The Wolf at the Door

by Charlie Adhara

  Cooper frowned at that. What if Park was doing it with him as well? Playing the role he thought Cooper wanted to see. But he dismissed the worry. Park was far from what Cooper expected. And Cooper wasn’t getting comfortable with him...he was just trying to make it work, like Santiago said.

  He cleared his throat. “So. What was all that about having family and friends in the area?”

  Park tilted his head. “Why do you think our unsub took Bornestein and not Montgomery?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everything we’ve found so far indicates that our two victims, Gould and Bornestein, didn’t know each other, right? In which case would you say we’re probably looking for a serial killer?”

  “It’s looking that way,” Cooper conceded. Serial killers were a lot more rare than network television made it seem, but with no links or overlap of acquaintances of the victims so far, it was a theory that needed to be considered.

  “The only thing the victims have in common is that they’re all men in their twenties,” Park continued. “Montgomery’s also a man in his twenties, and he’s a lot lower-risk than Kyle Bornestein. Bornestein was strange, but he had some friends. He even went hunting with a police officer who noticed when he went missing. Montgomery doesn’t have that. Bornestein’s obsessed with keeping fit and his house is packed with weapons he knows how to use to defend himself. Montgomery’s 140 pounds, tops, and a stoner. If you’re looking for a young adult male victim, why Kyle and not the more vulnerable Montgomery? What is it about Bornestein that makes him our unsub’s type?”

  “Maybe in this case not being vulnerable is part of the victimology,” Cooper suggested, remembering his alpha-male theory. He immediately felt stupid for saying it, but Park was looking at him with avid interest.

  “Go on,” Park said.

  “Just that if Bornestein and Gould have anything else in common, it’s that they’re both fighters in a way. The ME report indicates our John Doe was in peak physical condition as well. Maybe that’s important to our unsub.”

  “So you agree these aren’t personal crimes. We’ve got a serial killer hunting down fit men who can fight back.”

  “That doesn’t rule out Sam Whittaker,” Cooper argued. “It may have been personal with Gould and the others were just substitutes for his rage. I still want to talk to him tonight.”

  Park surprised Cooper by agreeing.

  They drove in silence until Cooper said, “What you did back there getting Montgomery to talk—” He paused. “It was—you know. I’m glad it worked. I guess you, ah, sniffed out the weed?”

  Park nodded.

  “But how’d you figure out his name? Super hearing? Was he on the phone or something?”

  “Nah, I actually did take a peek in his mailbox,” Park admitted bashfully. And then, looking a little concerned, added, “I mean, it’s only a crime if you open the mail, right?”

  Cooper was still smiling when they got to Whittaker’s house.

  Sam Whittaker was not at home. Park said so as soon as they’d arrived, and after ringing the bell with no answer for a couple minutes Cooper agreed and got back in the car with Park to wait. They had found his little bungalow easily enough at the end of a quiet little street, though Park didn’t do the nose-to-the-ground tracking Cooper had been expecting. He just sort of breathed deeply and looked around as if trying to spot a friend in a crowded room. Cooper felt stupid for expecting anything else. He’d almost been hoping Park would transform. It was really rare for wolves to shift while agents were pursuing them, which was probably part of the reason Syracuse had turned into such a disaster.

  Cooper wondered why they didn’t shift more often. Did it hurt? Was there some kind of rule against it? He thought about asking Park but nipped that in the bud. It seemed too...personal. He’d already talked way more about himself than he’d ever planned. Keep the conversation on the case and your head in the game.

  Cooper realized Harris hadn’t phoned to update them on the missing woman. Not that he’d promised he would, but in a town this size and a series of crimes this unclear, it was good not to rule anything out as irrelevant no matter how unlikely it seemed that they were connected.

  “I’m going to take a walk around the perimeter,” Park said, opening the driver-side door and stepping out. The sounds of the late afternoon poured into the car. Crickets and birds talking shit about one another at top volume. The push-and-pull of predator and prey everywhere you looked. Park leaned into the car. “Would you like to join me?”

