Along Comes a Wolfe

by Angie Counios

He grunts, not looking my way.

  I search all the pockets and find nothing. I toss it over my shoulder and flip through the book.

  Charlie looks up and smiles. “Looks good on you.”

  “Shut up—!”

  Something falls out of the book, catches in the wind, and blows across the road. I race after it, leaving Charlie standing in the middle of the street. The thing catches in the tall grass that rises at the end of the block, flickering like a playing card on a bicycle spoke.

  “What is it?”

  I pick it up and flip it over. It’s a picture of a pretty brunette with a big smile.

  I look at Charlie. “Do you think—?” I point towards the map he holds.

  Charlie’s already there.

  “We have to take this to Gekas,” I say.

  “Agreed.”

  I look at him, surprised and relieved.

  “Look, we got our asses kicked today. But you’ve got to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s got too much on me. I don’t need her finding my fingerprints on this thing.”

  I nod.

  Charlie looks up and sees two seagulls flying overhead. “If I get shit on, I’m gonna to find a bird to punch.”

  I laugh as we hobble to the car.

  chapter 84

  I sit in Detective Gekas’ office, once again waiting for her to see me.

  People are shuffling around behind me, but I don’t turn to look. There are a lot more folders piled on her desk since the killer has claimed another victim. Whatever bs she said in her television interview, she’s juggling Sheri’s missing person’s case and the murders of all the other girls. I can also read the top page of a stack of papers that appear to be reports and tips from nervous citizens or wannabe cops about every kid walking down the street with their hood up.

  I’m nervous and can’t stop wiggling my foot. Somewhere behind the cushion of the chair, there’s a hard bump, like a loose screw, that digs into my back.

  Only a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in that uncomfortable plastic chair in the principal’s office, waiting for Gekas, not really aware of the messed-up things people are capable of. I believed Sheri was still alive and the world was safe. But now, nothing is the same—not the office, or the chair, or me—except for the weird, uncertain twist in my guts. And maybe Gekas’s unwavering hunt for answers.

  I feel someone enter the room and unconsciously sit up straight. It’s another detective, a man, adding another file to the shaky heap.

  “You waiting for Gekas?” he asks absently, not really caring for an answer, but I give a him a nod anyway.

  “Do you want anything? Water?”

  I try to say, “No, thanks,” but he’s already gone, leaving with as much apathy as he brought in with him.

  The whole department must be under pressure. Listening to the chaos of ringing phones, buzzing printers, and chattering clerks down the hall, I’d think I was in the office of one of Dad’s clients. The police station isn’t like in the movies. There’s no excitement, no eureka moment that moves the case forward. They’re doing the tough slog of gathering pieces of evidence, hoping that something will push the case along or crack it wide open. I hope that what I’m about to tell Gekas will help, but I know it could also blow everything up.

  My offering is, unfortunately, complicated.

  I shift in my seat and reach into the pouch of my hoodie. My muscles twinge sharply as I pull out the picture of the girl. It’s gonna take a while to recover from that throwdown.

  I flip it over and stare at her, this girl I don’t recognize. My memory kicks me in the head, and I think of the disgusting remains of that poor dog in the basement. Immediately, I think about Sheri. I don’t like how these two thoughts run together and I try to close a mental door on both of them.

  How should I best proceed here?

  Do I tell Gekas about my run-in with the masked killer?

  Or do I only tell her about the construction site and the dead dog and the room full of images of Charlie Wolfe and me. Maybe I keep it simple, tell her that I have a hunch, or that I somehow came across this information, or that someone left it anonymously on my locker with some cheesy note like for sheri written on it in red marker.

  I scoff, knowing the answer. I’ve placed myself at the centre of the most ridiculous cliché. For every lie I’d tell, there would be too many questions that would have to be answered.

  It’s all or nothing.

  “Anthony.”

  I jump.

  Gekas comes around to the other side of her desk. “Did I startle you?”

  “No. I was just distracted.” I slide the photo back into my pocket, hoping she doesn’t notice.

  She sits down and leans forward in her chair.

  The sun isn’t in my eyes this time. Although I feel like Gekas and I should be on a level playing field, I’m not at ease.

  “You hung up on me this morning.” She looks tired, but it seems like she’s trying to soften her face with a slight smile.

  “I know.”

  It’s not my style to be rude and I feel bad, but then again none of what I’ve been up to is my style. “I just really thought you should look at the surveillance cameras.”

  Gekas nods. “What happened to your cheek? And your eye?” I’m really grateful I’m not a white kid right now because the bruises don’t look as bad as they actually are.

  “I had a little too much to drink at the party. Dumb, I know.”

  Crap—the lies begin.

  She watches me. And I see the edges of her lips tighten and the smile disappear.

  I try to move it along. “So the cameras at the mall?”

  “We’re looking into it. It’s all procedure. Why did you hang up so suddenly?”

  “I apologize. It was rude.”

