In the Company of Wolves: Thinning The Herd

by Larranaga, James Michael

  He looked into his rearview mirror, searching for signs of the wolf. He thought he’d noticed a Ford Bronco following them through traffic. The sleet had turned to snow, making it difficult for him to read the license plate.

  Their first stop, the charity where Rebecca would begin giving away all of Hawk’s money, was the local chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving.

  “This means so much to me,” she said, writing out the check as they idled in the parking lot. “Celia would’ve liked this, I think.”

  He wondered, what was the dollar amount of each donation? He remembered the picture of her beautiful daughter above the fireplace, and for a moment, he thought about what their reunion might be like on the other side. Would they talk about Quin the crazy Indian?

  Their next stops—Hospice Hospitality Meals, Saint Andrew’s Lutheran Church, and the Minnetonka Arts Council--took two hours of slow maneuvering through heavy traffic and icy streets. By 6:30 p.m. they were on their way back to Lake Minnetonka, along the crooked streets bordering the frozen shoreline.

  Quin could see that Rebecca was tiring, but she still looked alert.

  “Do you believe in life after death?” she asked.

  Quin wasn’t religious, but he often thought about death and dying. He and Hawk had spent many nights talking about it. “I believe in life after life,” he said. “For me there is no death.”

  She turned to him with an intense stare, as if she were seeing Quin in a whole new light. “I like how you phrased that: ‘life after life’.”

  “It’s not just a phrase. I really believe it.”

  “Well, when you’re sick, you think about death a lot more than life,” she said. “I went from a total believer in an afterlife to a nonbeliever.”

  “Both of my parents were killed when I was twelve years old,” Quin said. ”That’s when I began to feel the afterlife. I know my parents watch over me.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “They were murdered,” he said with his eyes on the road. He wasn’t sure if she’d believe him, but it was a truth that he’d kept hidden from most people.

  “My goodness,” Rebecca said. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

  For a fleeting moment, Quin wanted to tell her, but he hadn’t spoken to anybody about it in recent years, except for Dr. Hayden.

  “You don’t think there’s life on the other side?” Quin asked, avoiding her question. “I believe our loved ones are on the other side.”

  “I wish I believed, Quin. I wish I were like the ancient Egyptians who believed so much in an afterlife that they buried their dead with clothing and riches to carry into the next life,” she said. “But I know better.”

  Quin wasn’t about to debate it with her. All he could think to do was reassure her. “You will cross over, Rebecca, and you will live just as your daughter does.”

  As soon as he said it, he sensed he’d gone too far. Her mood shifted, and she seemed to fall back into despair.

  “Oh how I’ve hoped that’s true,” she said, with her voice cracking. “To see Celia again would be a blessing, but tell me what happened to your parents.”

  Quin turned to Rebecca. He wanted so desperately to describe his own mourning and the burden that he’d carried for more than ten years that the words just spilled off his tongue.

  “As a boy, I lived in southern Arizona with my parents and my sister. We lived near the border where housing was affordable, but the neighbors were pretty rough, drug dealers and mules carrying drugs north.”

  His mind paused, and he slowed to a stop sign.

  “Yes, I’m listening,” Rebecca said.

  Quin waited for the memories to bubble to the surface. He accelerated through the intersection and resumed. “It was a very hot night, and I was sleeping in shorts with nothing else but a T-shirt and a sheet on my bed.” He described how the men had attacked him and his family.

  “Could you see who these men were?” Rebecca asked.

  “No, not until one of them came to our room.”

  “Oh my goodness, Quin.”

  He took a deep breath, weaving slowly through traffic. “I don’t remember any details of the man other than he seemed young, maybe twenty years old. He jumped onto my bed, and I thought he was grabbing me, but he was swiping a knife at me.” Quin paused, choking on emotion. “Blood ran down my arms as I deflected his blows and grabbed my bedsheet, screaming while he was laughing.

