Cooper followed.
“Ah, Santiago. You’ve found Agent Dayton, good, good.” Director Furthoe stood from behind his desk and shook Cooper’s hand with his big, soft paw. He was a bear of a man, with a bald head, thick gray mustache and a barrel chest, but he moved surprisingly delicately. Walking as if always tiptoeing across gravel in his bare feet.
Furthoe didn’t offer his hand to Santiago and she didn’t wait for it, moving to the side of the room and taking a spectator seat by the wall. The way she moved in the room told Cooper she and Furthoe had already been talking before he’d been collected. His unease increased.
“Sir. Sorry I’m late.” Was he? Or was he just late for the informal pre-briefing Santiago had wanted to have?
“Nonsense. We’re glad you could cut your weekend short. You’re a dedicated agent, Dayton. One of our best. Which is why we knew you’d be perfect for this case.”
Cooper relaxed a little at the praise and they took their seats.
“We got flagged for a couple of killings in Florence, Maine. Small town about an hour and a half out of Portland on the border of the White Mountain National Forest. A third person went missing yesterday. We’ve booked you a flight up there this afternoon.”
Cooper nodded. He was used to sudden trips. He kept a go bag ready and his neighbor’s kid, Ava, was always happy to feed Boogie. She was often coming by to feed him even when Cooper was in town. “Yes, sir. Is Jefferson flying out with me?”
“No. Jefferson hasn’t been assigned this case.” Furthoe exchanged a look with Santiago. “It’s a bit complicated. Which is why we wanted to have this...chat. We—the BSI, I mean—have been getting a lot of bad press recently.”
“Bad press, sir?” Seemed like a difficult feat for a secret organization.
Furthoe twirled his short, thick fingers. “Complaints from the wolf community, from the Trust, even from here within the bureau. Demands for change from every corner since Syracuse.”
Cooper shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Syracuse was a tragedy, sir. But are we going to change the entire system because of one terrible incident?”
“It’s not just one incident, though,” Santiago spoke up from the corner. “You haven’t been here long enough, Dayton, but this is a systemic problem. More and more cases aren’t being closed properly. The wrong werewolf is brought in. We have complaints of unnecessary force being used. Werewolves go missing. Run off the radar by poor agent conduct, while the actual criminals slip through our fingers because agents don’t take the time to look, or more often than not, don’t even know what they’re looking for.”
Cooper thought of Ben Pultz. Santiago had a point. He should just nod and let them get on with it. But that stupid argumentative streak was rearing its head. “I don’t disagree,” he said slowly. “But what else can we do? With all due respect, we’re overtaxed. There aren’t enough agents for all the flagged cases and when we do get there we don’t have the information or experience needed. Not to mention bad relations with the wolves don’t make them any more willing to be helpful.”
Surprisingly, Director Furthoe looked pleased, almost smug. “I’m glad you agree, Agent Dayton. When Cola suggested you for this, I knew you’d be a perfect fit.”
Margaret Cola was the head of the Trust. Hearing that the most powerful wolf in the country even knew who he was shocked Cooper. “This, sir?”
“For this case we’ve decided to pair one of our agents with a Trust, ah, agent.”
Furthoe continued talking about fostering goodwill and a new age of collaboration, but the words may as well have been coming out backward.
“A Trust agent,” Cooper interrupted.
“Yes.”
“But that means he’d be a wolf. Or she’d be a wolf,” Cooper amended. Though it seemed ridiculous to be gender-conscious when Furthoe was suggesting partnering with another sort of...species? Another sort of something, anyway. He shifted in his seat, desperate to be standing. To be moving.
“Yes. Agent Park is a werewolf.” Furthoe’s voice had a hint of impatience now. “He is also very familiar with the town of Florence. Ms. Cola and I have agreed that Agent Park will be extremely helpful during liaisons with the local wolves. And a public show of cooperation between the BSI and the Trust cannot come too soon.” Furthoe frowned, clearly thinking of Syracuse again.
