by Sasha Winter
“Whoever he is,” Tom decided, “he’s an arrogant bastard.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He was trying to be too clever today—looking to reach Nana under armed guard. It was arrogant to think he could pull that off when there are so many easier victims to choose from.”
“Bear has an ego.”
“This one does, for sure. There must be a way that can work in our favor…”
A distasteful idea flashed into Tom’s mind right then. Though he dismissed it immediately, there had been an honest reason for it manifesting. Two out of three of the desired victims had been removed; Jake’s family and now Nana Morgan, which left Erin. If he was a ruthless and uncompromising man, he would think of some brilliant way for Erin to be bait for catching the killer, assuming that the only known target still in the vicinity would become the focus.
But Tom wasn’t that kind of cop. The thought of risking Erin to draw out the murderer made him feel sick, and he was not about to presume he was clever enough to pull something like that off anyway. Tom knew he was far from stupid, but he didn’t think of himself as a mastermind either. Such a hare-brained scheme felt certain to turn bad, and he wouldn’t have blamed Erin for never forgiving him if she was used in such a way, so he did not voice any such idea to Jake. All the same, the thought that Erin might now become the killer’s sole focus lingered. He would have to make sure his safeguarding of her was tight, even if they heard nothing else for another week or two, but more than that, he would have to try and think like their tormentor. Whether he liked it or not, his girlfriend might end up becoming the bait in the end. Maybe they had been watched all week for just such an opportunity, causing the killer to grow frustrated and decide to try for Nana instead.
Tom had tried to adhere to a certain line of discipline between realism and paranoia up until then, but that line was now shattered because the chips at stake were too precious to risk dismissing the wildest of interpretations.
Erin meant too much to him for it to be any other way.
13
Erin would’ve caused Tom more problems than she realized if it had turned out they didn’t enjoy living together, or were having second thoughts about taking what was still a very young relationship so seriously. Fortunately this was not the case, even though Tom was often distracted and thoughtful over the bear serial killer case. If it took extra effort to get his attention, then that was fine because distraction didn’t equal disinterest and Erin was able to use whatever subtle—or not so subtle means—at her disposal to draw his mind away from the case. She knew that was the only problem and, once the community was able to put all the horrors behind it, that the delight Tom had in her company could then be uninterrupted.
The only curious moments, during which Erin thought Tom might have wanted to say something then held back—though occurring in such a way that she wondered whether it was to do with something other than work—happened twice when they were eating. Erin had gotten used to Tom’s massive appetite and delighted in cooking a few more dishes for him that he had never tried before, knowing how appreciated they would be by someone who loved his food so much. She had become less shy about commenting on it, however, although one time when she said, “You’ve got an appetite to rival any real bear shifter, my love,” his reaction was to pull a confused expression.
“Erin,” he asked in response, “just out of curiosity, how did you come across that dating site?”
“It just came up on a search,” she explained, “several pages down Google. I was thinking of picking one of the top sites when the word ‘Dare’ just attracted me; it was exactly what I needed to do. Lucky for us I did, huh?”
“Definitely. So it was just the word ‘Dare’?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t about to be baring my flesh on there, if that’s what you mean. Though I’ve heard people do that. Why, were you expecting a nudie pic?”
“No. That’s not what I was looking for.”
“Did any of the other users ever send you a nudie pic, Tom?” she asked, trying but failing not to giggle.
“No, but one of the other users—I think a troll account—sent me a picture of a salmon.”
“A salmon? Why?”
“I think it was supposed to be a joke at my expense.”
Erin’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why is a salmon insulting?”
“Well, I didn’t find it particularly funny,” he replied. “Didn’t you notice anything about all the male profiles on there, though? Like it was an acquired taste?”
“Hmm…now you mention, although I specified that I liked big hunky guys like yourself, there were an incredible amount of results that flung back; page after page. I guess it’s true what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“About the human species getting bigger and taller all the time—except for me, of course. I’ve been five foot three since I was thirteen, and I haven’t grown an inch since.”
“So you don’t think all the shift… all the profiles were drawn there for a reason?”
“Oh, I see what you mean. So it helps for men of a certain physique to target the same site, knowing that ladies who like their type will be drawn to it. I can see how that works. Why waste time browsing through dating sites of men who don’t fit your preference? Guess I was lucky finding the right one.”
“We were both lucky,” Tom replied but, although Erin had thought it a casual conversation, her man seemed incredibly contemplative about the whole website mystery for some time afterwards. Maybe it was just his IT obsession, or else there was something about what goes on with dating sites to which she was ignorant? Could he have been misbehaving on there? Prowling around with the intention of using the site for no strings attached sex, only to accidentally come upon a meaningful relationship? If this was true then she had won him over in spite of himself, although on some level she should have been able to give him grief for it.
