In the Company of Wolves: Thinning The Herd

by Larranaga, James Michael

  Quin recognized Lunde in the photo. “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “We’ve spoken with Mr. Lunde,” Kruse said. “He claims that two of his partners were murdered by Ben Moretti.”

  “He’s right, I found the bodies,” Quin said. “I retrieved them as evidence.”

  “Where are those bodies?” Kruse asked.

  “In an icehouse on the Wakan Indian reservation,” Quin said.

  Agent Kruse scribbled on his notepad. “You can take us there, to the bodies?”

  “Yeah, if you get me out of this psych unit.” Quin said.

  “Not so fast,” Kirsten said. “Quin, you need to recuperate here. Tell the FBI where to look for the bodies. You’re not well enough to leave the hospital.”

  Quin noticed that Agent Kruse seemed frutrated with Kirsten.

  “Dr. Hayden, while I’m worried about Quin’s condition, I’m more concerned about a crime investigation. May I continue asking questions without you interrupting?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kirsten said, backing away.

  “Quin, how did you know about Munroe Pilson’s murder?” Kruse asked.

  “I saw it happen,” Quin said.

  “Think back on that day,” Kruse said. “You knew a murder would take place on that morning, didn’t you?”

  “Are you accusing me of something?” Quin asked.

  “No, I’m applauding you for your insight, your sixth sense,” Kruse said. “When you arrived at Safe Haven, you must’ve known something would happen that morning, right?”

  Quin hesitated before answering. He thought about that cold morning in his truck, waiting and watching the front entrance of Safe Haven. “Yes, I knew somebody was in danger because I saw…”

  “You saw what?” Kruse asked.

  “I saw two ravens in the trees,” Quin said.

  “You said a minute ago that you like ravens, that you’re not afraid of them. What did you mean?”

  Quin considered the question, and he looked at Kirsten standing with her arms folded.

  “I know now that other people don’t see the ravens that I see,” Quin said. “The ravens warn me of danger.”

  “Those ravens are hallucinations caused by that ayahuasca tea,” Kirsten insisted.

  “If you were in danger, why didn’t you leave, Quin?” Kruse asked, ignoring Kirsten.

  “I dunno. Curiosity, I guess. I wanted to stop the killing,” Quin said. “And I needed the money.”

  Kruse smiled. “You used your ability to see danger, to track and infiltrate Ben Moretti’s company,” Kruse suggested.

  “Oh, please, Mr. Kruse, you’re suggesting Quin is clairvoyant?” Kirsten asked.

  Quin liked the word. Clairvoyant sounds better than crazy.

  “He has a sixth sense, Dr. Hayden,” Kruse said. “It’s possible the tea hightens Quin’s senses.”

  “Quin, don’t listen to Agent Kruse. During your fight with Ben Moretti, you had a psychotic breakdown, but that doesn’t mean you’re psychic,” Kirsten said.

  “I disagree,“ Kruse said. “Based on my expereince, many of the best paranormal investigators were once psychiatric patients. If you want to continue working for the FBI, Quin, I can make that happen.”

  Working for the FBI sounded pretty good to Quin. That was the reason he had accepted the assignment from Lunde in the first place. Work was the best therapy.

  “Do you see ravens often, Quin?” Kruse asked.

  “I saw them before Munroe Pilson was murdered, I saw ravens at the icehouse when I discovered the bodies. The ravens watched over me when I fought Ben,” Quin said

  “You mean when you nearly killed Ben,” Kruse said.

  Quin thought maybe he misunderstood Kruse, but Quin noticed disappointment on Kirsten’s face.

  “What happened to Ben?” Quin asked.

  Kirsten shook her head and looked away. Kruse set his notepad on the bed next to the envelope and put his hands in his pockets.

  “Ben survived the shooting, but your kick to his head caused swelling on his brain,” Kruse said. “Ben might not make it.”

  Quin felt an overwhelming sense of remorse. He’d fought many times in the past, but he’d never killed anyone. That was a line he never wanted to cross.

  “What does this mean?” he asked. “Will I go to prison?”

  “You’ll stay here at St. Francis for now,” Kirsten said. “I’ll help you—“

  “Would you mind if Quin and I spoke privately Dr. Hayden?” Kruse said.

  “I prefer to stay in the room,” Kirsten said. “He’s my patient.”

  “I’d like to speak with Quin about confidential information that pertains to this case,” Kruse said to Kirsten with a cold stare.

  “Very well. I’ll be down the hall if you need me, Quin,” Kirsten said as she left the room.

  “Dr. Hayden obviously wants to keep you here, heavily medicated,” Kruse said.

  “Is that what’s happening? I’m locked up in this psych ward?” Quin asked.

  “Based on what Christopher Gartner said, it sounds as if you acted in self-defense. If Ben dies, you could be charged with manslaughter, and if convicted you’d serve jail time and probably more time here at St. Francis. If you had been officially employed by FBI as a bounty hunter at the time of the incident, then you would’ve killed a criminal in the line of duty.”

  “The FBI didn’t hire me. Spencer Lunde hired me for a competitor of Safe Haven,” Quin said.

