park had started getting personal. Better to be shut out in the cold than to get too close and get burned, was the motto he’d been living for as long—

  Cooper cut that thought off.

  They came to Cooper’s door first. He fumbled with the key and sensed Park pause behind him.

  Was he going to come in? Did he expect Cooper to ask him in? Did Park want to fight some more or...what?

  When Cooper finally got the door open, he glanced behind him. Park wasn’t even looking at him. He was frowning into the parking lot, face in shadow.

  “Lock your door,” Park said, without looking at him.

  Was that supposed to be a dig at Cooper’s lack of trust in him or genuine advice?

  Park walked the couple of doors down and quickly disappeared into his own room before Cooper could ask. He felt a twist in his chest that could have been disappointment or relief. Either way it made him feel oddly empty. Drifting. Like all that awareness and anger had built up to fizzle abruptly into nothing.

  He ordered a pizza delivery. He thought about going next door to share it. A peace offering. He didn’t. He wished the BSI didn’t book them into these cheap-as-dirt motels with no minibars. He called Jefferson.

  “About time, Dayton. I was almost starting to worry.” Jefferson’s deep, sonorous voice immediately settled Cooper. He needed to get his head straight and talk to someone about the case besides Park. “What’s been going on?”

  So Cooper told him what had been going on. Everything from the search party and the locals to Whittaker and Crazy Baker. Even the bear made a cameo along with that weird synthetic crap in its fur.

  The only topic he skirted around was Park. An avoidance that went as smoothly and uncontested as he’d expected.

  “Why the hell aren’t you talking about your new wolf partner? Worried I’ll be jealous or something?”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Cooper hedged. “He’s...fine. We’re working...fine.” He got up from the bed and paced the motel room.

  “I’ve been doing some research myself down here and you’re not going to believe this. Apparently Park’s whole pack—”

  “Lives here. Yeah, I know that. He told me.”

  “You don’t think that’s relevant?”

  “They’re not involved. They haven’t been here the whole summer.” Cooper sat back on the edge of the bed and stared at the mirror hanging over the dresser. Everything about him looked crumpled. His clothes, his hair, his skin, his face, his spirit.

  “Well, there or not, they’ve been sanctioned by us for getting—”

  “They’re not his pack anyway. Just family,” Cooper interrupted, feeling suddenly weary. A couple hours ago he was dying of curiosity to find out more about Park’s family and why he’d separated from them. Now it felt exhausting just hearing Jefferson hint at it. He didn’t want to hear what Jefferson had found on that family. Didn’t want to think about Park, any Park, at all. “You know sanctions don’t mean anything. They might as well be parking tickets—everyone’s got one. Park’s not involved in this.”

  There was a long pause on Jefferson’s end. “If you’re sure.”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “What about the missing woman, Jennifer Eagler? You said she knew him. Maybe he’s not part of a pack, but she—”

  “I already went down that road. She’s not a wolf.”

  “What?”

  Cooper explained his own suspicions about Jenny’s possible connection to the case. “Anyway, according to Park she’s human and not aware there’s any other way to be. The way I see it, she’s either a victim of an unrelated crime or Whittaker eliminated her because of her relationship, insubstantial though it was, with Gould.”

  “He could be lying.”

  Cooper snorted. “I’m sure Whittaker’s lying. I just don’t know about which part yet. Or which parts, plural. Or why. Or anything—”

  “No, Park. Park could be lying about Eagler being a wolf.”

  Cooper frowned at his reflection. “Why would he do that?”

  “Same reason anyone tells a lie. He’s protecting something. Or someone.”

  Cooper thought about that. “Look, Jefferson, I got to go.”

  “All right. Keep me updated and watch your back, Dayton. Sometimes you’re too quick to trust people.”

  Cooper laughed, bitterly. He just couldn’t win.

  Chapter Seven

  Cooper was having a strange dream. But when were dreams typical? Unless it was one of those where you’re running late, or show up to class naked, or show up to class late and naked.

  Come to think of it, he was naked in this dream. But he was in no rush to get anywhere and he was alone.

  Or was he? Someone was behind him, sliding hands over his hips. Speaking quietly into his ear.

  What are you afraid of?

  You, Cooper admitted.

  Silly, the voice chuckled, and pushed him face-first against the wall. You don’t even know me.

  That’s exactly why! Cooper said with a level of excitement for this non-insight only found in dreams and daytime television dramas.

  You think you know who I am, the voice continued.

  Well, Cooper said, all faux modesty. I couldn’t possibly.

  Who am I?

  He tried to turn around, but the voice’s grip tightened on his hips, hands sharpening until it felt like his skin was being flayed from the bone. Hands that could shift just a few inches and slice into his belly to take the little he had left.

  No peeking, the voice scolded, and pushed him into the wall rhythmically. Surprisingly sturdy for a non-corporeal presence, he thought. The voice pushed him so hard against the wall, again and again, that he could feel the inside of his skull vibrate.

  Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

  You know who I am. The voice thrust against him.

  Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

  Cooper shoved back against the voice and his eyes twitched open. His jaw was clenched shut; he must have been grinding his teeth in his sleep again. Every muscle felt stiff. That wasn’t the only thing that felt stiff.

  Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

  The rhythmic vibrations sounded again, but instead of pounding inside his skull, they were coming from somewhere to his left.

  Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

  Cooper grabbed his cell off the nightstand and ripped it out of the charger so he could roll onto his back. The motel clock read 6:08. Jesus.
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  “Dayton,” Cooper rasped into the phone and then cleared his throat.

  “We found her.”

  Cooper took a moment to place the voice, Chief Brown, and the “her,” Jenny Eagler. He closed his eyes. “Where?”

  “Grant’s Park. Morning joggers saw her dumped in the middle of the soccer field and called it in a half hour ago. She’s on her way to Mercy Hospital in Portland.”

  His eyes shot back open and he sat up. “She’s alive?”

  “Yes. In bad shape, though.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  “Nothing coherent. They rushed her away pretty fast. I thought you and Agent Park might want to follow her to the hospital. See if you can get more.”

  “Yes,” Cooper agreed. “We’ll head there directly.”

  Brown sounded relieved. He didn’t blame her. With all her officers tied up in Gould’s search, the murders or home sick, little Florence was outmatched. The more she could hand over to the BSI, the better.

  After hanging up, Cooper hurried next door to update Park, eager to tell him his friend was alive. He knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. He knocked again, louder.

  It was a bit chilly outside for summer. Maine was no place to go running around in bare feet, boxers and a ratty school T-shirt at dawn, and he shifted impatiently in place. The light still had that peculiar early-morning blue filter to it that made everything just a little more eerie. The mist rising off the surface of the parking lot as the dew evaporated didn’t help matters.

  Cooper brought his fist up to the door again.

  “What are you doing?” a voice said behind him. The voice, Cooper realized even as he startled forward into the door, a crude imitation of his dream.

  You know who I am.

  “Park,” Cooper said, turning, and then stopped. Park was looking at him impassively in gym shorts and a T-shirt. His hair was darker than its usual brown, almost black now, wet with sweat. Park’s T-shirt and shorts, however, looked completely dry. “Where the hell were you?”

  Cooper was further shocked to see Park look a little self-conscious. “I went for a run. Clear my head.”

  Running before dawn? The mind boggled. “They found Jenny alive,” Cooper said. “She’s on her way to Portland.”

  Park’s face was grim. “Give me two minutes.”

  * * *

  There’s something about hospitals in the morning that feels more relaxed, even if there’s nothing causal about your reasons for being there. The morning staff talked quietly over coffee, catching up on what they’d missed the night before. There was a sort of calm in the air of a fresh and rested shift. A tentative optimism. This might be a good day.

  Cooper hated it. Always had. Because if you were in a hospital at seven in the morning, then no, it certainly was not going to be a good day. Call a spade a spade.

  His dad had brought him and Dean to visit their mom in the mornings. For some reason he thought that would be better than after school. Was his mom supposed to have been more energetic in the mornings?

  She wasn’t.

  Were they supposed to have been less prone to nightmares if they didn’t hold her hand and feel her thin, waxy skin, like an old-fashioned sealant poured over brittle bones, directly before bedtime?

  They weren’t.

  Cooper shifted impatiently in the hall waiting for Eagler’s doctor. Beside him, Park stood unnaturally still, his eyes shut. Not with relaxation. They had ridden to Portland in tense silence. Was Park just upset for his friend? Or something else? Cooper wondered if he wasn’t the only one who had bad experiences with hospitals.

  Park’s jaw was tight and his lips thin, creating lines in his face that weren’t there before. He hadn’t shaved that morning and the scruffiness gave him an edgier, devil-may-care look at odds with the tension in his body. His hair had long since dried into a slightly tangled and curly scramble of soft brown hair that made Cooper want to comb his fingers through it.

  Park’s eyes flickered open and Cooper quickly looked away. He watched two nurses, clipboards under their arms and coffee cups in their hands, whispering and laughing. A cart with covered trays stood nearby. The smells of people’s breakfasts mixing with the cloying scent of sickness and fear was nauseating. How could anyone eat here? How could anyone smile and joke and be here?

  He supposed some might think the same thing about what he did for a living. But give him dead over dying any day. At least then the pain was over. There was a clear path of what to do next. Unlike the endless waiting and feelings of uselessness that came from watching someone waste away.

  Cooper would rather die quickly and violently than become trapped by his own weakness.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” A middle-aged woman with colorful glasses and a short black bob shook their hands. “I’m Dr. Lin. You’re here about Ms. Eagler?”

  Cooper showed his identification. “Yes. Agent Dayton, and this is Agent Park. How is she?”

  “She’ll be okay.” Cooper heard Park exhale softly at that. “She’s in shock. Bruises and abrasions. Restraint marks on her wrists and ankles. A broken collarbone and three cracked ribs. A bad case of exposure. Hypothermia. I’d say she was kept cold and damp for at least twenty hours. We also found two burn marks on the back of her neck, I’d guess from a stun gun. No signs of sexual assault.”

  Cooper glanced at Park to see if he wanted to ask anything, but he wasn’t even looking at the doctor. His eyes were closed again and his expression could almost be mistaken for boredom if not for the visibly pounding pulse point in his cheek as if he was struggling to control anger.

  Cooper dragged his attention back to the doctor. “When can we talk to her?”

  Dr. Lin frowned. “She’s sedated now and we need to operate on that collarbone. She won’t be awake for a while. Tonight at the earliest. Preferably tomorrow.”

  Shit. “We were told she was conscious when she was brought in. Do you know if she said anything?”

  “I’m sorry. She wasn’t awake when we got her.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  “The clothes she was wearing when she was brought in,” Park interrupted before Dr. Lin could leave. “Could we see those?”

  “She was nude. No personal effects were found.”

  “That’s odd,” Cooper muttered after Dr. Lin walked away, more to himself than Park, who ignored him anyway. It wasn’t unusual for victims to be found nude, but those were generally sexual crimes. What would be the point here? A power thing? Humiliation? A forensic countermeasure? Some kind of message from the unsub?

  He opened his mouth to say as much, only to find Park had wandered down the hall, trailing after Dr. Lin. Cooper hurried to catch up and then reached out to grab his arm before he could pass into the next ward.

  “Hey. Hey, Park, stop.” Cooper had to dig his fingers in before Park even noticed and came to a stop. “You can’t help her in there.”

  Park looked at him, and the skin under Cooper’s fingers rippled oddly, like a muscle spasm that didn’t move his arm. He let go quickly and took a step back, stumbling slightly. Park’s expression shifted to something Cooper couldn’t read, confusion or regret—whether for himself or Jenny, it wasn’t clear—before his face smoothed, back under control again.

  “Yes. Of course,” Park said briskly. “Excuse me.” His overly formal tone the only indication that he was upset. That and the way he pointedly walked around Cooper, careful not to brush against him again.

  They drove back to Florence in more tense silence.

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just the hospital or Jenny that had put Park in a mood. Cooper told himself he didn’t care. If Park’s feelings were still hurt from last night, then he was acting like a child. The silence gave Cooper plenty of time to think anyway. Time he desperately needed when his brain was still working on dial-up after the restless
night he’d had.

  There was no way Jennifer Eagler’s abduction could be connected to Gould’s, or Bornestein and Doe’s murders, for that matter. Though it was interesting that both bodies had also been stripped...but was it relevant? Was it enough to connect the cases? Probably not.

  If the wolf they were looking for was a serial killer abducting people, holding and torturing them and then slicing and dicing them, Cooper would expect to see a consistent victimology. With the three first victims they had that. Men who hadn’t appeared to know each other but were all in peak physical condition. Men who could fight back and often did. Alpha males.

  If the wolf they were looking for was working from a certain list of people known to him, however, a target list of people he felt had wronged him, that could explain the deviation in victimology. Could even work nicely with Sam Whittaker being their unsub, if jealousy was a motive. But then why leave Jenny alive?

  Not by accident. She may have been in rough shape, but none of those injuries could be considered particularly life-threatening. Perhaps the exposure. But how could her abductor have known when she was going to be found? Come to think of it, why was she suffering hypothermia in the first place? It was Maine, but it was still summer. Sure, it was a bit chilly and wet during the night, but could one night in a soccer field do that? Maybe. Cooper wasn’t sure. And stun gun burns? Why?

  Leaving her in the middle of a public soccer field was yet another unexplained deviation from pattern, though. Whoever took Jenny wanted her to be found. Depended on it, even.

  Bornestein and John Doe were never supposed to be discovered, he was sure of that much. Someone had gone through the trouble of picking a secluded spot in the middle of a national forest, away from the trail, and covering up their tracks. Gould’s body had still not been found. Of course, he might not be dead. Cooper was beginning to doubt it at this point, but it was possible. And if Gould wasn’t dead, that would tie his disappearance more closely to Jenny’s.

  Was it possible that Gould and Jenny were the victims of one unsub and Bornestein and Doe victims of another? Was it coincidence that Gould had disappeared from the forest where the bodies were found?