Maybe he would get round to telling her in his own time, but until this bear shifter case thing was dealt with, she decided not to pry. As the first week since they moved in together had passed, Erin had not really given the case much thought. Being with a new love was still too overwhelming for her to feel that anything going on in the outside world concerned her at all. She thought the killer’s presence outside her house a complete coincidence, was grateful for the police protection, though still felt pretty divorced from proceedings. The story would dissipate at some point, life would return to normal and she would not have to cut off any more hours in her bakery.
All this, until a strange dream she had after the first week of her sleeping in Tom’s bed. A change of surroundings can often be disorientating, especially to the unconscious mind, but for the first seven days Erin had hardly noticed any such effects at all, wrapped up as she was with being in Tom’s arms every night. What happened outside of those bulky tendons was of no concern.
That was until a feeling of unease started to convince her she should desire more alertness.
Perhaps the mind is aware of more than we realize during sleep. Whatever the reason, Erin woke up on Monday morning convinced that something was scratching at the wall outside. Jumping out of bed immediately to take a look had only resulted in a view of the calmest street scene you can imagine, with the exception of Tom’s next door neighbor mowing his lawn, to whom she came very close to accidentally flashing her breasts.
One strange awakening wasn’t going to trouble her, however. Most likely she had confused the sound of the lawn mower with something she had been dreaming of; an explanation that would have sat just fine with her if the hint of a bad dream had not recurred, but the following few nights taught her that sleep could no longer be trusted.
Very quickly, she was having more dreams than it was possible to be aware of, combined with waking up suddenly again. At first this was reserved for the final hour before their alarms went off, but by the end of the week Erin was having fitful sleep throughout the night and even had to
get out of bed and look out of the window a couple of times to convince her mind that nothing was there and it was safe to close her eyes again. As for those dreams, they were not really stories so much as a state of mind ruled by fear and apprehension, although Erin was convinced that she was in a dark forest, occasionally having the impression of surroundings ferns and something prowling.
Undoubtedly the bear shifter case had begun to affect her in some way also, though she could not for the life of her figure out why, as Tom was keeping her safe with him. Until some brief waking dream about scratching near the window, she hadn’t given her own safety a second thought in days. Neither did she go about her days looking over her shoulder or fearing the sight of a furry face—but that was until a thought occurred to her.
What if her nightly imaginings were in fact based on something tangible? Consciously, she hadn’t been concerned with danger, but unconsciously she had become aware of it.
Maybe because there was something unnerving actually going on…
Learning that the killer had gone quiet might’ve meant that he was lying low, but it could also mean he was in the process of employing some devious trick or game. Like a stalker, maybe he was really hanging around the house, in human or bear form and looking for ways to unsettle them both. Maybe the scratching at the walls had really happened and, although not loud enough to wake her, was alarming enough for her unconscious mind to retain when it did.
As soon as she asked herself this question, Erin was plagued by knowing that she couldn’t tell for certain. There were all kinds of speculations to be made about what goes on in the human brain, and she wasn’t the one to make them, or pretend to be too clever about studying and analyzing them for that matter. But by the time a week had passed and she was increasingly on edge, Erin decided she could not keep the feeling inside much longer. She was anxious about changing the nature of the set-up with Tom (bad dreams aside, she was pretty happy), but she wanted to sleep soundly at night again.
The decision meant a change of tack. She would actually have to speak to Tom about the case.
Up until then, they had only exchanged the occasional comment on proceedings, mostly to reassure each other than there were better subjects to think about and it would all be over soon. Now she would have to take an interest and hope that Tom didn’t feel pestered by having her pry.
It was on their drive back from the bakery the following Saturday that she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to broach the subject.
“Tom, I erm…” she began, tentatively. “I was just wondering if you’ve been having trouble sleeping?”
“To be honest, my sleeping’s been pretty unpredictable since this case began,” he replied. “Although I have slept much better with you beside me. Why do you ask?”
“Oh. This last week I’ve just started to have these strange dreams. I don’t mean to bother you with them—I guess the murders are starting to play on my imagination a bit.”
“Don’t worry, Erin. I’ve been astonished by your resilience so far and fully expected you to be freaked out long before now. So what happens in these dreams, dare I ask? Are they horrible?”
“Nothing much happens in them, except I feel scared. The problem is that when I wake up—which is increasingly often—I have the distinct impression that there is someone in the garden or just outside the window.”
Tom leaned over and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry if all this is causing you nightmares. Have you actually heard any sounds outside of sleep?”
“Well, that’s where we get into grey areas,” she confessed. “I’m becoming a bit sleep deprived, and I’m starting to be uncertain of what’s real and what’s dream. A couple of times I’m sure I’ve heard scraping on the walls of the house, but on looking out of the window there’s been nothing there. Although by then the sounds have also stopped.”
Tom was silent and thoughtful.
“I wondered if there might be some ferns or something. You know, scraping against the house in the wind, but I’ve had a look in the day and can’t see any suspects in need of the chop.”
