Verne pushed the thought from his mind. Whatever it was, it was gone and there was no point in dwelling on it. He had learned long ago that there were certain things that defied explanation, especially up here in the wilderness. He also knew that the mind could play tricks. The brain looked for human features, was hard wired to see them in unrelated objects. It was called Face Pareidolia. He’d seen a dead fish, perhaps a Buffalo Cod, which could grow pretty large, and his mind had filled in the blanks.
He yawned and stepped from behind the counter. He might as well go back to the bedroom and lie down. There was no point in dwelling upon things he might never know the answer to. He was exhausted. He might as well crawl back into bed and maybe, if he were lucky, sleep would find him.
He turned toward the back stairs, had taken no more than a step forward, when his eye was drawn by a slight movement in the shadows off to his left. He raised the gun out of instinct, and turned toward the disturbance. What he saw next made his blood run cold.
31
Sheriff Don Wilder stood tall with his feet planted one in front of the other, his gun trained on Mina and Decker. He nodded toward the bulge in Decker’s jacket. “Open the coat.”
“Why?” Decker knew he was in a no win situation. If he refused, the sheriff could arrest him for obstruction, and if he complied, Wilder would see the pistol. “We haven’t done anything wrong. Like I said, we are just out for a walk.”
“In an abandoned building at midnight?” Wilder must have seen the look of resignation on Decker’s face. “Yeah, that’s right. I saw you climb out of the window over there.”
“So what?” Decker knew he was on thin ice. “There were no signs saying the place was off limits.”
“The locked doors with chains on them didn’t give that away?” Wilder waved his gun. “Now open the goddamned jacket before I arrest you.”
“Okay.” Decker lowered his arm. He unzipped the jacket and let it fall open, and then put his hands back in the air. He didn’t want to give the sheriff any cause to shoot him “There. Happy?”
Wilder’s eyes flicked down to the gun protruding from Decker’s waist. “Mind telling me about that?”
“What about it?”
“Really, you’re going to play innocent?” Wilder shook his head. “I thought you were smarter, I really did. You didn’t bring a gun with you, because I had to loan you one when we were in the basement, so where did you get that?”
“It’s all legal and above board.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Wilder narrowed his eyes. “You are aware that only persons with Alaska ID’s can purchase firearms in this state, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” Decker replied, keeping the annoyance out of his voice as much as possible. “But I didn’t buy the gun.”
“Really?” Wilder raised an eyebrow. “Did it just appear out of thin air?”
“It was provided for me.”
“Hayley Marsh.” A flash of anger crossed Wilder’s face. “That woman should stick to shuffling paperwork and let the professionals do their job.”
“I agree,” Decker said. “So why don’t we try and work together to get to the bottom of what is killing your town folk rather than bickering.”
“Work together, huh?” Wilder said. “A couple of professionals.”
“Exactly.”
“Except you’re not a professional, are you?” Wilder’s mouth twitched into a momentary grin. “You’re an unemployed nut job who sees monsters around every corner. I don’t need your brand of help, thank you very much.”
“Fair enough.” Decker knew better than to try and convince the sheriff of his usefulness. He had encountered more than one person with this attitude over the last several months, and had learned from bitter experience that it was impossible to alter their preconceptions. The sad fact was that most people were not willing to entertain anything beyond the realm of their own belief system. “So where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us with a little problem,” Wilder said. “Right now I’m thinking a couple of charges of trespassing. I’ll throw in breaking and entering, since you forced a window, and then there’s the matter of the gun, which I might go ahead and list as stolen. I think that covers everything.”
“That’s not fair.” Mina spoke for the first time, her face flush with indignation. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Well now, that’s a matter of opinion, young lady.” Wilder chuckled. “A day or two in the cells should give you plenty of time to think on it though.”
“You don’t have the right.”
“Actually I do.” Wilder seemed to be enjoying himself. “I’m the sheriff, which means I make the rules. I run this town.”
“You’re a pig.” She spat the words. “Nothing but a petty jackass on a power trip.”
“I think I might add resisting arrest to the charges.”
“Now just…”
“Easy there.” Decker interrupted her. “Don’t give him the satisfaction. He’s baiting you.”
“You’re just going to let him treat us like this?”
“Doesn’t look like we have much choice.” Decker turned to Wilder. “I’m growing tired of this. If you’re going to arrest us just get it over with.”
“Oh, I’m not going to arrest you. Not right now anyway.” Wilder fixed Decker with a deadpan stare. “But if I catch either one of you within a hundred yards of my investigation again, if you so much as look my way, I’m going to throw you both in jail and lose the keys. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” Decker replied through clenched teeth.
“Excellent.” Wilder smiled. “Then I think we have an understanding.”
Mina looked horrified. “You’re going to let him get away with this?”
“I don’t think we have much choice,” Decker replied. It irked him that Wilder had backed them into a corner, but there was nothing he could do, at least not right now. He decided to talk to Hayley the following morning. She might not have any control over the sheriff, but she was still town administrator, and that had to count for something.
