by Rick Hautala
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed into the dead phone as the booth tipped over and shattered explosively on the sidewalk. A flying piece of glass ripped across Alan’s neck and blood spurted out, drenching his chest.
For a moment longer, Alan struggled. His feet kicked wildly in the wreckage of the phone booth as the beast, slowly and confidently, came closer, its mouth gaping wide.
Alan’s bladder released a warm flood. He stared, wide-eyed at the gaping mouth as the beast’s warm breath washed over him. Consciousness slowly began to slip away, from loss of blood from his neck wound. “Help me! Help meee.”
With an angry snarl, the beast tore open the boy’s belly and luxuriated in the spreading pool of blood that soaked Alan Tate’s body. The wolf ate until he was satisfied, then trotted off into the darkness.
.VI.
Wednesday, November 19
For the first time in weeks, Thurston arrived at the office before Granger. He immediately saw the letter addressed to him lying on top of the desk. He sat down and ripped the envelope open.
In response to your requested background check on Mr. Robert A. Wentworth, late of Dorchester, Mass, I am enclosing the following newspaper articles photocopied from The Boston Globe. A full background report is in progress
Sincerely,
Timothy Hatch
Agent-F.B.I.(Boston)
Thurston unfolded the two sheets of paper and read rapidly. As he read, he congratulated himself for having a sharp investigative instinct. He hadn’t trusted or liked Bob Wentworth, ever since he interviewed him the morning after Wendy Stillman’s murder. Now, as he read, he felt he had even more reason to mistrust Bob Wentworth.
The Boston Globe: March 6, 1973 (Dorchester)
Hearing Held on Rape Charges
Mr. Robert A. Wentworth, a teacher at Dorchester Public High School, has been charged with rape by Miss Beth Landry, a senior at the school.
Miss Landry alleges that, on the night of January 27, following a dance at the high school, Mr. Wentworth offered her a ride home. When she refused, saying she already had a ride, she says Mr. Wentworth forced her into his car, drove her to an abandoned warehouse lot, and forcibly raped her.
At the hearing today, the charge was sternly denied by Mr. Wentworth and his lawyer.
The date for the formal inquest has been set for next Monday.
The Boston Globe: March 20 (Dorchester)
Teacher Resigns After Rape Charges Dropped
In an out-of-court agreement today, rape charges stemming from an alleged incident last January have been dropped by the attorney for the plaintiff, Miss Beth Landry. Immediately following the decision, Mr. Robert Wentworth appeared on the steps of the courthouse and announced that, due to the harassments associated with the case, he was forced to resign his teaching position. His resignation would take effect immediately, he said.
Footsteps sounding on the doorsteps outside made Thurston jump to his feet. He quickly folded the letter and articles, and stuffed them into his shirt pocket.
Granger burst into the office, his face flushed with agitation. “Come on!” he shouted, as he went to the wall gun-rack and slid the chain to release his rifle. “Something’s happened down at Drapeau’s.”
“What? What is it?” Thurston asked, sensing the excitement.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” Granger said, as he checked the rifle for ammunition. “But I’ll tell you one thing, we’ve got another one!”
.VII.
The cigarette dangled loosely from his mouth as Bob listened to the ring a ninth, tenth time. He was just about to hang up when the line clicked and he heard Lisa’s voice.
“Hello,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.
Bob snubbed his cigarette out and took a deep breath. “Hi, Lisa. It’s me. I hope I didn’t wake you up but, well, I only have a minute before homeroom.”
“Huh? Yeah. Sure? What is it?” Lisa said, still sounding confused.
“I’m sorry I woke you up, but this is important.”
There was a prolonged silence at the other end of the line while Lisa waited for Bob to continue.
“Well, you know those books I took out of the library yesterday, the ones on witchcraft.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling, almost afraid to continue.
“Yeah.”
“Well, ummm, there’s a section in one on, on lycanthropy.”
“Huh?”
“Lycanthropy, the ability of a, uhh, a human being to change into animal form.” His neck was beginning to burn with embarrassment.
“Bob, is something the matter?”
“No,” he said sharply. “Look, I stayed up late last night reading this stuff. Now I know you’re gonna think I’ve flipped my lid, but when I read that section on lycanthropy, it just made me start to think.”
“What did you say it was?” Lisa asked heatedly.
“It’s the ability of a person to change into an animal. According to this book, it’s a belief that is so widespread, well, they think there might be something to it.”
“You mean like werewolves and stuff?” Lisa asked, astonished. “Come on, Bob, this is the twentieth century.”
“It has a whole section about the spells witches can use to change themselves or others into animals. That’s how they got to the Sabbaths in the woods, by turning into animals. You know, how black cats are supposed to be unlucky?”
“Yeah,” Lisa responded, sounding totally unamused.
“Well, that’s because witches usually took the form of a cat. Now you’ve told me that Julie Sikes reads a lot of this stuff. What if, what if she really believes it, and it works. Maybe she’s turning someone, herself or someone else, into a wolf.”
