by Glenn Rolfe
Wes met Joel at the car. He couldn’t help but eye the moon. It looked full.
“Where to now?” Joel said.
“Let’s see if we can find the crime scenes. Maybe we’ll luck out and find something.”
“Fuck yeah. Let’s do it.”
“This is the park where Nick took that picture.”
“Keep going, man.”
Joel was right. Police lines blocked off the park entrance. Something bad had happened.
“Shit, looks like we had another attack. That makes three total.”
“We don’t know that for sure. This could be anything.”
Wes didn’t believe it, but the scope of last night’s events demanded he find out.
Nick tried to get up from the toilet. The chills that hijacked his body raked icy claws from the nape of his neck to his tailbone. All he could smell was the sour scent of death, like the time the squirrel curled up and died in the wall next to his bed. It was a sickly sweet rot.
His stomach tensed. Another hot wave of bile splashed the murky toilet water under his nose.
I’m dying. I’m fucking dying here.
His stomach lurched again, but this time came up empty.
Had he heard Wes and Joel? Or was that a fever dream?
He couldn’t think straight. The walls inside his skull kept going from black to red, to dots and tracers. Awful, awful dreams. He couldn’t recall of what, but knew his few waking moments had been filled with terror. Yet each time he reached for help, he was dragged back under.
Nick’s arms shook as he pushed away from the puke-filled toilet and tried to open his eyes. He fought hard to keep them open against the undertow, but his will caved, followed by his consciousness.
Chapter Eleven
Joe Fischer’s evening at work went pretty much like his first sexual encounter—too fast and too confusing. There was a throbbing behind his temples that he knew he’d better get used to.
With my luck, it’s probably the beginning of an ulcer.
He chewed on aspirin between sips of Jameson. The whiskey felt good, but the pills, like this whole day, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had two dead bodies and a shitload of questions that he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to.
After sitting at his desk for an hour, waiting on Seth Kimball’s call about his three victims, he was ready to say to hell with it. He would just go talk to Nick Bruce first. The phone rang before he reached his office door.
“Hello, Seth. Help me out here. What did you find?”
“Hi, Joe. Okay, so let’s start with the body from Christie Road. The damage is most definitely from an animal attack. Judging by the severity of the mutilation, it was something pretty big. Now, you said the driver-side window had been smashed and the victim’s face was found outside of the vehicle, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, we’re talking about something powerful and violent. In order for it to have punched through the window and come away with the side of the guy’s face and most of the jaw, hell, I don’t know, it’s surreal. I’ve thought about that all day, and to tell you the truth, I don’t have the slightest guess as to what kind of animal would be capable of something this aggressive, let alone one that would even attempt this sort of calculated move.”
“What are telling me, Seth? It was an animal, but it wasn’t an animal? I’m confused.”
“So am I. Animals just don’t think or act this way. The encounter seems, somehow, more human. Hypothetically, even if a person was strong enough to carry out the assault, he would need to have used a weapon of some sort, but the wounds on the victim were clean. No traces of a blade or tool of any kind. That brings it back to having been perpetrated by an animal. The wounds are more congruent with those caused by that of a large mammal with claws.”
“What does that leave us with? A bear, a mountain lion?” Joe said.
“A bear, a mountain lion, or maybe even a wolf, would be capable, though the beast does seem larger than the last two. But to go at a person who was sitting inside of a vehicle, in the kind of weather we had last night, it doesn’t add up. The behavior itself is abnormal. Usually, the type of mammals capable of this sort of damage only attack humans to protect their babies. Sometimes, though rarely, they may attack for food.”
“And in this case, there was neither. So, how about the second victim, is there anything more there?”
“The second victim’s death was caused by the car crushing down upon him. The leg you found on the workbench, however, was definitely torn from him before he stopped breathing. Physically, it certainly matches what I found with the first victim.
“The body I picked up today, like the first, also suffered severe facial trauma. His arm was torn from his body. Again, the strength and savagery in these attacks is perplexing. The mutilated chest cavity looks as though something nuzzled right into it. We’re definitely looking at an animal, where this one is concerned, more than likely the same one that attacked the first.”
“Thank you for your diligence, Seth. Call me if you find anything else.”
“Will do, Sheriff,” he said.
Joe did not want to sit alone with the information, any longer than he had to. He got up and headed out of the station.
Ted McKinney resided in a small apartment over Ken Jenks’s garage.
He opened the door and welcomed Joe in.
“Evening, Ted.”
“Sheriff.” Ted pulled out a fresh pack of smokes and tapped the package against his palm. “Care if I light up?”
“It’s your house.”
“You want something to drink? I have beer or water.”
“I’m good.”
Ted unwrapped the cellophane from the cigarette box, opened the lid and drew one from the pack. He placed it between his lips and raised the lighter to it. “What do you need from me?”
