Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  They’d entered the zoo. The trail crossed a moat into the bear habitat. She prowled the perimeter. Nothing. She leapt the moat and inspected the entire area. Sticking her head into a cave, she encountered something. By the scent, she could tell it was not her prey. A growl from the pile of fur indicated she woke sleeping bears.

  A small voice in her head screamed for her to run. But the raging roar she released into the cave drowned that voice. The bears silenced.

  She left their habitat and searched for the trail. The cacophony of scents overwhelmed her, and she realized she lost him for a third time. She screamed in frustration, overturning a trashcan and bench.

  Delicious odors rose from the spilled contents. Suddenly ravenous, she bent over the spilled can and snatched a half eaten hotdog. Chewing with delight, she tilted her head at the sound of pounding hooves.

  Antelope behind a protective fence ran from her, their haunches bunched seductively. Everything else forgotten, she easily climbed into the plains habitat and stalked the herd.

  Several young fell behind the adults. She circled to cut them off from the rest. Lydia howled and yipped. The more noise she made, the more frightened they became. Delicious fear. Eyes rolling, they gathered together at one corner of the fence. She stalked toward them, gauging the distance, then pounced, bringing the nearest one to the ground.

  • • •

  She opened her eyes to darkness. Strong, musky odor filled the space and a large furry body warmed her. Struggling into a sitting position, she examined last night’s bed. She’d slept in the bear cave. Remnants of the antelope lay scattered in the corner. Her hosts barely stirred as she backed out.

  How could this happen again? She remembered the antelope, hunting it, feeding on its fear. Shaking, she groped for her gun and couldn’t find it. Shit.

  Outside the cave, the zoo still lay in darkness with dawn on the horizon.

  She gave herself a once-over and sighed. “Well, thank God I’m still dressed.”

  “You’re getting neater at eating, too.”

  Startled, she spun.

  “Good thing I have your gun.” Ryan offered it to her.

  “What?” She took the piece, checked the safety, and stuck it in the waist of her skirt. “Where did you come from?”

  “Let’s talk about that later.” He took her arm. “How ’bout we get out of here now.” The last was not a question as he led her to the wall she’d scaled so easily a couple hours before, and helped her over.

  His car, parked a short distance away, was a welcome sight. She started to ache everywhere.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked once in the car and on their way.

  “Everyone was stunned when he pushed past us.”

  “I told them to be on the lookout. He moves fast. That’s how we lost Jacobs.” Though it started strong, her voice choked at the end of her statement.

  He glanced her way. “They’re canvassing the city, looking for you. They figure you either caught him, or you’re dead.”

  “How did you — ?”

  “You need to call them.” He handed her his cell phone.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Flashes of dining with the bears surfaced in her memory, and she shook.

  “Hey.” He yanked her out of the memory. “Tell them you chased him into a storm drain.”

  She nodded and started to dial. Why did he help her? Why wasn’t he scared? He should be terrified. If the situation were reversed, and she observed him crawling out of the bear cave, she would have kept her gun pointed at him until help arrived.

  Adams answered. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m fine,” she replied.

  “Jesus, Davis! You ran after him and disappeared. We even got the traffic helicopter out with a spotlight trying to find you.”

  “Chased him into a storm drain.” She conferenced in the chief and organized a sweep of the drain system. She’d never gone into a storm drain, but it made sense he could hide down there.

  The captain’s voice grumbled in her ear. “How sure are you he’s down there?”

  Asked directly, she couldn’t flat out lie. “Not very. But sir, we’re running out of leads.”

  “Even with the entire public utilities department, we wouldn’t have the manpower to sweep the system.”

  She sank into the seat.

  “I will post patrols for the next couple days. Davis, if we don’t get this guy this week, I’m calling in the feds.”

  “Understood, sir.” She closed the phone and slammed her head against the seat.

  “Where to?” Ryan asked.

  “Home.” She warily looked him over. “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 15

  They rode in silence the rest of the way home. Aside from an occasional glance in his direction, Lydia stared out the window. Ryan appeared to concentrate on driving. Fine, she needed time to think anyway.

  Something was drastically wrong with her. What woman didn’t have mood swings? But, this had a different quality. Losing control on a regular basis was unacceptable.

  She started last night with wanting to rip off Ryan’s clothes, nearly removed that woman’s head, and then the vicious murder of that poor antelope. She closed her eyes. Waking with the bears was just weird.

  She could have the same disease as Jacobs, and perhaps even the Butcher, but it appeared to manifest differently in different people. Small comfort. Now she had no idea what she would eventually become.

  Her profession made her no stranger to violence. Few people came quietly, so now and then she needed to use force to bring them in. Plenty of times she longed to get excessive with someone particularly aggressive, so the urge for violence didn’t bother her.

  For years she’d practiced control. Even monthly women’s issues rarely caused her to behave testily. Not to say she didn’t become irritated. She just made sure she kept her cool.

  Unfortunately now, every emotion seemed amplified. Anger. Passion. Oh God, passion. She’d been all over Ryan last night. He went along with it, though. But what guy wouldn’t when a woman dressed like her pulled his clothes off? He seemed to want more than a roll in the sack. At least, she hoped so.

