Wilding Nights

by Lee Killough

  As if reading his mind, Allison sent him dry smile. “Suppose Deirdre wanted to go out later. How--”

  “Go out?” Julie shook her head emphatically. “Not Deirdre. I told Detective Kerr. She wouldn’t leave at night...not even if she had keys or knew the security code. Deirdre is terrified of the night. At sunset she wants the drapes pulled tight and won’t go near the windows. She really panics when there’s moonlight. I don’t understand why, but I guess I can’t blame her for having a phobia or two.”

  “If she doesn’t go out at night, how did she happen to be at the Broekert Gallery?” Allison asked.

  “Doesn’t go out on her own, I should have said.” Julie grimaced. “Her lord and master commanded it last night. When I wasn’t interested in using the invitation to that gallery, Len decided to go.” Julie grimaced. “He never loses a chance to socialize with Money, and of course he had to have his beautiful, regal wife on his arm, no matter how she felt about being there.”

  Julie’s earlier words echoed in Zane’s head: I suppose that depends what you mean by abuse. Traumatized as a child, repressed and dominated as an adult. All that trapped stress had to be a recipe for disaster.

  “Were they out somewhere Tuesday night?” Allison asked.

  Julie grimaced. “I wish. We had a family dinner here that turned into a corporate meeting about the Basin that lasted until past midnight Len wanted changes at the Basin that would increase profits...cut personnel, up fees, clear out the ‘deadwood’--meaning the shrimp boats, Hilst bread and butter for a century!--in favor of the pleasure boat business. Charlie didn’t make many bad business decisions but leaving a fifty-one percent share to Len in the hope of luring him back here...” She shook her head. “And after his sisters and their husbands and I fought him tooth and nail, he dropped the bombshell. If they wouldn’t agree, he was selling his share...to the Gerhardt brothers in Houston--I couldn’t believe it, those pirates--or Robin and Liz could buy him out for a better offer...which would put them in debt for the rest of their lives. He gave them until Saturday to--” Julie flushed and cleared her throat. “I know that sounds like a motive for wanting him dead but Robin and Liz wouldn’t--”

  “Let’s hope not. Still...” Allison tore a page out of her notebook and pushed it and her pen along the island to Julie. “...if you’d write down their names and addresses.”

  The dinner, then, had left the Diana personality no time to pick and choose among victims, just grab the first likely candidate she spotted.

  Julie scribbled on the page. “But you believe Deirdre would kill him when she doesn’t have a motive?”

  “We don’t know there’s no motive...and she was certainly in the room at the time.”

  Handing back the page and pen, Julie’s eyes narrowed. “But you must have other reasons for accusing her...or why come here in the first place?”

  Allison handed her the Blondie composite. “This woman was the last person seen with three men this week who were all later found violently murdered.”

  “And you think this is Deirdre? She never wears her hair like--” Julie’s eyes widened. “Wait...you’re talking about the wilding murders? But some homicidal maniac is doing that, and how could a woman, let alone Deirdre–no.” Julie shook her head. “It’s impossible. Anyway...” She tossed back the composite. “...this looks as much like you, Detective, as it does like Deirdre.”

  The dismissal rang hollow to Zane. It could be that Julie wanted to deny the possibility to herself. It could be more.

  He felt sure Allison had noticed, too, but she showed no sign of it, just returned the composite to her pocket. “This woman has a British accent. Does Deirdre have the use of a boat here?”

  Now Zane felt sure there was something. Julie’s face went taut. “She doesn’t have anything to do with boats unless Len orders her aboard. Water is her one phobia I can understand. Given a choice, she won’t go near any body of it larger than a swimming pool. What does a boat have to do with someone killing Len...or any of those other men?”

  Zane could not figure her out. He believed what she said about Deirdre, yet the tension in her question betrayed concern about boats.

  Allison gave her a bland smile. “It’s just a detail we have to check. Has Deirdre ever called herself Diana?”

  Now Julie’s puzzlement looked genuine. “No. Why would she?”

