by Kat Turner
When he’d interviewed with the Upham County Sheriff’s Department, Sheriff Rylan had told him that Pine Grove was the basement office of deputy assignments.
“’Bout once a month, you’ll have to go out on the nature preserve to find some birdbrain out-of-towner who got lost on the full moon. The town trades on old folktales ’bout werewolves in the woods, and some people are dumb enough to go lookin’. Other than that, hope you like sittin’ around with your thumb up your ass waitin’ for somebody to lock themselves out of their house.”
That sounded just fine to Leland. Hell, he might even have time to go fishing every now and then. The fancy fly rod he’d bought himself a couple of years ago hadn’t been doing anything except collecting dust in his closet, and the Tucson PD staff therapist had brought it up in his final session.
“When’s the last time you took some time off to just enjoy a hobby?”
Well, no time like the present.
A flash of movement on the side of the road caught his attention—an animal stumbling up out of the ditch right in front of him—and he swore as he stomped on the brakes, pulling hard on the steering wheel. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as the vehicle skidded sideways, tires squawking as they jumped and bounced over the asphalt. The SUV finally came to a stop with one tire in the ditch, and he pried his shaking hands off the steering wheel to scrape them over his face.
He turned to look at the animal he’d almost hit and sucked in a sharp breath when he realized it wasn’t a bear or a deer, but a human, naked and filthy, hunched over as he lurched unsteadily across the pavement.
Leland was out of the driver’s seat in an instant, automatically reaching for his handset to radio Guerrera, and then swore when he remembered. He wasn’t in uniform. He wasn’t in Arizona. Guerrera was twelve hundred miles away. He wasn’t even a police officer anymore. He patted his pockets instead, looking for his phone and digging it out as he cautiously approached the man.
Boy, he corrected himself as he got closer. It was hard to tell what his face looked like under streaks of dirt—And is that dried blood?—but he was small, slender, his dark eyes large in his ashy brown face. Late teens, Leland guessed, forcing down the itch of memory at the back of his mind: another young face, another pair of haunted eyes. He didn’t have time for that right now.
“Hey,” Leland called, one hand out to him, moving slowly. “Are you all right, kid?”
The boy didn’t answer him, but he watched Leland warily. He drew in several quick breaths through his nose, and after a moment, Leland realized he was sniffing the air. His mannerisms were more animal than human, but his hair was shaved close on the sides, a stylish—and recent—haircut, and a diamond earring glinted from the dirt caking his right ear, so he hadn’t been out of civilization that long.
“It’s all right. I’m here to help you,” Leland tried again, keeping his voice calm and quiet. He thought of the legends of werewolves in Pine Grove that Rylan had told him about and just as quickly shook off the idea. The boy, naked and bloody, had clearly been through something, but Leland knew intimately that run-of-the-mill humans were more than capable of incredible cruelty without any supernatural assistance.
“Can you tell me your name?” Leland said, trying to keep the boy’s attention as he inched back toward his SUV. Somewhere in the meager life’s belongings in the back seat of the vehicle were clothes that might fit the kid, at least enough to cover him up and keep him from freezing. The day was rapidly warming as the sun rose, but spring nights in Montana were still chilly, and he’d obviously been out for at least a few hours.
Leland checked his phone as he sifted through one of his duffel bags. One bar of signal. Maybe it would be enough to call somebody, see if he could get an ambulance on the way. He only had two local numbers—the Upham County sheriff’s office and the Pine Grove Wildlife Preserve. The sheriff’s office was in Red Horse River, another hour and a half up the road, and Rylan had said that the preserve director would be his point of contact for problems with wayward tourists, lost hikers, and animal attacks.
Well, here goes nothin’.
He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to it ring as he finally found a pair of sweat pants that looked like they might fit the kid if he pulled the drawstring tight.
There was a click, then silence, and Leland waited to hear someone on the other end. “Hello?” Nothing. “Hello, can you hear me?”
The beep of a dropped call mocked him, and he huffed out a frustrated breath. “Dammit.”
