Wolfwraith

by John Bushore

  She laughed. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit of a prude?”

  He flushed. “It wouldn’t matter so much if I didn’t like you.” There, it was out! He couldn’t believe he had said it, but he was glad he had.

  Her eyes widened for a moment, then she smiled. “I’m glad you do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think a lot of you, too. But look, the rain will let up in a few minutes and we can dash to your house.”

  “You’re cold, though. Let me get you a blanket to wrap up in.”

  “Thanks.” She shivered. “It is a bit cool in here but I’ve got something. Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a vest with F.B.I. emblazoned on the back and put it on.

  “You come prepared don’t you?” Shadow felt more comfortable when he didn’t have to avoid staring at her chest. It hadn’t bothered Lorene, though. He hadn’t dated in a long time and women had become more at ease in sexual situations it seemed. Perhaps it was because all of his dating experiences, before his marriage, had been with girls still unsure of themselves.

  Shrugging, she looked around and sat on a bench in front of a worktable, scattered with tools. “It pays to be ready. Just in case.” She patted the seat beside her. “Let’s sit and wait for the storm to pass. It’s only a summer shower.”

  She was wearing a small automatic pistol beneath her shirt, he’d noticed earlier; now she took it out and dried it ineffectively with the vest. Shadow got a rag from the workbench and handed it to her.

  “Damn, I’m going to have to oil this sucker,” she said, wiping the gun down thoroughly.

  He sat next to her, wanting to say something to take their relationship further, but, unsure of himself, he said, “I was thinking, on the way back in, what you said about my hunches...?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “A storm coming up, paddling like hell, and you’re thinking about your supernatural instincts.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been bugging me. I’m still absolutely convinced I felt something when I found the girl in the bay and later on, in the cemetery. I guess, with all that’s happened, I lost sight of how convinced I’d been at first. Especially since everyone told me I was full of shit.”

  Lorene looked at him curiously. “Cemetery? You never mentioned that.”

  “Someone took a bunch of small animal skulls and set them up around the church steeple—oh, you haven’t been there, have you?”

  “Yes. The cemetery is on the park’s brochure, so Morrow and I dropped by there to check it out. It’s a bit spooky with all that moss hanging down.” She gave a final wipe and put her pistol away.

  “Did you see skulls on the foundation bricks when you went there?”

  “Yes, I pointed them out to Morrow. It was definitely odd, but we didn’t know what to make of it.”

  “Did you step inside the foundation?”

  “No. What’s the point?”

  “I felt the same force there as when I found the girl’s body. It has something to do with the killings, I’m sure of it. I felt it again, when I found the Gordon woman. It was weak, because she had been buried for days, but it was there. And I bet I would have felt it near Jonesy and Jenny Ostrowski, if I’d been allowed to get close.”

  She curled her upper lip. “You’re really convinced you felt something, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely. I’d about talked myself out of it, but I have a feeling Jennings isn’t your man.”

  “Shadow, we’ve got DNA, damn it!”

  “Screw your DNA. I tell you, I...” he stopped. An evil aura washed over him, like a wave. It was the same presence he had felt before, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “I feel it now! The same thing.” He looked around the boathouse.

  Lorene also glanced around, and then looked at him worriedly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked. “There’s nothing here.”

  “I tell you there is! Not in the building, though. Outside.” Jumping up, he strode to the only window, which looked out toward the E.E.C. building. He could barely make out the structure through the driving rain. “Something is here, close by; I just don’t know where.”

  Lorene walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. “Shadow, you’ve got yourself all upset; I don’t feel anything. It’s because you were talking about the supernatural and here we are in a run-down shed, full of cobwebs, with a storm going over. No wonder you’ve got the heebie-jeebies.”

  Shadow’s skin tingled where she touched him. He became very aware of her standing beside him, but still peered from the window.

  “Come sit down,” she said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, what are we going to do on our next date?”

  “Uh...our next date?”

  “Sure. You did mention liking me, didn’t you? Or was it just the wet tee shirt?” She turned her face and looked up at him. He saw the same small, enigmatic smile he had first noticed when she’d played bad-cop.

  He wasn’t sure who made the first move, but their lips came together.

  Pulling her close, he could feel her firm body against his. The front of her vest gaped open, so only thin, wet layers of cloth separated them. He was amazed at the spark ignited inside him. It was like every other kiss in his life had been a battery-powered toy car and now he’d slid behind the wheel of a Porsche. The kiss lingered and Shadow had begun to envision making love on a pile of tarpaulins in the corner when she pulled away slightly.

  “Whoa,” she said. “This is happening too fast.”

  He stared into her eyes from inches away.

  “The rain stopped a couple of minutes ago,” he heard her say, barely aware of her words. “I think we can go now.”

  Mesmerized, Shadow took a deep breath, wondering what had happened to him. He looked at the window and saw the rain had, indeed, stopped. Dazed, he was too slow to react when she gave him a quick kiss and stepped back. “Let’s drive into town and grab something to eat,” she said. “I have to get back soon.”

  Shadow wanted to tell her how he felt, but couldn’t think of the words. His body was aroused and overheated and he shivered as the moisture evaporated from his saturated clothing. He savored the taste of her mouth, his lips still warm.

