Fangs

by Vella Munn

  “That’s why I brought along my digital. It has a great telephoto lens.”

  “Which we won’t need if the grays didn’t carry Grover very far and there’s no sign of Ice. Just what I don’t want to have to think about, getting close to what’s left of Grover.”

  That morning he and Darick had told each other the day would be a success from an employment perspective if they brought down Kendall’s attackers. Because they had no choice in what had to be done, they’d focus on logistics. When and if they’d killed the grays, they’d take pictures and remove a front paw from each body for testing. They’d make sure they knew where they’d left the remains, and keep the location to themselves until they returned with other wildlife officers and law enforcement.

  Now, killing the grays and the wolf-dog running with them was no longer their priority. There was the still-warm body of a man to try to locate, a body they wouldn’t be able to remove today.

  “I’m thinking we shouldn’t have much trouble finding where Grover was taken,” Darick said. “Even as big as the grays are, hauling dead weight won’t be easy. They’ll flatten a lot of vegetation. Leave proof.”

  Jeff again acknowledged the man his life might depend on. “I’m not sure I buy what they said about not being able to go after the grays and Grover because of the terrain.”

  “They didn’t want to.”

  “I don’t blame them. Something else. The way Ram described the pond, my guess is it’s a popular watering hole.”

  “If you’re right,” Darick said. “It’s possible Ice and his harem have staked it out, which brings me back. Is it possible Grover killed Ice? I don’t see him shooting just any elk considering their agenda.”

  “Maybe buck fever got the best of him.”

  “Which made him a piss poor choice to bring along,” Darick said. “They started out thinking they were going to get back at Kendall’s attackers. That fell apart. Did they even think of the danger until it was too late?”

  For Jeff, there wasn’t much difference between hate and dread. Near as he could tell, considering how the encroaching forest kept messing with his ability to stay on task, he was feeling both emotions in equal amounts.

  Mia had already been forced to deal with two dead elk. If there was a third, one with a white coat and massive rack…

  * * * *

  Jeff didn’t try to speak. It took everything he had to just acknowledge the large dead bull stretched out on its side. Except for the telltale hole at the back of the shoulder, and an awkward tilt to the head, the animal looked peaceful. Flies had already found the carcass nestled in a fern carpet with evergreens standing guard. Come night, a bear or cougar might start feeding. Or the grays and Lobo.

  As if he could forget about them.

  “Damn Grover,” Darick muttered. “Looks like it took one shot.”

  “The man signed his death warrant. He just didn’t know it.”

  Darick repositioned the pistol at his waist and stepped back from the body. “A life for a life. Makes me think there’s something religious about this.”

  “If so, it isn’t the kind of religion you and I are familiar with.” Despite his unease, once Darick held his rifle, Jeff crouched and placed his hand over a dark, sightless eye. I’m sorry. So sorry. “I’m hoping Niko and her people can connect more dots.”

  “She’ll hate this as much as Mia will.” Darick groaned. “What do the grays think when they witness killing for killing’s sake? They put it together? Understand why? Do they comprehend that a specific person was responsible, or does the truth come to them in ways we’ll never understand?”

  Darick wasn’t any more religious than he was, which was hardly at all, but his friend was right. This felt spiritual. Deep. Too much to handle. Forcing him away from the need for action.

  “I don’t care why Grover did this. We’re the ones who’ll have to deal with the consequences. I don’t know much about Grover, do you?”

  Darick frowned. The way he was studying the elk, Jeff figured Darick wanted to touch the animal, but wasn’t willing to test his ability to lean over that far or kneel.

  “He lives—lived—in a duplex out on Granite Road. I know, because I followed him home one night after I spotted him stumbling out of Bay Bar. I called the police and trailed him. He’d just gotten to his place when they showed up. After he was arrested, the officer told me Grover ties one on every few months. He’s been married and divorced a couple of times. His kids don’t live nearby. There isn’t much to the duplex, and his car looked as if he never washed it.”