  “Yes, well, that’s a technicality I can fix,” Kruse said with a wink. “You’ve worked for the FBI in the past. You also penetrated Safe Haven without jeopardizing any of our agents.”

  Quin breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew Kruse wanted something else. “What’s the catch?”

  Kruse reviewed his notepad. “You need to recover the bodies. You and Christopher will give the Safe Haven database to the FBI. That $50,000 you and Christopher extorted from Mr. Lunde. And I need more details on Senator Almquist’s involvement.”

  Quin realized Stray Dog had told the FBI everything.

  “I borrowed money from a friend to purchase Rebecca Baron’s life insurance policy, but Ben stole the policy from me,” Quin said. “Can you help with that?”

  “We’ll have an estate attorney look into it,” Kruse said. “If you help us, we’ll help you.”

  “As long as I can get out of this hospital, I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” Quin said.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Kruse said. “All your future assignments from the FBI will come through my department, PI.”

  “PI? I’m not interested in PI--private investigative work,” Quin said. “I only work bounty assignments.”

  “No, PI is Paranormal Investigator. You’d receive paid bounty hunting assignments from that division of the FBI, and you’d have the support of other paranormals like you,” Kruse said.

  “I’m not paranormal, and I prefer to work alone,” Quin said.

  “A lone wolf, huh? Why not see what it’s like to run with a pack?” Kruse said.

  Quin smiled at Kruse’s remark. “What you’re saying is, if I agree to work for the Paranormal Investigator division, all my legal troubles go away?”

  “It’s that simple,” Kruse said.

  “I have a sixth sense about danger, but Kirsten’s right. I’m not psychic,” Quin said.

  “Everybody I recruit for this division says the same thing. However, with the right training,” Kruse said, “you’ll hone your paranormal gifts and get better with time.”

  “And if I turn down your offer, I serve time?” Quin asked.

  “Time in prison or worse—you could spend the rest of your life in this psychiatric unit,” Kruse said. “If you work for me, any sessions you have with Dr. Hayden would be strictly on an outpatient basis.”

  Quin looked around the room at the blue walls, and he watched snow falling onto the branches of an oak tree outside his window.

  “Well, Quin?” Kruse asked.

  Kirste
n opened the door. “Excuse me, Quin you have a visitor.”

  “Who is it?” Kruse asked.

  “She says she’s your girlfriend,” Kirsten said with a look of disbelief.

  Kirsten opened the door wide enough for Quin to see a woman in the hallway holding three “Get Well” balloons that blocked her face.

  “Ohmygod, Quin! I heard about your fight with Ben. I hope you two weren’t fighting over me,” the woman said, walking through the doorway. “Oh, and I have your phone too,” she said digging into her purse.

  She entered, handed Quin his phone. “I brought balloons,” she said, tying them to his bed before she kissed him. “And I’m your Candy!”

  Quin realized the woman wasn’t his girlfriend Zoe but Big Ben’s companion, Candy. Quin wasn’t sure what to make of her affection and he pulled back.

  “Is this a bad time for me to visit?” she said to Quin.

  “How did you get my phone?” Quin asked.

  “When I saw you at Spyhouse the other night, I returned later and I noticed your phone on a table. I recognized your phone case, you know, with a raven?” Candy said with a proud smile.

  Agent Kruse was agitated by Candy’s presence. “Could you give us a few more minutes alone with Quin?” Kruse said to her.

  Candy shrugged. “Yeah, sure I suppose.” She waved at Quin before she stepped back into the hallway.

  Quin’s heart sank. And where is Zoe?

  He remembered handing his phone to Zoe at Spyhouse before he went “off the grid” to retrieve the bodies from the lake. Had he only imagined that conversation with Zoe? Had he really left his phone on an empty table in a crowded coffee shop? Was Zoe nothing but another hallicination? She felt so real to Quin. She was there for him when he had nobody to talk to in the evenings. Zoe was his voice of reason and she cautioned him when he got too close to danger. Maybe Zoe was no different than the ravens Quin had seen.

  “I assume she’s Zoe?” Kirsten asked Quin, motioning to Candy as the door closed.

  Quin lied. “Yeah that’s her.”

  Quin knew he needed Dr. Hayden’s help but we didn’t want her to increase his medication. He also knew he needed meaningful work from the FBI.

  He turned his attention back to Agent Kruse. “What’s my first assignment?”

  “Wait a minute. What assignment?” Kirsten said.

  Kruse checked his notes. “As for Safe Haven, the FBI will take the case from here. Rebecca Baron mentioned you have a missing sister? I pulled up the FBI files on that case,” Kruse said pointing at the large envelope on Quin’s bed. “You can work on it in your free time while you’re training with paranormals.”

  “Absolutely not! Quin needs psychiatric help,” Kirsten said.

  “Kirsten, I can work with you as well as the FBI,” Quin assured her. He lifted the thin envelope from the bed. He was holding a piece of his family’s dark history, that violent night when his life changed forever.

  “You don’t have to work with the Paranormal Investigators, Quin,” Kirsten said. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

  “Let him decide for himself,” Kruse said.

  Quin looked at the blue walls of his hospital room and at the window where he noticed a raven hopping across a tree branch, and Quin said, “When do we begin?”