  “So what would you like for lunch?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. The recent feeling of dread had evaporated in the thrill of her kisses. “Burgers? Tacos? Subs?”

  “Something quick,” Lorene answered, taking his arm and leading him to the door. “I really do need to get back, even though I’d rather spend the day with you.”

  “I would, too.” Shadow opened the door.

  “Oh, you spend the day with yourself often?” She turned her face toward him with a wide grin.”

  “Uh..., I meant with you, of course.”

  She laughed and he savored the sound, reaching out and holding her arm for a moment as she passed through the door. Neither of them spoke and he regretted that she had broken the kiss so soon.

  The sun was emerging from the clouds and he noticed vapor rising from Lorene’s wet clothing. When he glanced down, he saw his own clothes were emitting steam-like wisps. As they began to walk toward his house, a mist rose from the ground around them. The only sound was the water dripping from the trees and it was as if they were in another world.

  “This looks like a scary scene from some movie,” said Lorene. “You know, ‘Revenge of the Swamp Creature,’ or something like that.”

  “This seems spooky because you’re not used to the cape, that’s all.”

  “Oh, so that’s it. When I feel spooked, it’s because I’m not used to something. When you feel it, it’s something supernatural.”

  “It’s a different...”

  “Never mind,” she said. “I was kidding. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  He took her arm and guided her around a low, soggy area. “Uh-huh?”

  “Your name,” she said. “How the hell did you end up with that?”
r />   Suddenly he realized his full name would be on the files Lorene had studied. “My Grandmother. She was a bit, well, weird.”

  “I can see why you go by Shadow. It’s sort of interesting, the way Indian names mean something but why Aveng...?”

  “Actually,” Shadow broke in, “it’s not an uncommon practice in Virginia tribes to give someone both a white name and an Indian name. So, I became Hubert Avenging Shadow Fletcher. It’s not all a Native American thing, though. Fletcher means something, too.”

  She looked over with obvious surprise. “Fletcher is an Indian name, too?”`

  “No, believe it or not, it’s Scottish,” he admitted. “In the eastern tribes, over the years, a lot of women married Scottish farmers in hopes their children would also be fair.”

  “So they could pass for white.” She hadn’t made it a question.

  “Yeah, I guess being an Indian wasn’t very popular back then. Anyway, Fletcher originally meant ‘arrow-maker,’ in the British Isles. So it wasn’t just an Indian practice to...” He stopped in mid-sentence and held her back.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I feel it again.”

  “Not again! You’re really...”

  Shadow wasn’t listening. He strode quickly forward, convinced something deadly was near. Lorene, after a quick sigh of exasperation, was only a pace behind.

  When they came around the side of the house, he saw a bicycle propped against the lone tree in his front yard. Turning the corner, he stopped so abruptly Lorene bumped into him. There was a body on his front porch! The lower half of a woman, clad in shorts, sagged unnaturally down the porch steps.

  Lorene crept slowly forward, drawing her pistol. Shadow followed along, wishing for his own gun, which he seldom carried when off-duty.

  Helen Parsons sprawled on the porch, her throat ripped out like all the others. The side of her head was darkly bruised and a deep cut had been inflicted behind her left eye. Rips in her clothing made it appear she had been in a terrible fight. The old rocking chair on the porch, left by a previous tenant, had been smashed. Helen hadn’t been some young, tender girl, reluctant to defend herself until it was too late.

  Jesus, Shadow thought irrationally, what’s she doing here? It isn’t even noon. I told her I’d call.

  When they reached the edge of the porch, Lorene flattened her back against the siding and reached out with her free hand without exposing herself in case there was anyone inside the front door. She touched Helen’s leg. “Still warm.” She pulled back behind the corner, gun up and at the ready.

  Shadow started to ask if they should check for a pulse, but looked at the severity of the throat wound and remained silent.

  “Shadow, is your door locked?” Lorene asked brusquely.

  “My door?”

  “The killer could be inside.” Her head was rotating in all directions. “This happened only a few minutes ago. Is the door locked?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “We have to go in. Damn! I wish you’d carry your gun. Where is it?”

  “In my night stand.”

  “Locked up?”

  “No.”

  “Shit! You need to realize there are more dangerous things than rabid raccoons in the world. If anyone’s in there, he could have your gun. Follow me and stick tight. We’ll clear the kitchen first, then your room. It’s behind the kitchen, right?” She’d been in the house that morning, before they set out on the bay.

  “Yeah,” he answered. It was hard to concentrate.

  “When we get to the bedroom, grab your gun. I’ll check the rest of the house. Let’s go.”

  She whirled around the corner and went up the steps, hopping over the dead woman. She went through the door at a run, Shadow following numbly, unconsciously letting Lorene take charge. As he stepped over Helen’s body, he felt a surge of the now familiar ominous presence.

  Once inside, he saw Lorene, a wall behind her as she whirled around to look over the entire room. She held her pistol out in a two-hand grip.

  Shadow waited inside the doorway, unsure, until she motioned him in with a jerk of her head. Moving fast, she led him to his bedroom door, where she again went in first. She checked the room quickly, then yanked open his closet and bathroom doors to make sure both spaces were empty.

