Bad Wolf Chronicles, Books 1-3

by McGregor, Tim

  “They confiscated it.”

  “Too bad. That woulda worked.” He looked around the room, the table. “You could try bashing your brains against this hard corner but my guess is they’d stop you before you did any real damage.”

  “You want me to kill myself?”

  “What other option do you have?”

  Lara’s eyes fell to the patchwork of scars on her forearm. How easy would it have been to just cut deeper? How many times had she wavered with the silver blade hovering over her wrist? Too late now.

  “Have you killed anyone?”

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “As the wolf. You killed anybody?”

  “No.” She shook her head sharply but her brow furrowed, doubt creeping in. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything when it happens so how would I know?”

  “You’d know.” Ivan Prall scratched his foul beard. “There may be some hope for you yet if that’s the case.”

  “What kind of hope? A cure?”

  “Your soul. If you ain’t taken a life as the wolf, maybe you won’t go to Hell.”

  She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not with him. But there was nowhere to go. In for a penny, in for the pound. “Is that where you are? Hell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  He slipped the sunglasses off and his irises glowed yet with that eerie amber, some vestigial remnant of the wolf still in there. There were tears too, dribbling from the corner of his eyelids. “It’s awful. It’s so goddamn awful…”

  Wolves don’t cry, she remembered. Prall himself had told her that. Apparently that rule didn’t apply to the dead.

  It was too much. This onetime lobo holding his guts in and crying into his rancid beard. Lara lay back down and turned her face to the wall and waited for it all to go away.

  The husky snored, crowding her space on the bed. Amy lay awake, watching the minutes click over on the bedside clock.

  Dad had been taken.

  Lara under arrest.

  She was trapped in her mom’s house.

  Something had to be done. Amy stared up at the ceiling and formulated a plan, discarded it and formulated another.

  She sat up, shook the dog awake. “Wake up.”

  Creeping downstairs, she set her things by the front door and scarfed down a bowl of cereal and fed the dog. A small whiteboard hung on the refrigerator door and she took the marker dangling on its string and tried to think of a note to leave for Cheryl.

  “Honey?” Cheryl tiptoed into the kitchen, her arms folded against the chill. “Why are you up so early?”

  “Uh, I got a lot of things to do today,” Amy said. Think fast. “Thought I’d get an early start.”

  Cheryl squinted at the clock. “It’s not even six. Is everything okay?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Needed to do something, you know?”

  Cheryl nodded and put her hand on her daughter’s arm. Gave a little squeeze. “Your dad’s going to be okay. I know he will.”

  “I know.” Amy nodded to where the dog sat waiting by the front door. “I’m taking him with me. We won’t be back until tonight.”

  “Oh. Be home for dinner, okay?”

  “Don’t wait for me. I’ll fix something if I miss dinner.”

  “I’ll keep a plate warm for you.”

  “Okay.” Amy gave her mom a squeeze back. “Go on back to bed. I’ll see you later.”

  Cheryl patted Amy’s arm and yawned and headed back towards her room. Amy wanted to say something more. I love you or goodbye but she held her tongue, knowing it would alert her mom that something wasn’t right.

  She listened for the click of the bedroom door and then slipped on her coat. Hefting the black duffel over her shoulder, she led the dog out and closed the door behind her.

  She got off the 24 bus and walked the last five blocks home with the duffel bag killing her shoulder. The dog trotted ahead, sniffing everywhere and marking territory. She was worried there would be a cruiser parked in the street to watch the house but the street was empty. Letting herself in, she left the bag by the front door and went to her room and dug out her backpack. She stuffed it with extra clothes, all heavy winter wear stuff and then took it out to the hall closet and tossed in extra hats and gloves.

  Hauling the backpack and duffel outside, she loaded the gear into the back of the Cherokee. Some of the camping gear her dad had packed was still here. The rest of it, including the extra bag of dog kibble, had been unloaded just inside the garage and she loaded it back into the truck. The duffel and her backpack went in next.

