“Have you ever been to North Carolina before?” Rick asks me.
“Um, no, but it’s beautiful,” I say.
“Fall’s better. The trees look like a painting. It’s the same in Virginia, right?”
“Yeah.” I think so.
“So, which office are you based out of?”
“Um…”
“Richmond,” Will calls.
I so can’t hike and lie at the same time.
“How long have you been with the Bureau?” Rick asks.
“Almost a year.”
“A rookie, huh? You enjoying it so far?”
“It has its moments,” I say, glancing back at Will who sniffs the air. I turn back around. “How long does it take to reach the top?”
“At this pace? About twenty minutes. Getting tired already?”
My calves are already hard as rocks, and my breath’s uneven. We’ve been walking for five minutes. “I’m not much for hiking. Most of my cardio is done in malls.”
Rick grins again. “Then you must shop a lot.”
Oh, lord. After you’ve been flirted with by the master, all the others seem like two year olds just learning to talk. “Enough, I guess.” This is wrong. My boyfriend is a few feet away and despite what he says, I know this is bothering him.
“So, you travel a lot?” Rick asks.
“Yeah. We’re usually out in the field two or three weeks out of the month.”
“That must be hard.”
“You get used to it. What about you? How long have you been a Ranger?”
He goes on to give me a biography that I barely pay attention to. I nod and smile but am really keeping my eyes peeled for scratches on wood, tufts of fur, anything out of the ordinary. Unless a werewolf pops out onto the path with a bleeding head in its mouth, I’m not going to notice a thing. I see trees, trees, and more trees. Will’s our only hope.
“What about you?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Is being a Federal Investigator a calling or just a job to you?”
“Um, I don’t know,” I say as surprised by the question as my response. “I’ve almost quit a dozen times, but I’m still here. Must mean something.”
“My sister was a police officer in Winston-Salem. She loved every minute of it, but then she got married and had my nephew, it all changed. Is that common with the bureau too?”
“I guess.” I glance back at my boyfriend again, and this time he catches my eye too, smiling. I quickly turn back around, all smiles.
“Well, it must make dating tough. Having such a dangerous job and being on the road so much.”
“I do all right,” I say.
“Excuse me,” Will says. We all stop and spin around. “I think I see a member of the search party. I’m going to join him. You guys keep going.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Positive.”
“I don’t see anyone,” Rick says.
“You don’t?” I crane my neck in search of the non-existent person. “They just went down that slope. Huh.”
“I have a walkie, I’ll be fine. You guys continue up to the scene.” We nod, and Will disappears off the path into the woods. The three of us watch until he’s out of sight.
Standing with his hands on his hips Rick seems concerned and peeved. I catch his eye and smile to reassure him. “Trust me, he’ll be fine. He practically lives in the woods. Nose and reflexes like a wolf. Come on. Hiking to do.”
This time I start walking first, and the strapping men follow behind. Will must have caught the scent of the body or perp. We’ll get a call in a few minutes that he’s found something, I just know it.
Rick quickly saddles up beside me. “So, how long do you think you’ll be in town?”
“Until the case is over.”
“Because my friend’s band in playing this Friday. They’re pretty good. I—”
Will’s gone, no reason to continue this charade. “Look, I should tell you, I have a boyfriend.”
Rick balks a little, visibly taken aback. “Oh. Is it serious?”
“Yeah, is it?” Agent Rushmore asks behind us.
I shoot my fellow agent a scowl, and he just raises an eyebrow. “Yes.” I turn back around. “At least I think so. But thank you for the invite.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.”
That shuts him up. We continue up the path in relative silence save for my groans and pants. I hate hills. I’m so missing flat Kansas. We finally stop when we come across a white marker with the number “1” on it.
“This is where the leg was found?” Rushmore asks.
“Yeah,” Rick answers.
I start examining the path and adjacent area, as does Rushmore. No blood. He wasn’t killed here. The wolf must have carried the leg and dropped it for whatever reason. There are some broken branches, flattened bramble, and quite a few paw prints but no fur, no ectoplasm or anything else.