  “I’m not looking for an apology, Anthony.” She sits back in her chair and glances at the mess of paperwork sprawled over her desk. “I’m concerned. You see, you have an alibi and so does Charles Wolfe, but your recent decision to sniff around crime scenes has me worried.”

  She’s still gentle, but I can feel her firming up.

  “This isn’t a game, Anthony.”

  Really? I must have missed that while worrying that my girlfriend’s missing, likely dead, that my life’s been turned upside down, and that I’ve recently been shit-kicked by the killer!

  “I know it’s not a game.” It comes out much more subdued than it feels.

  “And I know you’re not a suspect. So, what brings you here?”

  I’m silent. My finger runs along the edge of the photo in my pocket. Do I tell her the truth?

  “Anthony, do you see this?” She gestures to the files on her desk. “I’m busy. If you’re just here to hang out, you need to go somewhere else. Try home or the gym.”

  I pull out the photo of the pretty brunette with a big smile on her face and lay it on her desk.

  Gekas looks down at the photo.

  “What’s this?”

  “I think it’s the next victim.”

  chapter 85

  “Pardon me?”

  “I think this is a photo of the next victim.”

  She doesn’t pick it up. She looks at the girl smiling up at her.

  “Do you know her?”

  “No.”

  “Does Charles know her?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  She opens a drawer and pulls out a blue crime scene glove and slips it on. She picks up the photo by a corner, turning it over to look at the back.

  “How do you know she’s the next victim?”

  I don’t answer. Silence is better than lying.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “In
a book.”

  “In the library?”

  “No.”

  “Anthony—?”

  “Charlie and I were messing around a construction site.”

  She drops the photo as she looks at me. I can see the upside down face of the mystery girl I’m trying to save.

  “Anthony, you didn’t…?”

  I sheepishly shrug my shoulders but then interject, “We didn’t disturb your crime scene.” Which is accurate, but not precisely truthful. We did disturb a crime scene. It’s just one she doesn’t know about yet.

  “Everything out there could be a potential crime scene. Why do you think we put a fence around it?”

  The whole thing dawns on me and I realize how deep I’m in it. “We didn’t know.”

  She sighs, trying her best to move on. “So—you found a book?”

  I nod. “And a dead dog in the basement of a house. Its guts were torn out. I’ve—I’ve never seen anything like it. It wasn’t normal.”

  “And this?” She turns the image toward me.

  “That fell out of a book.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “We found a book inside the house, near the dog. I picked it up and a photo fell out of it.”

  Gekas leans back. “Just like that, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  She lays it down and picks up a pen. “Did you find anything else?”

  “No.” Lying to a cop, especially Gekas, who’s really trying to help, doesn’t feel right, but I can’t imagine telling the truth right now.

  “There was nothing else at that house?”

  She’s testing me and the lies I’ve spun. “Nothing.”

  She points at my face. “And that?”

  “Like I said, hurt myself at a party. You know how dumb us teenagers can be.”

  “Yeah, absolute fools.”

  She leans back in her chair, fiddling with the cap of her pen, watching me. I know she doesn’t believe me, but I also know that she doesn’t exactly know what the truth is. I’m sure she hasn’t guessed we had a run-in with the killer, but she’s smarter than I’d like her to be at the moment, and I can’t be certain she doesn’t already suspect the truth.

  “And where’s Charles in all this?”

  “He’s at home, I believe.”

  “I mean, does he know about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “He knows you came here to give me this?”

  I nod. “Actually it was his idea. I mean, we agreed on it.”

  She smiles. “Well, isn’t that chummy of you two. He wasn’t the one who happened to do that to you?”

  “No.” I say it too quickly, too easily, before realizing it only narrows her list of suspects even more.

  “So why isn’t he here then?”

  I try Gekas’s own tactic and lean forward in my chair. “Because you don’t like him.”

  She inhales and nods slightly in agreement. “He does make it a bit of a challenge.”

  I smile. You and me both, lady!

  “You bringing this photo to me, saying this girl may be the next victim—if she winds up hurt, or worse, suspicion may fall back on you.”

  I hadn’t really considered that possibility but it’s too late now to dwell on it.

  “Detective Gekas, will you help me, please? Will you find her? Keep her safe?”

  She nods. “Anthony, you can trust me. And when he comes looking for her, we’ll get him.”

  It’s the best thing she’s ever said to me.

  chapter 86

  I’m sitting in my backyard—it’s cold but the sun is shining—when Charlie comes through the gate. Ollie gets up to greet him, tail wagging.

  “You used the gate. I guess I’ve housebroken you.”

  “Who says I didn’t break into the front and help myself to your dad’s wall safe?”

  I shoot him a look and he smiles. “Well, now I know your family has a wall safe.”

  Charlie hands over a to-go coffee cup and grabs a leafy lawn chair, plopping himself down without clearing it off beforehand. It’s little things like this that I find strangely interesting about Charlie Wolfe.

  “Thanks, man.” It’s hot and sugary, and I appreciate it.

