by Nene Adams
Ruth nodded. Aiden scowled. He waved a hand in acknowledgment.
“We’ll keep you apprised of the case’s progress as much as possible,” she went on. “Should you recall any information you believe might help us, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Ruth made no reply. Annalee thought it quite likely the Devil and his minions would be ice fishing in Hell before she heard another voluntary word from the widow. Certainly her pet lawyer seemed poised to create obstacles at every turn.
After giving the hovering Aiden her business card, she led Noah outside, keenly aware of Ruth’s gaze burning a hole between her shoulder blades. Once in the patrol car, she turned to Noah and asked, “What the hell was that back there?”
He stiffened. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“The widow ranting about dogs. Seemed to me she was directing that speech at you.”
“Remember those nips on Lassiter’s shins?” Noah asked, giving her a look that was probably supposed to be innocent but seemed more like deer-in-the-headlights desperation. “Could she have been referring to them?”
“I doubt it, Deputy. How could she have known about Lassiter’s dog bites unless she witnessed the murder? And I’m willing to bet her alibi checks out.” She found it interesting, the way he tried to change the subject. He was trying to hide something and she was determined to find out what it was. She shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine. “Anyhow, is there some bad blood between you and Lassiter?” she asked.
“Apart from the way he regularly abused the Skinners in his sermons? I heard about that. Pretty sure everybody’s heard about that. Lassiter didn’t exactly make it a secret.” Despite being restrained by the seatbelt’s chest strap, Noah contorted around in the passenger seat so he faced her more directly. “Look, it’s true Reverend Lassiter hated the Skinners. They’re my cousins and stuff, so yeah, I didn’t like the guy. Don’t know why he acted like he did, but I thought he was a Grade A asshole. That don’t mean I can’t do my job.”
“Did you and Lassiter ever have words on account of his sermons? Maybe more than words? Y’all took a trip to fist city, you’d best tell me before it turns up in the investigation. I get sandbagged with some shit, I can’t help you if them bastards at IAD get involved.”
Annalee didn’t look at Noah as she backed the patrol car out of the driveway. Every interrogator knew it was often easier to obtain a confession if the other person didn’t feel they were being watched and judged. The crunch of gravel under the tires wasn’t loud enough to drown out Noah’s softly voiced response.
“Nope. Never spoke to the man,” he said. “I seen him around, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But I swear to you, I never touched him. Never talked to him. Never. Anybody says different, they’re a goddamned liar.”
“Okay, okay,” Annalee said, hearing the ring of truth in Noah’s voice. “Don’t blow your O-ring, son. I believe you.”
In the rear-view mirror, she caught a glimpse of pale fur against a green hedge. An inexplicable impulse made her stand on the brakes, flinging out a hand across Noah’s chest when the patrol car lurched to a halt. Continuing to gaze into the mirror, she watched a wolf walk across the gravel drive twenty feet behind their car.
Noah pried his clutching fingers off the dashboard, muttering something under his breath she didn’t quite catch.
“I thought they didn’t leave the Deep,” she said, her voice hushed.
The wolf paused and pointed its muzzle in their direction.
“They don’t.” Noah leaned over so he could also peer into the mirror. “Damn it.”
“Problem?”
Noah unfastened the seat belt and twisted further in his seat, craning his neck to see out of the rear window. “There are some folks who take pot shots at the wolves, ignorant peckerwoods that ought to know better but don’t, which is the main reason why they’re all supposed to stay in the woods. The wolves, I mean.”
His choice of words seemed a trifle odd to her. She replied, “Well, I don’t think anybody’s going to be shooting at that wolf while we’re sitting right here.”
“Maybe.”
The wolf abruptly took off, belly low to the ground, its tail streaming out behind it like a flag as it raced out of sight.
Noah rolled down the window and checked outside. Annalee did the same and saw Aiden Thompson standing on the house’s threshold. The lawyer had a rifle in his hands.