The young man twitched, seeming to focus on him for the first time, his gaze confused and curious—but finally human, not glassy and alien.
“Who’re you?”
“Hey, kid,” Leland said, immediately pocketing his phone again. “My name’s Leland Sommers. I found you out here on the road. You remember how you got here?”
The kid looked around, frowning, and Leland guessed the answer before he shook his head. “Where the fuck is here?”
He shivered, and Leland held out the sweat pants in offering. The kid’s nose wrinkled, but he took them.
“You’re on Route 23, right outside Pine Grove, Montana.” He cleared his throat. “What’s your name?” He focused on keeping his voice steady and warm. The boy didn’t seem especially volatile, but neither had that one girl he’d found stoned out of her mind on the floor of her boyfriend’s meth lab—until she’d damn near taken a chunk out of his arm.
This guy looked more like something had already taken a bite out of him, Leland thought, eyeing a fresh-looking wound on the kid’s left shoulder.
“My name’s Diego.” Diego wet his lips, pulling the drawstring on the pants as tight as they would go. They still sagged on his narrow hips, the Arizona Coyotes logo down the leg looking bigger than his entire body.
Leland’s phone rang in his pocket, and Diego flinched and immediately looked around as if he’d lost something, swearing under his breath. Leland guessed he’d had a phone with him before whatever had happened. But he’d have to ask questions later; the call was coming from a local number.
“This is Leland Sommers.”
“You call this number a minute ago?” The woman’s voice on the other end of the line was brusque, no-nonsense. “This is the Pine Grove Nature Preserve’s ranger station.”
“I did.” Well, at least something was going right. “I’m the new sheriff’s deputy, coming to fill the position in town. I’m stopped on Route 23 out here east of town with a young man who was in the road with no clothes on. Is there an emergency response service that I should call?”
The woman on the other end made a noise that might have been a snort. “Closest hospital’s at least an hour away. Can you get him into your car and drive him in, or do you need a backboard and a neck brace?”
Leland darted a glance over at Diego, evaluating him. He was trying to pick the leaves and twigs out of his hair now; it didn’t seem at all like he was nursing a spinal injury.
“No, he’s ambulatory.” Diego gave him an odd look, frowning, and Leland had a sudden flash of another kid—younger, smaller, but with the same mix of wariness and cautious hope on his face. He looked away. “Where should I take him?”
“There’s a clinic. When you’re coming in to town, turn left at the stoplight, and you’ll see it in about half a mile. I’ll call Haley and Doc Fenton, let ’em know you’re comin’ in.”
“Which stoplight?” Leland asked, and the woman laughed.
“The only one in the whole town. Anything you want me to tell the doc when I call her? Injuries, things like that?”
“Just some contusions, abrasions. It does look like he got attacked by an animal, maybe. Large wound on his shoulder might be a bite mark.”
The woman went so quiet that Leland pulled the phone away from his ear to see if the call had dropped.
“Hello?”
“I’ll let them know,” she said and hung up without a good-bye.
The clinic had a singl
e lightbulb above the door, glowing brightly in the misty morning, and one lonely car parked in the parking lot.
Diego was shivering by the time Leland helped him down from the passenger’s seat, teeth chattering, little muscle spasms shooting through him.
“You’re gonna be all right,” Leland murmured, supporting him carefully, noting the feverish heat in his skin. A peek at Diego’s face confirmed that his eyes had gone glassy again, little beads of sweat at his hairline. “We’re here at the clinic. We’re gonna get you taken care of.”
The door was locked, and Leland pressed the button labeled FOR SERVICE AFTER HOURS. Within seconds, a woman in jeans and flannel with short-cropped gray hair unlocked the door and pushed it open with an urgency that Leland appreciated.
“You’re the one that called in to the preserve?” the woman said, already reaching for Diego, gloved hand brushing his hair out of his face to look at his eyes.
“Yeah.” Leland lifted Diego over the threshold when the kid couldn’t seem to pick his feet up enough to get past the doorstep. “You the doctor?”