  The husky looked up as she came back into the kitchen and followed her into her dad’s office. She rummaged through the desk drawers until she found his stash of emergency cash. Two hundred and fifty dollars, some loose change. She folded it into her pocket with her own cash and opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. The dented license plate was stuffed in the back, along with its paperwork. She turned out all the lights in the house and went back to the garage for a screwdriver.

  Ducking low behind the Cherokee, she removed the plate from the back and replaced it with the old dented plate. Never one to be above bending rules, her dad had once showed her the extra set of tags he had kept handy. He’d kept cagey about what exactly he needed these plates for but seemed pleased with himself for setting up tags that officially belonged to someone who only existed in a file with the DMV. Small mercies, she could use these false tags now.

  She whistled and the dog hopped through the driver’s side door and on into the back. Amy climbed in after and fired it up. The gas gauge registered full, to her relief, and she pulled out and drove away.

  “Rise and shine sunshine.”

  Lara sat on the floor as the door swung open and a detective entered. A man, moustache and gut of a seasoned pro. “Detective Mendes in the flesh. They told me they found you but I thought for sure they were pouring shit down my socks.”

  Detective Latimer. Veteran homicide cop and pillar of the detail. The few times Lara had dealt with Latimer, he was an asshole. Little had changed in her absence.

  Latimer grunted as he sunk into a chair. “Do you know what I been doing since you up and vanished on us, Mendes? Cleaning up the mess you left behind. For months now. That was a helluva crapout you left us with. Meanwhile, everyone around here’s been so ‘oh where could she be?’ and ‘we look after our own around here. Find her’.”

  Lara said nothing. Clearly Latimer needed to blow off steam. So let him.

  Latimer was just warming up. “Me? I knew you were dead. You know how I knew that? Because no cop would just bugger off like some French backpacker on tour. Not after this shitstorm. If she’s alive, I told ‘em, she’d be back to help tie this up. No cop leaves their balls twisting in the wind like this.” The blotchy patches on his cheeks brightened. “But low and behold, you pop up outta nowhere. And, this is the kicker, they tell me you won’t talk. Izzat true? All this shit smeared over the detail and… YOU WON’T TALK?”

  Latimer rose, grunting under the effort and he brushed his hands together as if they were soiled. “Sweetheart, you shoulda been dead. Cuz you’re going wish you were after this is done.”

  “Feel better?”

  “What?”

  Lara craned her neck. “That little speech. Did it go as well as you’d rehearsed it?”

  “Dig that grave a little more, Mendes. Your tombstone’s all picked out and waiting.”

  Another shadow darkened the open door. Detective Wade. He held a clutch of papers in hand and pushed them into Latimer’s chest. “Latimer, who’d you blow to swipe this file out from under Charlene?”

  “I’m the one with the book collecting dust, not her.” Latimer looked at the forms in his hand. “The hell is this?”

  “Orders. You gotta take her to the hospital for an assessment before anymore questioning.”

  Another capillary burst on Latimer’s nose. “I don’t got time to babysit a doctor v
isit.”

  “Lieutenant’s orders. Take it up with him.”

  Lara bristled at Wade’s words. She rose to her feet. “Hey, I’m fine. No doctors.”

  “Out of my hands, Lara” Wade said. “They just need a doctor to check your pulse and officially declare you among the living.”

  A hospital. Doctors probing and prodding. How quickly before they found something out of order and called in some other doctor for a second look? Biopsies and tissue samples and then somebody calls the tabloids. “No,” she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “I’m fine. Really--“

  “Shut up.” Latimer dragged her to the door. “A small reprieve before the guillotine. Let’s get this over with.”

  Lara shot Wade a pleading look but all he did was shrug as Latimer escorted her away.

  Amy smeared an am across her brow. A cold sweat that she hoped the desk sergeant didn’t notice. “Please. Detective Farbre knows me. She’ll okay it.”

  The desk sarge shucked up his shoulders. “She’s not available. Sorry.”

  “Then try detective Wade. He’s my dad’s partner.”

  “Honey, this is a busy place. Tell me exactly what you want and maybe I can help.” He looked as exasperated as she felt.