  “Just another detail.” Allison paused. “If Deirdre isn’t guilty, we need to talk to her to find out what happened. Assuming she wasn’t abducted but ran away...out of fear, say, do you know any place she might go around here?”

  For a moment Zane thought Julie might have an answer. Something flickered in her eyes. Then she shook her head.

  Allison asked, “Do you have a photograph of Deirdre I might borrow?”

  Julie smiled and hopped off her stool. “When we visited them in Florida last summer, Charlie went wild with his new digital camera. Just let me print something out. I won’t be a minute.” She ran up a back set of stairs.

  “You know she’s holding back.” Zane kept his voice low. “You’re just going to let it go?”

  “No, you’re going use your male charms on her.”

  The significance of the statement took a several seconds to sink in. “You’re leaving me here alone? You trust me enough for that?”

  She stared at him. “Do you understand that humans have no chance to catch Deirdre, and if she stays at liberty, people will go on dying horribly?”

  “Yes.” Which meant he needed Allison and the others on the trail.

  She smiled faintly. “So I trust you.”

  Ten minutes later Julie returned with not one but a dozen copies of a photograph. “I’m sure Deirdre is innocent. She’s anything but a violent person. You’ll see when you find her.”

  Allison gave her a bland smile. “I hope so. If you can think of anywhere she might go, tell Detective Kerr.” She sent him a last glance as she headed for the kitchen door. “Keep in touch.”

  5.

  The press had arrived. Allison recognized a Sentinel reporter loitering on the far side of the patrol unit up the street. The light had increased enough for him to recognize her as well. After an initial start of surprise, he sprinted for her.

  She ducked under the barrier tape and reached her car first.

  “Detective Goodnight,” the reporter called as she started the car. “Goodnight! If you’re here does that mean the wilding killer has struck again? Who’s the victim this time? Are you any closer to identifying and catching him?”

  She drove off without answering. In the rearview mirror she saw him pulling out his cell phone.

  She quickly used hers, too, calling Kerr. “Better have Julie break the news about Hilst to his sisters before the press does.”

  She also called Drew, updating him on the crime scene and Deirdre’s background. Doing so, she felt again the anger and horror she had when Kerr told her what Deirdre suffered as a child. Growing up with no one to understand the hunting dreams and explain them would be bad enough...having no clan, no knowledge of your heritage, no education about the maturation process and support during the frustrations of it. No summer camp to keep you out of trouble while it conditioned your body, occupied your mind, and provided an outlet for your hunting drive. But to have someone then treat you as demonically possessed...

  Allison shuddered. Not knowing what she was or that others of her kind existed certainly explained why Deirdre had not responded to the overtures of the clan in Palm Beach, and why her conversation with Bliss shocked her. It explained why she hunted without restraint once she somehow, belatedly, stumbled into Shifting. Allison could still not understand, though, the revulsion Deirdre showed at the gallery, nor why she waved the crucifix.

  At least they now knew that instead of a rogue, they had a trauma victim. Bring her into the clan, care for her, educate her, and they might be able to reclaim her.

  She warned Drew about the lost radio. “Better switch to Tac Six and keep traffi
c to a minimum, in case she’s surfing the channels.”

  Then she gave Garroway a suitable-for-humans update and--no choice now--requested an Alert Bulletin on Deirdre. With the press smelling another wilding murder, it could not be long before some bright reporter realized that Deirdre Hilst fit the Blondie composite. Clan members just had to find her before human officers did.

  “But how in God’s name could a woman, bare-handed, mutilate these men?” Garroway asked.

  Allison tried to sound baffled. “Aside from superhuman strength due to being wacko, I don’t have any idea. I just know what the facts tell me.”

  “What do you want the rest of your squad to do?”

  Eliminating other suspects would keep them doing something that looked productive. “We need to interview Hilst’s sisters.” While she gave him Julie’s description of Tuesday’s dinner, she drove around the bay toward the Basin. “The sisters might also have ideas about where Deirdre could go.” She would turn the city inside out today if need be. Once Deirdre was found, she could be taken straight to the Gathering. Honora would know how to most effectively treat her.