“Bob! Don’t be ridiculous! That stuff is superstition. It’s garbage!” Lisa sighed loudly. “You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I did see an animal that had human hands. I know what I saw! Now, in this book, it says that if you meet with a werewolf or something, if you call out the person’s name, he’ll assume his human shape again.”
“Is that what you did?” Lisa asked, deciding to go along with Bob for a minute, just to see how far he would go.
“No. I didn’t know who it was. But it also says that if you call out the name of Jesus, the transformation will also start to reverse. I don’t know, I can’t remember, but if I swore out loud, that would have started changing—whoever—back into human form.”
“Is this some kind of joke, Bob?” Lisa asked beginning to get concerned about Bob’s mental state.
“Look Lisa,” he said firmly. “I know what I saw. It was a wolf with human hands!”
“The animal that’s doing this, killing these people, is a wild dog. There have been enough people who have seen it to establish it was a dog, a real animal!”
“That’s my point!” Bob shouted. “That’s it exactly! The magic ceremony you use for the transformation really turns you into an animal. Forget all those I Was a Teenage Werewolf horror movies. That’s a cheapening of what was, at least for other centuries, a really powerful symbol.”
“That’s it,” Lisa said. “You said it: a symbol. That stuff isn’t real. It can’t be.”
“I like to think so,” Bob said. The bell for homeroom rang, making Bob jump. “Look, I’ve got to go to class. I, I don’t know what to think, but, but reading this stuff just started to make me think that—”
“It’s not real. It can’t be,” Lisa said firmly. “Look, stop by the library after school this afternoon. We can talk some more.”
“Yeah, I’ve got to get to class. See you later.”
“See you,” Lisa said. She hung up the phone and listened to her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She was beginning to feel afraid, afraid for or of Bob. Maybe he did have some deep-seated problem. Maybe, after all, he was unstable. She sat there staring at her telephone and started to cry.
Chapter Ten
.I.
Wednesday, Novembe
r 26
Everyone was already in the office and seated when Granger arrived at nine o’clock. He had been in Portsmouth overnight, meeting with law officials to help with the investigations of the town’s recent deaths. He entered the office and nodded a silent greeting to everyone.
Standing against the wall, Rick Thurston was silently sipping at his coffee. Seated in a semicircle around the desk were Ted Seavey, Gene McCann, Ralph Hamlin, and Chuck Doyle. Others had been asked to attend but had declined, choosing instead to spend the day before Thanksgiving with their families.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Granger said over his shoulder as he filled his coffee cup from the pot. He walked over to his desk and snatched his badge from the top drawer. Before pinning it on, he buffed it on his chest.
“What we’re gonna discuss here today, I want held in strictest confidence.” He sat down at his desk and tapped the ink blotter for emphasis. “Things are bad enough in town without lots of wild stories circulating.”
“We know it’s that damn wild dog, Roy. You can stop the bullshittin’ and get to the point,” Seavey said. “I’ve been talkin’ with Artie down at the lumberyard and he says—”
“That always has been Artie’s biggest problem,” Granger snapped. “He talks too damn much!”
The other men in the room exchanged confused glances. Granger motioned for Seavey to stay cool and then said, “Ted’s right, though. It is that wild dog. We’re damn lucky there’s only one of ’em. Otherwise, if there was a whole pack, this town’d be wiped right out.”
Granger pointed his index finger at the group. “Now just be quiet while I talk. You all know about the Tate boy. There’s no use trying to disguise the fact that something, something awful damn powerful knocked over that telephone booth before it killed him. Traces around there do indicate that it was a dog, a canine. There are large paw prints, and the lab in Portsmouth determined that the smears in the glass were dog saliva. The holes in the boy’s body were also made by a dog.”
Granger waved his hand to silence the excited outburst. “So, what do we have? We have three people, all killed in a similar manner, all of them savaged by a wild dog. We know that. I have the lab reports to prove it!”
“So what’re we gonna do?” Doyle asked. He sounded frightened.
“This thing has tasted blood, human blood. And it likes it!” Seavey added.
“That’s why I called you all here. To tell you what I discussed with the authorities in Portsmouth and to determine a course of action. Of course, we’ve got to hunt, but we can’t do it like we’ve been doing it. We’ve got to have it organized.”
“That’s what Simmons was doing when he got it,” Doyle said. “He was hunting.”
“Well, the first thing we’ll make sure of is that no one goes out alone, or at night.”
“But night’s the only time the animal’s on the prowl, it seems,” McCann said.
“Well, its not the only time that animal is around!” Granger shouted. “It’s not the only time we can find him. We can get dogs from the state to track. We know what we’re looking for, and if we field enough men, we’ll get that damned animal.”
“I don’t know about that, Roy,” Seavey said. “I think we’ve got one cagey beast on our hands. It’s like it almost thinks before it kills, making sure to isolate whoever it’s after.”
“That’s why we aren’t going out alone.” Granger paused and took a sip of his coffee. It had already cooled off to a point where he didn’t like it.