Cooper opened his mouth, but Santiago interrupted. “As you said yourself, Dayton, the BSI is struggling. Not only are we understaffed but our human agents aren’t trusted by the wolf community. They don’t understand wolf politics or culture and are fumbling relations. Working with werewolf agents could help both sides.”
“Not to say we’re on opposite sides here,” Furthoe added quickly. “Just the law-breaking and law-abiding.”
Santiago stood before Cooper could comment on that. “Perhaps it’s time to introduce Agent Park, sir?”
“Yes. I agree.” Furthoe stood and Cooper quickly got up as well. He felt a bit dazed. “Agent Dayton, I’m sure you’ll represent the bureau well.” He shook Cooper’s hand firmly and beamed. “I have a good feeling about this. A really excellent feeling.”
“This is a disaster,” Cooper hissed after the Director’s door had closed.
“It could be. If you don’t make it work. But you will make it work,” Santiago said, leading him down the hall. They passed portraits of fallen agents and past supervisors. Their blank, uniform stares seemed shocked today under Cooper’s own wide-eyed bewilderment. He felt the familiar prickling of nerves and adrenaline he got before interrogating a suspect. But the wolf he was about to meet was no suspect. This would be his partner. He realized he was absent-mindedly tracing the four long scars on his belly, which seemed to burn and tighten more the closer they got, and quickly dropped his hand.
Cooper had never met a member of the Trust before. After the big coming-out, their work with the BSI had dropped behind the scenes, policy shit and putting together educational programs for agents about wolves that mostly involved Margaret Cola starring in corny little videos they showed new recruits.
We’re just like you. We’re your neighbors, your friends. Chances are you know a wolf even if you don’t yet realize it. And other equally useless tutorials.
Santiago interrupted his apprehensive musing. “Furthoe didn’t give you the whole story, but we’re on the edge of a cliff right now, Dayton. Tensions with the wolf community haven’t been this high since the coming-out and every ignorant comment and action on our part makes it exponentially worse.”
“But—”
“But nothing. There are whispers of rebel packs forming, protesting the very existence of the BSI, wanting to make a statement. Fringe groups for now, but every fuckup on our part is fuel to their fire. The Trust doesn’t want them gaining support any more than we do. You working with Agent Park is an experiment. If it works, we’ll pair more of our agents with theirs. It needs to work, Dayton.”
“Agents? They’re not agents, though, are they? How can I trust him to watch my back?”
“If you mean because he’s a werewolf—”
“I mean because he’s an office lackey. A PR guy. A politician. What’s he going to help me with, paperwork?”
Santiago smiled, a bit tight-lipped. “I think you’ll find Agent Park plenty capable. So if we could hurry this crisis of yours up, I’d rather not leave him waiting any longer.”
“He’s here already? Now?”
“He’s been waiting in my office. Got here before you, I might add.”
“Jesus...”
Santiago spun, forcing Cooper to come to an abrupt stop. “Big. Boy. Pants,” she said. “Any issues you’ve got with werewolves—”
“I don’t have—”
“Shelve it. Dayton, this—” She took a deep breath and shook her head a little. “This is bigger than us. Trust me. You need to make it work. All r
ight?”
Cooper nodded and Santiago led him into her office.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a crisp gray suit stood by the window, staring out.
“Agent Park, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Santiago said.
The man turned around and Cooper exhaled sharply. He knew this wolf.
“Agent Park, this is Agent Cooper Dayton, your partner for this case.”
The guy from the metro smiled and held out his hand. “Looks like we’ll get that shake after all.”
Chapter Three
Cooper fidgeted in his seat and tried to focus on what Santiago was saying. He refused to look to his right. Even so, he could just make out the wolf’s presence in his peripheral vision, leaning casually back in a chair that was just a tad too small for him, seemingly engaged in Santiago’s briefing. Meanwhile, Cooper’s eyes were borderline crossed with the effort of not glancing to the side.
Focus, Dayton.