“Is this where the dogs went crazy?” I ask.
“No, that started back a little ways. But this is where we’ve been concentrating the search. We haven’t even found a scrap of clothing. If I didn’t know better I’d say a bird flew by and dropped the leg.”
“As good a theory as any,” I say.
“Let’s continue on,” Rushmore suggests.
Fifteen minutes later we’re at the top, and it was almost worth the work. Three hundred sixty degrees of rolling mountains, some tinged blue at the tops, others ethereal white from the clouds enveloping them. Depending which way I turn I’ll bet I can see Virginia and Tennessee. To the west there is even an entire hillside of Christmas trees. On the drive here, we passed half a dozen of these similar farms. Must be festive around here during the holidays. Even the grass is greener up here. In the distance, maybe a mile away, a farm house with smoke billowing from the chimney sits in the valley. The other sides of this vista are as steep as the one we just climbed but without the trail. It’d be hard but not impossible to climb up here without using the path. If our wolf didn’t park in the lot like we did, maybe he left his car on the side of the road and trekked up here. Our victim too. Or the wolf lives nearby and found himself running up here.
“I told you there’s nothing up here,” Rick says, taking a swig of his water.
“Do you know if the state police have begun searching the vicinity for ticketed or abandoned cars on the roads?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
I nod. “Give us a minute,” I say to Rick. Rushmore and I saunter away out of earshot. “Okay, so we know there were at least two people here last night: the wolf and the victim. Do you think it’s weird there isn’t any sign of either of them or their cars? They didn’t both walk here. I mean, both of them? And if our victim was here to camp or hike afterhours, there’d be a campsite or backpack.”
“Maybe we just haven’t found it yet. Or the wolf cleaned up,” Rushmore says.
“I guess.” I break away, turning back to Ranger Rick. “How far is the nearest house from here? Or road?”
“House, um, three or four miles. Besides Raccoon Road which runs along the north and west of the park, Routes 378 and 585 are three and five miles respectively.”
I remove my walkie from my belt. “Trooper Tobin, come in.”
“Tobin,” he says after a few seconds.
“Have your guys been checking for ticketed or abandoned cars on Raccoon Road, 378 or 585?”
“No, but I’ll call it in.”
“Thank you.” I clip the walkie on my belt again. As I do, I notice a bird streak across the sky landing on the other side of the ridge. Another swoops in from the opposite direction. “Guys?”
They follow me to the spot. It’s a lot steeper here, so I scoot down butt first about twenty feet toward the murder of crows picking at the grass beside a huge rock. They fly away when we approach. At first look there’s nothing out of the ordinary, no blood at least. The grass is flatter than it should be, but when I look closer I notice a tuft
of sandy brown fur and a human fingernail in the crevice of the rock. I also notice a familiar odor, salty and sour like a men’s locker room. I spent last night in a room that smelled exactly the same way. “Rush?”
I scoot over so he can examine the scene. “Got evidence bags?” Rushmore asks after taking it all in. Fanny packs are tres ugly but very useful in the field. I pull out three baggies and tweezers. He takes care of the rock, and I rip up some grass so we can check for ectoplasm. “Alexander?” He points to his left. I move and see it. Dark brown fur. My stomach twitches. Crap.
By the time we’re done with collecting that second sample, the crows have returned about fifty feet to our left. Sure enough there’s more fur, black this time, and that familiar stench. Rushmore and I exchange a worried glance. This is not good times three.
“What’d you find?” Rick calls to us.
“Animal fur,” I say. “No blood, though. He wasn’t killed here.”
We manage to climb back up. “Let me see the fur,” Rick says.
“Can’t. Evidence,” Rushmore says.
“I might be able to identify it,” Rick says.
“It’s bear,” Rushmore says. “I’ve seen it before.”
“You have?” Rick asks, not convinced in the least.
Rushmore stares him square in the eyes. “Yeah.”