  Cooper shook his head. “I’m going to call Harris about that missing woman.” He paused. “Unless, you think—do you need backup?”

  Park smiled a little wryly. “No. I don’t.” He closed the door and strolled around the front of the car.

  “Well, excuse me for breathing,” Cooper muttered to himself, and saw Park smile as if he’d heard. Maybe he had.

  Cooper dialed Harris. As the phone rang, he watched Park meander down the sidewalk toward Whittaker’s place, hands shoved into his pockets, as casual as you please. Cooper half expected to see him start whistling.

  The officer finally picked up, voice gruff and tense. “Harris.”

  “Officer Harris, this is Dayton.”

  “Agent Dayton.” Harris’s voice lightened and relaxed. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. We’re just waiting on a lead. What’s the story with your missing person?”

  “Waitress didn’t pick up her kid from the sitter’s last night. When her boss showed up to open the bar this afternoon, he found she’d never locked up. Signs of a struggle on scene.”

  “Any possible connection to our case?”

  Harris hesitated. “We’re still looking into that.”

  Cooper checked his watch and frowned. “Still?”

  “Believe me, I know,” Harris commiserated. “But with the search parties and Miller out, we’ve been a little shorthanded over here. We don’t have the resources you folks in Washington have.”

  Park reappeared on the other side of Whittaker’s place and paused on the street corner.

  “Okay. So why didn’t the sitter report her missing last night?”

  “Her shift ended after 1 a.m. So as not to wake the kid, the sitter said it wasn’t abnormal for Mom to come by for pickup in the morning instead.”

  “After one? I didn’t think anything in this town was open that late.”

  Harris laughed. “They’re not. Bear’s Den is the exception to that rule.”

  Cooper’s gut tightened unpleasantly. “Bear’s Den?”

  “Yeah, that’s where our waitress worked. Kind of a dive bar and food.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Jennifer Eagler.”

  “Shit,” Cooper said. Jenny. The waitress at the bar last night. Park’s friend.

  “What, do you know her?”

  “I know someone who does.”

  Chapter Six

  There were multiple ways to approach this sensitively and smartly if Cooper thought about it. He didn’t think about it.

  “What exactly is your relationship with Jennifer Eagler?”

  Park, who had just gotten back into the car, froze and stared at Cooper, his face carefully blank. “Jenny?”

  “The waitress from the bar last night. The two of you seemed very friendly.”

  “So?” Park’s eyes hardened slightly.

  “You stayed in the bar later than Miller and me.”

  “You ran out of there like you were afraid I was going to ask to sit with you at the cool kids’ table.”

  “You picked up enough food for two people.”

  Park’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re not really helping this mean-girl vibe I’m getting—”

  “Were you alone last night?”

  “Jealous?”

  Cooper inha
led so quickly he almost choked on his own tongue. “Why the hell would I be jealous? Was Jennifer Eagler with you last night?” he continued before Park could answer that.

  “No, of course not.” Park frowned. “Where is this coming from?”

  “Park—” Cooper took a deep breath and shook his head.

  The drowsy sun drooped lower in the sky and the right side of Park’s face was suddenly highlighted with orange light so bright it looked like an open flame. Liar, liar, face on fire.

  Except Park had been nothing but frank with him from the beginning.

  Cooper still couldn’t get his mouth to move.

  “Look, I’ll give first.” Park held up his hands, palms out. “You heard that Jenny went to high school with my sister. We’re friendly. Not super close, just friendly. I left Bear’s ten, fifteen minutes after you. I spent the night alone. I had a lot of food with me because...well, I eat a lot.” Park grimaced a little. “And yes, before you ask, that is a werewolf thing. Those are my cards on the table because I trust there’s a reason behind this.” Park waited. Cooper noticed he didn’t say because I trust you. Fair enough. He didn’t trust Park either.

