Thrown to the Wolves (Big Bad Wolf)

by Adhara, Charlie

  “Go to the lighthouse. Be quick. I’m already here and I don’t like to wait.”

  “Wait, where is that?”

  “Start outside and walk toward the light. And, Agent Dayton, I hope I don’t have to tell you to come alone. This meeting stays between us.”

  The line went dead and Cooper handed the phone back to Inspector Pictou.

  “Bad?” she said sympathetically.

  “Well, she told me to walk into the light. But believe it or not, I’ve had worse.”

  Outside the station, the town was still deserted. Not a car on the street. No one walking down the sidewalks, no one wandering in and out of the shops. It might as well be his first day here.

  It was always odd to see how little murder truly affected a place. By any rights there should be a town crier running through the streets shouting, Two people have been killed, two more have gone missing, the best relationship you’ve ever had is nose-diving, shot down by secrets you don’t even know the scope of! Hear ye, fucking hear ye.

  Cooper took a deep breath and scanned the skyline. The cold air tasted of salt and smoke and made his throat ache. Over the rooftops and down the hill toward the harbor was a small white lighthouse. Counter to what he’d expected, it wasn’t round but a polygon, which made it look extra dinky, for some reason. It squatted over a one-story, red-clapboard building that was just barely shorter.

  As Cooper approached the building, he realized it was some kind of business with double glass doors and a decal of a fish on each pane. An educational center or museum, probably. Was there such a thing as a fish museum? The lighthouse had no doors but was attached to the fish house, so he decided to try through there. Before entering, Cooper hesitated, then sent Park a text message.

  Agent Bennet. Lighthouse. Come when convenient. His finger hovered over the send button, then added, Please.

  The lobby had floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room, half of which overlooked the harbor and the other half the empty parking lot. On hooks by the door hung multiple child-sized bright yellow raincoats, Scuppers the Sailor Dog style. In the far corner there was a freestanding board painted with a sea captain in a similar yellow coat. The face was missing for people to stick their own through for photos, just in case they ever wanted to know what they would look like as a grizzled fisherman caught in a storm with a giant anthropomorphized fish in a jaunty cap standing by their feet.

  In the center of the lobby was a desk, where a slight, young Black man sat scrolling through his phone with a bored look. He was more of a kid, really. The first non-Park-related person Cooper had seen in this town under twenty-two. Perhaps the youth were busy sailing the open seas.

  “Good afternoon,” Cooper said, immediately sounding like the old man he felt like.

  The kid’s eyes trailed up from his phone lazily, and Cooper realized with a start that he’d been at the wake yesterday. He’d looked older in a suit, standing with a group of lone wolves. Today he had a nametag pinned to a sports jersey. Hello, I’m Alexander.

  “Welcome to Atlantic Port Drove Fisheries and Heritage Museum. Would you like to purchase a ticket?”

  “Uh, no, thanks. I was just wondering, how can I get into the lighthouse?”

  “The lighthouse is closed to the public for the season,” the kid drawled. “Instead, enjoy our two thrilling exhibits—”

  “I’m actually just interested in the lighthouse, thanks. Is there any way I could get a little off-season tour?”

  The kid stared at him blankly. “The lighthouse is closed to the public.”

  “Right. Hey, I like your nails.” Cooper pointed to his dark blue polish.

  The kid blinked and obviously suppressed a sigh, as if he was not getting paid enough to put up with this.

  “Um, didn’t I see you yesterday at the service?” Cooper snapped his fingers. “Alexander, right?”

  The kid looked pointedly down at his own nametag and then back up at Cooper. “Wow,” he said. “Look, man, I don’t want trouble with the Shepherd. But I’m also not going to let you into a boarded-up and hazardous building and put my job in danger.”

  Cooper colored guiltily. “He’s not—You don’t need to worry about the...that.”

  “Do I look worried to you?” Alexander said. “Now do you want a ticket to the museum or not?”

  “Yeah, yes, fine. How much?”

  Alexander tapped a laminated paper on the desktop.

  “Eighteen dollars?” Cooper choked out. “Does that include a fish dinner?”

  “We currently have two exhibits open. One on local history and the other on environmental impact of the fishing industry. Today we are also showing a short film I think you’ll find particularly interesting.”

  “Will I,” Cooper said flatly, handing him a twenty and feeling like a fool. How was he going to find Bennet like this? Why couldn’t they have just met in a coffee shop like normal undercover agents of a secret agency regulating preternatural beings?

  “It should start in four minutes.” The kid handed him his ticket and change, still looking bored. “You might want to save your seat.”

  Cooper glanced around the deserted building. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll get right on that.” He started to walk past the kid, out of the lobby, then stopped and turned back. “Hey, Alexander? Does a place like this have access to public records?”

  The kid blinked at him, annoyed. “What kind of records?”

  “Oh, property deeds and that sort of stuff.”

  Alexander snorted. “Don’t need records for that. I’ll save you the trouble. The Parks own Port Drove.”

  Cooper frowned. “I know they’re, uh, ‘in charge,’” he said, using air quotes. “But I mean legally. Is there somewhere someone could go to check actual property borders, for instance?”