  6.

  Although Julie called Charlie’s daughters, in both cases she insisted on passing the phone to him. The daughters wanted details about their brother’s murder, of course. Talking to them--sidestepping details, not mention of Deirdre as a suspect, sticking with just the fact of her disappearance--he noted that beneath the sisters’ shock he heard less grief than relief. They were safe from debt and the Basin passing out of family control. A sad commentary on Hilst’s death. He also noticed that both sisters equated “missing” with “abducted”. Like Julie, neither saw Deirdre as a killer.

  Almost as soon as he hung up from talking to the second sister, the phone rang. He checked the Caller ID window. “It’s the Sentinel.”

  Julie turned over the phone and switched off the ringer. “Let the answering machine handle it.”

  Zane followed her around as she turned off the ringers on all the main floor phones. “I can understand why it’s difficult for you to imagine Deirdre killing Leonard. It’s possible that Deirdre may not have been aware of doing it.”

  Julie frowned at him. “You mean she’s insane?”

  He said carefully, “Well, that would be for experts to decide, but...Deirdre has experienced enough stress in her life to unbalance anyone. From the impression I’ve gathered of her, she clearly needs help. Are you sure you can’t think of anywhere she might go if frightened?”

  After a hesitation, Julie shook her head. “No.” She headed back to the kitchen and started another pot of coffee. “This is for ice coffee. Charlie loved it and--” She choked. Leaving the coffee maker, she groped for a paper towel. “Shit.” She wiped at her eyes. “This isn’t fair, you know? The old goat promised me he’d live to a hundred. Do you think I ought to call Mrs. Alvarez, our housekeeper, and tell her not to come in today?”

  He did not let her change the subject. “When we asked about the boat, I had the impression that you thought of something.”

  Julie stared at the filling pot. “Why are you interested in boats?”

  The question, Zane reflected with satisfaction, completely failed to sound casual. Tension edged every word. How would she react to an answer? “A man who escaped becoming a victim last night said the woman he met talked about taking him to a boat.”

  “That certainly lets out Deirdre. I told you how she feels about boats.” In which case Julie should sound relieved....but did not. She took a breath. “Anyway...”

  Zane held his. The tone of that word promised a statement that would try to convince him, or herself, of something that concerned her.

  “...just because a woman resembling Deirdre was seen with those men before they died doesn’t mean she had anything to do with killing them. It could be just coincidence.”

  He let his breath out. Yes. She knew, or suspected, something. “I have a hard time believing in coincidence like that, Julie.”

  She turned around to stare straight at him. “It’s your job to be suspicious, of course. But I won’t believe--”

  The ship’s bell rang through the house.

  Julie headed out of the kitchen for the front door.

  Zane passed her. “Let me answer it.” The uniformed officers would not be allowing in anyone unconnected to the investigation without asking him first.

  He opened the front door to find a uniformed officer outside. “Detective Kerr? The housekeeper at the residence to the north reported seeing someone go over the rear fence here.”

  Some gung-ho reporter? Zane wondered. “Could she describe the person?”

  “No. She just saw a dark shape, and she says at first she thought it was a big dog, until it landed inside the fence.”

  Electricity shot though Zane. Could Deirdre have come back? From what he understood of alternate personalities, they sometimes withdrew and left the original personality to find itself inexplicably someplace strange. Once Diana’s rage ebbed, she might have done just that and left a confused, frightened Deirdre to creep home, hoping her absence had gone unnoticed. But this might also be Diana, still in control, doubling back to hide the last place anyone would think to look for her. It would be easy enough to stay out of sight in a house this size.

  “About how long ago did she spot the intruder?”

  The officer checked his watch. “About five minutes. She called 911 right away.”

  Which gave Diana not a lot of time, but probably enough to have entered and hidden. He turned to Julie. “Where are the entrances from the back and the stairways inside the house?”

