by S. E. Meyer
“Because Anna, it was your mother’s.”
Anna’s head swam.
My mother’s?
“If you want to find out the truth behind her death, and live long enough to find her murderer, you need to do as I say.”
A man appeared in the second entryway to the kitchen. Anna aimed and fired two shots into his chest. Distracted, the two men behind Anna went unnoticed. The first man grabbed her from behind. She dropped the phone as she drove her elbow into the man’s face. He stumbled backwards, sending a set of knives crashing to the floor. Instinct took over as she turned, jumped and kicked the man in front of her in the chest, forcing him backwards into the man with the gun behind him.
As Anna fell back to the floor, she dropped to a crouching position. Leaning to one side, she fired three precise rounds. The bullets ripped through both men and they crashed to the floor.
Anna ignored the pain in her chest while wrestling with her trembling hands. She held her position for several seconds, weapon aimed, as she watched the life drain from her attacker’s eyes.
Anna pulled in a long breath through her nose and exhaled to calm herself. She scanned her surroundings and snapped the phone up off the floor. As she did, she saw the kitchen cutlery block of knives sitting sideways on the floor.
Could this be a chance to find mom’s killer? she thought.
Anna hesitated, knowing what tampering with a crime scene could do to her career.
But...why?
It wasn’t her mother’s death that haunted her as much as why she died. Those three letters. The question that burned in the back of her mind. An endless void beating through her daily thoughts and empty heart. A chasm that only one answer could fill.
‘Let it go, Anna.’
That’s what everyone kept telling her. Friends. Family. Co-workers. A repeated mantra from people who think they know what’s best for another human being, confident their advice will heal the soul.
For whom does a troubled mind quell, if not oneself, conductor of the symphony of thoughts in which we find ourselves entangled? Anna recalled a favorite quote.
They were wrong. Letting go proved impossible. The need for answers. Meaning. Purpose. The truth. They might as well be asking me to stop breathing.
Anna decided.
In one fluid motion she jumped to the other side of the men, grabbed a knife with a serrated blade, and ran back into the living room.
“Okay, now what?” she breathed as she removed the pile of debris from the dead man's legs and felt his right thigh for a lump.
“You're alive, that's excellent,” the stranger's voice trickled in her ear. “I'm not surprised. Like mother, like daughter.”
“You knew her? My mother?”
“No time for that now. Upper right thigh, cut his pants and cut out the smart drive.”
Anna did as instructed. She cut the man's pants away from his thigh and found a small lump. She drove the knife deep into the lifeless leg and cut out a chunk of flesh, peeling back the skin to reveal a small tube. Anna held it up, inspecting it in the light. The unknown metal alloy shell reflected a pink hue through the thin coat of blood that surrounded it.
“Okay, got it,” she said into the phone. “Now what?”
“Run, Anna. Run like the hounds of hell were at your heels and don't stop until you get back to the police station.”
Anna stood still, her gaze still fixed on the metallic tube. “Now Anna, go! You're still in danger, get out of there I can only delay it for so long.” The voice demanded.
Anna stood up and made it to the hallway in three long strides, jumping over Gregorsson's lifeless body in the doorway. “Who are you, and how did you know my mother?” she asked as she ran down the stairwell to the ground floor. “And what do you mean delay it? Delay what?”
“It ...done...down...then..okay?”
“What?” Anna asked. “I didn't get that, you're cutting out,” she said as she exited the building. “Shit, damn it,” Anna yelled out as she looked down at the phone in her hand.
‘Call lost, signal faded.’
A hundred years of wireless phone technology and they still can't get them to work through concrete and steel. Anna growled.
She ran to her car and got in, throwing her gun on the seat. Starting the car with one hand she stuffed the metal tube into her pocket with the other before pushing the button that read 'Manual Operation'. The car's audible warning system emanated from its dashboard speakers. 'Manual operation not recommended.'
Her tires squealed as she hit the gas pedal. “Call Jack,” Anna instructed. The car's on-board computer dialed her Captain's number on the phone. “No answer, shit,” she said out loud as her pocket emitted a steady beep. Anna had only made it half a block when an oncoming car sped up and crossed into her lane, crashing into her in a head-on collision.
Stunned, she shook her head in confusion as bits of glass from the windshield dropped out of her brown locks and into her lap. A man opened her car door and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her from her seat.
“What's going on?” Anna asked, confused and bleeding from her forehead.
“Give it to me,” the man yelled. “Give it to me now.” he lay Anna on the ground in the middle of the street, rummaging through her pockets.
Anna drove her palm into the man's nose, feeling the cartilage give way. The man rolled over onto his back in a fit of convulsions.
Anna got up, trying to keep her wits about her. She squinted through the blood stinging her eyes and stumbled back towards her car. Leaning into the vehicle she grabbed her gun and phone before sprinting towards the middle of the nearest intersection. In a daze, she bumped into an elderly man along the way. Anna lost her balance, falling to the concrete.
“Excuse me miss,” the man said and extended his hand to help her up off the ground. He was wearing a dark trench coat with a scarf wrapped around his face, hiding everything except his green eyes.
