But Gould hadn’t disappeared from there, Cooper corrected himself. Sam Whittaker had allegedly seen him at the Pumphouse between one and one-thirty. Sam could have overpowered him then and there. He could have dumped the body somewhere on the way to Canada and then come back to deal with Jenny.
And what about this mystery job? Gould was supposedly stopping by on his way toward “Crazy Baker,” who lived practically in the national forest. Where did an eccentric territorial lone wolf come into all this?
Cooper felt like he was trying to make a bed with a too-small sheet. No matter which way he turned it, he couldn’t cover all the corners at once. He wanted to be able to connect all four crimes but there were just too many inconsistencies.
They drove directly to the station. There were a few more people milling around than the first day they’d arrived. Cooper wondered what that meant for the search for Gould. It was too early to call it off. But these were professionals. Three days of searching hadn’t turned up a trail. The locals knew it didn’t look good.
Park had disappeared from behind him upon entering the building, so Cooper took a moment to observe the station at work. The mood was somber, hushed tones and skeptical looks. Mostly in Cooper’s direction. The sentiment was clear. They’d expected him to do something useful by now. To be better.
A few days ago Cooper had been bemoaning never having an opportunity to really investigate anything anymore. Now he wondered if it was too late. Maybe his brain had atrophied from disuse. Maybe bounty-hunting wolves was all he could do now.
Cooper didn’t see Harris or Miller, but he recognized most of the others from the search on Sunday. It had been a mistake to join them. If they were going to find Gould, it probably wasn’t going to be through grid searches and volunteer work. There was too much ground to cover. They needed to come up with a starting point. Some clue as to where the victims were being kept before they were dumped.
Cooper fixed himself a big cup of black coffee, which subsequently peeled the roof of his mouth straight off. Someone must have just rebrewed yesterday’s sludge. His eyes were still watering when he went to find Chief Brown in her office.
“Agent Dayton. Were you able to talk to Jenny Eagler?”
“Sedated before we arrived.”
“Damn. Seat?” Brown gestured, and Dayton shook his head and then sat anyway. It made other people more comfortable to see him sitting even if he hated being still. He needed her to feel comfortable for this.
“Chief Brown, were you at the Pumphouse sometime Saturday? It’s a bar—”
“I know what it is,” Brown interrupted. “Yes, I was there ’round three, maybe. What’s this about?”
“Do you happen to know a Sam Whittaker?”
“Sure,” Brown said easily. “He was on the high school wrestling team. Good kid.”
“That was, what, five years back at least? That’s some memory you have.”
Brown grimaced and spun her chair slightly, back and forth. “This is a very small town in very white, conservative Maine, Agent Dayton. People tend to remember the skinny, gay Black kid who could flip a two-hundred-pound guy on his back. He had quite a following.”
Cooper acknowledged that. Whittaker hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was getting too much attention on the wrestling team.
Someone moved behind him and Cooper looked over his shoulder. Park had slipped into the office and gone to stand by the wall silently. So silently that Cooper wasn’t sure he’d have noticed him come in at all if Harris wasn’t following and making a more reasonable amount of noise.
“Morning, Dayton.” Harris fit his broad frame into the empty chair beside Cooper’s. A small sigh sounded from Harris or the chair or both. “Park was just telling me you’ve come from Portland visiting Jenny Eagler. How was she?”
“Broken collarbone and hypothermia, but she’ll be okay.”
“She was lucky.”
Park said, “Was she?”
Harris flushed a little and then grimaced ruefully. “No, you’re right. Jenny didn’t deserve this.”
Brown said, “Hell, when does deserving ever have anything to do with it?”
“Chief, back to Whittaker. When was the last time you saw him?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure. It’s not like I—wait, Saturday. I saw Sam then. He works at the Pumphouse now.”
“Did you see him with anyone?”
“No. It was busy. A few large groups of people had stopped in. Bikers passing through. It doesn’t look like much, but you’d be surprised how much stop-off business the Pumphouse gets.”