I clear my throat. “Um, do you guys mind if we take a few minutes to rest before we rejoin the others? I need to rest.” And let the crows do our work for us again. “Rush, why don’t you radio the others and tell them what we found?” He nods and walks away from the suspicious ranger as I flop down on a rock and down some water.
A pack. Jesus, one werewolf’s bad enough, but three? At least? There are three official packs in America: Eastern, Central, and Western. I don’t know much about them or the rules, but I’m positive killing is a no no. Of course it could still be an innocent bystander situation. The pack came here for the isolation, accidently crossed paths with our vic, and are now wracked with guilt over it. Yeah. Right.
The crows return to their original position two minutes later. “There’s nothing else up here,” I say. “Our vic obviously didn’t camp here. I guess we should join the others in the search.”
After taking one last look around the summit and finding zippity-do-da, I follow the men back down the trail until five minutes later we spot one of the two men search teams and join them. This is more or less pointless, but I go through with it. There is an off chance we’ll find the body, though what it would tell us is negligible. Even if we do recover DNA, until we find the wolves it’s moot. We can’t run werewolf DNA through CODIS unless they killed him while in human form. Judging from the damage done, that’s an unlikely scenario. And unless the werewolves signed their names on the vic’s torso, we won’t get any closer to finding them. But I go along with it. Whoever our victim is deserves a name and proper burial.
About ten minutes later, and nothing to show for it besides aching knees, calves, and probably poison ivy, Carl comes over the walkie. “Uh, Agent Alexander? Come in,” he says, voice uneven.
Rick, my partner in the search at least for the moment, glances at me. I step out of earshot. “Alexander, go ahead.”
“Um, Bea…Will’s, uh, acting kind of strange. Can you get down here?”
“Strange how?”
“He’s…just get over here. And hurry. Please.” Carl gives me the coordinates, which I punch into the GPS.
Strange. He said strange. Not in pain, not in trouble, just strange. Still. The fear in his voice words makes my stomach clench. I excuse myself, and the moment they’re out of sight, I run like hell to the trail and down the hill. A year ago I could barely use a map, now I’ve mastered latitude and longitude. Survival skill number seven the F.R.E.A.K.S. taught me. All the fatigue from the past hour evaporates as I race down the rocky, uneven path as safely as possible darn near twisting my ankle three times. Three minutes down and five off the path again, I spot Carl hiding behind a tree watching something over a ridge. He hears me approach, concern morphing into relief on his round face. Oh crap. I dash toward him as he rushes toward me.
“Thank God it’s you,” Carl says.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Honestly? I have no fucking clue. I teamed up with an officer, and we found him like that. After I sent her away, I radioed you.”
“What—”
“Just go look. I’m,” he throws up his hands, “done.”
Great. I take this moment to mentally prepare for whatever is on the other side of that ridge because whatever it is, I am not going to like it. Not one bit. Carl’s a few feet behind me as I walk to his observation point. When I get there, I wish I had taken more than a moment.
“Is he…”
“Oh, yeah.”
My boyfriend, the future father of my children God willing, is crouched down sniffing a tree and stroking it like a lover. Oh, and he’s not wearing pants or underwear. I think he’s a millisecond from dry humping a tree. “Oh, lord.” I turn away.
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“How the hell could it get worse?”
“Well, he stopped…you know.”
My face falls. “He was…” I grimace.
“Is that what he’s into? Trees?”
“Of course not!” I don’t think. “Whatever affected the search dogs obviously got to him too. Look, we’ll figure out the cause later. We just have to get him out of here before he’s seen.”
“I tried talking to him, but it was like he couldn’t hear me,” Carl explains. “Like he was in a trance.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Carl bends down to pick up Will’s pants, handing them to me. “I couldn’t find his underwear.”