Wilder read his mind. “Oh and Decker, I wouldn’t go running to that prissy little town administrator if I were you. It won’t get you anywhere, and you don’t want to piss me off.”
32
Verne Nolan stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the sight before him.
The creature stood six feet tall on two muscular legs, with a pale, almost human looking face that belied the true nature of the thing, thanks in part to the mouth, which contained rows of teeth that would have been more at home on a shark than any mere man. Its thick, muscular body was covered in tough looking scales that gave it the appearance of a fish, and when it looked back at him with those white, unnatural eyes, he felt a shudder of revulsion.
Nolan had spent years fighting in the Second Gulf War, and came back a broken man thanks to the atrocities he’d witnessed, the awful human cost of armed conflict. But none of it came close to the fear he now felt when confronted with this monstrosity. He took a step backward, forgetting the gun for a moment.
His mind raced.
This was the same animal he’d seen out on the pier, only now it was here, inside his shop, and he’d locked himself inside with it. Any doubt regarding the identity of the intruder, that it was the same face he’d seen in the water, was put to rest by the pool of water collecting around the creature’s feet. It must have swam to the dock, pulled itself from the bay, and entered the store to lay in wait for him. All while he was still at the end of the pier contemplating what he had just witnessed. A stupid mistake for someone trained in combat. You never let your enemy get the drop on you.
The creature opened its mouth and let forth a shrill warbling screech, the sound inhuman and chilling.
Verne remembered the pistol clutched in his palm. He took aim, and without a moment’s hesitation, squeezed the trigger.
The boom was deafening in the small space.
A brief muzzle flash lit up the room as the bullet flew toward its mark.
The creature was spun sideways by the impact, hit high on the right shoulder. It staggered backwards and used the wall to prop itself up, regain its balance, then turned to him once more.
Verne was shocked to see no sign of a wound.
Surely he hadn’t missed? Not at such close quarters.
He brought the gun to bear and fired again, sending the creature backwards a second time.
Once more it turned toward him without so much as a scratch. There was no way he’d missed twice. Besides, the bullets had found their mark, driving the creature away both times. And yet it was unharmed. There was no blood, no entry wound. It was almost as if the scales, which at first glance looked like nothing more than those found on a simple fish, were providing the thing with some sort of armor plating.
He looked down at the gun, then back at the slowly advancing creature, and made a split second decision.
He turned and ran.
Verne bolted toward the front door, but the creature ducked to the side and blocked his path. He spun and headed for the back stairs, careening into a display stand full of glow in the dark lures along the way, sending it crashing to the ground. When he reached the stairs he cast a swift glance backward, only to discover that the creature was close behind. He waved the gun backwards and fired a quick succession of shots, the retort jarring his arm, blasts causing his ears to ring, but achieving little else except to cause his pursuer to slow up as the bullets whizzed past.
He took the stairs two at a time, his mind racing, heart thumping in his chest. The creature was still pursuing. He could hear the old boards creak as it started up the stairs after him. He mustered all his energy and put in an extra spurt of speed. If he could just reach the second floor, slam the door, he might be able to buy some time, find his cell phone and call for help.
At that exact moment, as the thought ran through his head, his foot caught on the lip of a stair. He felt himself pitch forward, hit the stairs with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. His arm caught under him, sending a wave of pain crashing through his body, but there was no time to waste. Without even a moment’s hesitation he started to push himself erect again, but then, just as he was about to regain his feet, the creature reached him.
A hand clutched at his ankle, ensnaring it in a vice-like grip. He felt sharp talons dig into the skin, drawing blood, sending sharp daggers of pain shooting up his leg. He cried out, kicking with his free leg, hoping to dislodge his attacker, but the foot sailed to the right and found only empty air.
He felt himself being dragged backwards, back down into the store, as the creature tried to reel him in, position itself for a more substantial attack.
Verne twisted, looked back, and raised his free foot again, kicking back hard, finding the creature’s face this time. Hitting its target.
There was a satisfying crunch of bone and the grip on his ankle loosened. He kicked again, delivering another powerful blow, and then he was free.
Verne stumbled to his feet, fear and adrenalin propelling him forward. He took a step forward, then another, the top of the stairs growing ever closer. He reached the top step, planted a foot inside his living quarters, and turned to slam the door.
He never got the chance.
At that moment, in the split second between turning, and pushing the door closed, the creature struck again, hitting Verne in the chest and sending him reeling.
He careened into a coffee table and lost his balance, falling backwards, his back striking the table with enough force to shatter it, shards of wood flying in all directions. His head bounced on the hard floor, dazing him. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized that he had bitten the end of his tongue as he fell, cleaving the tip clean off. A sharp throb pulsed from the site of the wound.
The creature was in the room now.
It advanced, sensing that its prey was done for.
Verne pushed backwards, his eyes wide with fear.
It hurt to move. It hurt a lot.
