The Wolf at the Door

by Charlie Adhara

  “What the fu—” Harris was shouting, but Cooper had already brought his Taser up, held it to the pole pressed against Jefferson’s face and squeezed the trigger. And kept squeezing.

  Cooper felt Jefferson jerk spasmodically beneath him and heard Harris’s shout of surprise. Jefferson, feet firmly grounded, would get the worst of it, but all Cooper needed was for Harris to let go of the ladder, and judging by the sickening crack of skull and rock floor, he had.

  Cooper rolled off Jefferson, releasing the Taser, and scrambled for the gun he’d dropped. He had a moment to notice the hairs on his arms standing up and the uncomfortable tingling in his jaw before he heard Oliver’s voice ring through the cave.

  “Cooper, behind you!” Cooper felt a surge of warmth to hear him speak his name with concern.

  So not the time, Dayton.

  Cooper spun around, gun up. But Jefferson wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed, mouth agape and a sickly sheen of sweat coated him. Harris, however, had stumbled to his knees; one hand clutched his bleeding head and the other pointed a gun at Cooper.

  No. Not yet. Not now.

  “You shi—”

  A foot came out of nowhere and slammed into Harris’s head like a football. He toppled over and lay still.

  “Rudi!”

  “Sam,” she said. It came out like a sigh of relief. Cooper caught a glimpse of the fierce, raw love in her face, a mother’s love, before Rudi composed herself. “And Ollie. Good to see you looking so...well.” She smirked. Oliver blinked and casually covered his groin.

  “You’re here,” Cooper said dumbly.

  “Yeah. Met your partner. Didn’t go so hot. But I guess you know that now.” She nodded at the eerily still Jefferson. Cooper wondered if he was dead, and felt a strange combination of sickening regret and furious satisfaction. One for the Jefferson he thought he knew, the other for the person Jefferson had revealed himself to be.

  “I’m...sorry,” Cooper said. The words felt stupid and woefully insufficient, but he had to get used to them. He had a feeling he’d be saying them a lot. He didn’t look at Oliver.

  “I thought you were—I thought that asshole had—” Sam’s bravado was cracking. “How did you—” He broke off and tensed, looking toward the tunnel.

  What fresh hell...

  But it was Christie running into the room and coming to a halt.

  “Yeah,” Rudi said, nodding at him. “Had some help with that from this guy.”

  “What—” Christie was staring around the mine, Gould, Harris and Jefferson unmoving on the floor, Cooper slumped over on his knees, Oliver and Sam naked in a huge cage with a running video camera focused on them. The footage would need to be found and destroyed before local PD got their hands on it, never mind what had already made it out into the world.

  “So nothing unusual is going on, huh?” Christie shouted, glaring at them all.

  “It’s over now,” Cooper said. He hoped that was true.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said make it work, Dayton.” SAC Santiago dragged her hand through her cropped hair. Cooper noticed it looked a bit greasy, her face not as immaculate as usual, like maybe she hadn’t had time to prepare before news of the biggest shit show to ever hit the BSI had reached D.C. Having gone through the eye of the shit storm himself, he didn’t even want to know what he looked like, and sat in the Florence interrogation room with his back squarely to the reflective glass to avoid catching a glimpse of himself.

  And that was the only reason. Not because he was afraid of who might be on the other side watching. Listening.

  He must have known what was going on. They were partners, for God’s sake.

  Harris had woken up with a concussion, a couple of stiches in his head and a pair of cuffs on his wrists. According to Santiago, once he’d stopped cursing and predicting the end times, he’d started talking. Still thinking someone would understand. Still utterly not at fault for all the death and destruction. And there had been a lot. Search teams had already started recovering the remains of other victims scattered through the forest.

  All in all, nine dead, seven of them werewolves, five of them werewolves Cooper and Jefferson had crossed paths with on various cases.

  How could he not have known?