No, I really wouldn’t, Cooper thought.
“Anyway, Sam was there the whole time, working like a dog.”
“And why were you there, Chief?”
She looked briefly, shockingly angry before her face shifted to mild impatience. “Taking my lunch break. What’s this about?”
You either knew about the Pumphouse or you didn’t...
Cooper stared at her carefully, but there was just no way to tell. Besides, if she was a wolf, Park would have said something. Cooper was surprised to realize he believed it.
He said, “We’re trying to establish Whittaker’s whereabouts at the time of Gould’s disappearance.”
Brown’s face closed up. Behind her glasses her eyes were cool and sharp. “What makes you think Whittaker was involved?”
“He admits to arguing with Gould at the Pumphouse shortly before you arrived. They have a long and...complicated history.”
“That’s it?” Brown said. “Gould fought with lots of people. He was an angry young man.”
“And one of those people was Whittaker.” Cooper wondered if she realized she had switched to talking about Gould in the past tense.
“Sam Whittaker is a good kid,” Brown protested.
“Whittaker has some warning flags.”
“Such as?”
Cooper struggled. This was the problem with working with the unaware. If Brown was really unaware. “How long were you at the Pumphouse?”
“I had a chicken salad. Sam Whittaker was there the whole time. He asked me how my day was going. I said, ‘Like shit.’ He said, ‘Same.’ I left around four. Any other questions?”
“Was Whittaker in sight the whole time?”
“Yes. Well, I stepped out to have a conversation with—with the owner,” Brown stuttered. “But that was for half an hour. Forty-five minutes at most.”
Cooper frowned. Forty-five minutes of unaccounted time right around the time Gould’s phone was deactivated. It wasn’t much, but...
Park was saying, “Rudi Abouesse? What did you need to talk to her about?”
“Something that’s completely unrelated to this.”
“Chief,” Harris said before Cooper could argue that nothing was unrelated. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to talk to Whittaker again. He could have attacked Gould and then—”
“Stashed his body somewhere on a busy scene with at least twenty witnesses and then continued waiting tables in under thirty minutes?” Brown slapped her hand on the desk. “You’re all nuts.”
“Not that nuts,” Harris said calmly. “Whittaker does have a record.”
Brown shot him a look. “How do you—It’s a closed file. Enough of that.”
Harris shrugged and smiled. “Sure, Chief. But perhaps it wouldn’t be unwise to put Whittaker on surveillance.”
Brown hesitated and Cooper could tell she was going to agree before she said so. Oddly he felt disappointed, especially since he had just fought with Park over the same thing last night. But the timeline didn’t quite add up and Cooper’s gut wasn’t convinced.
Then again, his gut wasn’t always the most reliable these days. Especially since getting shredded and reassembled.
“Miller can keep an eye on him,” Harris contin
ued.
“Miller’s still out,” Brown muttered, exchanging a significant look with him. “If you—”
“I’m bringing the agents to Baker’s property,” Harris interrupted.
Cooper looked at him in surprise. Park had gone ahead and arranged backup? After the things he’d said last night? He tried to catch his eye, but Park was still looking straight ahead, detached and professional, with his hands crossed loosely in front of him.
“Baker? You mean Geoff Baker? What do you want up there?” Brown was saying.
“Whittaker claims Gould had been hired to do some work in that area.”
“In that area? Or for Baker? ’Cause there’s no one else living out there,” Brown said.
“Whittaker didn’t know the details. We’re hoping to get more from talking to Baker and taking a look around.”
“All three of you?” Brown said, frowning. “Expecting trouble?”
“Just not as familiar with the area as I’d be comfortable,” Park said easily.
Brown nodded. “Makes sense. In that case, take a forest officer with you as well. All sorts of geological fuckery going on in those parts—if you’re going to go poking around and don’t know the land, you could end up on the wrong end of a rock slide. Take Christie. The man can’t shut up about how impressive your tracking skills are, Park.” She grinned. “I’m sure he’d love to get you one-on-one.”