Joe picked at a banana sticker clinging to the bare counter next to the sink. He saw the empty grave. He saw the ravaged bodies. Despite his friendship with Ted’s brother, Jack, Joe had never really been close with Ted. He wasn’t sure which side of the debate Ted’s feelings on the supernatural lay—the sane wild-animal types or the crazy werewolf zealots.
“You didn’t happen to see anyone or anything else at the park while you were there this morning, did you?”
“You mean like a psycho killer or a black bear?”
“Right.”
“Or something else?”
Joe stroked his fresh whiskers. He wasn’t going to feed it to the man.
“No. I didn’t see anyone or anything there. I just saw…what was left.”
Joe nodded. “And you were there because…”
“I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t been. It’s just these killings…I sometimes cruise by the park and think, ya know?”
Ted took a long drag, exhaled and continued, “All this shit and the storm and the moon last night…damn, I don’t know. It just made me think of what happened to Michele and Jack and Kelly.”
“Me too.”
Ted looked up at him. “You really think this was just some wild animal passing through town or coming down from the hills?”
Joe stood up straight and fixed his Stetson. “Thanks, Ted.” He tapped the counter and started for the door.
“Sheriff.”
Joe waited at the door.
“Is that really what you think?”
Joe saw the empty grave. “Ted, I don’t know what to think. Just stay in tonight, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“G’night.”
Joe closed the door behind him. He stared up at the darkening sky. The moon was still round and bright. He hoped the legends were right. He needed some quiet tonight.
At the station, Joe found his deputies standing a little closer to each other than he’d like to s
ee.
“Clarke! Glescoe!”
They both jumped like a couple of teenagers caught sitting too close in a room alone. He wasn’t sure how serious their relationship was, but he knew they were screwing. Although that violated his personal policy for workplace etiquette, there was nothing on the books that prevented it. Besides, Shelly Glescoe was a looker, and the pickings around this town were slim for both the men and women. Regardless, he didn’t want them fucking in his station.
“How did things go with Ted?” Dwayne said.
Shelly’s face was flushed. “I can’t believe he found a dead body. Is he okay?” she said.
Joe walked up to the reception desk across from his two frisky deputies and leaned his elbows upon the solid, worn wood. He stood there looking down at the dispatch radio, trying to swim through all the drama flowing through his head. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he looked up at the two of them.
“Nah, but he will be. Ain’t easy seeing someone the way he did. Where’s Earl?”
“In the bathroom. Maria made her meat loaf again.”
“Hmm.” Joe almost smiled. He made his way to the right of the reception desk, toward his office, before pausing. “Glescoe.”
“Yeah, Boss?”
“I want you guys being extra cautious out there tonight.”
“Yeah, Dwayne already told me. We’ll be armed and ready for…whatever.”
Joe was happy to see Deputy Clarke had some of his priorities in order. “Exactly, keep your shotgun loaded and in the front seat of your cruiser at all times while you’re patrolling.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Seth Kimball said it had to be a pretty big animal that did this. Very aggressive, very volatile. Keep your eyes and ears open. Be safe tonight. Call me if you see anything.” He turned back in the direction of his office.
Deputy Glescoe spoke up, “Sir?”
Joe stopped and turned back around. “Yes, Glescoe?”
“What are you going to be doing? Shouldn’t you go home to Sonya and get some rest?”
He knew she meant well, and that he must look tired as all hell, but he had research to do and another phone call to make before he could call it a night. “I’ve got a couple of old case files I need to take a peek at. Sonya is at her friend’s for the night. I’ll be sure to stay out of your hair. Go ahead and act like I’m not here.”
“Okay, Boss, but I usually save all my singing for the midnight hour. I hope you don’t mind a little Destiny’s Child.”
Joe turned back toward his office so as not to let them see him smirk. “I’m okay with them, but I’m not one for bad karaoke.”
Glescoe made a face of mocked offense.
Clarke laughed.
Joe swung the door closed. It felt good to have a minute of frivolity. Both Glescoe and Clarke were in for some confounding discoveries. He wouldn’t wish this knowledge on anyone. It was the sense of burdening these two young officers, and the impending corruption of their innocence, that caused the smile to disappear from his face as he sat down at his desk.
After making a quick check-in call to Sonya, and urging them all to continue to stay put, he dove head on into a nightmare he had thought was behind him.
That night, lying passed out in his bed from half a bottle of scotch, Deputy Randy Hines twisted and turned in his sleep. In his dream, he was hunted through the dark woods behind Paulson Park by a massive beast that walked upright like a man, but howled like an animal at the blood-red moon high in the night sky. Randy saw himself running buck naked through trees that looked as though they had been dead for ages. Adorned with cuts and gashes from scraping into branches, his own blood decorated his hands. He had a thought within the dream—something about covering up the truth. A low growl sounded from directly behind him and, then, a monstrous howl.
Randy Hines woke up screaming, lying in his own piss.
Chapter Twelve
“Joel, wake up, man.” Wes held the cup of Dunkin’ Donuts to Joel’s face.
“Huh, what? Oh, hey.”