  “A woman was brought in last night.” Amy sighed, going through it all again. “Her name is--“

  A bustle at the hallway cut her short. Lara, escorted into the lobby by Detective Wade and another plainclothes officer. Amy darted past the desk towards them. “Lara!”

  Latimer thrust out a hand. “Whoa, back up kid.”

  “It’s okay,” Wade said, waving Amy in. “It’s Gallagher’s daughter.”

  Amy slowed at the sight of Lara. Her hands were cuffed and her eyes look hollow. “Lara, are you okay?”

  Lara startled. “Amy, what are you doing here?”

  “She’s fine,” Wade said. “Detective Latimer here is just taking her to the hospital for a quick assessment.”

  “Hospital?” Amy looked at Latimer, then back to Wade. “You can’t. I mean, can I talk to her for a minute?”

  “Sorry, kid.” Latimer pressed on, tugging Lara after him. “We got to go.”

  “Please. Let me talk to her.”

  Wade looked down at those puppy dog eyes and hated himself for caving. “Okay. Keep it short.”

  “I don’t got time for this,” Latimer sputtered.

  Wade fixed the blotchy-faced detective with a stern eye. “Yes you do.”

  Latimer made no attempt to hide how much he hated this. He pointed to the bench. “You got exactly two minutes. Go.”

  “You look awful,” Amy said as they sat down.

  “I’m fine.” Lara kept an eye on Latimer, hovering close by.

  Amy lowered her voice. “We have to find dad.”

  Lara lifted the cuffs on her wrists.

  “Where are they taking you?”

  “They didn’t say,” Lara said. “My guess is Providence.”

  “You need to get away from them. I’ve got the truck packed, ready to go.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Not for you.” Amy zeroed in on her eyes. “You’re stronger than they are. If you choose to be.”

  Lara shook her head. “Amy… you don’t know what you’re asking. I can’t just turn it on or off like that.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Lara. Dad never gave up looking for you. Now we have to find him.”

  “Time to go, ladies.” Latimer barked.

  Lara felt her legs go numb. The girl was crazy, asking her to just wolf out and overpower cops, bust out of a hospital.

  “I’ll be parked outside the hospital,” Amy hissed before Latimer broke in. “Find me.”

  “See ya, kid.” Latimer nodded to Amy and led Lara away. Amy watched as they were joined by two uniformed officers who flanked the detective and his ward as they went out the door.

  THIRTY-TWO

  THE CORRIDORS OF Providence Portland Medical were a miasma of smells that assaulted Lara at every step. Disinfectant and blood and body odor and desperation. A wall of scent that overpowered her like tear gas. The fact that she was this sensitive to it meant the wolf inside was uncoiling, the first uptick of heartbeat signifying what was about to unfold.

  She was escorted to a small examining room, Latimer nodding for her to sit on the gurney. “Sit tight, we’ll get this over with soon as possible.” He unlocked the bracelets. “Then you’re all mine.” Latimer posted one of the uniforms to stay in the room and he and the other officer left.

  Lara massaged her wrists and tried to breathe through her mouth. She could smell every sick person who had passed through the examining room. The remaining officer stood with his back to the door. There wouldn’t be a better time but she hesitated over what she was about to do. Letting slip the wolf just enough to overpower her guards but not enough to take over. Like walking the edge of a knife.

  She slid off the table. The officer raised a hand in warning. “Sit back down please.”

  “Officer, I’m sorry for this,” she said. He was probably going to get hurt.

  “Everything’s fine,” he said in an even tone. “Just have a seat, please.”

  Later, PO Pudowski would be unable to explain exactly what happened next. One second he was warning her to sit back down and the next he was face first on the floor with a knee driven into the small of his back. Despite outweighing his prisoner by a hundred pounds, Pudowski found himself tossed and folded like a dirty sheet.

  “Sorry.” Lara shackled the officer with his own cuffs.

  PO Pudowski bucked and kicked and yelled his head off. Lara sprang up and planted her heel into the officer’s back just as the door swung open.