Great. Of course he couldn’t. I toss the pants over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and start walking. If Will hears me approaching, he doesn’t let on. I don’t exist. There’s nothing but him and that tree. As I get closer, I can see he’s fully erect. I look away. Him wolfing out I can handle, but this…
“Uh, Will?” I ask when I’m a few yards away. He doesn’t respond, just keeps sniffing and rubbing that tree like he did my body hours ago. A crow caws as it flies down to join its many friends in the distance. I think we found our kill spot. Still doesn’t explain Will’s behavior.
I’m a few feet away, and he still doesn’t register my presence. I don’t want to touch him. Heck I don’t want to be here period. “Will?” His nostrils flare and twitch as he licks the damn tree right over a red spot. Blood. I gag and have to step away. Okay, pull yourself together, Bea. Just get him away from there. I crouch down to his level, grab his shoulders, and shake him. “Will!” Nothing. Having no choice, I slap his face.
That does it. His gaze whips my way, his normally green eyes almost black his pupils have dilated so wide. I barely have time to realize this before he pounces. One second he’s there, and now he’s here, knocking me down onto the ground. Before I can make a sound, take a breath, Will pins my arms to my sides and forces his lips onto mine. No tenderness, not even passion, just savagery in the act. Our teeth smash into each other’s. At first I’m too shocked to move. To fight back. That vanishes a second later, replaced by fear gripping me as hard as he does. He releases one of my wrists, and I try to force him off but it’s like a child pushing a two-ton boulder. I start thrashing, digging my heels into the dirt. Nothing. He has me. Panic grips me when I hear the tear in my pants as he rips the front. This is too much like…Leonard.
Instinct intervenes before I have to squeeze Will’s heart like Leonard’s. Invisible hands lift Will off me, but only for a moment. Still holding my wrist, he yanks me with him. This time I land on top. Be it the surprise of a reflex, he releases my wrist. As fast as possible, I roll off him. I attempt to get up, but a hand clasps onto my ankle and pulls me onto my stomach again. Not good. He’s too fast for me again. Grabbing the waist of my jeans, he yanks me toward him again, rocks and twigs scra
ping my hands. My jeans fall halfway down my hips, exposing my panties. I’m too petrified to think.
“Bea!”
I can’t see what happens but thank God for it because Will releases me. I’m free. Though my arms tremble like an earthquake, I crawl a few feet away and flip over. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. A wild eyed Carl holds up the now split in half branch like a bat as Will, who bleeds from his head, reaches for him. I have no choice. My invisible hands slam Will’s head back into the tree once, twice, three times until he slumps into unconsciousness.
Carl and I stay as we are for a few seconds, as if movement or even breath will start the rampage once more. Gasps being the best I can manage right now when I can breathe again,. Carl drops the wood and stumbles over to me though his eyes never leave Will. “Are you okay?” He holds out his gloved hand to help me up.
When I take his, my own hand stings. Jesus there’s dirt and blood all over them. It’s hard to stand my legs are so shaky. My pants drop a few more inches. I snatch my hand away and pull them up. Jesus. Jesus. I don’t want to be touched. Actually, if Carl could vanish right now, that’d be the best thing. I just want to be alone and cry.
“Bea…” Carl says in a low voice. He has no idea what else to say after that.
What can he say? There are no words. There never will be.
Chapter Seven
Promises, Promises
After radioing him, Chandler finds us a few minutes later to help us lug the unconscious werewolf down the mountain. He takes one look at me, still trembling from the adrenaline withdrawal, and knows to keep his mouth shut. If my convulsions weren’t a tip off, he could also take in my dirt caked clothes and hands crusted with blood. I’m still glad we called him because it takes all three of us to get him to the parking lot. We’re just in time too. Will starts stirring just as we reach the end of the path. Thank God we always pack a first-aid kit with serious tranquilizers for just such instances. Carl injects him with enough Thorazine to kill a whale. Since I’m the only one who can take on a two-hundred-fifty pound werewolf, which is debatable after what just happened, it’s up to me to guard him. Chandler must sense my nervousness because he insists on coming with us. I don’t protest. Mobile command is still en route, so having no choice, we take him to our hotel about fifteen minutes away.
High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4) Page 10