“The couch looks very comfortable.” Josiah patted the firm cushion. “Very comfortable.”
“Well I’ll be up early. BC let’s go.”
BC yawned, stretched and continued to lie in the spot Ken had left earlier.
“Anytime, Black Cat.” Kat turned and headed into the bedroom. BC jumped down, tail in air and trotted after her.
“See you tomorrow. I’m so glad you’re not dead.”
“Me, too,” Josiah chuckled.
The warmth of that laugh soothed Kat’s nerves like a sweet balm. “You’re different.”
“Am I?”
“I never heard you laugh before.”
“Not much to laugh about as I remember.”
Kat smiled. “True, good night.”
Mayor Thomas Orthell paced the floor of his ornate living room. He stopped, walked across the imported red, black, and cream wool rug, picked up the phone and dialed.
“You didn’t tell me all the consequences.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You said only the ones responsible for the murders would be punished.”
“I didn’t open the door. You did. Now, things must play out the way the masters see fit.”
“Gary had nothing to do with this. You promised me the masters wouldn’t take an innocent.”
“And they won’t. But who is truly innocent?” Loathing shot over the phone line. “You’d better make up your mind whose side you’re on. Otherwise, you will become another tragic victim.”
Mayor Orthell stopped drumming his fingers against the rich mahogany desk.
“Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good. We’ll talk tomorrow.” The phone went dead.
Orthell rounded the desk and lowered himself into the tufted burgundy leather chair. He placed his palms on his forehead and dropped his head.
“What have I done?” he wailed into the glossy surface of the desk. “What have I done?”
Chapter 6
The White Wolf
Bart sat by the window in Jo’s, taking in the brilliant starlit sky. The promise of sunlight kissed the dark horizon. The low light made Bart wish for the long days of summer.
Kenneth walked through the door. Bart noted dark circles under his eyes and an unshaven chin.
“You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good. Didn’t sleep worth a nickel. When I did manage to drift off, the dreams—actually nightmares—would start. Think being back here is bringing out the worst in me.”
“Bringing out what you tried to forget, maybe.”
Ken gave Bart a guarded look. “Listen …”
Bart’s phone chirped. “Hold that thought.”
He looked at the phone. “Yo, sunshine. What’s up?”
“That dog at Gary’s, did anyone take care of it?”
“No. forgot all about it. I guess that takes priority over the rest right now, huh? I’m on my way.” Bart stood up, grabbed his to-go cup of coffee. “Forgot about a dog.”
“A dog?”
“Yep, I double as the town animal control officer.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Small-town law enforcement was looking less and less like an attractive alternative to the FBI.
“Wouldn’t kid about this. Come on. We can talk on the way.”
They drove past frosted trees on the icy road. The narrow street was devoid of anything—human or animal.
Bart jumped out of the truck, went to the back and yanked a large kennel from the bed. He snapped the top open and grabbed a pole with a long noose.
“That necessary?”
“That animal hit the window with a full body blow last night—not taking any chances.”
Bart jogged up the steps to the front stoop that ran the length of the cabin. Its brown boards creaked under his weight. He rapped sharply on the door. Ken moved in behind him.
A thud on the door, followed by a loud snarl answered Bart’s knock.
“See what you mean.” Ken backed down the porch. He trotted to the truck, picked up the large crate and moved it closer to the cabin.
“I’ll back you up from here.” Ken smiled from behind the crate.
“You’re a true friend, Melbourne. Make yourself useful. There’s a tranquilizer gun and darts in the truck bed. Grab them for me.”
Ken retrieved the gun and dart case.
“Thanks.” Bart unsnapped the case and loaded a dart into the pistol. He opened the door a couple of inches. The canine lunged with a force that slammed it closed. Bart put his shoulder to the boards and leaned in. He jiggled the knob again. The dog sprang again and Bart hit the door with his full weight. The door groaned and flew open. A white blur twirled on muscular haunches and jumped. Bart shot. The dog yelped and dropped. He stayed on all fours and headed toward his target. Bart watched as the dog’s legs started shaking. It still worked to get to the object of attack. Bart backed up, drew his gun and cocked it. The white dog fell at his feet. Thank you that I don’t have to tell Kat I killed the animal.
Bart took a deep breath—the first in an eternity by his thinking— and stuck his head out the door. “This guy is a big one. Want to help me get it to the kennel?”
Ken jogged the three stairs. They lugged the animal to the back of the crate and placed him as gently as possible through the opening.
“That looks more like a wolf than a dog.”
Bart studied the sleeping animal. Its hair was snow-white and medium in length. An undercoat of grey tinged the ivory topcoat. His snout was elongated but squared. Even in sleep this dog had a regal quality.
“Maybe part wolf—some of our huskies look similar. Haven’t seen him around here before, though. Afraid, with his attitude, he may not be long for this world.”
A threatening scowl darkened Ken’s features. “You seem awfully matter-of-fact about putting him down.”
Bart shrugged. “Comes with the territory.” They hefted the kennel into the truck bed.
“I’ll drop him at the vet’s for an evaluation. It’ll ultimately be his call.”
