Wolf's Trap (The Nick Lupo Series Book 1)

by W. D. Gagliani

  The shiver she felt was not so much due to the freezing night air.

  Lupo

  Just outside Eagle River’s business district, he found a phone. It wasn’t a booth, for they had disappeared in the face of the cell phone’s onslaught, but a cherry-red bubble covering a battered phone. He dropped a handful of quarters into the slot and dialed the squad room, hoping to speak to Ben.

  Kosko was still on duty.

  “Sarge, you have any word from Ben yet? We were supposed to touch base, so he can’t have gone anywhere—” He didn’t know exactly why the thought hit him, but suddenly he heard the silence at the other end of the line speaking volumes. “Something’s happened to Ben, hasn’t it? You better fucking tell me!” he growled, losing the thin veneer of civility that covered up his rough spots, a term Caroline had coined for him many years before. She had theorized that rough spots were a near-surfacing of the Creature within him. His hair grew in tufts, his hands and feet itched, and under stress he could barely control his growling. Now he must have spooked Kosko.

  “Ben’s dead, Nick,” Kosko said quickly. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t want to tell you like this, but—”

  He felt deadened. “How?” His facial features turned to marble. Blood chilled his veins. The Creature howled within. “Tell me, dammit!” he snapped.

  The sergeant relayed the squad’s report. “And Nick? I been reading your file on Devereaux…”

  “Yeah?”

  “There was purple lipstick all over the pillow.”

  Lupo swore and hung up.

  There was nothing left to say, no one to call or tell.

  This was between Lupo and Martin, Caroline’s deranged brother.

  Jessie!

  I’m coming, you bastard.

  Buck Benton

  Goddamn, she’s a prime piece of tail, layin’ right here at my feet. Wilbur’s got dibs, I know, but goddamn it all, this is enough to make a man’s pecker stand up and sa-lute! Only thing I’d like better woulda been to cut off Bunche’s balls with my Buck knife. Fuckin’-A, I shoulda got to shoot him myself the bastard. Fuck, she’s just prime. I seen you around, little lady, I seen you givin’ me the stink-eye all the time you been over there, on the res, makin’ them headdress-niggers all better and battin’ your eyelashes at them tourist fucks. I seen you, and I think you’re gonna see me hangin’ in your face pretty soon, so you better get ready…

  Buck’s mind wandered from topic to topic, but always returned to the doctor covered in the wet blanket a few feet away. He bet her nipples were nice and hard, like buttons, under that suede shirt she was wearing. He bet they’d taste right nice, and so would her bald beaver. He didn’t know if she was bald, but he figured she was just the kind of cunt who would shave like a cheap whore.

  He looked forward, past Wil and the city fella, and into the night sky. It was gonna be cold and clear. Oh, yeah, he was happy in the parka he’d gotten from the doc’s house. Warm as hell and smelling of sweet pipe tobacco. What a shame he’d be getting blood all over it. But after she watched the fat-ass Bunche put him in the slammer, all he could think about was slicing up that soft, firm flesh of hers one inch at a time, making it last.

  Oh, yeah.

  Buck Benton was in his element now.

  Klug

  He hadn’t been out on the lakes since—well, since years ago, when he was practicing for his dream business. Until Shelly’d killed it right before his eyes. He was happy to be rid of her, and he’d enjoyed doing the sheriff and his pal, too. Wilbur had never thought of himself as violent, but now he had to admit, the genie was out of the bottle. Something in him had snapped and he wasn’t at all eager to fix it, whatever it was. Maybe it was all those years with that lack of respect. His daddy hadn’t given him none, and his mama had run off with some trailer-trash dude. But then the dude, he’d ended up in prison, and when he got out he wasn’t so kind to mama no more, and that was why Wilbur had worked out until he was big enough and then he’d gone to the trailer-trash dude’s place and beaten him silly with a baseball bat and a tire iron (Wilbur wanted to experiment and see which weapon did a better job…it had been a draw). But his mama had taken right up with another loser dude, and Wilbur had done him some harm, too, and then it became obvious that mama’s fun was being ruined by Wilbur, so she kicked him out of the house and he’d been on his own ever since, except for Shelly. And that mistake he’d finally rectified.

