by Sasha Winter
“I didn’t know that!” Erin replied, realizing she hadn’t paid enough attention to what was going on. “That’s pretty, erm… controversial, isn’t it?”
“To put it lightly. Gonna take a lot of guns to bring this one down, and I wouldn’t want to be the one praying the trigger I pulled turns out to be worth it. If not, what chance do you have?”
“Wow, the police are really going to be in danger themselves, huh?” Erin remarked, unable to avoid thinking of Tom and the risk he might face.
“I don’t envy them,” Nana replied, “unless we can find a way to trace the killer in their human form, but that’s not going to be easy.”
“What a stupid thing to do!” Erin said, suddenly thinking out loud and remembering back to when she had found a bear eating all her produce.
“What’s that?” Nana asked, looking confused.
“Oh, sorry, I just remembered something. A few months back,” Erin told her, “a really doofus story, but I found a wild bear in here one morning eating all the food.”
“You’re joking! A black bear?”
“No, a big grizzly or something, stuffing its face. The stupid thing was, I was so angry and not thinking straight that I grabbed a broom and just started swatting at it and screaming at it for eating all my pies.”
“What?”
“I know, if it was vicious or something I wouldn’t have stood a chance, but for some reason I just went crazy.”
“We might need some of your bravery in the days ahead,” Nana told said, astounded by the story, “but, Erin, please don’t do that again.”
Both of them agreed this was wise, and Nana left armed with the coffee and muffins she had come for. In deep thought for a couple of minutes after the exchange, it was only then that Erin noticed that Mr. Neiman had also left after failing to touch his second lemon meringue slice. Not such a sweet tooth after all, she thought, but why hadn’t he asked for a bag to take it with him?
***
It was near closing time when Tom finally called. By then, Erin was really exhausted, but hearing his voice succeeded in bringing a smile back to her face.
“Hey you!” she answered.
“There’s a voice I’ve missed all day,” he replied, causing a feeling of warm contentment to ignite deep inside her. Knowing that a man fancies you was one thing, hearing that he misses you was even better.
“You too, officer,” she replied.
“Listen, I was sort of hoping to come by,” he said, “but we’re snowed in with work here at the office.”
“That’s okay, I heard,” she said. “Nana was in here earlier—how were those muffins?”
“Nana? Oh yes, great as usual. She’s always looking out for our morale, that one.”
“Well, I’m glad they sufficed.”
“Listen,” he offered, “I don’t know when things are going to calm down, but as soon as they do either I’ll give you a call, or else I’ll come straight to the bakery and see you.”
“Sounds great. No worries, just catch that nasty bear shifter,” she replied.
“Erm…yeah, sure,” he replied, with a curious half laugh.
“See you soon,” Erin told him, closing her eyes tight and letting her skin recall every touch and caress from the previous night.
Her body still tingled wherever his lips had been, though some parts were sore and sensitive too…but in a good way.
8
The rest of the day and night since the fourth killing—another bloody mess—was pure chaos. Questions, dilemmas and fears coming at Tom from all angles, which only allowed him a few hours of respite well after midnight to get home and hit the sack before it started all over again. If only there was less paperwork, maybe he could get around to thinking about who or where this psychopath might be hiding...when not savaging people in the woodlands, of course. Maybe he could even offer more of his ‘bear shifter insight’, for what that was worth, though he insisted time and time again that the killer should be viewed as an unhinged human being, not as a mad bear.
He had received an apology from the two underlings who had been whispering suspicious things about bear shifters in general, though that was partly thanks to Jake’s help. It had seemed sincere, and Tom hadn’t taken it too personally in the end, knowing that the two youngsters had never dealt with a crime of this kind and that they were inclined to feel a little nervous walking through a forest that was, after all, bear territory. Maybe they just needed to get to know him a little better, to see his sincerity, before relaxing in his company, but Tom knew they weren’t really the problem.
No, the problem was that the same whisperings were going on throughout Montana, if not the whole of the US, and would continue to be on people’s lips until the killer could be brought to justice. The hope of shifters everywhere had to be that there was some reason unrelated to animal savagery that was causing the murders, or else shifter–human relations would take a real turn for the worse. These killings were spitting in the face of enlightenment, and if they went on much longer, Tom would find an angry mob outside of his own front door someday. Or else be told to go and live in the woods and catch salmon for as long as he could avoid the hunter’s gun.
As if matters couldn’t get more complicated, Tom had completely neglected to keep an eye on the weather reports and, although not yet November, the following morning saw the start of the first major snowstorm since last winter. The snows in Montana were unpredictable, and he had noticed a chill on the breeze during their walk back from the murder site the previous day, but he hadn’t expected thick snow so soon. All of which meant that police resources would be spread ever thinner as the days wore on and all manner of silly or unfortunate incidences drew their attention.