Growls and threatening barks were coming from the kennel before they were halfway to town. They pulled up in front of the veterinary clinic. Bart threw a pair of heavy leather gloves in Ken’s direction.
“Watch your hands. Those only give so much protection.” They rounded the back of the truck, wheedled the heavy kennel from the bed, and proceeded through the vet’s door to the counter.
“Hey Bart, what you got there?” A young blonde smiled radiantly at them. She barely noticed Ken.
“Hey, Nyna. An abandoned dog. I need Carl to give him the once-over and call me with his opinion as to its health and personality. It’s been aggressive and I’m concerned it could be a danger.”
Nyna studied the waking animal. The growls had ceased and the dog had rolled onto its stomach, sitting like a sphinx watching them through glassy eyes. She walked through a half-glass and half-wood door behind the reception counter.
When she returned, a tall, thin man with salt-and-pepper hair came with her.
Carl Douglas took Bart’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Good to see you, sheriff.” He gave a quick nod to Ken. “Welcome to town, Agent Melbourne.” Carl Douglas crouched down in front of the kennel. Gold eyes met his brown ones. Douglas looked up at Bart over his right shoulder.
“Where’d he come from? I can’t say for sure until I give him a good once-over, but I almost positive that’s full-blooded wolf. White and rare.”
“Found him at Gary’s.”
“Really? Wonder where he found it.” Doc Douglas focused on the wolf again. “He sure didn’t do this one any favors.”
“He is in rough shape. Glad I ran across it. Anyway, see what you can find out about his behavior. It’s a waste of life to put down a healthy animal but this one’s aggressive and would have taken a chunk out of me—or worse.”
“Understand. I’ll call you later.”
“Thanks, Ca
rl.” Bart headed for the door. Ken followed his lead.
“Hey, Bart, don’t be a stranger,” Nyna called after him.
Bart turned and smiled. “I’ll work on that, Nyna.”
“That one likes you.”
“I’ve known Nyna since first grade. She’s a good friend.”
“She was screaming signals at you, buddy. Take it from me; she wants to be more than friends.”
“Take it from me—it’s none of your business. And you are the last person I’d ask advice from when it comes to understanding the signals of the opposite sex.”
“This is about body language, not personal history.”
“Drop it.”
Ken took in the scowl and heightened color. “Consider it dropped.”
“Good. Let’s go see McGill. If he hasn’t already heard about Gary, I need to let him know.”
The late-morning sunrise touched the tips of the distant mountains, turning their tops a pastel pink. In all his travels, Ken had never seen a sparkling blue sky that matched the glory of this one. Black dots with wings played in the distance, on wind currents high above them.
Ken continued to watch the ravens’ antics while they drove the short distance to the police station. Once parked, they walked the half block to the library.
Brandon looked up from the computer screen and smiled. “Seems I’ve lost my assistant. Hope he shows soon.” The smile left his face when he saw the seriousness in Bart’s eyes.
“You found Gary?”
“Afraid we did. He’s dead, Brandon. I’m so sorry.”
Brandon sat down in the secretarial chair that served as Gary’s station at the library.
“I didn’t know him that long but his loyalty earned mine.” He sat in silence staring with unseeing eyes at the newest copy of National Geographic.
“Want me to call someone?”
“Not necessary. Work is my best healer and I get to see your lovely cousin this afternoon. That will help, I know.”
An electric pang shot through Ken’s gut. Brandon McGill now merited investigation. Ken mentally assessed this new threat. He saw a younger man, chestnut brown hair and tan skin. His eyes were almost black.
Brandon seemed to sense Ken’s unspoken thoughts. His eyes moved in a smooth motion from Bart’s to Ken’s. His silent challenge screamed at Ken, I want her and I am going after her with everything I have.
Bart watched the spark in Ken’s eyes flare to a bonfire. He kicked sideways, bopping Ken’s foot.
“What?” Ken blinked.
Bart turned and walked toward the door.
“Take care, Mr. McGill. Give Kat my best when you see her.”
Ken followed Bart outside. “Something funny about that guy.”
“Yeah, like he has an eye on Kat. You’re not sure you want her but then you don’t want anyone else to have her either.”
“Not what I said.”
“Didn’t have to. It’s that body language thing—your actions speak volumes, even to a small-town lawman’s mind. Oh, blast it all!”
“Now what?”
“Kat’ll be wondering what happened with that beast. If I don’t call her, she’ll be at the vet’s office and have taken it home before I can talk any sense into her.”
Kat answered on the first ring. “I’m going to see him.”
“Nothing you can do right now. Carl’s evaluating him. If he’s not a threat to society, we’ll see where we can place him.”
“He could end up dead. I’d rather bring him home than have him put to sleep. I can work with him!”
“No, No. You do not need that dog. If it’s not a danger to society, we’ll find it a good home.”
“You don’t know what I need. I am fully capable of assessing that for myself …”
Bart stopped listening and rolled his eyes to Ken, motioning a “yack-yack” sign with his free hand. The talking stopped. “Kat?”