  “Yeah,” Alexander said slowly, like Cooper was being particularly dense. “I mean legally, too. There are no property borders. Eighty-five percent of the privately owned land around here is owned by them. The private properties, even the businesses...they just rent out most of it.” He squinted at him. “Shouldn’t you, like, know that already?”

  Cooper stared at him, trying to process it all. For the first time he felt like he was starting to understand the actual stakes here. Alpha packs controlling territory and subservient packs jockeying for power were still a little theoretical to Cooper. He didn’t get it. It seemed like something out of a fantasy. A pack war fighting for control over what?

  But property rights. Business ownership. Land disputes. Rent. And connecting it all more money than Cooper could even guess at? Yeah, those were things people killed over all the time. He got that.

  “Could anyone find that out?”

  “I don’t know. I guess if you really dug. But it’s not like people come to Port Drove to buy real estate. Joe Park always made it clear he’d rather die than sell a single acre.” Alexander’s eyes widened as if he’d realized the implications of what he’d said. “I mean...but that was just a figure of speech.”

  “Right. Of course. One more thing—has anyone else been around asking about this sort of stuff?”

  Alexander frowned. “I didn’t tell him anything. I’m not an idiot. Besides, this is just a museum, we don’t have that kind of access.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. Some human. Old white guy. Looked like that dude from the jewelry commercials. You know what I’m talking about?”

  Cooper did not. But he did know a commercial-looking white guy. And compared to this kid, he was even old.

  He thanked Alexander and left the lobby, his head spinning.

  Joe Park had been a difficult, power-hungry man who fought to dominate other packs and his own family alike, caring only about taking over the land that he refused to sell to the day he died. David Freeman, another alpha-dick, had gone poking around, l
ooking for property deeds, and now he was dead, too. Obviously there was a connection, but the how and the who were vague suspicions Cooper didn’t dare say out loud lest he was wrong. This wasn’t just any case. Park had grown up around these people. They were friends. They were family.

  The museum appeared to be only one long room with a large divider in the middle. Display cases along the wall contained ship artifacts and lengthy placards on the history of the area’s First Nations people, changes in the fishing industry over the years and the current environmental crisis facing all oceans. On the room divider were large black-and-white photos of ships from the 1800s and grim-faced crewmen posing. Cooper was able to do a full round in two minutes. When he poked his head into the media room, it was dark and empty, and the screen was black. Great movie. He couldn’t find a door that might lead to the lighthouse.

  On his second trip around the display cases, a small metal talisman caught his eye. It was corroded almost past the point of recognition, but Cooper could still pick out the leaping hare, his long ears intertwining with the branches of a fruit tree. It was the exact same symbol as the Parks’ gate.

  Cooper took a picture on his phone. “Excuse me,” he called, heading toward the front. “Can you tell me what this symbol is?”

  But Alexander was gone from the desk.

  “Uh, hello?” Cooper looked around, but the lobby was empty. He hadn’t heard the front doors open, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to go.

  Suddenly, at the back of the museum, music started, along with a muffled man’s voice. “Hello?” Cooper called, again.

  He walked back into the exhibit, past the display cases and photos. The sounds were coming from behind the heavy curtain blocking off the media room.

  “Alexander?” Cooper said tentatively. He poked his head behind the curtain. It was slightly easier to see around the room now that the video was playing. Four backless benches faced the screen, where thousands of desperate, wriggling fish were being dragged out of the water in a net while a solemn narrator described the reckless plundering of oceans. On the back bench, in the corner of the room, Agent Bennet sat watching the video, sunglasses firmly on, lenses reflecting the slaughter on screen.

  “Agent Dayton,” she said. “Glad you could make it.”

  She patted the seat beside her. Cooper glanced back out at the empty museum, then slowly entered and sat down. He felt discomfited and off balance at the possibility that she’d been here sitting in the dark when he’d checked before, watching him silently. That was probably her intention. Agent Bennet seemed like an expert at putting others off their game.

  “Well. Clearly the Trust invests more time in teaching how to set up a dramatic liaison than we do. There wasn’t anywhere else we could have met?”

  She smiled wanly. “I’ve always liked it here. It’s one of the few truly neutral businesses left in town.” She looked at him. “You’re alone?”

  “You know I am. What’s this about?”

  “You didn’t tell the Shepherd where you were going?”

  “Stop calling him that,” Cooper said quietly. “Park’s still giving his statement.” Not a lie. Just an avoidance.

  She nodded and went back to staring at the video. On the screen, nets were being cut open, and along with the silver-bellied fish, colorful trash spilled out across the deck of the ship. “I heard you had an exciting morning.”

  “So you already know David Freeman was murdered.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Cooper shifted on the uncomfortable bench, unwillingly to share his freshly formulating suspicions, still just taking shape in the dark. “I take it that means you have a theory.”

  From beneath her coat Bennet pulled a file and held it out for Cooper to take. “The information I was able to obtain last night.”

  He opened it and scanned the documents quickly, as best he could. In the low, inconsistent light, it took him a moment to realize they were in French. “What is this?”