  Agent Corrigan, who, unsurprisingly, was not the bleeding heart Jefferson had claimed but rather a sensible, competent woman who talked to Rudi and Sam with respect and handled Chief Brown’s frustrated confusion with charm, was chosen to lead a team to recover Bornestein’s computer from Harris’s home, collect all the footage that could be found and start tracking down the psychos who’d paid to watch people tearing each other apart. It wouldn’t be easy. Bornestein had set up some kind of business, crude in its simplicity and modeled off online porn. Members would pay a fee and unlock the video of their choosing for a window of time. He’d advertised little clips across chat rooms and hunting sites. It wasn’t even on the dark web. Because he tagged the videos as “special effects” most people assumed the clips were fake and didn’t bother. Only those who already knew what they were looking for followed the clips back to the site and paid the fee to see more. People who went looking for werewolves viciously murdering each other.

  For the most part Bornestein had just tapped into a market that already existed, which made it all the more horrifying. He’d moved the site around pretty regularly to avoid being detected but needn’t have bothered. The BSI wasn’t looking online, didn’t have a cyber crimes division, hadn’t even thought to keep an eye on the web. Still a fumbling baby organization, they hadn’t considered wolf crime could happen online and they certainly hadn’t been thinking about crimes against wolves.

  All that was going to change now. As Corrigan tracked down the IP addresses, she would put together a cyber unit of her choosing. Cooper wished her success, but he wasn’t holding his breath. The internet was a very large house of horrors with more dark corners than safe rooms.

  He had not been asked to join that team and he didn’t expect he would be. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still have a job after this.

  How could he not have known?

  As soon as the BSI had started pouring into Florence, Cooper had been ushered into the interrogation room where he’d gone over what happened again and again, so many times it had taken on a nightmare quality, the telling of it becoming somehow more real than the experience itself.

  Except for Oliver’s face in that damn mine. His expression twisted in hurt, anger and betrayal. That still felt plenty real.

  Along with the BSI, several Trust members had arrived with quietly intense stares and quivering energy lurking just below the skin and had whisked Oliver away immediately. Cooper hadn’t seen him since. It was possible they’d brought him back to Washington or...wherever the Trust was based. He didn’t know.

  Anxiety prickled the hairs at the back of Cooper’s neck. He might never see Oliver again. He cursed himself for feeling hurt.

  What, was he expecting Oliver to stick around and say goodbye? After everything that had happened? Maybe it was better this way. They hadn’t really known each other anyway. Not really.

  “Did you know?” Cooper said.

  Santiago was going over his written statement but looked up in surprise and the beginnings of outrage. Cooper clarified, “About Oli—Agent Park, I mean. That the whole partnership thing was just a cover. Did you know I was being investigated?”

  Santiago’s gaze flickered over his shoulder at the two-way glass and then back, her face now slightly defensive.

  Cooper sighed. “Great. Thanks.” That made yet another person he considered himself somewhat close to who had believed he was capable of serial killing and hate crimes. It was getting hard not to take it personally.

  She looked over his shoulder at the glass again. “Look, they were just followin
g the evidence. I thought it was a waste of time. I tried to warn you to be on your best behavior.”

  “Yeah, you did. Fucked that up, didn’t I?”

  “You—”

  The door to the interrogation room opened with a heavy click, and Cooper turned in his seat and then almost fell out of it.

  Margaret Cola, head of the Trust—and, as far as the BSI was concerned, head of all werewolves—walked in. Like most times seeing a famous person in real life, she seemed oddly smaller and out of place in the cement room, wearing a simple but elegant sheath dress, kitten heels and pearls that popped against her deep, dark brown skin. She looked like a successful CEO going to a company garden party. Still, there was something sharp and dangerous about the glint in her eyes, the flash of her teeth against her perfect plum lipstick and the unhurried way she strolled past Cooper and took a seat beside Santiago.

  “Ma’am,” Cooper said, standing as soon as he saw her. When no one said anything, he sat again.