Still Tom did not respond.
“I didn’t want to bother you about the case, but…”
“It’s all right,” Tom reassured her, “I was just thinking. I don’t want to alarm you either, but there’s more to this than meets the eye. Jake is uncertain about this shifter’s motivations, but he is at least considering that my theory might be right.”
“What theory?”
“Well, it’s complicated, but it mostly revolves around the killer being both clever and vindictive. We know he’s been looking to disrupt police operations and I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to try and upset our lives in whatever way possible—while things are still at a stalemate.”
“You think there could be something in it?”
“I need to take a look round the house when we’re back,” he said, “and maybe I should stay up and do a surprise inspection in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t take risks, Tom.”
“Oh, don’t worry. The only risk will be the ones he’s taking if he really is stalking the house. I’ll be armed with my revolver, after all…and I’ll smell the bastard if he’s been around.”
“Why’s that? Do bears stink?”
“Oh, I mean… it was just a form of expression.”
“Cop talk, like having a hunch?”
“Well, yeah… no, it means more than a hunch. It means being certain of something.”
Erin thought to tell him her story about the time she caught a wild bear in her bakery and started hitting it with a broom to get rid of it, but then thought better of it. Tom needed to be confident in her reactions right now and, brave as it might have sounded, he would probably not be thrilled with the knowledge that she’d once such an unpredictably gung-ho approach to peril.
That poor bear, though, she thought. I must’ve scared the thing half to death!
14
Tom took the whole story about claw sounds at the window more seriously than he let on to Erin. He didn’t want to freak her out anymore and so had kept his words tactful, but he was pretty sure his girlfriend was the intended next victim.
Their conversation had drawn his attention back into close proximity. Hearing nothing for a week had turned his speculations desperate, and he had even entertained the notion of disappearing into the forest in bear form and tracking down, or calling out to challenge the fiend in some way (as if bears actually met up and had duels). No doubt some of his underlings at work had resisted making such a suggestion, though it was doomed to fail. The killer’s bloodlust might have extended beyond women and children, unlike most cowardly serial killers, but in bear form he was still attacking people considerably weaker than him. There was nothing to say that he would relish confrontation with another bear.
Once they were back home, Tom had been as good as his word, undertaking a step by step investigation of the gardens to the front, back and side of his house. He even knocked on his neighbor’s door and asked them if he could make some security checks for their own benefit. By then, the whole community knew about the potential for cops and their loved ones being targeted, so he didn’t think he was terrifying them needlessly in suggesting there might be a vicious eight-foot tall killer hanging around.
In the event, he’d found nothing and didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated by this fact. Unfortunately the search was inconclusive, though. When he had finished his first attempt and gone back in the house, Erin had asked him, “What were you doing sniffing back there, like you’re Crocodile Dundee or something?”
There would be an amusing conversation ahead once he revealed that he was a bear shifter too. He’d initially assumed she already knew and thus never discussed it with her, seeing as she really should have figured that out from using a dating site that said it was to match women up with bear shifters, but from his conversation with her the other day, it seemed as if she had continually misread the site a
s Dare2Bare.com, not Dare2Bear.com. Because this conversation was still in the future—he was going to see how long it took for her to figure it out, just to tease her—he didn’t let on that he actually had the ability to smell out any bears in the vicinity.
Initially he had thought this proof that Erin’s dreams were just that: dreams. Then on reflection he had thought more about how clever this killer was and the extent he would go to. The sinister enigma would know he was stalking the house of a bear shifter and, if he prepared properly, there were ways of maximizing the human angle to mask a scent, like forcing a different diet, for example. Bears might dislike being away from their favorite food more than most other creatures, but he could believe that this one was prepared to go that far as it continued to toy with them. His garden did not smell of bear right now, but it certainly had a strange scent to it; one that he really couldn’t figure out.
The trail might have gone quiet, but Tom knew he had to do everything in his power to keep watch over Erin and not to let their vigilance slip up for just a moment. Another protective custody was even becoming an option, though his girlfriend would have to be dragged kicking and screaming away from that bakery of hers.
So Tom’s thinking at the time could be summed up as a very precarious one, but no further drastic measures were taken because, after that, nothing happened for two whole weeks. The community and indeed some of his colleagues grew impatient then cynical with the wait, even if he could not, until one day there was a very significant development. Pretty much the whole of his team was summoned to headquarters; Jake had an announcement to make and, as a result, their perspective was about to change.
After thanking everyone for their hard work over the last few weeks, Jake addressed the whole crew on the current situation.
“Now as you all know—and some of you have pointed out to me,” he began, “we haven’t heard sight or sound of our notorious bear shifter killer for three weeks now. Not since the second attempt on Nana’s life, except for some potential stalking activity around Tom’s place that may or may not have occurred, but even so that gives us two weeks with no known activity. If this bear’s still shitting in our woods then we can’t smell it anymore.”