Cooper felt a flash of annoyance curiously close to jealousy. Why? Because Park was getting recognition he wasn’t? He didn’t seriously expect to be better than a wolf at tracking, did he?
Still, the feeling persisted when, walking outside, Park quickened his pace to join Christie, who was loading a pack of gear into his trunk.
“Guess that means you’re with me.” Harris smiled and Cooper could see his own frowning face in the reflection of the officer’s sunglasses.
He made the effort to smile back. “Let’s do this.”
“First...” Harris reached into his truck and pulled out a can. “Repellant. Or you’ll regret it tomorrow. Trust me.”
He shook it and quickly sprayed Cooper, and then himself. The sinus-tingling smell of bug spray settled over them and quickly triggered a headache in the closed air of the car. Even the faint jingling of a delicate gold cross and ring on a chain hanging from the rearview mirror set Cooper’s teeth on edge as they bumped up the mountain. He wished he was riding with Park, even if the wolf was ignoring him.
It was a long drive to Baker’s place, made longer by slow, twisty roads and Harris, who seemed determined to drive five under the speed limit. Cooper wondered if he was the only one jumping out of his skin. When he looked behind them, he could just make out Christie gesturing animatedly in the driver’s seat and pointing out various barns they passed. Harris had a big animal cage in his trunk that mostly obscured Cooper’s view of Park, but if Cooper squinted and twisted his neck just right, he could see Park’s brown, muscular forearm resting out the open passenger-side window. His palm was open, fingers spread. Was that the werewolf equivalent of a dog sticking his head out the window and letting his tongue flap in the breeze? Or a covert signal of exasperation regarding their twenty-mile-an-hour progression?
“Problem?” Harris interrupted.
Cooper startled. “No, just...” He cast around for something to say. “Got a dog?” he said, nodding at the cage in back.
“Used to,” Harris said shortly, clearly not distracted. “So how long have you been with the BSI, Agent Dayton?”
“Less than a year. Three years with the FBI before that,” he added. They were told to keep their talk of the BSI limited, divert attention quickly. He waited for the inevitable questions of what exactly the BSI did, but Harris didn’t ask. Cooper wasn’t sure exactly what his supervisors told the locals about their involvement. Usually that the BSI specialized in certain types of violent crimes, which was true enough. Often the locals were so grateful for the extra resources they didn’t question it too much and BSI tended to be in and out of town fairly quickly. “Officer Miller mentioned you haven’t been here in Florence long yourself.”
“Less than a year,” Harris echoed Cooper with a smile. “But twenty years on the force back in Philly.”
“Twenty?” Cooper was astonished. Why pick up and leave after that long? Why Florence? A town that didn’t really have room for his rank and experience. Why now? “So what happened?” Cooper stammered, realizing how that sounded. “I mean—”
“Why’d I embrace my inner Barney Fife?” Harris smiled.
“Hey, I come from a long line of small-town cops. I’m not knocking it.”
“Neither am I. Believe me, Agent Dayton, I found exactly what I was looking for when I transferred to Florence.”
“And what were you looking for?”
Harris braked gently at a stop sign and paused a moment too long for the deserted road. He touched the tinkling gold chain hanging from the mirror reverently and cleared his throat. “I lost my daughter a little over a year ago. Her...killer got away.”
“I’m sorry,” Cooper murmured, fumbling with the sudden change in direction.
Harris nodded and continued to drive. “It was always hard, of course, when the system I dedicated my life to wasn’t enough. But I just couldn’t do it anymore. Not after Al—” Harris’s voice choked a bit on the name, thick with emotion. “With, ah, my daughter. Not while the monster that took her from me was still out there. I wanted speeding tickets and property disputes. Good people having a bad day, or bad people having good days. Either way, people. In Florence I wouldn’t have to feel powerless against the evil that took away my baby girl. Or, I thought I wouldn’t, anyway.”