She wondered where the hell the weapon had come from. She hadn’t seen a rifle in the case in the study. Was it his own? If so, why had Aiden brought a rifle with him on a bereavement call? The passenger door opened, interrupting her thoughts and grabbing her attention. It seemed Noah was about to get out of the car.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Annalee asked, snagging his sleeve.
“To find out if Thompson has a license for that rifle,” Noah replied grimly.
She retained her grip, preventing him from leaving. “Don’t you dare piss in that guy’s cornflakes,” she warned. “He’s not a suspect, and you don’t harass a lawyer without a damned good reason. Even then, you’d better be prepared for a shit storm to end all shit storms. Guy like Thompson makes a stink, you’ll end up in the unemployment line.”
Noah narrowed his eyes. “Thompson was going to shoot at her.”
“Who? Mrs. Lassiter? If you mean the wolf…” Annalee shook her head. “You jackass. Get your butt back in the car before I smack you hard enough to make you cough up bones.”
Noah slid his legs back inside the patrol car and closed the door. The solid clunk made her ears pop. When her hearing returned, he was in the middle of a sentence. “—don’t trust Thompson as far as I can throw him. My gut tells me he’s a sleaze.”
“Do you have something on him? Anything at all he can be charged with? Prima facie evidence of wrongdoing of any kind?” At Noah’s reluctantly negative reply, Annalee sighed. “Look, let’s concentrate on figuring out who killed Reverend Lassiter and why, okay? Unless you actually witness Thompson shooting at an animal on the endangered species list and gather evidence to prove same in a court of law, leave the man alone. The last thing we need is a harassment suit that’ll bring the governor’s wrath down on your pointy little head.”
Noah shrugged and looked mutinous.
“I’m going to drop you off at the office,” Annalee decided aloud, putting the patrol car in gear. She was in no mood to deal with her deputy’s attitude. “You can go over the reports and make me a summary so I don’t go blind trying to read Starbuck’s bad handwriting. Girl writes like a blind monkey on crack.”
He didn’t smile at her comment. “Where are you going to be?”
“I’m taking the SUV and driving out to the Skinner place.”
“Sheriff, you’d better take me with you. The house is pretty far back from the road.”
The patrol car reached the intersection of Sycamore and Bland. Annalee brought the vehicle to a full stop and checked both ways to set a good example before driving on. “Hush your mouth, Deputy. I grew up around the Deep, same as you,” she said. “It ain’t likely I’ll get lost. All I have to do is follow that track off the Lauder extension road.”
“Yes, but—”
“But me no buts, Deputy Whitlock. You’re going to update the paperwork before I start fielding angry calls from the DA’s office. I’m going to question some persons of interest in the Lassiter case as is my duty to the good taxpayers of Daredevil County, who expect to see justice done competently by their legally elected sheriff, namely me. Get it?”
“Got it.” A muscle twitched in Noah’s jaw.
“Good.” Annalee pulled into the sheriff’s office parking lot. “Now go away and do your job, and let me do mine in peace.”
Noah got out of the patrol car and almost—but not quite—slammed the door shut behind him. Annalee rolled her eyes at the man’s pique.
She ducked inside the office long enough to c
ollect a set of keys from Minnie Hawkins and sign out a Toyota Land Cruiser from the Motor Pool. The office’s only official off-road vehicle, the SUV had been confiscated from a drug dealer in Huntswell, but since it gobbled gas like a Baptist preacher scarfing down fried chicken at a church social, she rarely authorized its use in order to spare her budget the expense.
The interior of the cruiser smelled factory fresh, but the new-car scent was tainted by a chemical whiff she identified as the enzyme-based cleanser used to lift the dealer’s blood out of the upholstery by the crime scene clean-up crew holding the county’s contract. A pine-scented air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror didn’t help disguise the odor.
Annalee rolled down the window, tuned the radio to a country and western station and enjoyed the ride out to the Lauder extension road that curved snake-like between Malingering Deep on one side and the Ateeska River opposite.