  “Don’t thank me. After the soy milk you gave me, for Pete’s sake, it’s the least I can do.” He takes a loud glug of his own drink, then says, “Your face looks better.”

  I crack a smile—it doesn’t hurt too bad anymore. “So does yours.”

  Ollie comes over to me for some attention and I scratch the back of his neck deeply.

  “So, how’d it go? Are we going to jail, or just me?” He rolls the warm takeout cup between his hands. “Since we’re both sitting here, enjoying this tasty beverage, I’m guessing you’re no longer a righteous boy and told a few lies?”

  “Actually, a bit of both. Sometimes the truth is just as good.”

  He snorts. “I’ll maybe have to try it sometime. Did my name come up?”

  “Yup, but I think you’re good. You’re not really her focus.”

  “For once. Did you tell her about our masked friend?”

  “No, but I wondered if I should.”

  “Nah, our psycho Marcel Marceau will probably announce himself soon enough.”

  I don’t get the reference but Charlie seems to think it’s funny and snickers at his own joke. I shift in my chair and wince as pain shoots through my body. “Man, I’m sore.”

  “You’ll be okay. Give it a couple more days. Our masked friend just likes to play a little rough.”

  It’s clear that Charlie’s had different experiences than me, especially given the way he defines what happened to us. “Playing rough” is a huge understatement.

  We sit in silence for a moment. I should be able to relax but I can’t. I don’t feel like things are over with the girl in the picture. It’s just a feeling but it’s solid. I try to shake it out of my head. Gekas is on her way to find her and she’ll be taken in and made safe. Still, something’s not right.

  I turn to Charlie. “You don’t think he’s done yet, do you?”

  Charlie shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

  chapter 87

  I put my coffee down. “What are you thinking?”

  Charlie stares up at the remaining leaves in the trees, finger flicking the edge of his lid.

  I wait quietly.

  He sets his coffee on the ground beside him and reaches over to rub the dog’s head. Ollie follows the love and parks his butt down on Charlie’s toes.

  Charlie continues to rub behind Ollie’s ears, then asks a question of his own,“Why?”

  I don’t answer because I know if I give him enough time it will come.

  “Why her?” He looks over at me, like he’s actually waiting for me to answer, but I know better. “I mean, who is she? Why choose her instead of someone else? And why that school? Why plan so specifically? Were all the other girls chosen?”

  He pauses and I step in. “You said he tracked Sheri from your school.”

  “Yeah. But am I right?” He’s never questioned himself and it surprises me. “No, he can’t be from around my school.”

  I follow his train of thought from earlier today. “Because it’s too close to home.”

  “Exactly! And that’s the other thing: a photo of me? At my school? But if he’s not from there, then why’d he follow me there?” He shakes his head.

  I think Charlie’s right—it’s not lining up.

  He falls silent, so I pick up the thread, “So, if the pieces don’t fit, then what are we missing?”

  Charlie leans forward. “Three girls. Gekas can only confirm two deaths.”

  “But all are connected based on a hunch.”

  He looks over at me and I can tell he doesn’t like to be challen
ged, but then he nods and says, “True. If I’m wrong about Sheri, then what else am I wrong about?”

  “Two murdered girls, possibly connected, and Sheri, who’s still missing—and possibly dead.” I hover over that statement before adding, “And now a potential fourth one.”

  “Right. Not that we know for sure, but all the attacks seem connected to bathrooms. But for what reason?”

  “Some weird fetish?”

  Charlie shakes his head. “It is weird, I’ll give you that. And the intimacy of strangulation sure puts it into fetish territory, but it feels like there’s more to it than that…”

  He trails off again and I can see he’s frustrated.

  “It’s like I’m missing something in front of my face, something right there that I can’t see.”

  I change the question. “Why the mask? Is it just to remain anonymous?”

  Charlie lets go of his own thought to pursue mine. “It reminds me of those happy/sad masks you see in a theatre.”

  I consider this as he grabs his phone out of his pocket and does a quick search. “Here’s something. Masks like that represent the ancient Greek muses. Melpomene is the muse of tragedy, and the one our dude was wearing is Thalia, the muse of comedy.”

  “Comedy, huh? Not funny.”

  “I don’t think he’s trying to be ironic. That video of Bonnie—he was performing for us.”

  “So what? You think he’s making a movie?”

  Charlie doesn’t answer.

  I look over. “What?”

  “That first day, when we walked the trails, we went into the bathroom…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I went through the motions, like, I tried to kill you.”

  I nod. “And?”

  “I could see myself in the mirror the whole time. I saw you and I saw myself and I could have watched me kill you.”

  “All the bathrooms—”

  “Have mirrors.”

  “He wasn’t performing for us—”

  “He was performing for himself.”

  chapter 88

  Bzzz.

  My phone hums on the table between us. I look down at the number. “Gekas.”

  Charlie looks at me with sincere interest, but I hesitate.