“You stopped listening.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I just know. Here this loud and clear—if that animal dies and I haven’t had a chance to help it, you’ll be sorry you were born, Bartholomew Andersen.”
“I will let you know. Yes, I promise. See you soon.” He hung up before she could continue the tirade of how every animal was important and they could all be rehabilitated. She always pointed to BC as the example and he always lost that battle.
“This is one time I can truly say you are fortunate that she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“She did sound like she is on a mission.”
“Kat believes we can find the white beast a good home. She believes it is just scared and will be a good animal. She might be wrong this time and if she is, I’ll never hear the end of it. Let’s get to the office.”
They passed an empty storefront. Paper covered the interior windows. A sign announcing “Grand Opening Soon,” was painted in white lettering on one of the windows.
“Miggie’s old place got a new tenant, I see.”
“Yeah, some woman who wants a more relaxed pace, decided to open an antique store. Don’t know how well that’s gonna do here.”
Horace Stoddard was throwing Ice Melt in front of his hardware store.
“Mornin’, sheriff.”
“Morning, Horace. How’s business?”
“Can’t complain. Winter is my best time—summer ain’t too bad either.” He stared at Ken.
“Sorry, this is Ken Melbourne. Visiting from Anchorage.”
Horace stuck out his hand. “Welcome. How long you stayin’?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Well, come on by if I can be a help on anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Horace is a good guy. A real salesman, though. Careful, he’ll sell you that sin-ugly shirt on your back while it’s still on your back.”
“Sin-ugly? This is my best small-town uniform.” Ken pulled on the red and black plaid flannel underneath his coat.
“Still sin-ugly.”
They arrived at the small storefront that was the sheriff’s domain. The brass bell over the door clanged its familiar sound. The smell of paper and dust assaulted Ken’s senses.
“Still needs a cleaning.”
“You offering?”
“Not in a month of Sundays.”
“Then keep that opinion to yourself.”
Ken took in the three-room office. Kat’s desk, the sheriff’s private office and the coffee/interview room looked just the same.
“Still got the jail cell in the back?”
“Yep.”
Johnny Campo, the town’s newspaper editor, and a member of the town council strolled in. “Been looking for you.” He glanced at his watch before sending a reproachful look to the sheriff.
“Been waiting long?”
“It’s well past ten.”
“Had an animal-control issue this morning.”
“That’s not an issue. If the animal is a problem, then put it down, that’s what I say. Problem solved.”
Bart’s neck started to flush and worked its way above his collar and to his cheeks. “What can I do for you?”
“Need an interview. Need to know about this newest murder in Ravens Cove.” His excitement sickened Bart and surprised Ken.
“Well, first, I don’t know how you found out and second there’s no news yet. I haven’t heard from Doc Billings as to the cause of death. Finally, you know I can’t let out anything that could impede the investigation.”
“Are you refusing to talk to the press?”
“I’m refusing to talk to the press—right now.”
Johnny Campo narrowed his eyes. “Is that your final answer?”
“No. My final answer is, ‘no comment.’”
“That’s fine for the outside press, sheriff. Not okay for me. This town has a right to know what’s going on.”
“When I have the facts, I’ll call. Just because you’re on the council doesn’t mean you have access to my files.”
&nb
sp; “Well, things could go bad for you fast, sheriff, without someone to speak up for you.”
“Is that a threat, Campo?”
Campo shrugged. “Let’s just say, it is fortuitous that I have a meeting with the mayor in an hour and this interchange will probably come up in our conversation.”
“The answer is still no.”
Johnny Campo stood his ground. Bart turned his back and walked into his office. Ken followed.
A minute later the brass bell clanged.
“Seems the esteemed councilman has left the building.”
“You know you haven’t heard the last of him.”
“Probably not. But while I’m still police chief, I need to call Gary’s family and give them the news.” He sat down behind the oak desk, flipped through a large Rolodex, found the number and dialed.
“So sorry to give you this news, Mrs. Wenfred. If there’s anything I can do …”
“Just find the guy,” she said through sobs. “I knew he should have come with us.” She burst into a loud wail.
“Believe me when I say I won’t rest until I know who did this. You’ll know as soon as I have an answer.” Bart placed the phone in its cradle.
“Time to start interviewing everyone who was at the opening yesterday.”
The brass bell over the door and the office phone sang out in an off-key duet.
“I’ll get the phone—you find out who’s here.”
“Mornin’, again. Yes, the dog’s still at the vet’s. No I don’t have an idea on what’s going to happen to it yet. Yes, I’ll call.” The phone went dead and Bart let out a heavy sigh. Kat wouldn’t let it alone until that dog was safely someone’s pet.
“Looks like you have your first interview.” Ken stepped back and revealed Amos and Arnie Thralling.
“Thought I’d come by and get this over so I can get on my way. Today’s an ice fishing day,” Amos said. During the Iconoclast siege, Amos had been the first to find the bodies and had become a suspect for a short time.
Bart stared at the brothers. He was losing control of the investigation already and it had only just begun. Interviewees were seeking him out. Only in Ravens Cove.
“How about some coffee?”
Amos and Arnie followed Bart into the coffee/interview room and the process began.
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