Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Big Bad Wolf)

by Charlie Adhara

  “Our world is small,” Yvette said, a typical wolf greeting, and stood to greet him. “I hope your family is keeping well.”

  They exchanged pleasantries while the rest of the table—and room—watched awkwardly and Cooper continued to stand, hovering over everyone like a ghoul. He started to back away as subtly as possible, wondering if he could make it out of the room like this, but Terradas turned to stare at him, his very dark, intense eyes stopping Cooper in his tracks.

  “Hello,” De Luca said. Now he, too, was staring at Cooper. Either he was very tuned in to his partner’s movements, or he hadn’t been quite as caught up in conversation with Yvette as he’d pretended to be. “You look like a lost, lone duckling.” De Luca smiled and winked, taking any sting out of his words. “Where’s your mate?”

  “He’s, um, just stepped out.”

  “The big, tall, handsome guy who just left?” Terradas asked. “Aren’t you the lucky one.”

  “Oh, well,” Cooper said uncomfortably. “He’s a terrible backseat driver, so we all have our burdens to bear.”

  De Luca looked a little bewildered, then started to laugh. “I’m sure he’s very lucky to have you, too, Mr....”

  “This is Kyle. Davis,” Yvette filled in, taking pity on Cooper, clearly awkward in the limelight, then continued to introduce the rest of the table.

  De Luca, seemingly reluctant to be distracted, turned back to Cooper almost as soon as was polite. “And your bad passenger? What’s his name?”

  “Andrew Preston,” Cooper said with casual confidence and waited to be told it most certainly was not.

  “Preston... I don’t know the name,” De Luca said, looking to Terradas, who shook his head. “Small family, I assume?”

  The overwhelming instinct was to agree. They were literally handing him a perfectly reasonable answer. But the best way not to get caught in a lie is not to lie, Cooper reminded himself. “Pretty big, actually. But he grew up way north of here and we live in DC now.”

  For whatever reason this seemed to relax De Luca, and Cooper knew he’d made the right call. “How exciting for the retreat, to have guests willing to travel. Victor and I were just finishing some business nearby and thought we’d make a long weekend of it. Fortunately, they were willing to fit us in last minute.”

  Cooper wondered if they were given a choice. Was this retreat within De Luca’s territory? Did it matter? He desperately needed to talk to Park.

  “Business?” Yvette asked, bless her. “Nothing to worry about, I hope.”

  “No, no. Rebel packs and their yearly grumblings. Would it even be a true summer if dogs didn’t get hot under the collar?” De Luca trailed off, distracted. Standing just outside their little circle was Jimmy. He shifted nervously as the eyes of the group landed on him. “Hello,” De Luca said with less friendliness than he had given Cooper.

  “Dan, right?” Jimmy said, a bit too loudly, reaching forward to shake De Luca’s hand, pumping it a bit too hard. Machismo was alive and well in this corner of the wolf world, apparently.

  “I prefer Daniel,” De Luca said. Beside him, Terradas looked vaguely amused.

  “Right, Daniel, of course. My mate and I just moved outside of Charleston.” He gestured toward, Lisa who was watching from across the room. “Met your friend in the area, Gloria.”

  De Luca smiled. “I adore Gloria.”

  Jimmy, enthused by this, seemed ready to say something else, but De Luca turned back to Cooper. “And how long have you lived in DC?”

  “Oh, um.” Cooper counted quickly in his head even as he noticed Jimmy’s face, angry from yet another dismissal. Specifically, angry at Cooper, center of attention again. “God, almost thirteen years now.” Had it really been so long? He’d moved to DC only because it made the most sense at the time. And now he was looking at buying a house? Was this it? Was this where he’d live for...the foreseeable future?

  Cooper blinked rapidly, refocusing. Midlife crisis later, crime solve now. “But it’s certainly beautiful in the mountains. Cooler, too.”