“You said that this was a dog,” McCann said. “Are you sure? Did the lab tests prove it?”
“Well,” Granger said, “the tests only proved that it was a canine, not necessarily a dog.”
“So, like, maybe it could be a wolf or something, right?”
Granger nodded.
“See, I was reading about those coyotes they were having so much trouble with out there in Maine, around Turner and Upton. They called ’em coy-dogs. This article talked about what they called an en-vi-ron-mental niche that was left open when the wolves were killed off in the state. Something has to take the place of the wolves, so the coyotes take it.”
“What this animal is doesn’t concern me,” Granger said heartily. He leaned forward and pinned McCann with his eyes. “You guys can debate what it is ’til hell freezes over. I want some action!”
“You’re the police chief, so you tell us,” Doyle said.
Granger could tell that tempers might flare any minute, so he spoke calmly. “Like I said, we’re going to organize and hunt. And I’m not talking about a couple of guys out drunk at night. I mean a full-scale, systematic combing of the area. If we need to, I’ve made arrangements to get the Forest Service and even the National Guard to help out.”
“Hold on a second,” Thurston said. He pushed himself off, away from the wall where he had been standing quietly. “I’m not so sure that calling in the National Guard is what we need.”
“You don’t, huh?” Granger asked, glaring up at Thurston as he walked over and stood beside the desk.
Thurston placed his hands on his hips. “There’s another possibility that no one’s mentioned yet.”
“And that is?” Granger said impatiently.
“That is, that it might not be an animal at all, that it might be a person who’s doing this.”
The room was silent for a moment, then Granger chuckled. “You don’t mean to tell me that—”
“It’s an angle we haven’t considered, and I think we should.” He faced his superior with a harsh look of challenge. “I won’t deny that there’s a dog running in the woods. There have been too many reports, too many sightings to deny it. But what if someone was using the situation, the confusion, for a cover?”
“Jesus, Rick, you can’t be serious,” Granger said aghast.
“I’m serious! Now one of the reasons I’m not for getting the National Guard and who all knows what else involved is that if I’m right, if it’s someone, not something, killing these people, the confusion of a full-scale search would only help that person hide.”
“We have the lab reports,” Granger said. “They found canine saliva in all of the wounds.”
“It could be faked,” Thurston snapped. “If the person was clever enough, an unattended death could be faked to look like a dog attack.”
“Rick, come on. You think there’s a psycho loose in town?” Granger shook his head.
“You got any ideas who it could be?” Doyle asked. “You’re talkin’ like someone who knows more ’n he’s saying’.”
Thurston paused and looked up at the ceiling. His hand went to his shirt pocket and started to reach inside. He stopped and patted the pocket. “No,” he said softly. “No, I don’t. I don’t want to accuse anyone. I’m just raising a possibility we haven’t touched on.”
Granger knuckled his desktop. “Well, I don’t see where that would change much. I don’t see where it’d be any problem to have some help from a few state services in scouring the area. Hell,” he waved his hand, “We could concoct some story about a kid missing to explain the activity. Let’s just get some men out there and track this animal down.”
“That’s another thing,” Thurston broke in. “We all agree that we have a problem, a serious problem here. But I think we’d also agree that the people of this town can solve their own problems without getting the state involved.”
Everyone but Granger nodded, and Thurston sensed that he had them. He leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “Especially the federal government. We don’t need any of this getting into the papers. Our town has a tough enough time with a slew of bad press.”
“Rick, we’re talking about three, three unsolved murders. People have been killed right here in town! How are you going to keep something like that quiet?”
“Chuck,” Thurston said, pointing a finger at Doyle. “You have some cabins you rent to weekend skiers. Do you think you’ll be able to rent them if this story gets out?”
“Wel
l,” Doyle said, scratching his chin. He huffed and re-crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t see as it would help any.”
Thurston jabbed his index finger forward. “And you, Ted, don’t you think something like this could hurt your business at the store?”
“I don’t see where it can get too much worse as it is,” Seavey muttered. “But—”
“No buts about it,” Thurston said. “If Cooper Falls has a problem, I think Cooper Falls can solve it without everyone from Maine to Florida knowing about it.”
Granger frowned deeply and had to hold himself back from grabbing Thurston and shutting him up forcibly. Instead, sensing the feelings in the room, he folded his hands on his desk and said in an even voice, “This is a damn serious situation. I don’t see where getting outside help would hurt.”
“I think Rick might be right,” Doyle said, shifting his weight forward in the chair. “We sure as hell don’t need something like this on the cover of Newsweek and Time. Not with skiing season just startin’.”
“We can’t go scaring folks away,” McCann said softly.
“Ted, what do you think?” Granger asked, almost desperately.
“I dunno,” Ted replied. “I just think we ought to get rid of this damn animal as soon as we can.”
Granger stood up and banged his fist on the desktop. “What you’re saying is that you want to take the chance that someone else will be killed before we bring this animal in.”
“I didn’t say that,” Thurston said defensively. “There’s no way of knowing if the goddamn U.S. Army could get it.”