  “Agent Cooper Dayton,” Cola said, then stopped, as if all she had to say was that. His name. His job title. Simply spoken together a reprimand in itself.

  Cooper tried to maintain eye contact, needing her to see the guilt and shame he felt, but her flat gaze fell like a physical weight on the back of his neck, and after a moment he had to look away.

  “Your partner has awoken,” Cola said. Her voice was familiar from those absurd training videos, but still different. Higher-pitched and slightly childlike. He wondered if she purposefully pitched it lower in the videos to get more respect. Unnecessary in person where the commanding energy pouring off her in waves all but forced Cooper to his knees.

  “My...partner?”

  “Martin Jefferson. He will have no permanent injuries.”

  “Too bad,” Cooper bit out, and then remembered he was trying to make them believe he wasn’t unstable. “Has he said why?”

  “He is choosing not to speak at the moment. Director Furthoe and I have agreed that he will be moved into our custody tomorrow morning.” She smiled quickly. Or perhaps just flashed her teeth. Either way Cooper didn’t think our custody meant the BSI. He shuddered. Whatever was in store for Jefferson was nothing more than he deserved. “Do you have anything you want to say to him before then?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation.

  Cola continued to watch him, waiting for more, but what could he possibly have to say to Jefferson? The man Cooper thought he’d known had never really existed. If he could talk to that guy again, the one who’d convinced him to give the BSI a chance when he didn’t think he could handle learning about werewolves, the one who’d dragged him out to a bar when he got too melancholy and would push him toward guys he thought Cooper might think were cute even though they never were, if he could talk to that Jefferson, he’d ask him to not disappear. Tell him how alone he felt now. How ashamed and scared.

  “I have nothing to say to him,” Cooper said firmly. “Will Agent Park be returning with him tomorrow?”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Well, it’s still his case, isn’t it? Investigating the missing werewolves was the real reason we were partnered.”

  “That was not just a cover, Agent Dayton.” She leaned back in her chair, and the pressure in the air suddenly lessened. Cooper took a shaky breath.

  Santiago said, “We want to implement the program. Start pairing Trust and BSI agents together.”

  “Even after all this?”

  “Especially after all this. We think you and Park worked well together. Complemented each other.”

  “I don’t know how much I brought to the table.”

  “And yet Park speaks highly of you.”

  “He does?” Cooper said, astonished.

  Cola’s eyebrow twitched. “That surprises you.”

  “Well, you have to admit the last twenty-four hours haven’t exactly been smooth sailing.”

  Neither woman contradicted him there.

  “When word of what happened here makes its way into the werewolf community, a united front between the Trust and BSI will never be more important,” Cola said. “We’d like you and Park to lead that and continue working together.”

  Cooper’s mind raced. This conversation was so far from what he expected he had to resist the urge to ask Cola to go back and start over. Santiago was staring at him intensely, obviously frustrated that he wasn’t agreeing right away.

  He took a deep breath. “I need to speak to Oliver first.”

  Santiago gave him a sharp look, but Cola just smiled faintly, as if she had read his mind and knew everything he was afraid of. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

  “Take your time. I believe you’ve been given a week’s paid leave. Park as well. Perhaps you’d both care to spend some time discussing it here in Florence.” She stood, but not before Cooper saw a flash of amusement. “Park is currently at his hotel. You remember the room number, don’t you?”

  * * *

  For the second time in twenty-four hours, Cooper stood outside Oliver’s door, sure he shouldn’t be there. He had no idea what time it was, but it was dark, the streets were quiet and it had been one of the longest days of his life. He didn’t know much about Oliver’s past, but he’d be willing to bet being abducted, caged and told to fight for your life was not a typical Thursday afternoon for him either.

  Cooper should call it a night and arrange to have a nice, professional discussion tomorrow. Especially considering what had gone down the last time he had shown up at Oliver’s room without a plan. Had that only been last night?