  “Yes, such a relief to put fur on here,” De Luca said. “It really is a perfect location,” he added almost covetously, and exchanged a speaking look with Terradas. Cooper wondered if the pack with the largest territory around was perhaps looking to expand.

  As any comment about the weather could be relied on to do, everyone in the group felt compelled to describe the specific temperatures they had just experienced at their own hometown, and soon Cooper was able to casually drift out of the circle and start to slip away. Terradas again looked sharply at him, almost as if willing him to stop, but this time Cooper just ignored him. He could hear Jimmy’s loud, eager voice contradicting what he had just said about preferring dry heat when De Luca said the opposite. Cooper silently wished him luck with that.

  Most of the room was making moves as well. Preparing for their next activity of the day or just ready to relax elsewhere. Heading in the direction he’d seen Park go, Cooper exited the dining room and found himself in a dark hall he was pretty sure led back to the lobby. Park had definitely known who De Luca and Terradas were. Did that mean they had recognized him, too? If they had, they’d done an excellent job hiding it. Really, Paul could use a lesson or two.

  Toward the end of the hall a wooden door was partially open, and beyond it Cooper realized he heard voices. They were arguing. He immediately slowed, pulling closer to the wall and inching closer as quietly as possible.

  “...for you. Please don’t do this.” That was a woman’s voice, a slight Southern accent tipping her words.

  “Don’t pretend this was ever about anything but you and your fucked-up obsession. But you’ll never be forgiven. Never.” Likely a man’s voice. Deeper and harder to hear, but that was all Cooper could tell without getting closer. He racked his brain for who had already left breakfast. He risked a step closer, not daring to breathe.

  “It will be better this time,” the woman said.

  “Better for who?” the man spat. “There’s nothing for me here. Not anymore.” That sounded like a couple’s fight, and Cooper felt a pang of guilt. If he was just eavesdropping on someone’s relationship imploding, he’d feel pretty shitty.

  “Just wait. A couple of months and we’ll—” A distant rumble of thunder sounded and the woman paused. “Great. Just perfect. As if this weekend couldn’t get any worse.”

  Another prolonged murmur of thunder reached the hall. Cooper didn’t breathe. They were too quiet. Any moment one or both of them were going to burst through that door. He needed to back the hell up. Now. But to do so while they listened to the approaching storm seemed the height of foolishness. So he stood there. Tensed. Ready.

  The sound of the man’s voice still within the room nearly made Cooper jump. “What about Llcaj?” This was his chance to retreat, but the logger’s name froze him in his tracks.

  “What about him?”

  The man laughed. “Right. Of course. If we pretend there isn’t a problem, the problem will go away.”

  “I didn’t say—What was that?”

  The distant shouted laughter of someone back in the dining room had caught their attention. Cooper tipped his head back and watched the door. Another rumble of thunder began—this one short, too short—and he backed up the hallway as quickly as he could. He was halfway back to the dining room when the ajar door yanked open and Vanessa appeared.

  “Oh!” Cooper said, not needing to fake his surprise.

  Her silver hair fell oddly helmet-like around her round face, almost like a pioneer woman’s. He could see the bun had loosened and sunk to the back of her neck. She looked confused to see him there and a little suspicious.

  “What are you doing back here?” Her eyes darted over his shoulder as if looking for potential conspirators even as she moved to block the door behind her. This was definitely the woman he’d heard, though he hadn’t rec
ognized her before, because the Southern tilt in her words was far less noticeable now.

  “I was looking for you, actually,” Cooper said, walking confidently toward her, hoping to catch a glimpse of whomever she’d been arguing with through the now open door. As he approached, Vanessa took a few quick, stumbling steps backward, like she was alarmed by his nearness, and Cooper stopped immediately. He backed up, giving her room. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Not at all,” she said smoothly. But didn’t move out of the doorway, or suggest they go somewhere with, you know, light. Of course, he was the only one squinting. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between suspicious cues and plain, natural behavior of wolves.