“I’m Dr. Fenton.” She locked the door behind them and led them through the empty lobby, the fluorescent lights flickering and buzzing to life when she flicked the switch. “Can you help me get him to the exam room?”
“Nice to meet you, Doc.” Leland grunted at the unexpected weight as Diego went almost limp against him, and he hitched his arm more securely around Diego’s middle. “I’m Leland.” As an afterthought, he added, “His name’s Diego.”
She swept ahead of them into an exam room and helped Leland get Diego up onto the patient table, the white paper crinkling loudly.
A buzzer sounded, and Diego groaned, covering his ears.
“That’ll be Haley,” Dr. Fenton said, changing out her gloves for fresh ones. “The preserve director. Do you mind letting her in for me?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Leland steadied Diego before finding his way back through the clinic toward the front door. When he first saw the girl standing on the other side of the glass, he wondered if maybe it was someone’s daughter instead of Haley Fern, Director of the Pine Grove Nature Preserve. Nothing about her, from her blond ponytail to the soft roundness of her face and generous curves of her figure, matched the gruff, no-nonsense voice he’d heard on the phone that morning. Then again, she was clutching a travel mug with LUANN’S DINER emblazoned on the side like it was the only thing keeping her standing, so maybe that was just how she sounded when she got dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning.
When he approached the door, she lifted the huge sunglasses that had been covering half her face, and wow, those big, brown eyes could stop a full-grown man in his tracks. They almost did.
He fumbled the door open a crack and leaned out a bit, staying cautious in case he was wrong. He’d been wrong before. “Can I help you?”
She squinted up at him, her nose wrinkling under a dusting of dark freckles. Christ, she was so cute it was almost illegal.
“I’m Haley Fern, the preserve director,” she said, and he knew immediately it wasn’t the same person he’d talked to that morning. Her voice was too sweet for that. “And you are?”
He had the oddest impulse to take his cap off, but he just held the door open wider for her instead. “Leland Sommers, the new dedicated deputy. I called the preserve this morning about a kid I found on the way in. That wasn’t you I talked to, was it?”
“Oh, no, that was my ranger, Michele.” She ducked in under his arm as he held open the door, still eyeing him like she was sizing him up. “You’re the one they hired to take George’s place? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow night.”
She was half his height, but he felt almost scolded. It was all he could do not to feel like he was telling his teacher why he didn’t have his homework. “My lease was already up at my old place, so I figured I’d come up a couple days early, start getting settled in.”
He locked the door behind her, and when he turned around, she was rubbing one eye and biting back a yawn. No one had a right to be that cute and that intimidating at the same time.
She caught him watching her and waved one hand apologetically. “Sorry. Not a morning person. Michele said the boy you found was injured?”
He nodded, shortening his stride so he could walk beside her down the hall. “Bite marks. Looked like maybe a dog or coyote from glancing at it. ’Bout the right size and depth, compared to other likely things.” At her sideways glance, he shrugged, guessing at her unasked question. “Saw a few animal attacks on the force in Arizona.”
He shut his mouth, clenching his jaw against the echo of snarls and growls that were even louder than the screams…
Haley pushed the door to the exam room open, and Leland was grateful for the opportunity to focus on something else. Diego sat on the bench, his knuckles almost white where his fingers were curled around the edge, his jaw clenched so hard the tendons were standing out in his neck.
“Diego, this is my friend Haley,” Dr. Fenton said. “She’d like to talk to you about what happened last night, if that’s okay.”
Leland was several feet away, but he could still hear Diego’s breathing go ragged, the whites of his eyes visible as he started shivering.
“You don’t have to,” Haley said quickly as Diego swayed, and Leland stepped forward, bracing Diego gingerly by his upper arms. The boy twitched at his touch, but his skin was clammy and cold underneath a thin layer of sweat. “Karen, I think he’s…”
Dr. Fenton nodded, opening a drawer and pulling out a plastic-wrapped syringe.