  Jeff patted the bull’s neck and stood. I hope you’ll find peace. “It sounds as if he didn’t have much of a life.”

  “Now he doesn’t have any. He probably thought he was getting something to mount on his wall and brag about. He couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  Jeff felt no need or desire to point out that the grays might have left Grover in much the same shape as they had Kendall, instead of killing him. He wondered if that had occurred to Ram and the others when they were deciding whether to try to find their friend. More likely, if the forest felt as alien to them as it did to him right now, fear had been the deciding factor. He didn’t blame them. When he’d first become a wildlife officer, spending the night alone in the forest had made him nervous. That had changed as he’d become accustomed to the sounds and stopped getting lost in the past. Today was different in ways he wasn’t going to try to articulate.

  “We have to do this.” The shadows seemed to mock him. “Cover as much territory as we can in a short amount of time.”

  “Yeah.” Darick’s mouth stayed in a hard line. “One hell of a day.”

  They didn’t both need to take pictures of the elk, but they did. Jeff wondered if they were putting off searching for Grover. The only thing that kept this from tipping him into rage was that Grover hadn’t killed Ice.

  Stepping back and noting how seamlessly the bull blended into its surroundings cleared his mind enough to allow him to focus on what to do next. If something was watching them—a big if—so far it or they were content to remain where it-they were. Time did strange things when a person was under stress. So did distance.

  “The forest has never spooked me,” Darick said. “Not until today.” So far, he hadn’t seen any sign of something having been dragged into the underbrush. He wasn’t even sure where the men had been standing. Where was the pond?

  “My sister can’t spend the night in the woods. The sounds freak her out,” Darick continued. “This would make her crazy.”

  Jeff didn’t need to hear that, but he believed he knew why Darick had said what he had. If Darick hadn’t spoken, the unknown would continue to take over inside him. Jeff felt the same way. He just wasn’t ready to acknowledge his apprehension to his partner.

  Fear? Yes, it was getting close to that. Carrying both a rifle and a pistol wasn’t enough insurance.

  Untold numbers of prints littered the pond’s shore. The surrounding grasses and other vegetation had been hammered into the earth, serving as proof of how popular it was. The pond wasn’t that large, maybe a hundred feet across but fairly deep. The area was its own ecosystem, a study in what nature could create. If Ram had claimed it as his private hunting preserve, as Jeff suspected, he understood why.

  “This is what I wished my sister could see,” Darick said. “If she’d stand here and take it in, not wonder what might be in the shadows, maybe she’d understand what the wilderness is about and why, despite today, I love it.”

  Relieved because his partner’s voice was no longer laced with dread, Jeff took in the setting. Thanks to the trees fighting for sunlight, the wind made little impact near the ground. Silence ruled, silence modulated by the hum of countless insects. Jeff nearly believed he could see the ferns stretch and expand. If he stood here long enough, the ground cover would encompass him. He’d cease to exist separate from this wild world.

  “What do we do?” Darick asked as he stared at a tree that had falle
n partway into the pond. A riot of small plants had taken root in the bark. “Maybe wait to see if the grays return when they get thirsty? I don’t know what else to suggest.”

  “There’s adequate water and a steady food source. There’s no reason for them to leave. They could be just out of sight.”

  “Watching us.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jeff returned his friend’s stare. Their relationship had started as many did among co-workers with an assessment of each other’s skills and reliability. Over time, respect had evolved into friendship. Now he believed he knew Darick better than he did most people and that Darick felt the same way about him.

  “The flies found the bull,” he said. “If Grover’s dead, some will have moved on to him.”

  His expression impassive, Darick nodded. “I figure we have an hour, maybe an hour and a half before we have to head back. Otherwise, we’ll be out here after dark. I’ll continue around the pond. Why don’t you go back the way we came, try to see if we missed something? We should get back to the carcass about the same time.”

  Jeff nodded and started walking. Even as he studied a thousand years of animal prints at the pond’s edge, he took comfort in knowing Darick was nearby. It was just the two of them in the middle of nowhere.