  “I—I wanted to thank you. For yesterday. I understand you pulled me out of the river.”

  Her expression relaxed slightly, but she stayed blocking the doorway. “Oh. Of course. I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough start to the weekend.”

  “Would have been a lot rougher without your quick thinking. And strong swimming,” Cooper said honestly.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time on the river,” she replied, neither accepting nor denying the compliment.

  Thunder rumbled again and they both listened in silence.

  “It’s getting closer,” Cooper said, and Vanessa shook her head in disagreement.

  “It sounds loud now, but it won’t actually reach us for hours yet. I just got word the hurricane took an unexpected turn. It’s hitting a bit south of here tonight, down the coast.”

  “Hurricane?” Cooper said, alarmed.

  “Not a very big one. But I’m afraid even this far away we’re in for a nasty night of weather.” She glanced over her shoulder at the partially closed door. “My office is through here. Come have a peek at the view.”

  She led him through the door and Cooper stopped in his tracks, struck by the sight. One wall was made entirely of windows overlooking the lake. The falls dominated the scene, framed like some kind of eighteenth-century art: the Romantic sublime. The incoming storm hung over the sky, and wind had whipped the water until it was swollen and white. For an unsettling moment, Cooper was filled with the sense of his own insignificance, his own brief and small life and how much of the world would always be beyond his reach.

  “It’s...wow,” he said, which felt like a shameful understatement. Tearing his eyes away from the window, he noted the room was slightly larger, but decorated similarly to Joyce’s. Bookshelves, love seat, chair, desk and plants. What had seemed tasteful and relaxing now looked laughably small and artificial, sharing the same visual field as the falls. What he didn’t see was another person. Or any obvious way out.

  “I don’t know how you get any work done,” Cooper said, scanning the room for perhaps another subtly painted door. “I’d probably just watch this all day.”

  Beside him Vanessa smiled faintly, still staring outside, a deep, tender sadness in her eyes. “You should see it in the springtime. The water gets so angry you can’t even see the rocks. But it’s nearly as good in a storm.”

  “You sound like you’ve really fallen in love with this area.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Like most love, then.”

  Vanessa laughed, her expression softening a bit. “I grew up here you know. But I—well, I left when I was sixteen. Only came back a couple years ago when Paul and I started the retreat. Twenty, thirty years, it doesn’t matter to these mountains. It’s strange how little a place changes,” she added softly, staring at the falls. “How coming home can make you feel like that same, small child again.” She tucked her wispy, fallen hair behind her ears and Cooper inhaled sharply at the vivid, dark bruise on her upper jaw.

  “Did I—” he said, horrified. “I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her hair back to cover it. “An accident. Please don’t worry about it.”

  “But I hurt you,” Cooper protested. He felt unsettled and sick.

  “I hurt you, too,” she said with a significant look down at his leg. “Do you blame me for that?”

  “No,” Cooper said. “But you did that to save me. I just...” He trailed off.

  “You weren’t yourself,” Vanessa said—too generously, in Cooper’s opinion. He did not want excuses to be made. She hesitated, then said gently, “I’m not unfamiliar with what a flashback looks like, Kyle. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “What make you think—” Cooper looked down and away, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. Frustratingly sympathetic. “How did you know about that? Did I...say something? In the river? Or after?”

  “No, not that I could hear,” she said. “But I wasn’t always a couple’s therapist. I spent the early part of my career focusing on PTSD and trauma recovery.”

  Cooper laughed, startled. “I don’t have PTSD. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I don’t.”

  Vanessa tilted her head, observing him. “Can I ask why you say that?”

  “I’m not...” Cooper hit a complete dead end. It wasn’t that he’d never heard of PTSD before. He wasn’t even someone who thought only people who lived through war or sexual assault survivors could experience it. He knew it could result from a myriad of traumas. He’d never thought it was something to be ashamed of, wholeheartedly supported anyone who got help for it, and had not once seriously associated the diagnosis with himself.