There were still numerous matters to oversee regarding the fourth victim, including finding a way to identify him, but frustratingly conditions were set to work against them sooner than he hoped, which became clear when Jake burst into the office and declared that there had been a big pile-up on the nearby highway, and that everyone needed to look to their own wits to make sure things went smoothly. Tom didn’t understand this last comment, given that Jake was always stressing the importance of ‘teamwork’ until, on his way out, he noticed that Nana was not at her dispatch desk to bid them all good luck, as was her usual way. More alarmingly, though, was the fact that her computer wasn’t turned on and there was no sign of a coat or handbag. Their own wits were essential when they couldn’t rely on Nana’s.
“Is Nana ill or something?” he asked one of the younger officers, understanding that they wouldn’t be receiving the same level of assistance as usual when it came to conversing with ambulance crews and road maintenance.
“We’re still trying to get hold of her,” the officer replied.
“What do you mean? No one’s heard from her?”
“Not yet, no,” was the response.
Tom continued on his way out towards his vehicle, but this last development refused to lie down in his mind. Part of the job was always to endeavor as robust a public services as possible whenever circumstance happened to be against you—and losing Nana was a big loss from operations. He knew her as well as any of his colleagues, however, and could just not imagine her failing to call in if she was unwell. Nana was so organized, she would’ve been preparing backup plans from the very moment she suspected a bug or virus might be endeavoring to get the better of her.
Other than having found a wonderful woman who was as good in bed as she was at baking cakes, the last few weeks seemed to have been trying to turn Tom’s world upside down. He didn’t trust luck or fate anymore and, although it was only a short distance to the scene of the pile-up, there was enough time to make a worst-case scenario phone call that he didn’t want to regret not making later—even if it might be alarmist.
Being a bit of a hi-tech wiz went in his favor in making this so, in having a Sat-Nav wired up to his car that, like his cell phone, had voice recognition software. Thankfully the snowfall
hadn’t affected internet access and, within twenty seconds, he had requested a search for Cold Lake Hospital’s phone number and then requested it be dialed.
Announcing that he was the police was useful in providing him with a quick transfer to the hospital’s most useful department, to whom keeping good contacts with would usually have been Nana’s territory, and Tom was soon able to ask if there had been any women recently admitted unidentified or otherwise. It turned out there had been two admittances, one of whom might have been called something like ‘Nana’, though the woman who answered the call didn’t seem sure.
As a result, Tom knew he had found her there and then, but what on earth had happened? That they weren’t sure of her identity was utterly bizarre, suggesting that the most organized person he knew had been found outside without ID. Even more disturbing was her condition, however. Although stable, she was described as incoherent, badly beaten and with something like claw marks on her skin.
Tom nearly slammed on the brakes and spun his vehicle around there and then. This case was becoming personal, as well as continuing to escalate in its number of victims. If this was the work of the bear shifter again, then its bloodlust must have been out of control and they would soon be finding bodies everywhere, but he couldn’t be sure without visiting her. That anyone could survive such an attack was unlikely, so it might have been that something else strange had occurred.
Not that he was going to take any chances; he would go and see for himself.
Cursing his morning routine for failing to take advantage of the coffee machine, Tom had just enough discipline to reach the highway incident and give Jake a briefing before heading off to the hospital. The scene was a mess, though fortunately there were no casualties, but Tom still had to be insistent with the sheriff that his departure was necessary, even swearing to suffer the consequences if he was mistaken.
“If this is the killer again, then someone needs to be on it,” he urged. “This distraction could work right into his hands. I’ll take whatever fallout comes down from on high if they disagree.”
Jake’s initial response to the Nana situation was to prefer calling in an old favor from a neighboring force to go and check on her, but after hearing Tom’s suspicions that it might be related to the killer bear shifter, he conceded to letting him go. The look on Jake’s face told Tom that his boss was starting to worry he was taking the case too seriously, but he took his escape anyway and sped off as fast as the snow would allow him.
***
Visiting a hospital should’ve felt a whole lot better than another laboratory table sporting a dismembered corpse, but Tom took little pleasure from this, though not in the way Jake was suspecting. He was taking this case more and more personally, and his apprehension over what it could all lead to was quickly being replaced by anger.
Nana was one of the most thoughtful and inoffensive people you could ever hope to meet, and thinking of her as a target for this poor excuse of a shifter, or any criminal for that matter, reminded him of why he had chosen to become a cop in the first place: to protect good and innocent folk.
He found her still in the emergency ward and was relieved to find that the effects of her attack were mostly psychological. There were no scars on her face to ruin the wedding photos, with the only claw marks being on her right shoulder and upper chest. The nurse told him that she was semi-coherent now and improving fast, though he was advised to go steady on the questioning and not to cause her distress—she had suffered some shock as well as being found shivering in the cold without any outdoor clothing. In addition to the claw marks, the team had found bruising to her ribs and a lump on the back of the head that were typical of a physical beating.
When first left alone with her, Tom could not find the words to begin. Nana had her eyes closed and gave no sign that she had heard any of the exchange with the nurse or that she knew a friend and colleague was present. Would she start to hate him for being a bear shifter now too? The thought was distressing, but he contained his emotions.