  “I was only twelve,” Quin cried out, hitting the steering wheel with his left fist. “Who attacks a family?”

  Rebecca lowered her voice to a calming tone. “I don’t know…“

  “I told my sister to run, to escape while the man was on top of me,” Quin continued. “She climbed through the window, which momentarily distracted him. He dropped his knife on the floor and ran to the window. So I leaned over and grabbed the knife, thinking that when he came back at me, I’d surprise him and slit his throat.”

  Quin could feel the warm tears streaming down his cheeks, and he wiped them with his sleeve. “He didn’t come back at me but climbed out through the window after my sister. I was so frightened when he was on top of me but even more frightened knowing he was chasing her.”

  He could hear Rebecca sniffling, but Quin wouldn’t look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on the traffic and the sleet hitting the windshield.

  “The other man heard the commotion and came down the hall toward our room. He shouted in Spanish, and I panicked. I wanted him to think that I was dead, so I hid the knife under my sheets and lay still.”

  Quin stopped to catch his breath again as he remembered what it was like lying there wondering if the man was fooled.

  “The man stood over my bed,” Quin said. “He didn’t touch me, but he walked to the window and called to his friend, and then he too exited my room through the window.”

  “And your parents died that night?” Rebecca asked.

  Quin nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, but what happened to your sister?”

  Quin avoided her question. “I kept the knife,” he said.

  “Really? Why?”

  “I’m not sure why. By the time the police arrived and the DEA investigated the scene, I had hidden it.”

  “Wouldn’t the knife be an important piece of evidence?”

  “I suppose so, but I was a boy. And it was the weapon that had killed my parents. I felt a deep connection to that knife.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  Quin slowed the truck, reached down, and raised his right pant leg to show Rebecca the knife strapped to his lower leg in a leather sheath.

  “I carry it everywhere I go.”

  “I understand,” she said. “I’ve kept many of my daughter’s toys, and I wear her locket.” Rebecca lifted it off her neck to show him.

  “So you don’t think it’s strange that I carry my parents’ murder weapon?”

  “No, you acted bravely that night, and you’re still brave today. Do you mind if I ask you again, what happened to your sister?”

  Quin wiped tears running down his check. “I don’t know, Rebecca. The authorities never found her. They said she was probably raped and killed.”

  “But they never found evidence of that?”

  “No, but people disappear into that desert all the time. The southern border is littered with shallow graves.”

  “Did you ever look for her?”

  “I thought about it many times, but they shipped me off to child protective services and eventually foster care in Illinois and Minnesota.”

  Rebecca fell silent. Quin looked over and saw her staring out her window, hiding her face.

  “Is that why you’re a bounty hunter?”

  Her question stunned Quin because Dr. Hayden had asked the same thing many times during counseling.

  “Do you mean that I’ve chosen to be a bounty hunter because I am subconsciously searching for my sister’s killers?”

  “No, I mean yo
u’ve chosen to be a bounty hunter because you’re really searching for your sister.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “No, my daughter is dead,” Rebecca said. “I saw her in the coffin, and I buried her on a sunny afternoon. As painful as that was—and I wouldn’t wish it on any other parent in the world—I have closure. You don’t have closure, Quin.”

  “I’ve gone through the stages of grief with Doctor Hayden—“

  “What you’re searching for is your sister,” Rebecca said through tears and a smile. “And if you discover that she has in fact died, then you may find closure.”

  He steered the truck off to the shoulder of the road and slammed it into park. His hands shook on the wheel, his knees bounced nervously.

  Stop crying, keep your cool.

  Rebecca placed her hand on his. “It’s OK, Quin.”

  “I thought I could find her!” Quin screamed. “I promised myself I would find my sister and bring her home alive. I walked and ran along the border, but the hours became days, and the days became weeks of no results. So I resigned myself to retrieving her body, to bringing her home—burying her with my parents!” Quin said, sobbing. Somehow Rebecca had uncorked the truth that he had kept bottled inside. He missed his sister very much and had always wanted to know what happened to her after she climbed through that bedroom window.