  Why the hell not? Why hadn’t the possibility he might have PTSD ever even crossed his mind? Now that he was asked so directly, he honestly couldn’t say.

  “I’ve always had anxiety,” he said at last. “Sometimes it’s just worse, that’s all.”

  “Does it get worse more often than it used to?” Vanessa prompted, leaning against her desk. “Maybe particularly in certain situations?”

  Cooper didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

  “How about I list a few common symptoms and you tell me if any of them feel at all familiar?” she said. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

  Cooper moved to cross his arms, and realized they already were crossed. Around his gut. Tight. He forced his hands behind his back and nodded. “Okay. Why not.”

  “An increase in jumpiness, feeling like you have to stay watchful, irritability, difficulty concentrating, emotional numbness, detachment or isolation from others, nightmares, flashbacks, strong physical sensations when you think about the trauma.” She waited.

  “I don’t have nightmares,” Cooper said eventually, voice barely more than a whisper.

  Frustratingly, Vanessa remained quiet. He wanted her to yell at him, to laugh at him. To tell him what an idiot he was. But she said nothing. Just plucked a tissue from the box on her desk and handed it to him.

  Cooper stared at it, uncomprehendingly. Was this some kind of metaphor? Was he supposed to wave the tiny white flag of surrender and be healed?

  But Vanessa touched the corner of her own eye delicately, and when Cooper reached up to mimic her, found his cheeks were wet. He twitched, surprised and embarrassed. He had absolutely no memory of starting to cry. Hadn’t felt it at all.

  “Sorry,” Cooper mumbled, wiping his face.

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I swear I’m not usually this—” He waved his hand, frustrated. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Well. I guess I do now, but—” Cooper froze, the bottom dropping out of his stomach once more, hopefully for the last time. “Um, I’ve been feeling really off since yesterday. Kind of...erratic, I guess? I thought it was, uh, something else.”

  “It’s not uncommon to feel emotionally fragile or like you’re overloaded on emotions after a dissociative episode,” Vanessa said.

  Cooper sat abruptly on the love seat and dragged his hands through his hair. There were too many new words. Not new-new. But newly belonging to him. He couldn’t believe he’d thought he’d been changed by a werew
olf bite.

  He groaned into his hands. He’d never felt so small and humiliated and...weirdly energetic. Wired and buzzing.

  “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?” Vanessa asked.

  Not sure he wanted to put any of that mess into words, Cooper went with a tertiary emotion. “Ignorant. Ignorant about my own insides, which is worse for some reason.” He hesitated. He had to maintain cover, but he also wanted to know. “I saw a therapist once. After I was, um, attacked. I don’t remember him saying anything about this.”

  “I can’t speak for them. But maybe you weren’t in the right place to hear it,” Vanessa offered. “Sometimes we need the distance. The space to study something clinically before accepting it for ourselves.”

  Considering he was in the middle of a missing persons investigation and his therapist was a main suspect he wasn’t sure he was in the right place to hear it now. “You said you worked with...stuff like this before? What made you move to couples counseling?”

  Vanessa glanced at the falls. A particularly strong bout of wind was flinging its surrounding mists far and wide. “My father passed away and I inherited this place. It seemed like a sign.”

  “Oh,” Cooper said surprised. “So when you said you grew up here, you meant here-here.”

  She laughed. “Yes, though it wasn’t a retreat then. We may pay top dollar for rural now, but back then it was...well. When I left at sixteen, I never once expected to be back. Never mind doing this.” She gestured around.

  She shook her head, and he could feel the fragile thread of connection between them thin. He felt oddly desperate not to let the conversation end. To not be alone with his own thoughts.

  “Dr. Joyce said you worked together. I thought that meant as couples counselors, but did he work with trauma recovery, too?”

  Vanessa looked surprised. “Did he say that? Yes, I suppose we were colleagues eventually. Though I’ll always think of him as my professor.”

  “And now you get to work together again?”