“Can you breathe for me, Diego?” she said calmly as she pulled the wrapper apart. “Your heart is beating very quickly, so I’m going to give you something to relax you, but can you help me by focusing on your breathing? Breathe in…and out. In…and out.” She kept up the soothing breath count while she plunged the needle into a bottle, pulling the clear liquid up into the syringe. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”
Diego flinched when he saw the needle, but when he pressed backward, Leland was there, blocking his route. Dr. Fenton kept talking to him in a calm, soothing voice as she slid the needle into his arm, and within seconds, Leland felt Diego relaxing, starting to slump over.
He lowered the boy to the padded bench, moving out of the way when Haley appeared with a soft blanket that she wrapped around Diego’s torso, tucking it under him gently. She didn’t seem to notice Leland watching her as she leaned forward to look at the bite mark on Diego’s shoulder, and…was she…sniffing him? Maybe to see if he smelled like alcohol, but Leland hadn’t noticed any indication that the kid might have been drinking.
“I appreciate your help, Deputy Sommers,” Dr. Fenton said, drawing his attention. “He’s lucky you found him when you did.”
Seems like it would’ve been luckier if someone had found him earlier, Leland thought, but he just nodded. “Glad to help,” he said instead. “Sorry to ask, but do you have a restroom I could use?”
“Of course. Down the hall on the right.”
He thanked her and headed toward the door she’d indicated, trying not to hurry too obviously. Now that the immediate crisis was over, his body was reminding him that he was only human, and he’d had approximately a gallon of coffee since he’d left Arizona.
As he washed his hands afterward, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and grimaced. It was a damn wonder not one of the three people he’d seen that morning had run screaming, what with the bloodshot eyes, two days’ worth of stubble, and messy hair curling up from under his baseball cap. Then again, all three of them had bigger things to worry about. But so much for first impressions as the new deputy, he thought, scrubbing a hand over his whiskery jaw. Maybe Haley and the doc wouldn’t hold it against him.
And maybe one of them could point him toward the best place to get another round of coffee to keep him on his feet until he could at least get his meager belongings out of the truck and into the new place. Maybe some
breakfast too. He thought of the sticker on Haley’s thermos and headed back down the hallway, intent on asking her for directions.
The door to the exam room was cracked open, and he could see the two women talking with their heads bent close together, though they stopped and looked up as soon as they heard his footsteps. It made him feel a little put on the spot, especially the way Dr. Fenton pressed her fingertips to her mouth like she was hoping he hadn’t heard what she’d been saying.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, trying for his best friendly smile now that he knew what a mess they were looking at. He wouldn’t blame them if they’d been discussing him; he’d think twice about trusting the man he’d seen in the mirror too. “I was wonderin’ if you could point me toward someplace to get some coffee and a bite to eat.”
Haley’s expression shifted from cautious to cheerful in the space it took her to blink. “I’ll do you one better,” she said. “I can’t ask Diego any questions until he wakes up, and Karen says he needs to rest for a while, so why don’t I just take you?”
The parking lot at Luann’s was about half full, probably peak breakfast crowd, and Haley wrinkled her nose. A good half her pack was here, and if there was one thing she knew about small-town werewolves, it was that they stuck their noses into everyone else’s business, especially hers. All part of being the alpha, her mother used to say.
But Haley couldn’t imagine anyone sticking their nose in her mother’s business and living to tell about it, so maybe it was just all part of her whole pack having known her since she was knee-high. Either way, they were all going to be extremely interested in the new deputy and in why Haley was out and about before ten a.m. on a Saturday, and she’d rather keep both things to herself for now.
Especially the new deputy, she thought as she watched him ease his Chevy Blazer into the gravel spot next to hers, his dusty Arizona plates catching the sunlight. Maybe it was because she’d broken up with her boyfriend before she left Seattle and hadn’t been seeing anyone else in the nine months she’d been back in town, or maybe it was because the full moon was only three days away and making her antsy, but she was a little ticked off about how good-looking he was, especially when she knew she couldn’t do anything about it.