She took the man's hand and rose to her feet, steadying herself for a moment. Anna apologized through a wince and holstered her weapon as the elderly man shuffled off to the other side of the street.
She continued to the middle of the intersection and waved down a young man driving a sports car. He stopped the vehicle and rolled down the window.
“Are you okay? You're bleeding.” he asked.
Anna leaned into the car and turned off the auto-drive feature. “I'm a detective with the police and I need your car, don't worry I will return it to you in perfect condition.”
As Anna spoke, several rounds ripped through the car's rear quarter panel. “Okay, well, almost perfect condition,” she added. “Get out.”
“There's no way I'm loaning my brand new, double hydrogen boost Mclaren to some scrawny little girl.”
A man grabbed Anna from behind. She spun around, moving behind her attacker and with her own weight, smashed the man's face into the roof of the Mclaren. She turned again, placing the man's arm up over her shoulder and pulled it down hard, backwards, breaking it below the elbow.
The driver of the Mclaren watched in disbelief as Anna's assailant fell onto the hood of his car and dropped to the concrete; a piece of jagged ulna protruding from his forearm.
Anna turned back to the driver. “I said get out.”
The driver's eyes had widened to nearly the size of the small sports car's headlights.
“Okay, okay, I'm going,” the driver replied, clamoring out of the vehicle.
Anna climbed into the car and took a breath. Just as she closed the door, the apartment building she exited a few moments before, exploded in a deafening roar.
The shock-wave of the blast hit her in the chest and the loud ringing in her ears sent her into another bout of confusion. Fragments of glass and concrete rained down onto the street in front of her. Anna stared, awestruck for a moment, before coming to her senses and once again grabbed her phone. She noticed a new text message.
It was from the same number that sent her a t
ext when she first arrived at the murder scene. 'For God’s sake, get the hell out of there already.'
'Who are you?' Anna typed back. She engaged the manual drive feature on the dashboard and slammed her foot down onto the accelerator. The tires squawked and smoke rolled out from under the car as she sped off towards the police station. There was an immediate reply and Anna glanced down at the screen. 'A Lonewolf'
CHAPTER I
14 YEARS EARLIER
“Montana Winter Morton, get your butt in here!” her mother called into the backyard from the Morton's covered porch.
“Uh oh, your mom sounds mad.”
“Yup, I gotta go Billy,” Anna replied. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. An innocent kiss, and the first time she had made the gesture. “You will marry me someday, right?” She asked, blushing.“Coming mother!,” Anna yelled back as she ran from behind the proud oak where her and Billy were shading themselves from the afternoon sun.
Even though Anna was in trouble, Margaret Morton couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of her oldest daughter running towards her. The lustrous, brown curls swept Anna's innocent face as she ran, further warming her mother's heart.
Margaret was an athletic woman with long brown hair that had a slight natural curl to them, not unlike her daughter's. Her brow was furled, but her bright blue eyes were always smiling out from her plain, yet attractive, face.
Anna bounced up the steps and looked into her mother's loving eyes. “Hi mom,” she said. “Is it supper time already?”
“No, not yet dear. You're in trouble, miss.”
Anna frowned. “What for?”
“You've been drawing on the walls again, haven't you?”
“No.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” Anna replied, nodding her head.
“Well, who in the world would have wrote on the walls in my house young lady?”
“Maybe Sara?” Anna replied, looking down at her shoes.
“Ah, I see. So your two-year-old sister found crayons and drew a picturesque scene with trees and stick people and who knows what else?”
“Sure. She's a smart one, mom. And those aren't stick people. That's me and Billy, at our wedding.” Anna's eyebrows popped up, realizing she had said too much.
“Yes, well, not as smart as her big sister with getting out of trouble, I'm afraid. What are we going to do with you Montana?”
Anna hung her head. “I have no idea, mom.”
Her mother placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and led her towards the door.
“You‘ll have to paint your room as a punishment. And you will do a good job this time, no dripping paint all over.”
“Yes, mom.”
“Okay, well I think I heard your father drive in so we‘ll have dinner before he heads back out to work. Go get cleaned up.”
“Yay, daddy's home,” Anna screeched and ran into the house. She ran up to her father and jumped into his arms.
“Hey there, peanut.” Steven Morton gave his daughter a warm hug, rubbing her back with his calloused hands. He loosened his embrace and looked at Anna with navy-blue eyes that rested below a full head of silver-gray hair. “How was your day?”
“Good daddy!”
“Not that good. Our daughter was writing on walls again.”
“It was time to paint those dingy walls anyway, right peanut?” her father asked.
Margaret shot her husband a scowl.
Anna smiled. Her father had a way of making her feel better no matter what the situation.
They ate dinner before Steven left for his second job. After tidying up, Margaret watched television with Anna until bedtime.
“You want me to read the book again tonight?” Anna's mother asked.
“Yes!” Anna replied from behind wide eyes and a bright smile.
“The same one? Are you sure you don't want to read something else?”
“Nope, I want Molly the sheep!”