“Nana,” he said gently, then waited patiently for her to come round, seeing that her brows raised slightly at the sound of his voice.
“Is that you, Tom?” she asked, uncertain, being without her glasses as well as suffering a concussion.
“It’s me, Nana,” he replied, not quite avoiding a shaky tone to his voice. “You’re giving us quite a scare. Don’t you know this place will go to the dogs without you?”
“Tom, I…I don’t think they understood what I was telling them.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “Can you remember it clearly?”
“I can…I’m tired and don’t think I could stand without falling, but I know what happened.”
“Was it the bear shifter?”
“Yes, but he was in his human form. I heard him gaining access to the house but he attacked before I could dial 911.”
“He broke in? Are you sure?”
This wasn’t what he was expecting. So far the killer had lain in wait for lone walkers and attacked in bear form. Going to the trouble of breaking into someone’s house in order to find a victim suggested a more extreme level of desperation that didn’t make much sense—unless he had targeted Nana for a strategic reason.
“Did he…did he try to molest you at all?” Tom asked, wondering if there had been other motivations for entering the home.
“No,” Nana replied, “he just grabbed me and started to shift into his bear form straight away. So he could kill me—I could tell, he had bloodlust in his eyes—but my jewelry Tom… my silver jewelry.”
“It stopped him?”
“It burned him, though I didn’t understand it at the time. My necklace saved me; steam got in his eyes. He let go but then couldn’t see me. I got out, but…but he was thrashing about like a crazy thing, going from man to bear. I remember the pain in my ribs but don’t remember anything after that, though they say they found me outside.”
“Thank god you got out,” Tom said, looking to calm her from becoming too upset. In his experience, it was not unusual for a patient with concussion to forget crucial memories; all that mattered was that her survival instincts had been strong enough to get her out of there, even though the head injury meant she could not remember doing so.
“I’ll need to see your place, but I’ll make sure there’s a guard here for you before I go—so you can sleep sound.”
“Thanks.”
“Anyway, before I go…you said you saw him. I know you’ve got a concussion, but can you remember any details about him that you can tell me?”
She nodded. “I think I could identify him if I saw him again. He was tall, big as well, but with fair blond hair…unusually fair. That’s how you can find him.”
A description at last. It was a real step forward, though Tom wished it hadn’t taken an attack on a friend to get them that far. There would be a way to catch him now for sure—but how long would it take, and how many more bodies?
Why the killer had decided to go out of his way to attack Nana would need some attention, however. The emergence of a motive other than the joy of killing was alarming, especially when the intended victim was a valuable player in running the services that would catch him.
Maybe this fair-haired killer was a vindictive racist and was suddenly deciding to kill anyone he didn’t like (though racism would be strange in a shifter)—or, just maybe, there was some kind of sick strategy at work and a battle of wits was underway.
Tom had never experienced crimes turning into some kind of sick game before, and he didn’t like the idea of being a player in bringing such an amusement to a satisfying conclusion.
Not one bit.
9
Though having spent most of the last two days dreaming about when they would next be together, Erin’s joy at seeing Tom enter the bakery as closing time was approaching had to be tempered with an appreciation that he looked like a man in turmoil. If her new boyfriend’s typical behavior was inclined towards stress and busy-nes
s, then his appearing red-faced and with bloodshot eyes would’ve been normal, but he was the laid-back and coolheaded type, so seeing him looking as if he was resisting tearing the door off its hinges on the way in was a real shock.
“Tom! My God, what’s wrong?” she asked, rounding the counter and running across to embrace him.
“Erin!” he said before embracing her like a child that had found its favorite cuddly toy after fearing it had been forever lost.
“You okay?”
“Day from hell!” he confessed, rubbing his eyes as if trying to wake up from a nightmare.
“Was it the highway smash-up?” she asked. “I thought no one was badly hurt.”
“That’s the least of our problems,” he told her, gladly accepting a chair she had kindly pulled up for him. “You know Nana Morgan?”
“Yes, she was in here yesterday buying coffee and muffins.”
“She was attacked last night by the serial killer. She’s alive, but still…”
Erin’s hand flew to her mouth. “Really?”
“In her own home and everything. We’ve been trying all day to figure out why she was targeted.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Yeah, she’s under guard in the hospital. Concussed, but she’ll be out in a few days.”
“You look exhausted.”
“The whole place is on alert. We’ve been trying to figure out where he’s going to strike next. The experts think he’s sick and the attacks are escalating so much that no one’s safe.”
“I’ve never known anything like this around here,” Erin replied.
“Erin, what are you thinking?” Tom asked, suddenly looking around him and observing that the last two customers of the day were in the process of driving away. “You can’t be hanging around late at night locking this place up anymore. I know there’s the main road there, but that won’t stop this bastard. Please, you’re going to have to be very cautious with this kind of thing until this all dies down.”