  All over, he discovered, though everything should be locked. French doors from the courtyard in the rear and from the gallery on this level, and main and servant stairways between every floor inside.

  “How do you want to search?” the uniformed officer asked.

  A vivid image of the bedroom upstairs flashed through Zane’s head. “It’s too dangerous for you and me alone. I’ll call Detective Goodnight and we’ll wait for her and additional officers to arrive.” Fellow family members, he hoped.

  The officer frowned. “You think the intruder’s armed?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Behind them a sheepish voice said, “You don’t have to call Allison. It isn’t your killer in the house.”

  Zane spun around. In the broad archway leading to a formal dining room stood Rikki... looking far different than she had when he left her. Smeared mascara suggested she had been crying. Wisps of hair hung loose round her face, escapees from a raggedly wrapped topknot.

  His fear turned into surprise, relief, and irritation...especially irritation. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Both the uniformed officer and Julie stared from her to him. “You know her?” the officer said.

  “Yes. So I’ll deal with her.” When the uniformed officer had left, Zane stared hard at Rikki. “How did you get in the house?”

  She tucked one stray wisp into the rest of her hair. “The door to the butler’s pantry was unlocked.”

  Julie nodded. “I went out to put up our flags while you and the other detective were upstairs. And now I think I’ll go work on my funeral thank-you’s.” Over her shoulder she added, “The library is pretty soundproof.”

  Zane crooked his finger at Rikki and pointed at the library. Before he joined her there he called the station and asked Sergeant Sweet for an officer to post on the beach so no one else could sneak over the back fence. Then he stalked into the library and firmly shut the big carved door. “Suppose you explain yourself.”

  Rikki turned from looking at photographs on the fireplace mantel. “I wasn’t sure if I’d get in if I came to the front. After he reamed me worse than Allison did about taking you to the house, Drew told me where you were. I had to know for myself that you’re all right...that my stupidity didn’t get you...hurt.”

  Nice understatement. And how good of her to be concerned. Zane spread his arms sideways. “Well
, as you see, Allison hasn’t iced me yet.”

  She bit her lip. “No thanks to me. I’d feel really terrible if anything had happened to you.”

  What a comfort. “You don’t have to feel responsible. Snooping was my idea.” He grimaced. “Maureen used to say that when God handed out Prudence I was standing in the queue for a second helping of Brash. I knew the risks. If I’m whacked it isn’t your fault. Okay? Feel better now?”

  The sarcasm hit home. This had to be the first time he had seen one of her family look chagrined. “Zane...you know, I--I’d like us to be friends...not just a one night stand. My family’s a really cool bunch when you get to know them.”

  The family. Yes...that would be her real concern. “Right now your family is the farthest thing from my mind. As a human, I’m not likely to be welcomed among them anyway. Go home.” He turned toward the door. “I’m very--son of a bitch!” At the pain in the side of his neck, whirled to find Rikki backing away from him, licking her lips. He clapped a hand to his neck...and pulled away bloody fingers. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  She grinned. “You know...he who is bitten by a werewolf and survives becomes--”

  “What?” His anger boiled over. “I don’t fucking have time for games! Rikki, if you don’t get out of here now, I’m arresting you for criminal trespass, wasting police time, and obstructing an investigation.”

  Her eyes lighted. “You’re pissed at me.”

  “No shit!” That pleased her? He yanked the handcuffs off the back of his belt. “Ten...nine...”

  Grinning, she backed toward the door. “Okay, I’m going, I’m going.” Then she stopped, face sobering. “Just one thing.”

  “What!”

  “Be careful dealing with this hunter.”

  As if he needed reminding. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen her handiwork.”

  “It isn’t just that.”

  He eyed her. She looked and sounded grave. “What else?”

  Rikki hesitated, then: “You need to stay out of the way when she’s found.” Rushing at him, she grabbed his lapels to pull him to her for a hard kiss, then dashed out the door.