  “Get your gun,” she ordered crisply. “Stay here and call your boss. Tell him to seal the park and the refuge too. Have them call the cops to set up a roadblock on the road out of Sandbridge. We’ll get the bastard this time; there’s no other way out.”

  The inaccuracy of the statement somehow shocked him from his lethargy. “Yeah, there is. Boats. I’ll have them cover all of the docks, and let’s not forget the North Carolina border. There’s no road, but he could get out along the beach and maybe have a car stashed down there.”

  “Good idea.” She nodded.

  He pulled his gun from the drawer and set it on the nightstand. Grabbing the phone, he dialed Alex’s residence, knowing, since it was a weekend, there would be only a volunteer on duty in the contact station.

  “I’m on it,” Alex said when he had been told the situation. “Can you block off the Wash Woods dock yourself? It’ll take a quarter of an hour before I can get someone down there.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m in my bedroom, so I can see the dock from here.” He could hear Lorene moving through the house. “We just pulled in there ourselves, anyway, and there was no boat anywhere around.” He looked carefully to be sure their two kayaks were still there.

  Lorene appeared at his bedroom door. “Couldn’t he have a boat stashed in the weeds somewhere?”

  “Sure but it’s not likely,” he replied. “Hard to get to—have to wade through the swamp.”

  Alex, still on the line, asked, “Who’s there with you?”

  “Agent Walker,” he answered. Then, thinking of Lorene’s question, said, “Could you get a boat out on the water? Have them hang out off False Cape and if anyone moves on the bay, they’ll be seen.”

  “You got it,” Alex replied. “I’ll be down there myself right away; I can set all this up on the radio while I’m driving,” he said and hung up.

  Shadow turned to Lorene. “Alex is on his way here. He’s going to put someone out on the bay to watch for anyone crossing to the mainland. It takes a while to get across the bay and it couldn’t be done without being spotted.”

  Lorene nodded, and then said, “Okay, real quick now, let’s figure out how to catch this son of a bitch. The woman on the porch—I’ve seen her around. She’s a reporter isn’t she?”

  “Helen Parsons. She was checking something out for me, about the park closing. We had an idea it might somehow be linked to the killings because of the value of the land—that was before you caught Jennings. She was still following through on the park deal, but not about the killings.” He paused. “I was supposed to hook up with her later today, but she came early. She was checking old deeds and such; maybe she found something important.”

  “Well, let’s forget Jennings anyway. You were obviously right about that, you and your damn hunches. Stay here while I check out the yard.”

  “I’m going with you.” He picked up his pistol.

  She looked at him flatly for a moment, the embodiment of professionalism. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But don’t touch anything and don’t mess up any footprints. We’ll take a quick look and leave the rest for forensics. I only want a clue as to which way the killer went; he can’t have gotten far.”

  “I’ll be careful.” He found himself a bit annoyed by the implication he was a klutz, remembering how she had once taken him to task for messing up the Gordon crime scene.

  “Okay, let’s go,” she said. “Be careful; he could still be hanging around here.”

  They left the house, guns in hand, and Lorene began a more thorough examination of Helen’s body, but without coming too near. The sand all around was disturbed; there might be a useful footprint. Shadow walked to the other end of the porch
and stepped off, so he wouldn’t have to step over Helen’s body again.

  He walked along the narrow, stony path, careful not to leave any footprints in the soft, moist sand of his front ‘lawn.’

  Without leaving the walkway, he looked for impressions in the sand. Anything from before the rainsquall would have been washed away, of course, so any prints would be fresh. He saw nothing; the killer must have also stayed on the pathway. Next, he looked at the gravel road, which ended at his house. His truck was parked alongside the house, so the road was clear.

  The roadbed was free of marks, as he had expected, but he saw a narrow track running through a pothole filled with leaf debris and wet muck. It hadn’t been made by Helen’s bike, still leaning against the tree; the impression was too wide for its tires.

  So who the hell would viciously kill a woman and use a bicycle as a get-away vehicle? Then again, a bike was a great way to get around the park, fast, quiet, and easily stashed away.

  He thought back to the few minutes between the end of the squall and when they had found the body. He hadn’t heard the sound of tires on gravel. Would he have noticed, though, in the thrill of kissing Lorene?

  Easily stashed away—why did that ring a bell? Then he thought of False Cape Frank hiding his bike in the bushes near the cemetery grove.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Shadow, have you lost your mind?

  “Holy fucking shit!” Shadow dropped to his knees to get a closer look at the track.

  “What?” Lorene called. “Did you find something?”

  He didn’t answer. It had all clicked together for him. If the park closed, who would have first claim on the land? According to Helen, it would be the families who had long ago been legally coerced into relocating by the state. Why would False Cape Frank have been at the Wash Woods graveyard, leaving shells at the tombstone of Mamie Bunch if she were not some sort of relation? Shadow tried to remember their conversation, the only time they had ever talked. Frank had said something like “traipsin’ these woods as a boy,” and “angering the spirits of the folks who used to live here,” although Shadow couldn’t recall the precise words.