  He quietly rested the palm of his hand against the door.

  And then almost fell on his ass when the door opened. “Oliver—Park,” he amended, not sure if he was welcome to use his first name anymore. The resulting Oliver Park sounded like he was there to serve him court papers.

  “I was just—” Oliver stopped and looked uncharacteristically flustered. “I didn’t expect you here tonight.”

  “I’ve just been sprung. Can we talk?”

  Oliver gestured him inside with such exaggerated politeness and distance that Cooper didn’t doubt they were both thinking of the parallels to the night before. He pointedly avoided looking at the couch and sat in a hardback desk chair. Oliver sat across from him on the edge of the bed, wincing slightly.

  “Are you hurt?” Cooper asked.

  “It’s nothing. Shouldn’t have tried to fight after Harris Tasered me.” He paused. “I saw Gould in the hospital making a steady recovery. Whittaker’s hovering over his bedside and Ranger Christie’s hovering over Whittaker.”

  That...was thankfully not Cooper’s business. He had enough awkward relationships to sort out himself. “What’s Christie know?”

  “He already figured something was up which is why he was following Jefferson and found Rudi tied up. But he got the same story as the rest of the town. Conspiracy, illegal fighting ring à la ‘The Most Dangerous Game.’ The truth minus werewolves, of course.”

  “He knows something else is going on. He’s not stupid.”

  “People see what they want to see.”

  Cooper guessed that meant the light chitchat portion of the evening was over. “What I said, in the cave, mine, whatever...”

  “Yes?” Oliver’s cheeks pinked slightly and he looked almost scared. Of Cooper? No. Not scared, but vulnerable and tentative.

  “You know I didn’t mean any of that, right?”

  Oliver’s face shuttered and he glanced away. “Oh, right. Of course.”

  That wasn’t quite the reaction Cooper had been expecting. “It was the only way I could think of getting their guards down.”

  “I know. It was good work. You’re a good agent.”

  Cooper shook his head tightly. If he had been a good agent, none of them would have been in that situation in the first place.
“I suppose you know they, uh, want us to keep working together.”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand if you don’t want to. I’ll tell them no and take full responsibility if that’s easier for you. I don’t know if you have to do what Cola says or if your debt is paid now or whatever. I mean, I only spent five minutes with her and I was pretty close to kneeling at her feet and offering up a lifetime of servitude, but just say the word and I’ll say no. I was sort of mentally preparing for a career change, anyway.”

  Oliver looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I want to work with you?”

  “Why would you?” Cooper asked bluntly. “Since we first met, I’ve done nothing but stick my foot in my mouth and my head up my ass.”

  “Very flexible of you. Good trait in a partner.”

  He shook his head, not in the mood to joke. “I’ve been a bastard from the start. I almost got you killed. I’ve been aiding and abetting a fucking sociopath.”

  “You didn’t know that.”

  “I should have.” He thought of all those stupid little digs Jefferson would make about werewolves. He’d just ignore them, because what was the harm of some off-color comments if that was how Jefferson let off stress?

  Plenty of harm.

  He stood and began to pace, unable to sit still. What if Harris wasn’t the only unstable, grief-stricken family member that Jefferson had stoked into revenge with his hateful words? Would Cooper have even noticed? “You were right not to trust me. I may as well have been complicit. Jesus, I’m so stupid.”

  “Hey.” Oliver reached out and snagged Cooper’s wrist, stopping him mid-stride. “I do trust you.”

  “Then you’re so stupid.”

  Oliver raised an eyebrow. “I see why you don’t apologize more often. You’re terrible at it.” He gently pulled Cooper closer so he stood between Park’s knees. Cooper’s breath hitched a bit, hyperaware of where their legs brushed, the small spaces between their bodies, the gentle pressure of Oliver’s fingers on his wrist. “Maybe I am stupid. But it’s my choice. And I do want to work with you. That is, if you’d like.”