Cooper acknowledged that with a grimace and they slipped into silence. The car crawled up the mountain road. He watched Christie and Park in the mirror again.
Harris had picked a hell of a town to get away from monsters. Smack-dab in the middle of Route 66 of werewolves. Not that it sounded like there was a lot of trouble round here. Not until now.
Park’s hand clenched and tapped against the side of the car. Definitely exasperation. Cooper smiled.
“How long have you been working with your partner?” Harris said, and Cooper straightened in his seat.
“This is our first case together, actually.” Should he have admitted that? Would that decrease the department’s faith in them knowing what the hell they were doing?
Harris didn’t look surprised or worried, though. He scratched the faded blond fuzz of his buzz cut. “Hell of a case to get acquainted on.”
“They all are.” A stock answer. But what Harris said was true. This one felt weirder. Disjointed. Something about the stun gun burns on Jenny Eagler kept niggling at Cooper’s brain. It didn’t fit with the typical wolf cases BSI worked.
But Eagler’s abduction wasn’t connected. Right?
Still. Her abduction was one hell of a coincidence.
Cooper asked, “Ever have any trouble with Baker?”
“Nope. From what I understand he was a real loner type. I never met him. He never came down to town. Self-sustained up here.” Harris threw up air quotes around self-sustained and sounded vaguely disgusted.
“You’re a hunter yourself, aren’t you?”
“I took it up after moving here. Bornestein was helping me.” Harris’s smile became a bit wistful. “Poor kid.”
“That reminds me, did you find anything on Bornestein’s computer?”
Harris blinked. “Computer?”
“Didn’t you take a computer into evidence?”
“We didn’t find a computer at Kyle’s.”
Cooper frowned. “My mistake,” he said slowly. “Did Bornestein ever mention Baker? Or maybe hunting up around here?”
“No. Too dangerous.”
Cooper looked at him in surprise.
“The ground. It�
��s all drop-offs, caverns and unstable earth.” Harris smiled at him. “You’ll want to watch your step, Agent Dayton.”
It was high noon by the time they turned down Baker’s long driveway, but you couldn’t tell from looking around. Huge pine trees lined the dirt road, obliterating the sky and sun. It was at least ten degrees cooler here, too. Cooper wondered if they’d gained more elevation than he’d realized. Everything about the area was disorienting, as if he’d fallen asleep in the car and woken up at a different hour in a different season. Almost as soon as they’d turned down the driveway he’d lost sight of the main road. Baker definitely had the isolated part of crazy, isolated loner down.
Cooper thought of what Whittaker had said about an adult male wolf passing by his territory being perceived as a threat. Park hadn’t seemed concerned last night. But now they had two human witnesses who had no idea what was going on behind the scenes. Would that force Baker to step back? Or would it just add to his feeling threatened?
“Can we pull over here?” Cooper asked.
“See something?”
“No, just, from what I’ve heard about Baker, he might be the type to spook if the four of us drive up to his front door.”
Harris shrugged and pulled slowly to the side of the driveway, the car tilting a bit in the pine needles of the soft ditch. They got out as Christie’s pickup pulled in behind them.
“What’s up?” Christie said, hopping out of the driver’s seat.
“Agent Dayton thinks we should walk it.”
“I don’t want Baker to get ideas,” Cooper offered, looking to Park for an opinion. But Park had already started down the long driveway and was peering avidly at the trees, looking for all the world like a tourist on a nature tour except for a slightly increased rise and fall of his chest. Sniffing the area, Cooper realized.
“Are we going to approach through the woods?” Christie asked a little excitedly. “I brought my pack of gear.”
“Uh, driveway should be fine,” Cooper said, already regretting his decision to stop. “I was hoping to make this look less like an ambush.” Christie’s face returned to its usual scowl.
Harris laughed, slapping Christie on the back. “We’ll find a reason to use your carabiners someday.”
The Wolf at the Door Page 15