  But nor did he believe Park had anything to do with what happened. And not just because Cooper had sat by his motel window watching Park return shortly after him alone. Not that he was going to admit that.

  “Jennifer Eagler is missing. The call Harris got this afternoon? That was her. She never made it home last night.”

  Park’s expression froze and hardened, like someone had poured resin over him. His eyes became unfocused, staring at something Cooper couldn’t. His hands, large and powerful, curled into fists in his lap, knuckles so white the bones looked to have popped right through the skin. It was frightening and so unlike the usual placid Park he’d gotten used to that Cooper resisted the urge to pull away and cover the suddenly tingling scars on his stomach.

  “Park?” Cooper said cautiously.

  “Who?” Park said. His voice was stiff and thick.

  He could have been asking a number of things, so Cooper answered all of them. “They don’t have any leads. Her boss found the bar had never been closed last night and called it in. Harris hasn’t been able to find a connection to our case yet.”

  Park nodded.

  “At this point, it doesn’t seem likely that she’s another victim of our unsub.” Whether that was a good or bad thing was unclear. On the one hand, she hadn’t been abducted by a wolf serial killer who held and tortured his victims before ripping them apart. On the other hand, she was a missing woman consistently exposed to any number of drunk assholes. There was more than one sort of evil in the world.

  Of course, there was a third possibility. She’d disappeared after talking to them about the case. She was a friend of Park’s. She could have run voluntarily. She could be the unsub.

  There was nothing ruling out a female killer. The only requirement was they were looking for a werewolf. Serial killers were overwhelmingly male, so Cooper had assumed, but he had no idea if that dynamic held true amongst wolves. Jenny might be the killer and when she found out Park was in town, she’d made a run for it.

  She’d said Gould came into the bar often. Bornestein seemed like the type to knock back some beers there as well.

  Or she might know who the killer was. As a local wolf she’d be familiar with the other wolves around town. Knowing Park was with the Trust would have told her the killer they hunted wasn’t human. What if she had figured something out, confronted the unsub last night and been silenced?

  Park interrupted Cooper’s thoughts. “Are we going to Bear’s?”

  He answered slowly, carefully. “Harris said there’s nothing to see there. I think we’ll do more good today finding Whittaker.” Plus, Cooper didn’t want Park at the crime scene. If Jenny was involved somehow... Well, he was going to sit on that theory for now. “We don’t even know if she was abducted for sure yet. If she was in some kind of trouble she could have staged a struggle herself. What are the chances she just picked up and left?”

  “No chance. Not without her kid. She’d have no reason to.”

  “Speaking of the kid, what about Dad? Any chance it’s a domestic?”

  “No. Out of the picture. Has been for a long time.”

  “Were you—what about you and Jenny? Were you ever a couple?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  It didn’t. Cooper just wanted to know. He said, “Well, jealousy’s the oldest motive out there, obviously. The way she was around you last night would make anyone think you had a past.” Cooper had to scramble to make up an excuse, but as he said it something rang true.

  “Our relationship has never been romantic in nature. Or sexual,” Park added. He tilted his head and smiled a little oddly at Cooper. “She’s not my type.”

  O-kay.

  “What about—” Cooper broke off as a pickup truck pulled up in front of Whittaker’s place and parked. “One of ours,” he murmured, staring at the familiar green color and insignia on the side.

  The driver’s door opened and a long, lean leg stepped out.

  “Ranger Christie,” Park said. “Looking for us?” He moved to open the car door, and Cooper put a hand on his arm. Park stilled instantly.

  “I didn’t tell anyone we were here. Christie’s not looking for us.”

  They watched Christie move quickly to Whittaker’s door, pause, then knock and wait.

  “Christie said he didn’t know any of Gould’s friends,” Park said. “Or enemies.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know they knew each other.” Cooper doubted it, but one of them had to maintain a little optimism. In theory.