  She worked so hard to maintain command of her life, to have order. Since the Butcher started his spree, her world had spun out of control.

  She needed answers and sensed the calm man beside her knew more than he offered. What had he said when she stumbled from the cave? She’d been so foggy at the time, it hadn’t registered. Something about eating. What were the exact words? She pleaded with her memory.

  She continued to rack her brain until they parked, then it hit her as his voice sounded in her mind. Getting neater at eating, too.

  She said nothing until safely inside his apartment. At the door, Lydia stood in front of him, hands on hips and refusing to let him pass. “You know more about this than you’re letting on.”

  Unflustered, he leaned left, then right, looking for an escape. Not finding one, he smiled and stepped forward, kissing her. The smell of him mingled with smoke from the clubs and another deep earthy scent she couldn’t place. Strong hands slid around her waist, hugging her to him. The cool, rough skin of his fingers made her tremble. Her tongue met his and her resolve started to melt. Then he lifted her and switched their places in one fluid motion.

  “What the hell!” she cried.

  He marched into the hall. “Bathroom,” came his muffled reply from behind the already closed door.

  “Son of a bitch,” she growled. Furious he’d gotten past; she promised he wouldn’t do it again. She paced the living room until he returned.

  • • •

  In the bathroom, Ryan sat on the closed toilet. What the hell could he do? Would she accept what he needed to tell her? Could she come to terms with what they’d become? He
rubbed the stubble on his chin. Well, it’s her problem, really.

  He only needed to tell her the truth. Lay it out. What she did with that knowledge was her business.

  Plucking at a towel hanging across from him, he realized he couldn’t just let her go. He wanted involvement with this, with her. She could walk out on him once she knew. He’d be surprised if she didn’t.

  He wanted to help her catch this guy. But then what? He had fanaticized about her, never thinking how she would react when the truth came out. He hadn’t anticipated how well she’d work with him. They made a great team.

  Maybe when she understood … maybe he had a chance. He shifted from hope to despair and back again. He didn’t just want her. He needed her.

  At the mirror, he stared at his reflection. Stalling. Wishing he could think of a way to do this easily. Saying it flat out wouldn’t work. Quick, like a Band-Aid, didn’t apply.

  It really didn’t matter. She would have fear and anger, regardless of the approach he used. And as much as he wanted to protect her, she deserved the truth. The whole truth. So he’d start at the beginning.

  He opened the door and found Lydia, hands on hips and foot tapping. Damn, she resembled his mother waiting for an explanation.

  He allowed a wry smile to curve his lips. “Yes?”

  Her eyes narrowed further and she poked a finger into his chest. “Talk. Now.” How did she expect him to concentrate on conversation when she stood in his face that way? Her delightful pheromones overpowered all traces of the night before. Sexy, flushed, and smelling so good.

  “Fine.” He waved in the direction of the living room. “Care to sit?”

  She hesitated a second. He could tell she didn’t trust him. He hadn’t earned her distrust. Except for the kiss a minute ago. But he knew she liked it, so she couldn’t be that mad.

  He sat on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. She waited until he settled to perch on the edge of the recliner.

  “All right.” He fought to appear casual. He hadn’t told anyone this story. “Several years ago, I was a sports writer.”

  “This has nothing to do with my investigation!” She stood and appeared ready to lunge at him.

  “You want the story from the beginning,” he spoke softly. His father taught him people would listen harder if he spoke softly, and his father was the most intimidating man Ryan had ever known. “Don’t you?”

  Plainly unaware of her own frustrated growl, she resumed her balance on the chair. Ryan smiled and continued his narrative.

  Her appealing show of thigh caught and held his attention. He averted his gaze to the bare wall so he could think. “As a sports writer, I got to travel all over to cover games, training camps, and the like. A couple times a year, the paper would pay for me to experience some of the more extreme or remote sports.”

  When he glanced in her direction, she rolled her eyes, huffed, and scooted deeper into the chair. Ignoring her attitude, he allowed his eyes to wander back to the wall.

  “On one trip, about three years ago, I went ice fishing. We were dropped off by helicopter at the start of the day, and supposed to be picked up eight hours later. Just me and three other guys. One of them was our guide, Martin. Good guy. Been a guide for twenty years. I couldn’t wait to interview him.

  “Then there was Ed, a banker. It was his second trip. He told me his wife just loved the spa at the hotel, and since she would be there all day, he needed something to do with his time. ‘Man time,’ he called it.

  “Then there was Ugh.” He paused, recalling his first look at the man who changed his life.

  “Ugh?” came her disbelieving tone from the recliner.

  “I never learned his name, and he grunted in response to every question. So I called him Ugh.” He shrugged. “After a few questions, I gave up and concentrated on my other companions.

  “We landed, drilled our holes, and waited for a bite.” He laughed. “I was so excited when I caught my first and only fish. Once I got it off the hook, it dove right back into the hole.