“Okay,” her mother replied and picked up the book off the nightstand where she had set it down the evening before. Steven had bought it for their daughter a few months before. Although Anna loved the book, Margaret wasn't so sure she liked the message it disclosed.
Anna jumped on the bed and crawled under the covers. “Here we go,” her mother said as she sat on the bed next to Anna and turned to the first page. She read.
'I am Molly. I'm a sheep.'
'I run, play, dream and sleep.'
Margaret turned the page to reveal a picture of Molly running and playing through a field of lush, green grass. The next picture was of her lying in bed, sleeping.
'I get treatments from the doctor, every week.'
'So I can stay healthy and keep my coat sleek.'
Margaret turned the page again. This time there was a picture of Molly at the doctor's office with an IV in her leg. The next picture was of Molly smiling with a radiant, fluffy coat of snow-white wool.
'But one thing I must never do at all,'
“Are you ready, honey? This is your favorite part.” Anna nodded and both mother and daughter read the words aloud together.
'I must never, ever, climb over the wall.'
Anna giggled.
Margaret turned the page. Molly was now standing in front of an ominous concrete partition.
'I eat my meals and help clean up the dishes.'
'I mind my parents and do their wishes.'
Margaret flipped the page to the next scene showing Molly eating and then helping a large, plump sheep with an apron, tidying up the kitchen.
'I go to school and learn things that make sense.'
Anna read the next line from memory, shaking her head back and forth as Margaret turned the page.
“But I must never, ever, crawl under the fence.”
The next picture showed Molly going to school while another sheep was trying to squeeze under a split-rail fence with tall green grass on the other side. Another, taller sheep was scolding the potential escapee with a pointed hoof.
Margaret continued.
'I stay safe with walls and fences about.'
'They keep me in, and the predators out.'
The next page showed Molly playing on one side of a wall while a menacing pack of wolves prowled along the other side.
'One thing's for sure, I can sleep safe and sound,'
'Knowing there is a wall all around.'
The last image showed a small cottage nestled into the hillside overlooking a quiet town. The illustration showed Molly through the window of the small home tucked into her bed and sporting a broad grin. In the background there was a wall that encircled the entire town, including Molly's home.
Margaret closed the book. “There honey, time to sleep now, we have family treatment tomorrow.” she urged, placing the book on the side table before leaning in to kiss Anna on the forehead.
“Mom?”
“Yes, dear.”
“What's fisherman's disease?”
Margaret wrinkled her brow. “Fisherman's?” she asked, then smiled. “Oh, you mean Fleishman‘s. Fleishman‘s Disease. It's called that because it's named after the doctor that discovered it,” explained her mother.
Anna scowled. “Well, I wish he'd never found it. Is that why we have to get treatments?”
“Yes, the treatments keep us healthy, honey. Otherwise we would get sick.”
“Like the crazy, sick people on the other side of the wall?”
“Now where did you hear that?”
“At school. The teacher said that's why we have the wall. It keeps the sick people out so they can't hurt us.”
“I'm not sure about them being crazy honey,” Margaret replied. She tried to think of a way to lighten the mood. “Hey, I heard a joke the other day. Want to hear it?”
“Okay.” Anna smiled.
“What's the difference between swine flu and bird flu?”
Anna shrugged.
“For swine flu they give you oinkment. For bird flu th
ey give you tweetment.”
Anna wrinkled her nose.
“Never mind dear, I forget how young you are sometimes. You'll think it's funny when you're older.”
“Mom, did you have to get treatments when you were a little girl too?”
Margaret smiled then shook her head. “No honey. We didn't have treatments when I was your age.”
“Because that doctor didn't find it yet?” Anna asked.
Her mother smiled. “Right dear. We didn't have the wall either. When I was a little girl I grew up on a sheep farm in Montana. That's where your name came from, remember?.”
“Yeah, you told me that a hundred times already, mom.' Anna sat up in bed, tipped her head to one side and put her hands on her small hips. It was her best Margaret impression. “Montana Winter Morton,” she said. Her eyes lit up. “Did you have sheep like Molly?” she asked.
“Yes dear.”
“Someday my name will be Montana Winter Wool, mom,” Anna said from behind wide eyes while nodding her head.
Margaret raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like a beautiful name honey, but why are you going to change your name?”
“Because mom, remember? I'm going to marry Billy Wool.”
Anna was too young to make the connection between her mother being raised on a sheep farm and her expected change in moniker. Tears welled in Margaret's eyes. “That would be a wonderful, and special name honey, but you don't need to worry about getting married for a long time, okay?” Margaret smiled and leaned in to give Anna one more kiss on the forehead. “All right now, less talking and more sleeping.”
Margaret stood up and moved towards the door. “Montana Winter Wool,” she whispered, smiling as she left the room. “Oh Anna, you can melt a mother's heart.”
Chapter II
After parking the Mclaren in the employee lot between two police cruisers Anna jogged to the station entrance. She fished her ID from her pocket with shaking hands and swiped the plastic card through the slot. A red light appeared, and the console buzzed.
Shit.
Anna tried to slide her ID again, steadying her right hand with her left.