  Maybe four gray dogs and a wolf-dog were watching them. Taking their measure of the humans who’d infringed on what was theirs.

  “There’s something here,” Darick called out some five minutes later.

  Instead of wasting his breath asking for an explanation, Jeff retraced his steps. When he reached Darick, he didn’t say anything, just stared where his partner was indicating.

  The ferns leading away from the pond at that spot had been smashed flat. He could only speculate that the gouges in the earth had been created by claws but there was no mistaking the dark splotches staining the grasses in several places.

  “Blood,” he said unnecessarily.

  “Yeah. And heading into the woods. Ah, shit. I hate this job.”

  * * * *

  Grover’s throat was missing. The ragged opening went all the way to the man’s vertebrae. Much of his shirtsleeves had been torn off, revealing long, deep slashes in his arms. There wasn’t much more left of his jeans, the exposed skin nearly colorless. Beyond sick, Jeff stared at Grover’s widely splayed legs and the nothing that had once been his groin.

  Darick’s breath hissed. In contrast, Jeff couldn’t think how to breathe. He noted that, in contrast to what had happened to Kendall, the victim’s feet were untouched. He was missing most of his fingers. His eyes were open, the horror of his dying being played out in his expression.

  “I’m not staying,” Darick muttered. Gripping his rifle, he backed away from the body. “Do what you need to, but I’ve seen enough for today.’

  Jeff swallowed. “So have I, but…”

  He would have given anything to be anywhere else, to be able to shake off the question of whether the grays and Lobo were just out of sight, watching, waiting. Terror was an approaching storm inside him, the wind increasing with every second and threatening to bury him under the deluge.

  “I don’t want to talk,” Darick muttered. “There’s nothing…”

  A backward glance let Jeff know his partner’s face had gone white. His probably wasn’t any different. The flies were there, buzzing impatiently. Even with the all-encompassing sound, Jeff heard a frog croak.

  “Photographs,” he made himself say. His legs had turned to ice. In contrast, his spine was on fire. “We have to take pictures.”

  “Do it. I’ll cover you.”

  There was no reason to point out that one weapon wouldn’t be able to hold its own against five determined canines. Like his partner, he didn’t want to speak any more than absolutely necessary. His stomach roiling, he shrugged out of his backpack, put down his rifle, and fumbled for his digital. For the first time since he’d started documenting crime and possible crime scenes as a detective, he didn’t concentrate on selecting the best angles and making sure he captured as much as possible. He shot quickly, randomly, from a too great distance.

  Thinking to add some of the setting to the documentation, he switched to video and started to pan over what was behind Grover’s body. When he noticed a light splotch at the base of a dark tree trunk, he thought it was a bush. Then he used the telephoto to draw the splotch closer.

  “A gray,” he whispered.

  “What? Where?”

  He pointed. “It isn’t moving, but it knows we’re here.”

  “Shit.”

  Despite the numbness in his hands, he snapped a picture before jamming the digital into a front pocket.

  “Don’t shoot,” he warned. “They’ll all attack if you do.”

  “Shit,” Darick repeated. “Now that we’ve found Grover, we’ve got to get out of here. This is more than the two of us can handle on our own.”

  Dread, again, threatened to overtake him. Trying not to hyperventilate, he grabbed his backpack and rejoined Darick. Being close to his partner helped enough that he remembered where he was. After getting into his pack again, he retrieved his rifle. Holding it reassured him a little. He used his rifle scope to study where he’d spotted the gray, but didn’t see anything.

  As they started retracing their steps, one or the other looked behind them to see if they were being followed. The shadows deepened by the moment, and the vegetation seemed more invasive than when they’d arrived.

  Maybe the creatures responsible for destroying Grover were in no hurry to attack. They’d wait until he and Darick let down their guard, maybe taunt and tease. The grays had claimed this remote and beautiful place as their own. They’d kill anyone who dared to invade it.