  Rebecca leaned toward him and cradled his head against her shoulder, stroking his hair. “It’s all right, Quin.”

  “I never looked for my parents’ killers. I wasn’t interested in being a cop or detective. I kept the knife because I thought it would protect me from the killers if they ever returned for me. But you’re right, I’ve often dreamed of finding my sister.”

  “I suppose Doctor Hayden knows all of this?”

  Quin pulled away from her embrace, put the truck back in gear, and eased into traffic. “She knows about the murders, my brutal attack, and my sister’s disappearance. I haven’t told her about the knife.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve had issues with anger in the past. She wouldn’t like me carrying a weapon.”

  “But the knife is as much a symbol of your survival as it is a weapon,” Rebecca said.

  “I know that and now you know that,” he said respectfully. “But for legal reasons, she’d have to confiscate it. So I’d prefer she not hear about the knife.”

  Rebecca paused for a minute, and Quin hoped this deep conversation was about to surface to a more casual level.

  “How old would your sister be today if she were still alive?” Rebecca finally asked.

  Quin swallowed hard. He always thought about her on their birthday. “The same age as me. We’re twins.”

  He could almost hear Rebecca’s heart skip a beat.

  “Oh Quin, no wonder you feel such a connection,” Rebecca said. “What’s her name?”

  “Autumn,” Quin said.

  “What a beautiful name,” she said. “Why don’t you search for her today?”

  “Where would I start? Should I wander through the back hills of Mexico? Besides, I have to make a living.”

  “Once you have money from my life insurance policy after I die, you could take time to go look for her.”

  Of course he could, if not for Big Ben. “Yeah, I guess so,” Quin said. He and Stray Dog had split the $50,000, but that wouldn’t last long and he wasn’t the beneficiary of Rebecca’s life insurance anymore, so her idea was nothing but an unlikely fantasy.

  “Promise me that you’ll take the time to find out what happened to Autumn,” Rebecca said. “My passing would be so much more meaningful if I knew you’d find closure. Do you promise?”

  Quin forced a smile. “I promise.”

  The January moon and its fuzzy halo followed across the horizon as Quin drove up Rebecca’s street and parked in the driveway. He was tired from a long afternoon of driving through the winter storm. And it was hard to see Hawk’s money slip away one donation at a time.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Quin.”

  “Hawk provided the money.”

  Her hand touched his. “But you’ve provided the friendship,” she said before kissing him on the cheek.

  When she stepped out of the truck, he joined her.

  “I can let myself in,” she said.

  “I’d feel better knowing you got in safely,” he replied, walking her to the door.

  Inside, he made a quick pass through the kitchen, the dining room, and great room. Knowing she probably thought he was overprotective, he ran upstairs to search the bedrooms and the art studio. Everything was in order.

  When he came back downstairs, she was standing by the door with a mug in her hand.

  “Some of Hawk’s tea,” she said. “For your ride home.”

  “I can stay if you want me to,” he said. Realizing she might interpret his intentions the wrong way, he added, “I mean on the couch here if—“

  “I’m fine, Quin, really,” she said, giving him a quick hug.

  He noticed the sweet aroma from her perfume along her soft neck, and he held her tightly. He remembered Hawk’s warning, that Quin was the raven and Rebecca the dying fawn, and the wolves were watching the raven. Quin couldn’t protect her any longer, and his presence only signaled to the wolves where the fawn hid.

  “Can you stay with Mike for a while?”

  “No, why would I?” she asked as she clung to him.

  “You shouldn’t be alone,” he said, setting his mug on the table in the entry.

  “I have you. You’ll stop by tomorrow, right?”

  Hawk’s warning echoed in his ears: You are the raven.