“I don’t think Nick’s gonna be much use to us, least not for a couple of days. We gotta strike while the iron’s hot. Here.”
Joel sat up, rubbed his eyes and accepted the coffee. “What’s the plan?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night…bad dreams…anyway, I’m going to see the good sheriff, and you, my friend, are going to Hollis Oaks General Hospital.”
“What for?”
“That’s where they took the bodies. The guy you’re going to track down is Seth Kimball. Get whatever you can out of him.”
Joel sipped his drink. “Cool. Meet back here?”
“Yep.”
Joel watched Wes, keys in hand, head for the door. “Hey, if you got the car, how am I getting there?”
“It’s down off of Main Street. It’s like a twenty-minute walk.”
“Seth Kimball, please.” Joel smirked at the look the receptionist was giving him. It wasn’t every day that a guy with a dayglow-painted Mohawk and wearing a Circle Jerks T-shirt showed up asking for the coroner.
“And what is this regarding?”
“Oh, sorry. Joel O’ Brien. I work for the Insider. I’m here to do an interview.” He smiled.
“If you want to just have a seat, I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
Twenty minutes later a man in dress slacks and a light-blue button-up shirt walked over to him.
“Hi, Mr. O’Brien?” he said as he stuck his hand out. “Seth Kimball.”
Joel stood up and shook his hand. “I know we didn’t set anything up. Thanks for seeing me.”
“I’m not sure what this is about? You work for the Insider?”
“Yeah.” Joel looked at the large woman two seats over. She held a Nora Roberts book, but had been eyeballing him since she sat down. “Can we talk outside?”
“I’m pretty swamped—”
“I heard.”
“The Insider, huh?”
“Crypto.”
Kimball’s gaze darted from Joel to the lady next to him. “Make it quick. Come on.”
The coroner led him out through a side entrance to the employee-parking area. He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Joel.
“Don’t smoke,” Joel said. “Tobacco anyway.”
Kimball lit his cigarette. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then back again and dug at his forefinger with his thumb.
“The Crypto Insider. What can I do for you?”
Joel pulled out his mini voice recorder and pressed the red button. “You handled the bodies from the attacks over in Gilson Creek this weekend?”
“Yes,” Kimball said. His gaze dropped to the device.
“Did you happen to notice anything peculiar about them?”
“That’s still part of an ongoing investigation. I’m not at liberty to discuss my findings.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want you to get in trouble. It was an animal attack though, correct? I mean, that’s what the sheriff told reporters.”
Kimball sucked down another drag. Then flung the butt to the ground. “Looks like it, yes.”
“Is there any possibility that it wasn’t?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were you the coroner here in 1997?”
“No. Listen, Mr. O’Brien. I have a lot of things to get to—”
“Just one more question. Do you believe in werewolves?”
“I don’t have time for this. If you want to chase monsters, Mr. O’Brien, why don’t you try writing fiction? Have a good day.”
Joel hit Stop on his recorder and watched the coroner speed-walk back inside. He wondered if Wes would have better luck.
Deputy Randy Hines tried to focus on the paperwork, but couldn’t get past the impossible shadow
left from last night’s dream. He got up from his desk to grab another cup of coffee.
“Hey, Randy,” Rita said. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “Just trying to get through all of this paperwork.”
“Did you hear any more on Theresa Turcott’s boy?”
“No. Seth Kimball was supposed to talk to Joe last night. I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”
“Damn shame. Can’t imagine what this is gonna do to her. She’s had her struggles.”
Randy knew about the Turcotts. A family in the bottle. Joe hadn’t said much about Keith’s death. Just that it could be related. Dwayne, on the other hand, told him about the kid’s leg. Randy had seen the damage to the car’s roof with his own eyes. It looked a hell of a lot like the car out on Christie Road.
The doors to the station opened. A guy in a T-shirt and jeans, sporting a lip ring and a ponytail, walked to Rita’s desk.
“Hi. I was wondering if I might be able to speak with the sheriff.”
“He’s—” Rita said.
Randy joined them. “Sheriff’s out at the moment. I’m Deputy Hines. What’s this in regards to?”
“I’m doing some research on this weekend’s incidents. Just wanted to ask a few questions.”
“We’re still looking into things. Who are you affiliated with?”
“You’d probably laugh if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Okay. I run a weekly publication called, the Crypto Insider—”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Randy stepped around the counter and motioned toward the door.
“But I haven’t done anything. I just want to inquire—”
Randy grabbed the guy’s elbow. “Listen.”
“Hey.”
Randy pulled him to the doors. “Don’t go stirring up any nonsense. These are good people in this town. We just lost three members of our community. The last thing we need is your trash rag drumming up articles on monsters and ghosts. We’ve had enough horror for the week.”
Randy opened the door.
The guy jerked his arm free and walked down the front steps and onto the sidewalk. “You’ve got about twenty-eight days until the next full moon, Deputy. You’re gonna have to spill the beans about this sooner or later.”