  “Emails. Between Charles Girard, our unlucky research team’s wayward guide, and his girlfriend. In short, it’s not a coincidence the Freemans are here in Port Drove. They were lured.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dr. Freeman is in a delicate position, financially and professionally.”

  “I know she was recently fired and her husband was funding this trip. I know she needs the research to pan out and turn into something publishable if she has any hope of working in academia again.”

  “That’s what David Freeman thought as well. But according to Mr. Girard, the Freemans’ relationship was deteriorating fast. It seems Mr. Girard was worried that if David Freeman left the marriage, he would not get the full fee he was promised.”

  “So?”

  “His lover, who on these pages goes by Doudou, was, shall we say, equally concerned and encouraged Mr. Girard to get paid ahead of time.” She smiled, teeth glinting blue in the light of the film. “Despite Mr. Girard’s gruff persona, he is not naturally a confrontational person, but Doudou was...convincing. I won’t get into how at the moment, but it was a particularly riveting exchange if you ever have a free evening.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I’ll take your word for it,” Cooper said, and sent up a prayer that a stone-faced government agent never had cause to sort through and smirk at his own pet names and sexts. “So what happened?”

  “Unsurprisingly Girard did not get his advance, but when he spoke to Dr. Freeman about it, she said not to worry. That the funding was being covered entirely by a benefactor who had specifically invited her to set up her research project in Port Drove.”

  “And Girard believed that bullshit?”

  “That’s precisely what Doudou said. I, however, believe Dr. Freeman was telling the truth.” Bennet tapped the papers lightly. “In order to convince Doudou, Girard conveniently included a number of details of that conversation. Individually circumstantial, but taken all together I believe someone manipulated the Freemans into coming here specifically to cause problems for the Park pack.”

  She held up her hand and counted each point on a finger. “Girard didn’t name the benefactor, only that they were a fan of Dr. Freeman’s work on rapid evolution and that they would pay double what was promised if she managed to capture one of the wolves exhibiting abnormal behavior.”

  She dropped a finger. “It was the benefactor and not the Freemans’ idea to camp on the Parks’ property, even providing coordinates of where they might set up undiscovered.”

  Another finger. “The benefactor pushed the Freemans to lodge multiple complaints against the Parks with the police, ensuring a well-documented history of contention.”

  She closed her hand into a fist and tucked it back into her lap. “By itself it’s hardly sabotage. But combined with the attacks on Park pack alphas using the very weapon the Freemans have been seen using, I believe this has been a carefully executed attack on the pack. I know of only one group who stands to gain from their fall and has the financial wherewithal to set this up.”

  “The Rosettis,” Cooper guessed. In a way, both Stuart and Tim had been right. The research team was involved, but as a pawn in a pack war.

  “The Parks have one weakness above all else, the same weakness every wolf has: discovery. A good deal of their power comes from having the money and power to keep humans out of their business. But if that were to change...the system would quickly fall apart.”

  “So you think one, or all, of the Rosettis intentionally led Dr. Freeman here, set up a record of friction and killed David Freeman on Park property to pin them for murder so that the cops had no choice but to investigate.”

  “Perhaps. Or maybe they just wanted a suitable distraction and had no intention of killing David Freeman until he started asking too many questions.” She flipped to the back of the folder and the last page. “I found this on Mr. Freeman’s computer a coup
le days ago.”

  Cooper raised his eyebrows. “How? In fact, how did you get any of this?”

  “I can be very convincing.” She smiled at him sweetly, and for a weird moment he was reminded of Park right before he charmed some poor sucker into confessing their sins. Cooper used to be amazed that someone of Park’s size had bothered to develop more tricks up his sleeve than pure physical intimidation. Now he realized Park would have needed as many tricks as he could get while taking over the entire fucking northeast continent.

  Cooper cleared his throat and examined what seemed to be bank statements. “What am I looking at?”

  “Printouts of screenshots found on his desktop. It appears to be a separate account where Dr. Emily Freeman was transferring all the money her husband believed was going to fund the research.”

  “So she was double-dipping, using the benefactor’s money to work and David’s money to set up a getaway account.” Good for her, Cooper thought. Especially if David had been as big a bastard as Cooper suspected he was. If Dr. Freeman wasn’t smack-dab in the middle of a murderous plot to dismantle the infrastructure of an entire species, he’d be tempted to just say carry on.

  “As these came from his computer, we can assume David discovered her betrayal as well. It’s possible he tracked down the benefactor and the confrontation went poorly.”

  “I met a member of the Rosetti pack last night,” Cooper said, thinking out loud. “A man named Geoff. He said David Freeman approached him under the pretense of property deeds and then accused him of having an affair with his wife.”

  Agent Bennet tilted her head to the side, absorbing that information. “Geoffrey has been Sylvia Rosetti’s right hand for three years. While she might be reluctant to move against Helena for sentimental reasons, he would not.”

  “Let’s say all this is true. Where are Dr. Freeman and Girard?” In his pocket, Cooper’s phone vibrated. He ignored it.

  “I haven’t been able to determine that yet. But it would be in the Rosettis’ best interest to keep them away from the police so that none of this comes to light. Assuming they’re not already dead, that is.”