  “You might be safer without me,” he confessed. “I don’t want to leave you, Rebecca. I just have a bad feeling that if we stay together, we’ll—”

  “We’ll fall in love?” she asked as she held him more tightly.

  He knew she wouldn’t understand his fear for her safety. It might even make him seem crazy, so he forced himself to let go of the warning.

  “Yes, what if we fall in love?” he whispered into her ear.

  She turned her head so her lips brushed his, and he kissed her, this time full, on the lips. Big Ben had told him not to get involved with the client, Hawk had warned him that his presence put Rebecca in danger, and what about Zoe? What would she think of this kiss? When he opened his eyes, Rebecca was looking up at him with a smile and the innocent eyes of a fawn.

  “We can’t continue like this,” Quin said. “I have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, I thought-–“

  “It’s not your fault,” Quin said. “My girlfriend is Zoe. Our relationship is hot and cold at times, sort of complicated. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

  “I understand,” Rebecca said. “I shouldn’t have assumed that you were single or that this was anything more than a business relationship.”

  “It’s more than a business relationship. I consider you my friend,” Quin said.

  She stepped away, more formal and distant now. “I have to get some rest. Call me tomorrow?” she asked.

  He wanted to stay and hold her, protect her, but he knew she wanted to be alone.

  “I’ll call you first thing in the morning,” he assured her. Then he left her home with an uneasy feeling.

  He drove down the lonely street, inspecting the neighborhood. The other homes were so far apart. Who would even hear her cries for help if anything happened to her? At the end of the block, he saw a Ford Bronco idling with its parking lights on.

  He’d seen one on the road earlier in the afternoon and mentioned it to Rebecca. She’d only laughed and called him overprotective. He almost pulled over to take a closer look but decided against it. As she had said, he was overreacting. Ben wouldn’t transfer the policy and kill her in the same day, would he?

  Jimmy watched the car cruise by slowly and for a moment thought psycho Quin had recognized him. Instead, he continued down the road. He looked up at the big house hidden in the pine tr
ees. There were so many windows and eaves. At the end of the driveway, he spotted a pair of cement lions blanketed in a bank of snow. Someday he’d buy a place like this—with even bigger lions.

  Should he confront the woman right now? He could walk up, ring the doorbell, and demand that she give back the money. Instead, he dialed Helene’s number at the prison.

  “Hello,” she said, with food in her mouth.

  He was surprised how she answered the phone so casually, as if she were living in a dorm room at college. The prison allowed the women to have telephones in their rooms. But as with visiting hours, the calls could only be made at designated hours throughout the week.

  Since the phones were monitored randomly, she’d instructed Jimmy how to speak.

  “It’s me,” Jimmy said, still looking up at the large house on the lake. “I found her.”

  He could hear his aunt swallowing and drinking something.

  “Really? How is she?” Helene asked, as if they were speaking about a relative.

  “She’s doing well, very, very well.” He wasn’t sure why a person who already had money would need to steal Hawk’s savings.

  “Sure would be nice to meet her,” Helene said.

  His aunt had mentioned the other day that when she heard the news from Hawk, she felt like walking off the prison grounds to go find Quin and Rebecca.

  “You’d like to visit with her?”

  There was a long pause, as if she were thinking about the consequences of actually escaping from prison. Escaping from a minimum-security facility would be easy, but if they caught her later, she’d go to a real prison for a long time.

  “Definitely,” she said. “I’d like to meet with her face to face.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight would be great,” she said before burying the meaning of her words. “But visiting hours are over. So what time will you make it home yourself?”

  He figured she was picking a time to meet him.

  “Around ten o’clock, I think,” Jimmy said.

  “Cold night out there, huh?” she asked. “I can see the trees blowing outside my window. They’re blowing pretty good.”

  She was telling him to meet her outside the prison grounds near a grove of apple trees. He’d better bring her a jacket. She was probably going to make a run for it without any extra layers of clothing.