  “Anyway.” He waved off the memory. “In the late afternoon, a storm started to come through. Martin put up a shelter, and we all went inside to get out of the wind. Ugh didn’t come with us. He didn’t say why, ya know, he just grunted and waved.

  “We passed around Ed’s canteen of whisky, and after a while, I needed to stretch my legs. And well, get rid of some whisky.” He glanced at her again.

  She seemed mildly interested.

  It’s a start. “I moved around the lee side of the shelter to do what I needed to do. When I came back around, I looked for Ugh. I couldn’t see him anywhere. Thought he may have gotten blown into one of the holes.”

  Lydia scoffed.

  “Hey, the wind was blowing really hard and I was half tanked. All I could think of was to get help.

  “Martin and Ed came out, and we cautiously walked to Ugh’s ice hole. His gear lay strewn about by the wind, his pole broken. No sign he’d taken any of his gear at all.

  “It didn’t sit right with the others, either. Martin told us people put up a struggle during animal attacks, but there were no signs of an animal. We blamed the messed gear on the wind. Ed thought Ugh might have fallen and reached for his pole, then snapped it.

  “Martin brought the canteen out and toasted the hole. We figured Ugh fell in.

  “Ed crossed himself and knelt next it. He leaned forward, trying to see something in the water. Then we heard a loud growl behind us.

  “I spun around in time for a hairy shoulder to plow into me. Ed shouted and fell into the opening. Martin let out a yelp as the animal tackled him, ripping at his face.”

  Ryan took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “Shit, I need a drink. Want one?” He walked to the counter and poured a couple glasses of wine without waiting for her response. If she didn’t need one now, she’d need it soon.

  She didn’t reach when he offered her the glass, just stared at him. Shrugging, he placed it near her on the coffee table.

  After a large swallow, warmth filled his chest. “The creature tore into Martin’s throat. Blood spurted everywhere. I couldn’t move. I just watched while it grunted and Martin’s blood covered the ice.

  “Then Ed surfaced, calling for help. I could barely make out his glove at the edge. Suddenly I could move again, like I was broken from this horrific hypnosis. I stumbled to the edge, trying to keep my eye on the animal at the same time.

  “I grasped Ed’s hand and pulled, stomping into the ice for traction. Slowly, I was able to pull Ed from the water. His clothes froze almost instantly in the wind. He dropped to his knees, coughing loud and hard.

  “I told him to hush and tried to lead him back to the shelter and the flare gun in Martin’s pack. I thought maybe the fire would scare the thing off until the helicopter could arrive.”

  Ryan shook his head and closed his eyes. Damn, this was hard. He didn’t want to remember. In the years since, he’d learned to cope, to live his life so he didn’t have to go back to that place on the ice. But Lydia needed to know, so he took another deep breath and continued.

  “The coughing caught the beast’s attention. It whipped around and lunged at us. Ed screamed as the monster sank its teeth into his arm. I wasn’t about to play tug of war with that thing, so I let go of Ed and ran for the shelter.

  “I could hear his screams as I dug frantically for the flare gun. It took everything I had not to throw up, and all I could think was I’d left him to die.”

  Lydia leaned forward. “You were trying to save him,” she said, her voice soft and full of sympathy.

  His heart did back flips at her tone. “I tried,” he agreed. “All I could think was ‘flare gun, flare gun.’ Finally, I saw it. And a box of flares. I got it loaded and peeked out of the shelter.

  “Ed’s scream
s actually gurgled now. He wept and begged, lying on his back with the creature standing over him.”

  “I aimed, and as if by a miracle, the wind died and clouds parted, giving me a good look. The creature stood upright, its entire body covered in fur except for its face and long clawed feet. It stood on Ed’s shoulder. Its dog–like snout gripped Ed’s arm, pulling higher like it wanted to cause as much pain as it could before ripping it off.”

  “Dog–like?” She jumped up again. “Just when the hell were you planning on telling me this?” Waving one hand as she spoke, she held the other to her forehead.

  She’s so beautiful when she’s agitated, Ryan thought. “I’m telling you now, detective.” He hoped using her title would help her calm. It didn’t. He endured a lurch that had nothing to do with reliving the worst time in his life.

  She paced for a minute or two, and he enjoyed the way her body moved, hips swaying and breasts jiggling with each step. She hadn’t changed out of the clothes she’d worn to the club, and aside from a few smudges, she looked as delectable as she did when she pinned him to the wall last night. The few rips in the blouse and skirt offered glimpses of pale skin underneath. He itched to explore what lay beneath the cloth.

  When she seemed to work herself into a frenzy, he asked, “Would you care to hear the rest?”

  “Tell me.” She continued to pace.

  “Sit.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  “You’re not standing, you’re pacing. And you are distracting me from my story.” He suspected it would worsen her attitude. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but smirk when she glared at him. “Drink that wine and sit down.”

  He thanked God the fire shooting from her eyes wasn’t real, or his flesh would burn to a crisp. But she did what he told her, lifting her wine and throwing her head back to swallow it all. Then she leaned into the recliner.

  “The flare almost worked. The thing released Ed, but it bounded out of the way of the shot, then came after me.