  Wilbur steered the Duck with ease, letting the engine stretch out a bit even though its muffling was spotty at best. But City Boy didn’t know that, and anyway, Wilbur wanted like hell to reach their destination. He’d worked up a good case of the hots for the lady doc back there, and he didn’t want sloppy seconds after Buck. He turned slightly and checked out of the corner of his eye.

  Nope, the doc still showed more leg than she realized, huddled under that blanket. Klug could see Buck leering at her, but he knew the psychotic knife-wielder would yield to his leadership and his size.

  Klug couldn’t wait for this fringe benefit. The joy of carrying out the assault on the courthouse had already faded. Once done, a feat wasn’t nothin’ but history. No, he looked forward to the lady doctor’s charms and this cop hunt—wolf yeah, whatever—a lot more now. And when City Boy gave them their money, there was a very good chance Klug wasn’t gonna feel like sharing.

  A very good chance…

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sam Waters

  Huddled in the underbrush not far from the Rivkin place, Sam watched the rust-stained Duck rumble past and drop like a skipped stone into the channel. It was dark, but his eyesight was still good enough to spot not only the three local thugs, but also a stranger—and Doctor Hawkins, who was clearly a prisoner.

  Sam raised the shotgun, knowing they were within range, but wild shooting would most likely hurt Jessie Hawkins, too, and he couldn’t be responsible for that. He hadn’t heard anything about Klug’s old Duck being the getaway vehicle. So Klug and his buddies had busted Benton out of jail, but who could have imagined they’d pull off a military-style attack? With their wits? And slipping down the channel, they’d pass right on by any roadblocks the State Police might have set up by now. Sure, the police had probably considered a boat escape, but this lumbering beast was naturally camouflaged and made little wake. If they hugged the wooded shoreline, they’d probably escape notice from the air.

  Sam set the safety on the shotgun again and slung it over his shoulder with the military strap. It was time to make use of his nearly forgotten woodcraft. If he didn’t follow the amphibious vehicle, they’d disappear.

  He wondered briefly about the wolf. Where was he?

  Lupo

  His senses alert and the Creature barely muzzled below his skin, Lupo burst through the door of Jessie’s cottage. The driveway had given up no clue, nothing to indicate foul play. But the front door stood skewed half-open, with the bookcase’s contents strewn across the otherwise neat living room. The phone was unplugged, and the spot rug near the gun rack lay mussed and generally disrupted. Lupo checked the rack carefully. It still held three rifles, but the dust patterns indicated that several other long guns were missing.

  Lupo plugged in the phone and played tag until a local operator—from nearby St. Germain—finally connected him with the sheriff’s office. He identified himself carefully to the acting sheriff, who explained that all resources were now engaged hunting for the courthouse terrorists. Lupo explained that they were merely criminals, and that a woman—a doctor—had been kidnapped, but the man (who seemed to harbor political ambitions today he might not have had yesterday) spoke with painful bluntness.

  “I tell you, Detective, I’m very sympathetic to your problem. But we have no choice but to put your concerns at a lower priority than the capture of these armed men.”

  “But their capture will also free the doctor,” Lupo tried to explain.

  “I hear what you’re saying,” the new acting sheriff said, saccharine-voiced but firm, �
��and we will find her. But we’re busy following up several leads right now, and it’s taking up all my manpower. When the feds get here, we’ll be able to spread out more. In the meantime, if you would come to my office I’ll deputize you—”

  Lupo hung up.

  He was in this alone.

  Reluctantly, he left his weapons and clothing in the car, hid the keys, and took the only option left.

  It’s a trap.

  For me.

  Lupo looked up and saw the moon, no longer full, beginning its rise toward the heavens. The chill breeze ruffled his hair and raised goose bumps. He concentrated and allowed the anger, the hatred, and the sadness to swirl together into one mindset. Could he control the Creature now, when the moon wasn’t drawing him on?

  He felt his body change, felt his mind begin to split into two entities, and then his head exploded with sensory input.