  Or would they? They’d let four men live and, so far, hadn’t gone after Darick and him. The grays didn’t kill simply because they could. They had reasons, their reasons, with vengeance driving their actions.

  He and Darick hadn’t done anything against the animals’ creed, had they?

  “I’ll feel a hell of a lot better once we’ve reached the SUV,” Darick said, when they were close enough to the elk’s body to locate it surrounded by its wilderness casket. “Not knowing where the damned dogs are—no doubt? You’re sure you saw a gray?”

  “I’m certain.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

  Darick would have to fight his way back to normalcy on his own. Jeff couldn’t help him. The elk carcass served to reinforce why the grays had brought Grover down. When, and he’d have to, he told law enforcement and maybe the media what had taken place here, would it matter if he tried to explain the grays’ motives?

  Despite his need for the relative safety of a vehicle, he stopped. His thought had been to acknowledge the beautiful bull. However, before he could gather a prayer, something to the right of the body grabbed his attention.

  “Over there.” He jerked his head. “Do you see something?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  His heart hammering so hard it hurt, he aimed. A creature was slinking through the ferns, the body mostly brown and low to the ground, not as large as the grays, thank God, and without Lobo’s fearlessness.

  “What the hell—” Darick started.

  “It’s a dog.” Jeff’s fingers cramped. “Just a dog.” He swallowed. “Hey, buddy, what are you doing here?”

  The dog, he could tell it was a hound, continued to slink toward them on its belly. The creature was trembling and its eyes showed a great deal of white. When it reached the path, Jeff noticed it was dragging a chain.

  “Keep an eye out for the grays,” he said, although he had no doubt that’s what Darick would do. “We can’t leave this mutt behind. I’m going to try to get hold of it.”

  When Darick nodded, Jeff got down on his knees and placed his weapon on the ground next to him. He held out his hand and continued speaking in a low, hopefully calming voice. The shaking creature inched forward. Instead of trying to get away or biting when Jeff pl
aced his hand on the dog’s head, it whimpered. With the sound, Jeff fell in love with the abandoned creature. After stroking the smooth coat and determining that the dog was well-fed, he took hold of the chain, retrieved his weapon and stood. His legs were unsteady and his heart still beat too fast.

  “One of the men must have left him behind.” He looked under the now-standing hound’s legs. “Her. She’s female.”

  “Why the hell did they do that?” Darick spoke through a clenched jaw. “This is someone’s pet. She would have died out here if we hadn’t found her. Maybe the grays would have killed her.”

  “Maybe. I can’t say. That’s a world we don’t know enough about. Let’s get out of here, girl. I’m sure that’s what you want.” It’s what I need.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jeff didn’t come close to relaxing until he’d lifted the still-traumatized hound into the SUV, slid in, and locked his door. Darick started the engine and turned on the lights.

  Darick let out a shaky sigh. “I wasn’t sure we’d get back here.”

  “Me, either.

  “It’s going to take a while to leave the mountain. Thank goodness the grays can’t chew through metal.”

  Jeff let out a breath. At least they were leaving. The hound extended her head over the back seat and licked his neck.

  “This makes me crazy,” he said. “Someone deliberately abandoned her.”

  Darick spoke without taking his attention off the road. “Listen to us. We’re pissed about what was done to this dog instead of being concerned about how Grover was killed.”

  “The grays got to him.”

  “No shit. I wasn’t this scared when I had my accident. What happens now?”

  “Good question.” Their surroundings flashed in and out of sight. Near the end of their walk with night threatening to crash in on them, he’d longed to run, but had forced himself not to, both because Darick might not have been able to keep up, and he hadn’t wanted to set the grays off. Despite his relief, a part of him remained at the kill site. It was beautiful but deadly. “We’ll contact the sheriff and our department. Let someone else decide what to tell the media. There’s a body to retrieve, grays to try to—crap, I’m not sure I want them dead. Knowing what Grover did—”