“Hikers discovered the remains of two males in the White Mountain National Forest. Preliminary cause of death appears to be blood loss. No sign of sexual assault. Both victims had multiple slash wounds made by something sharp.”
“You mean claws,” Cooper corrected. If they were going to dance around the subject because his wolf “partner” was too sensitive to hear how one of his kind had killed two men, this experiment didn’t deserve to work.
“I mean something sharp,” Santiago said; her voice had a hint of a warning. “Nothing else has been confirmed yet. Local ME thinks they’d both been out there for a couple days at least, so animal foraging has complicated things. They’re still trying to determine what damage was pre-mortem and what was post.” Santiago paused and then admitted, “But victim one had his throat ripped out, which is how we got flagged.”
The most common sign of a wolf kill. Unless Florence had a Jack the Ripper copycat, chances were the BSI was being brought in for a good reason.
“Did the ME determine time of death?” Park asked, giving Cooper an excuse to glance at him. He looked totally at ease.
“John Doe has been dead four to five days. There’s a lot of damage to the body and they haven’t been able to get an ID on him yet. The other victim died approximately a week ago. PD identified him as Kyle Bornestein. Local guy. This morning another local man was reported missing, Robert Gould.”
“What makes you think Gould’s related to our vics?” Cooper asked.
“Florence doesn’t have a lot of serious crime,” Park offered. “If the local authorities think they’re related, it’s probably just due to proximity of time.” Cooper stared into Park’s unblinking amaretto eyes.
“Well, that’s for the two of you to find out.” Santiago clapped her hands. “I’ve emailed you both all the case details along with your travel information. You can look it over on your way out.” She looked to the door, effectively dismissing them both. Cooper tried to catch her eye, but she ignored him and he left her office still feeling out of sorts.
He and Park walked down the hallway shoulder to shoulder in silence, an awkward echo of the metro station that made him prickle with humiliation all over again. Park moved with an easy assurance. He seemed totally unruffled by the morning. Maybe he wasn’t as surprised as Cooper. Maybe Margaret Cola was more open with her plans for her agents than Furthoe was. Hell, maybe the whole Trust had been planning this since before the coming-out and Park was just following a timeline he’d known about for years.
“Do you need a ride to the airport?” Park asked. The first sound he’d made since leaving Santiago’s office. He had a disturbingly silent stride for such a big man. Perfect for stalking, Cooper thought.
He said, “No.” He’d get a taxi. Or beg Jefferson for a ride if his real partner was still bouncing around the office somewhere.
“It doesn’t look like we’re flying out on the same plane.” Cooper glanced at Park, who was studying his phone as they walked. “Should we meet at Reagan or—”
“Portland Airport is fine,” Cooper interrupted. Silence.
“So, Cooper. How long have you worked with the BSI?”
“Long enough.”
“Do you—”
Cooper halted abruptly and faced Park. The fluorescent lights of the hallway made Park look harsher than he had in Santiago’s office or even the metro. His face was ostensibly neutral, even smiling slightly, but there was a shuttered wariness in his eyes. The amaretto had shifted to a colder, hardened, dark amber. An unforgiving color where things got trapped and impressions fossilized for millennia. The narrowness of the hallway had them standing close, and Cooper realized he wasn’t actually much shorter than Park, an inch or so. Something about the way the wolf carried himself made him seem taller. He was too close.
Cooper took a step back and Park’s face relaxed, eyes warming again. So the wolf wasn’t into confrontation. Cooper wasn’t sure why he felt oddly disappointed. For an absurd moment he was almost tempted to get back up in Park’s face again.
“Look, I didn’t join the bureau for the politics. I don’t know about you, but I just found out about this today. I don’t give a shit about policy or the pandering and I especially don’t need—” Cooper stopped. Make it work. He took a deep breath.
Park watched him, still unbothered. He was smiling pleasantly. Not for Cooper’s benefit but as if something secretly amused him. That just pissed Cooper off more.
“You especially don’t need...?” Park prompted.
“We both know this is a temporary situation. Let’s find this missing guy, catch a killer and avoid braiding each other’s hair in the meantime. I don’t need to know how good at singing ‘Kumbaya’ you are.”