  The woods, the trees, the animals, the night air, the wild, the various scents of humans, several of them familiar. His snout collected it all, and the Creature half-sat, half-crouched on its haunches and howled its warning.

  His thoughts were clear, even as he looked through the Creature’s eyes.

  He sniffed the air and bounded off down the driveway to the road, where he knew immediately they had boarded some kind of vehicle.

  God help them when they catch me.

  Martin

  He felt like a child. “Are we there yet?”

  Klug looked at him as if he were a bug and spat overboard, into the brackish water. He just pointed to the left, behind a very dark promontory.

  Martin looked. The tree line was a black felt marker line across his vision between the even blacker water and the indigo of the night sky. But he could see something coming into view—a lighter patch emerging from the black background. A hidden private beach, a narrow crescent-shaped strand of brown sand that resembled snow in the dark.

  “That’s it?” he asked Klug.

  “That’s Camp O-Jew-Boy!” The interruption came from Benton, suddenly materializing behind them.

  “You betcha, Camp O-Jew-Boy!” Klug laughed, his teeth bright in the moonlight.

  “That’s where them rich Jew-boys spend their summer vacations, learnin’ how to needlepoint and fuckin’ each other in the ass!”

  “You been there, Buck?” Klug shouted over the sound of the engine.

  Buck gave him the finger and a smirk.

  They’d made a steady seven knots, Klug had told him earlier. It seemed pretty fast to Martin, who didn’t know from fast on a freaking boat. Whatever, he thought. Just let’s get this hook baited.

  This was the place Klug had suggested back when Martin had hired them, explaining his needs. A summer boys’ camp, it consisted of cabins and a handful of administration buildings and garages, a large boathouse, and a few outbuildings. The boys who were sent here could be seen playing sports in the water, on the beach, and on the camp parade ground from late June to early August, two-week and three-week batches of campers sent away by their well-to-do parents so the adults could “do” Europe or rattle around their palatial big-city mansions without the brats getting underfoot.

  It was perfect, Martin thought, even more so now that he saw it.

  They headed right for the beach, and with little fuss the Duck rolled up the incline, trembled mightily once again as it underwent its bizarre transformation and the wheels gripped the cold sand, then stood for a few seconds, shaking off the river. Klug clutched hard, depressing the pedal almost through the floorboards, then engaged the regular forward gear by wrestling with the gigantic shift lever. Soon, the engine screamed and the vehicle clambered up the sand and toward the cabins. Klug brought the rattling Duck around to face the river in case they needed a fast retreat, then shut down.

  Within minutes, Klug made Benton and Kenny carry most of the supplies into one of the cabins. They half-dragged the lady doctor through the jimmied door and dumped her in the corner. Two Coleman lanterns provided all the light they would need.

  “You know they’re going to catch you here!” she said to them all, in general. “This isn’t so far from the city… They’ll spot you as soon as daylight comes.”

  Klug nodded at Buck, who immediately gagged her with a greasy rag from one of the crates. She continued to make noises, but then gave up and sat quietly.

  “You think he’ll track us here?” Klug asked Martin.

  “I know he will. He’s good at this. And I told you, he has the nose of a wolf.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll believe that when I see it!” Klug snorted. “Either way, I get a cop. If he’s some weirdo magical guy, well, that’s cool too.”

  Martin nodded.

  Klug hauled out one of the crates. “Give me a hand, Kenny. Buck, you grab those chains.”

  They shoved and shimmied, and eventually the three headed out the door into the dark night. “We’ll be right back,” Klug called out. “Don’t go away!”

  Martin beamed.

  “What’s this crap?” Buck asked.

  “Wolf traps,” Klug explained, as he walked into the woods. “They’re old, but they’re just fine, especially after a little improvement, thanks to our friend here. I got a half-dozen of the sons of bitches. Let’s see him get past these!”

  An hour later, Klug led Kenny and Buck back into the cabin. Their hands and clothes were streaked with flaky rust.

  “All done?” Martin asked.

  “Yeah, we’re set,” Klug said. “But right now, I think I have some business to attend to. Kenny, stand guard outside. Take one of the UZIs.”