Just past mile marker fifty-seven, she spotted a worn dirt track meandering across a short grassy field and into the trees. A battered, oversized mailbox was planted on a pole near the side of the road. She turned the SUV off the blacktop and followed the track, the vehicle’s tires bumping over the rutted surface.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dapples of light and shade on the windshield. She turned down the radio’s volume until Waylon Jennings and Dwight Yoakum were the barest murmur of sound and twanging rhythm. It seemed sacrilege to spoil the forest’s majesty with loud music.
After about twenty minutes of careful driving, she came to a large metal gate blocking further vehicle access. The gate looked new and there was no way around it. The trees on both sides grew too closely together to admit anything wider than a roller skate, much less an SUV.
She parked the cruiser, got out and inspected the thick steel chain and padlock holding the gate shut. The only solution was to climb over and continue on foot. She was about to do just that when Lunella Skinner popped into sight from behind an oak tree. The woman’s smile was shy, but seemed welcoming.
“Miz Skinner, I need to ask your aunt and uncle a few questions,” Annalee said, returning the smile. “You mind unlocking the gate and letting me in?”
“I ain’t got the key, but if you jump over, the house isn’t too far along,” Lunella replied. “I’d be happy to take you up there. You got no fear of dogs?”
“Never met a hound I couldn’t handle,” Annalee answered truthfully. She loved Mongo, but she owned a cat mainly because she wasn’t at home very much. A dog required more attention than she could give it at this point in her life.
Lunella’s smile widened into a positive grin. Her teeth were very white, the canines a bit too pronounced, but Annalee found the expression charming. “Then I don’t think you’ll have any trouble in these parts, Sheriff,” Lunella said.
Annalee climbed over the gate. When she hopped down to the ground, Lunella steadied her landing with a hand. She was surprised by the strength of Lunella’s grip. The woman not only looked strong but clearly had muscle to spare—a thrilling realization that made her wish she’d met Lunella in a big city club, where they could flirt with each other, eye fuck a little and try to make conversation over the pounding music before slipping away to privacy. The pit of her stomach dropped out and her mouth went dry.
“Thanks,” Annalee said after clearing her throat.
She followed Lunella, admiring the smooth curve of her buttocks encased in dark-blue, form-fitting jeans. Damn, she was a tempting sight! If Lunella hadn’t been Noah Whitlock’s cousin…if they did not live in such a small town with the usual small town prejudices… If wishes were horses, she thought, her chest tight with a mixture of desire and frustration. She didn’t like hiding an essential part of herself, but it was the only way to keep her job.
And I’m going nowhere till I figure out who killed Daddy. She pushed past a clump of wild ferns, scattering a few tiny jumping spiders.
Lunella halted and turned around to face her. “Are you all right?” she asked, pausing as if choosing her words carefully before continuing, “You seem…well, kind of tense.”
Annalee put on her best poker face. “I’m fine, Miz Skinner.”
After a moment, Lunella nodded, although she still frowned. “You need to relax more often, Sheriff. It’d be better for your blood pressure.”
That sounded like a command. Annalee didn’t know what to say.
Lunella didn’t wait for a reply. She pivoted on a heel and began walking, her hips swaying as she moved. Her bare feet made virtually no sound while she continued down the dirt path. Her wheat-blonde hair—an unusual color Annalee was sure didn’t come from a peroxide bottle—was pulled back into a ponytail that twitched from side-to-side between her shoulder blades. There was a proud tilt to her head that belied the appealingly shy demeanor.
The seeming contradiction made Annalee want to learn more. “I hear you went to Canada after our high school graduation,” she said, keeping her tone light so as not to give the impression of an interrogation.
Without turning around, Lunella replied in a similar tone, “Just visitin’ kin, Sheriff. I’m home now, hopefully to stay.”
“Visiting for…what, a good five years?”
“We have a lot of relations up there in the north.”
“Huh.” Annalee avoided a tree root humping out of the ground at the right height to trip the unwary. “Where abouts in Canada?”
“I’m sure you ain’t never heard of it—bitty place in the Northwest Territories, they call it. Very nice, lots of trees, lots of snow.” Lunella waved a hand. “It’s different than here.”