“Okay.”
“I want to keep this professional and catch a killer as soon as possible.”
“Copy.” Park’s eyes drifted down and zeroed in on the coffee stain on Cooper’s shirt cuff. Cooper just knew Park was thinking about their brief run-in at the metro station. No way had he missed Cooper’s sleepy-eyed appraisal broadcasting his entirely non-professional thoughts and inept attempt at flirting. Park had probably known exactly who he was. That would explain the way he’d been watching him before. Not sexual interest but professional. He’d been playing with him the whole time.
Cooper’s face burned. He snapped, “And it’s Special Agent Dayton.”
Park nodded, expression so sober it was mocking. “Of course. Then I’ll see you this afternoon. Special Agent Dayton.”
Cooper turned and walked away before he could say something even more childish, like Not if I see you first.
* * *
Cooper stepped off the plane in Portland, swung his carry-on over his shoulder and headed straight for the bathroom. No matter how short the plane ride was, he got off feeling tired and grimy as hell. He could probably walk into a plane cabin, walk right back out and still look like he hadn’t slept in days. Walking corpse was not a good look to inspire confidence in the local law.
Cooper examined himself in the mirror and was dismayed, though not exactly surprised by how tired he looked. His eyes were more noticeably red than green and seemed resigned to sinking into the dark Hefty bags waiting under them.
Thin-skinned, his father would say. His little idea of a joke. Not one he made often though, thankfully. Cooper’s tendency to look punched in the face the moment he missed a little sleep was inherited from his mom, and anything that reminded Sheriff Dayton of his late wife was a sensitive topic.
Cooper massaged the corners of his eyes. It was more than tired, he looked worn-out; his hair was so dirty he could be mistaken as a brunette and he was still uncomfortably underweight. Not an intimidating look. Though for this case the wolf was packing enough brawn for the both of them.
Not that again. Cooper scowled in the mirror. He’d spent the entire plane ride obsessing over working with Park.
Jeffe
rson had been especially quiet when Cooper told him the situation. “Watch your back and keep me updated every step of the way,” Jefferson had said, unsmiling for once, as he dropped him off at the D.C. airport. “Even if nothing seems suspect, an outside pair of eyes and ears doesn’t hurt. Remember, every wolf has had a lifetime of practice hiding the truth. They’re good liars.”
Cooper wasn’t ready to go quite that far. He doubted the Trust would have assigned anyone they thought wouldn’t be professional. It was in their best interest that this partnership work, too. But Jefferson had been in the BSI a lot longer than Cooper had, so he promised to keep an eye out. Cooper just had to take his own advice and solve this case as quickly as possible so things could go back to the way they were.
He splashed cold water on his face, dried off with a scratchy bathroom paper towel and checked his reflection again. Minimal damage control and absolutely no help for his mood. He put his sunglasses on and walked into the airport terminal.
With all the traveling Cooper had done for the bureau, both FBI and BSI, he’d decided you could tell a lot about a city from their airport. Portland Jetport’s ceiling was made entirely of polished wood beams and the walls were all glass. A giant modernized log cabin, which was pretty much exactly what he’d expected of Maine.
He eyed the various kiosks. Cooper wanted coffee, and he was supposed to eat frequent small meals to keep his gut happy and relatively healthy, but he wanted to get on the road more. He pulled out his phone to leave Park a message. They might as well rent two cars. He didn’t want to wait around for the guy and he’d feel more comfortable having his own means of transportation and not have to ride all the way to Florence with the wolf.
Cooper flipped into the folder Santiago had emailed him of all the case information, including Park’s contact. As soon as he opened the page, his phone started to ring. Unknown number.
“Dayton.”
“This is Park. You’ve arrived.” It wasn’t a question and Cooper couldn’t help but glance around. He wondered if he was being watched. “I’m in the visitor parking lot. I’ve taken the liberty of getting us a car.”
The Wolf at the Door Page 3