  Kenny looked at Klug. Then he looked at Buck, and at Martin. He wasn’t that stupid. The lady doctor’s eyes bugged out at him as if trying to convey some important fact he’d forgotten. “Wil, I’m not sure I wanna—”

  “Fuck that, Kenny. Do what I say, boy. Might be some leftovers for you.”

  “I don’t want any leftovers, Wil.” His tone was pathetic.

  “Get your ass out there or I’m carvin’ my name on it,” Buck snarled. “First on you, then on her. Got it?”

  Kenny relented. “Yeah, I got it.” He shrugged, took the gun, and stepped outside.

  Klug stood in front of Jessie while Martin made himself comfortable. Buck leaned against a nearby plank wall, the crossbow slung on one shoulder, sharpening his Buck knife with loving whetstone strokes.

  “I think we should spend some quality time with our guest here,” Klug said, smiling.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jessie

  “You come near me, I’ll kill you!” she said, but the gag muffled her words into comical cartoon sounds.

  When the big guy made his move, she had no time to roll away. He was on her so fast that her attempt to crawl away became in fact detrimental, as it presented him with the view he preferred, with her lying belly-down, her hands still manacled behind her back.

  She struggled, but he held one of her legs and let her, until she’d worn herself out.

  Then he held her with one hand and roughly tore her shorts down her legs with the other.

  She screamed again, but the gag muffled the sound and she realized she could choke on her saliva if she wasn’t careful. She whimpered and tears ran like acid streams into her eyes, but by now KIug had torn aside her panties and bared her buttocks. Her struggle was useless as he seemed to have her like a fish flopping out of the water and onto the bank.

  Suddenly, she felt his erection pushing between her thighs, touching her there.

  She gathered herself for one last effort and scream against her attacker.

  Outside, a howl of rage split the night’s quiet.

  Another howl, then the snarl of a large beast. Very close.

  Wilbur Klug stopped in mid-motion and hastily rolled away from her.

  Kenny

  Fuck, I can’t believe my friends are in there about to rape this chick.

  Kenny stamped his feet to keep out the cold. It had always been fun hanging out with those two losers—
hell, he was a loser, big-time—and he’d happily participated in most of their half-assed, harebrained schemes and petty crimes over the years. Even busting Buck out of prison, that had been exciting! He never thought he’d be shooting UZIs and lobbing grenades, kinda like his favorite movies, Kelly’s Heroes and Sands of Iwo Jima and like them computer games his nephew was always playin’—Doom and Resident Evil and shit like that. He’d pretended the sheriff and that other dude, the deputy, were zombies or somethin’, shooting them before they could get him, and it had been fun, exceptin’ all the blood…

  But now, here, standing sentry while Wilbur and Buck humped that poor lady in there… Well, it wasn’t right.

  He was on the verge of tears.

  Shit, my daddy dint teach me to be no rapist!

  He cocked the UZI and stood there, hearing the woman crying through her gag. Maybe he should go in there and break it up. Maybe he should…

  Nab, Kenny wasn’t like that. He couldn’t make decisions like that. That’s why he was standin’ guard. The sad thing was, he knew it.

  The sudden loud howl scared the bejesus out of him.

  He jerked himself around, aiming the submachine gun into the darkness below the trees. Had the howling come from there? He wasn’t sure.

  Could this be the wolf-man the city boy wanted dead? Was the cop a real werewolf, like in the movies? Kenny screened image after image of movie werewolves in his head. Sure as hell scary!

  When the second howl came, it was behind him—right behind him—and he turned just in time to hear it turn into a snarl.

  And in time to see the black blur pounce on him from the shadows right at the corner of the cabin.

  He screamed and squeezed the trigger as the claws reached him, raking painfully through his clothes from belly to shoulder, and the jaws closed on his throat and ripped it to shreds while growling with pure, malevolent hatred.

  The 9mm slugs tore through the porch roof, some maybe ripping into the wolf itself, but Kenny’s backward momentum carried both of them away from the front door, and when the wolf dipped his snout into Kenny’s ruined neck once more and tore out muscle and nerve in a shower of warm blood, there was no life left in Kenny at all, his eyes frozen open, staring upward at his attacker as if shocked at his own spectacular end.