Annalee tried to imagine staying away from Daredevil County for half a decade. She knew she would miss the familiar places and familiar faces—miss them like crazy. “Homesick much?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Lunella glanced over her shoulder. “Pretty much cried the first three weeks I was there.” She let out a rueful chuckle. “I got over it, though. It was almost hard to leave when I came back home. Here, home to the Deep.”
“I’ve lived around the Deep all my life—” Annalee stopped speaking when an agonized animal howl sliced through the air. The awful cry wavered for several seconds, hurting her eardrums, before it cut off with a series of loud, shrill yelps.
Lunella’s head snapped up, her almond-shaped eyes flashing gold. Her expression was so murderous, Annalee took an instinctive step backward.
“Stay here,” Lunella growled through gritted teeth, “and don’t leave the trail.” She took off at a loping run towards the source of the howl.
Annalee had no intention of standing there with her metaphorical thumb up her metaphorical ass. She followed Lunella as closely as she dared while crashing through the undergrowth. Lunella seemed to know exactly where she was going, or at least she moved with a confidence that appeared unshakable.
At a certain point Lunella paused, threw her head back and sniffed the air, drawing in several huge breaths. Her breasts rose and fell under her flannel shirt.
Annalee waited, trying not to pant too harshly and spare her pride. She’d thought she was reasonably fit, but in this race, she barely kept up.
Lunella turned in a different direction and went on, ducking under a tree limb. Annalee stifled a groan and stumbled along in the woman’s wake. She had the feeling that Lunella was deliberately holding her speed back a little so she wouldn’t fall far behind. Her galloping heart and burning lungs told her bruised ego to shut up and be grateful.
At last, she and Lunella reached a place where a large animal—another big damned wolf went through her mind—a wolf somewhat bigger than the one she’d seen at Doodlebug McKenzie’s place during the ill-fated raid lay near the base of a hickory tree. The wolf’s thick coat of fur was white-blond, identifying it as one of the breed indigenous to the Deep. Its leg was caught in a metal trap.
Annalee came to a stumbling, panting halt, fighting to stay on her feet rather than collapse face down in the bracken and never move again.
/> Lunella didn’t hesitate. She started straight toward the injured animal. Shocked, Annalee hissed at the woman to stop, afraid to yell lest the wolf panic and attack. The animal was in obvious pain, damn it.
She had her cell phone, but that would do no good out here where there were no towers, no signal and therefore no way to call for help. The radio in her patrol car? But Animal Control would be a long time coming, if they even agreed to a rescue. Given what she’d seen such traps do to other animals, the wolf was crippled and would probably be put down anyway. She drew her service weapon, thanking God she was at the right distance and the right angle to make a humane, one-shot kill a fair certainty.
“Come on, get back over here,” she ordered, taking aim.
“Don’t you dare!” Lunella spat, giving her a furious glare.
The injured wolf whimpered, drawing Lunella’s attention. She went closer, kneeling down next to it while Annalee held her breath and tried to sidle around to acquire a better firing angle in case she had to shoot. The second glance Lunella gave her was so filled with disdain, her heart contracted.
Lunella laid a hand on the wolf’s head. The wolf’s eyelids cracked open a slit, revealing irises shimmering like flake gold. “It’s in a trap,” Lunella said, a world’s worth of scorn in her voice. “Put your stupid little pea shooter away, Sheriff, and help me.” When Annalee stood frozen by indecision, Lunella made an impatient sound. “I said, help me.”
Annalee holstered her weapon and wiped her sweaty palms down her pants’ legs. Her mouth was dry. Nevertheless, she got out, “What do you want me to do?”
Lunella sighed in apparent relief. “He’s caught in a leghold trap. The jaws are smooth, not toothed, so the skin isn’t broken, but the bone may be. He’s hurtin’ pretty bad. We’re gonna let him loose. You release that spring lever there,” she said, indicating a piece of metal on one side of the trap, “and I’ll do t’other. Don’t worry, I won’t let him bite.”
The wolf made another soft whimper.