  Here they come.

  Latimer was first in, the other uniform on his tail. She didn’t bother apologizing to Latimer before grabbing his collar and pivoting on her heel. Airborne, the detective crashed into the wall and landed on the bed, tipping the whole thing to the floor.

  The uniform shot an arm round her neck and hauled back. Lara’s feet left the ground as she was tilted back in the chokehold. Her gut instinct was to bite down on the young man’s arm. How bad would that turn out? Pudowski was scrambling up and she kicked her feet off of him and slammed the other officer into the wall. The chokehold slackened and she slipped out. He reached for his sidearm. She folded him in two and jettisoned him into Pudowski. They crashed over Latimer like tenpins.

  Latimer cursed when he saw the open door. The prisoner gone.

  Lara sprinted past gaping faces in the corridor and shouldered through a door. An empty stairwell, one flight down to where the exit door fed out onto the street. At the bottom she shrugged off her coat, stuck it under her arm and calmly pushed out to the street. Keeping an even pace, she struck north through a parking lot and didn’t look back. Taking the air, she tried to pick out Amy’s scent from the toxic stink of the city street.

  Amy stood outside the Cherokee, one eye out for Lara and the other for parking authority. The only place to pull over was a no-stopping zone but it afforded a good view of the northeast corner of the hospital. But a pesky parking cop might be a problem if he issued a ticket to the bogus tags on the truck.

  Of Lara, there was no sign. What if she couldn’t find her? What if Lara couldn’t even escape and was at this moment being prodded and examined by doctors aghast at what they were seeing?

  The dog slung its head out the open window. Amy let him out and told him to stay. Maybe the combined scent of her and the dog would help Lara find them.

  Then she spotted the ticket cop. He popped up between the parked cars to her left, issuing the notices and slipping them under wiper blades. Only a few minutes before he made his way to them. Another panicked glance at the hospital but there was nothing to see.

  “Come on, boy.” She coaxed the dog back into the truck, trying to stifle her panic and when she looked up, Lara was there. Amy couldn’t stop the smile stretching her jaw muscles. “You made
it! I was starting to worry.”

  Lara flung open a back door. “Get us out of here.”

  Amy hustled behind the wheel and pulled into traffic without looking. A car honked at being cut off and Amy ignored it, speeding up. The wail of siren froze her blood. An ambulance sailed past.

  “Take a right up here,” Lara said from the backseat. “Cut over to Halsey.”

  Amy checked Lara in the rearview. She didn’t look good, doubled over with sweat beading her pale face. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s happening.”

  “Oh shit.” Amy reached for something on the passenger seat and handed it back. “Here. Best I could do.”

  Lara took the bundle and unraveled it. A big carving knife. The tip broken off and the handle wrapped tight with hockey tape to form a sturdier grip. The tingle in her fingers confirmed that it was sterling. She had seen this knife before. Gallagher had told her it came from his dead mother’s carving set. They had used it to gut open Ivan Prall.

  She pushed up her sleeve and ran the edge of the blade into her forearm. Blood welled up under the silver and the effect was immediate. Her heartrate dropped, her mind cleared. The dog watched her with wary eyes.

  She searched out Amy’s eyes in the mirror. “Are you okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine. Stay down.”

  Lara slid down in the seat, ignoring the sting from the blade in her arm. “We’ll have to lose the truck soon. It won’t take them long to flag your dad’s vehicle.”

  “We’re good,” Amy said. “I swapped out the plates.”

  That took Lara by surprise. “With what?”

  “Dad had bogus ones. They’re issued to the city. Got the paperwork too, it’s in the glovebox.”

  Lara felt her pulse slow even more and watched Amy drive. “Girl, you’re awesome.”

  They stayed off the main corridors for as long as they could then Lara had Amy take the Vet Memorial across the river into Washington. On the north end of Van, Lara told her to pull over. Amy turned into an empty lot surrounded by hemlock trees and killed the engine and everyone disembarked. The dog scampered off, marking every tree in a ten yard radius.