He let out a howl of pain, but all that emerged was a sloppy gurgle. He felt blood tricking down his chin, felt the ache where his back contacted the coffee table, and the throb of his wounded ankle, but none of that compared to the agony when the creature fell on him. It sat astride him and pinned him to the floor, its mouth wide, sharp teeth ripping and tearing, deadly claws slicing him open, gutting him like a fish.
As Verne wavered on the edge of unconsciousness, as the pain reached a crescendo of unimaginable proportions, the creature lifted its head and let out a victorious shriek.
33
Decker walked through the early morning darkness back toward the south tower, with Mina following on his heel.
When she was sure they were out of the sheriff’s earshot she spoke up, her voice tinged with frustration. “You’re just going to let him get away with treating you like that?”
“I don’t have any choice,” Decker replied. “He’s within his rights, at least as far he sees it.”
“But…”
“He’s the sheriff, which means he can tell us to stay out of the way if he wants to.” Decker knew all too well the authority a sheriff possessed, and he also knew that sometimes a sheriff would use that power to inflate his own ego. There were a lot of petty people in the world, and Wilder was one of them.
“It’s not fair,” Mina continued.
“No, it’s not.” Decker was mad with himself. He should have known better. Wilder thought that Hayley had undermined his authority by bringing Decker in. She had stepped on his toes. Wilder also thought that Decker himself was a kook, and who could blame the man? After all, from an outsider’s perspective, the whole werewolf thing was pretty unbelievable. Now Decker had given the sheriff what he wanted: a valid reason to tell him to steer clear. Decker had played right into the sheriff’s hands when he broke into that building. Worse, he’d dragged Mina into it.
“What do we do now?” They had reached the portico leading to the main doors. “We can’t just give up.”
“Damn right we’re not giving up,” Decker said. “We will have to be careful though. I can speak to Hayley, but I’m not sure it will do any good, and the last thing we want to do is infuriate Wilder. I don’t know about you, but I don’t relish the idea of a stint in his lockup.”
“So what then?”
“We have this.” Decker pulled the key card from his pocket. “I would love to know what this opens, and Wilder has no idea about the bag.”
“Which is hidden in the north tower,” Mina said. “Wilder will be keeping an eye on the place from now on. He’ll be looking for us to sneak back there. How do you suppose we get the bag without landing ourselves in jail?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Decker held the door open for Mina. They walked to the elevators and waited for the car to arrive. “I have a feeling that the bag is somehow tied to the killings. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“I agree.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped in, pressing the button for Floor 5. “That still doesn’t help us right now.”
“No, it doesn’t,” admitted Decker. “And to tell the truth, I have no idea where to go from here. I think it might be best to sleep on it. We need to proceed with caution from now on.”
“We should have just taken the bag while we had the chance.”
“And then Wilder would have seen it, confiscated it.”
“You’re right.” The elevator slowed and stopped. The door opened to the fifth floor landing. Mina stepped out, and then turned back to Decker. “Things will look different in the morning.”
Decker remained silent.
“I’ll come by tomorrow?” Mina looked hopeful.
“Sure.” Decker pressed the button for the tenth floor. As the doors closed he saw Mina turn and head toward her apartment. He had no idea what he was getting her into, and he hoped he could keep her safe, but he also knew that there was no way she was going to let him pursue
this on his own. Like it or not, he had a partner.
34
At 8 A.M. the next morning Don Wilder left his apartment and went to the sheriff’s office on the third floor. This wasn’t his final destination, but no matter where he needed to be, he always stopped at the office first thing just in case any of the town’s residents needed to talk to him. Most days there was no one waiting for him to show up, but on occasion he would find someone loitering, anxious to tattle on a neighbor or report a missing cat. Today the corridor was silent and empty. Only the sound of his police issue boots disturbed the peace.
He let himself in, tucked the key back into his pocket, and checked his email. Satisfied that there were no emergencies, he left and locked the door once more, then started toward the elevator, and the lobby.
His encounter with John Decker the night before had left him annoyed and frustrated. It was clear that Hayley Marsh had no faith in his ability to stop the killing spree that plagued the town. That she had brought in her own outside expert was enough of a slap in the face, that it was a disgraced cop who had no right walking free, let alone pretend that he could be of some help, was downright insulting. Decker should be locked away in a padded cell, not wandering around conducting off the books investigations. And then there was the matter of the gun. Hayley going out of her way to skirt the law and provide Decker with the weapon was yet another show of disrespect. For a brief moment Wilder had contemplated hauling Decker off to the holding cell behind his office, along with that troublemaking kid Mina. But that would tick off Hayley Marsh, and even though he didn’t answer to her, he did need the budget she apportioned to him every year, without which he could not buy equipment or attend the police conference in Miami the following spring, or even get paid. No, when it came down to it, he needed to play nice with the town administrator. He did not need to do likewise with that idiot Verne Nolan at the bait and tackle shop though, which was where he was heading now. There was only one place Decker could have gotten that firearm, and it was from Verne. The man needed a reminder of his place in the pecking order, and Wilder intended to provide that lesson.
Cold Sanctuary (John Decker Series Book 2) Page 12