  Christie knocked on the door again.

  Cooper started, “Is he—”

  “No. Not a werewolf. I told you, I would have told you if he was. That’s part of the whole reason I’m here.”

  Cooper thought of Jenny and wondered if that was true. Christie backed away from the door and hurried back into his truck. The engine turned over and the ranger drove away.

  “He knows Whittaker for some other reason? Or he’s playing amateur sleuth,” Cooper thought out loud.

  “Why?”

  “Guilt over Gould?” Cooper shook his head. He felt Park’s arm flex under his hand and, being the professional sleuth that he was, realized he was still holding on to Park’s arm.

  He pulled away. His fingers tingled where they’d touched Park’s warm skin. They settled into an awkward silence, waiting for Whittaker as the sun slipped behind the trees and shadows deepened, shrinking the space in the car. Something about the darkness made the sounds of their overlapping breaths louder. Without meaning to, Cooper realized he’d synchronized his breath to Park’s. He held it instead, and then exhaled loudly when he couldn’t hold it anymore. He could feel Park glance at him and he had to stop himself from twitching away. Or worse, twitching toward him. Either way, Cooper was anxious to move, his skin felt too tight.

  Cooper was just considering suggesting taking shifts on Whittaker’s house when Park said, “Should we go to the Pumphouse?”

  “To get a drink?” Cooper stuttered.

  Park gave him an unreadable look. He said slowly, “To see if Whittaker’s there.”

  “Right. I meant, you think he’d be there on a Tuesday?”

  “Tipsy Tuesday,” Park suggested. “And it’s not just a bar. There’s food. I don’t know about you, but I could murder a burger. Not literally, Agent Dayton.” He winked. Then his face softened and he looked at Cooper thoughtfully, shook his head and said, “It’s also a sort of hangout place for werewolves. If Sam’s not there, perhaps someone else will be able to tell us where he is.”

  Cooper swallowed imagining walking into a bar full of wolves from all over the county. He’d be totally vulnerable. He couldn’t help running his hand over
the Taser secured in his belt.

  “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you,” Park said. His eyes glinted with suppressed laughter, but his voice was deep and sincere and did something strange and frustrating to Cooper’s pulse.

  “I’m not afraid,” Cooper snapped. “In fact, given your potential conflict of interest, I think I should take the lead.”

  Park blinked slowly, which Cooper was sure meant he was thinking something unflattering, but he shrugged and didn’t argue.

  Which was how he found himself leading Park across a dimly lit parking lot off the highway and toward a low, square brick building. A faded sign read Porter’s Pumphouse. The lights meant to illuminate it had gone out long ago and no one had bothered to replace them.

  A peculiar tangle of lines was mounted on the roof above the door. Cooper first thought it was a mangled old-fashioned antenna. But as he approached, the lines seemed to rearrange themselves against the dark sky to reveal a metal sculpture of a wolf’s head. Where the wolf’s eye was supposed to be, an unpolished hunk of yellow quartz caught the moonlight.

  Cooper shivered and looked away, a prickle of nerves racing down his spine, and a sharp throbbing started in his belly. Nothing about the building welcomed travelers. You either knew to come to the Pumphouse or you didn’t, Park had explained on the way over. In other words, Cooper’s presence would not go unnoticed.

  He took a deep breath and pushed through the door, steeling himself for trouble.

  It was...not what he expected. Though he hadn’t really known what to expect. The Pumphouse just looked like an average bar. Nicer on the inside than the outside implied, it had plenty of warm lighting, soft music, a pool table in the corner and a big flat-screen TV tuned to the Red Sox game. Sturdy wooden tables and chairs were populated with a variety of folks. A handful of people watched the game, a middle-aged couple giggled over mozzarella-stick appetizers like they were on a first date, and a group of what looked like college kids home on break lounged around the pool table, calling shots. Other groups were scattered around the edges of the bar. It was pretty crowded and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses.