Snow Cat

by Edward Kendrick

  Mick frowned at that but didn’t say anything as he studied the picture. “Not quite what I expected. He’s fairly normal.”

  “You expected horns and a tail?” Wynn asked, chuckling wryly.

  With a tight laugh, Mick replied, “Would have made identifying him easier.”

  “So now you know what he looks like.”

  “I do.” Mick leaned back against the headboard, studying Wynn. “Any chance you’ll let me see the rest of the picture—or the other one?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just take my word for it. I can’t.”

  “Meaning you won’t.”

  “Both, I suppose. The shots will only mean something to the…the people I’m trying to get them to.” Wynn sighed. “I wish I could say more, but I can’t.”

  “Is this some government thing you’ve got going here? Are you part of some intelligence agency?”

  Wynn suddenly grinned. “If I say yes, will you drop it?”

  With a snort of amusement, Mick shook his head. “Not after you said that.”

  They both sobered when Mick looked around the room and said, “We now know for certain he’s here in town.”

  “And he knows where I’m staying, which isn’t a comforting thought. It’s time I packed up and left. Can you put me in touch with whomever it is you said had a car they wanted to sell?”

  “You already are. It’s me. I have an old junker I’ve been meaning to get rid of. But—” Mick’s whiskey brown eyes seemed to darken even more. “I’m not certain your running again is the answer. He’s already found you twice. I’m sure, as powerful as you say he is, he can find you again before you get…wherever you’re headed with those pictures.”

  “I could to hide out in some cave in the mountains,” Wynn said with a very small grin.

  “You’d freeze your ass off, so forget that. We have to figure some way to draw him out into the open.”

  Wynn shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

  “Not if we play our cards right. The first thing we have to do is get you out of here to a safer place.”

  “Going to throw me in a cell at the jail? That would be safe, if a bit uncomfortable.”

  “That thought did cross my mind, for all of two seconds,” Mick admitted. “Remember the runaway kid? You were in my office when the call came in.” When Wynn nodded, Mick continued. “His folks own a small cabin outside of town. They only use it in the summer but it’s still well insulated and has heat and running water, from what I understand. I suspect I can talk them into letting us use it without letting anyone else know.”

  “If they would…” Wynn said hopefully.

  “Let me call…no, let’s go out there.” Mick stood, saying, “I’ll leave out the front, drive away like I’m going on patrol, which I do several times a day. When I think it’s safe I’ll come around to the back and pick you up. Be ready. You do have a cell, right?”

  “I do.” Wynn gave him the number.

  “Okay, pack your stuff and get down to the back door. It might take a bit of time but as soon as I’m on my way back here, I’ll call. Be ready to jump in the back seat and hunker down until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Got it. Let’s hope this works.”

  Mick nodded. “It will.”

  Chapter 6

  “All right, it’s safe to sit up,” Mick said half an hour later. “Oh, and give me your phone.”

  Wynn did, knowing why, and almost smiled when Mick rolled down his window and tossed it into the deep snow at the side of the road.

  “That should keep him busy if he’s thinking about tracking you that way.” Mick pulled off the highway onto a side road and drove until they reached another road. Then he turned, heading back in the direction they’d come from. Several minutes later he made yet another turn, explaining, “If he finds the phone he’ll assume you got rid of it as you were leaving town heading north. The Peters live to the west.”

  When they finally pulled up in front of the house, Wynn smiled. It was just what he’d expected, white clapboard with green wooden shutters and a brick chimney on one side, standing tall above the dark shingled roof. Mick knocked on the front door and moments later it was opened by a woman wearing what Wynn thought of as a housedress, covered in part by a simple apron.

  “Well now, Sheriff, to what do we owe the honor?” Mrs. Peters asked with a delighted smile. “Come in, come in, you’re letting all the heat out,” she instantly added.

  Once inside, Mick introduced Wynn. She led them into the kitchen, where the yeasty smell of rising bread gave testament to what she’d been doing. After offering coffee and pouring some when they accepted, she again asked why they were there.

  “I, well we, need your help,” Mick told her. “We want to borrow your cabin for a few days.”

  “Oh really?” She looked between them and grinned wickedly.

  “Not for that. God, Margo.” Mick came close to blushing, his ears turning a pale red, much to Wynn’s amusement. Taking a deep breath, he said, “For reasons I’m not at liberty to reveal, we need a good place to hide Wynn for a while. And before you ask, it’s all legal or I wouldn’t be involved.”

  “Good Lord, Mick, of course it is. I know you too well to think otherwise. How soon do you want to go up there? Ed’s out of town still but I’m sure it would be fine with him too.”

  “Now would be perfect.” He paused, glancing at Wynn, continuing when he nodded. “There’s one more thing. You go into town tomorrow to grocery shop, right?”

  “Yes. Regular as clockwork,” she replied.

  “Good. We’d like it if you’d just happen to mention you rented the cabin to a nice, young man, an artist, who wanted to do some sketches of the winter forest.”

  She smiled, tapping a fingernail on her lips. “A very nice man, if a bit crazy in my opinion, wanting to go up there with the weather the way it’s been. I think I can handle that. I take it you’re hoping someone will hear about it and come after him.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “They won’t come in guns blazing or anything like that, will they? I’m rather partial to the cabin just the way it is.”

  “No,” Wynn replied. “They want something and killing me before they find it would not be in their best interests.”

  “All right then.” She went to a rack beside the back door, taking a pair of keys off one of the hooks. Handing them to Mick, she told him, “The silver one’s to the door, the brass one to the padlock.”

  After thanking her for letting them use the cabin, the three of them chatted for a few minutes while the men finished their coffee. Mick asked with a grin if Ralphie was behaving.

  “Like an angel, although he does spend a great deal of time at the edge of the backyard, just looking into the trees. I think he’s hoping the ‘snow cat’ will show up again.”

  “If it does, I’d like to know, Margo. It might have helped him, but from how he described it, it’s pretty big. If someone else runs into it, they might not be quite so lucky.”

  “If it does, which I doubt, I promise I’ll call immediately.”

  “Thanks. Now I guess we should be going. I’d like to get up there and back before dark.”

  “You all be careful. Okay? I really like you as a sheriff and I’d miss you if something bad happened.”

  “Just as a sheriff?” Mick asked, grinning as he buttoned his jacket.

  “And as a person. You know that, you silly man. Now out of here. My bread’s almost ready to go into the oven so I have work to do.”

  * * * *

  As they drove up to the cabin after doing a spate of shopping for things they’d need, Wynn kept glancing at Mick then away until Mick finally asked, “Do I have food on my face and you’re afraid to tell me?”

  “No, it’s a very clean face, and a very nice one,” Wynn replied, instantly wishing he’d left off the last part.

  “Okay.” Mick cocked an eyebrow. “It always seemed rather ord
inary to me.” Now it was his turn to study Wynn, as he slowed down to make a turn. “So why were you looking at me like, umm, I’m something strange and different?”

  “Honestly? Because I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact you’re gay.”

  Mick nodded, asking with a bit of bemusement, “And you like the idea—or not?”

  Leaning back, Wynn smiled at him. “I like the idea. I’m more comfortable around you, now that I know.”

  “I see. But that’s it? You just feel more comfortable.”

  There was something in the tone of Mick’s voice, if Wynn was reading it correctly, that said he was disappointed that was all there was to it—which, of course, it wasn’t. Wynn found the man very interesting, even though they’d known each other a short time.

  That probably has to do with the fact he’s the first man in forever I’ve really interacted with on anything but a business level, which is sad. And he is exciting. Masculine, the sort of man I’m drawn to. Too much so. Stomp on the libido, Wynn, ‘cause nothing’s going to happen even if he was willing. It can’t. When this is over, I leave. There’s not other choice. Still…

  He took a deep breath, reached out one hand, and quickly pulled it back.

  But not quickly enough. Mick caught it in his, even though his eyes were still on the road, and held it. “So maybe more than just ‘comfortable’?”

  “Maybe,” Wynn replied hesitantly.

  “I like that idea.” He squeezed Wynn’s hand then said, “From here we walk,” as he pulled the car off to the side of the narrow, snow packed road. “We’re lucky we made it this far.”

  Instantly reversing gears, Wynn nodded. “At least it means Lionel will have to come in on foot too, which could be to our advantage.”

  “Very true.” Getting out, Mick went to open the trunk, taking out two backpacks. One held two thermal blankets. In the other one was non-perishable food, which they’d picked up along with the blankets at a small grocery store after leaving the Peters’ house. He handed Wynn the lighter of the packs, since he also had his two bags. Wynn managed to get his smaller bag with his art supplies into the pack. With that done, they headed up the barely visible road to the cabin.

  * * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time they arrived there and seemed even later than that, since the tall pines blocked most of the sunlight.

  Mick unlocked the padlock—after checking to be certain it and the hasp hadn’t been tampered with—then unlocked and opened the cabin door. Feeling along the wall beside it, he found the light switch and flicked it on.

  Stomping the worst of the snow off his boots and brushing it off the bottom of his jeans, Wynn stepped inside. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

  Mick did the same before joining him, dropping his backpack on the table along one wall. “If I remember right, that door’s to the kitchen, the bedroom is over there, with the bathroom off of it.”

  Wynn checked. “Right on all counts.” He took his bag and the backpack into the bedroom and returned to help Mick empty the other one, putting canned goods on the shelves and the bread and instant coffee on the counter underneath. He checked to be certain the gas stove worked while Mick went to turn up the thermostat.

  “It’ll take a while before it warms up enough so you can remove your jacket and be comfortable.”

  “I’ll survive until then and you’d better get going. You still have to trek back to the car and it’s getting darker by the minute.”

  “Good point. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow morning. As far as everyone’s concerned, I’ll have come down with a raging case of the flu and just want to suffer through it undisturbed. That’ll excuse my absence from work for a couple of days. I just hope this isn’t an exercise in futility.”

  “We’ll know soon enough. Now go.” Wynn grinned. “I don’t want to be responsible for the Peters finding your defrosted corpse next spring when they come up here.”

  “Not happening. You be careful and stay aware. There’s a bare chance Lionel already knows you’re up here. Slim to none but better safe than sorry.”

  “Agreed. Now will you get before you have to spend the night.”

  “And that would be bad why?” Mick almost wished he could call back those words after the conversation they’d had only half an hour ago. He was afraid Wynn might think he was trying to pressure him into something.

  Wynn just looked at him, amusement lighting his face. “Because then we might find other things to do than watch out for Lionel?”

  For a long moment they stared at each other and Mick felt something change again between them. There was an unspoken promise, he thought, that when this was over, they might explore that possibility. Then he dropped his gaze, saying softly, “We might. But right now your safety’s more important.” He turned, opened the door, and said one more time, “Be careful,” before taking off.

  Chapter 7

  The first thing Wynn did after Mick had left was find a safe place to hide the camera. It took some searching but eventually he found a loose board behind the plumbing under the kitchen sink. After wrapping the camera in a plastic bag left from their grocery shopping, he was just able to fit it in the small space behind the board and push the piece of wood back in place.

  With that accomplished, his thoughts returned to their final words before Mick had left. The words—and the look that had passed between them. It had been brief, he knew, and maybe he was reading too much into it. And maybe, if the fates decreed, he wasn’t.

  He pushed that thought away. Now was not the time to contemplate a future that could never happen. To keep his mind busy, he took out a sketch pad and his pencils and set to work on an idea he’d had as he and Mick had hiked up to the cabin. After a time he stopped, realizing he was hungry. As he heated some canned ravioli, he listened to the silence. Soon he picked up the small sounds from outside the cabin—the hoot of an owl, the rustling of the trees as a breeze stirred them, the panicked squeak of a mouse. The owl found it. It won’t be going hungry this evening.

  Taking his supper back to the living room, he contemplated his drawing as he ate, envisioning it as a full painting. It will be good. Now all I need to do is survive long enough to start it.

  When he’d finished, he took the dishes back to the kitchen, washed and dried them, and then went into the bathroom. His shower was done quickly as the water was far from hot. He used one of the towels he found in the cabinet to dry off before wrapping it around his waist while he dried his hair as best as possible with the other. With that done and his teeth brushed, he hurried into the bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed but he found a set in a chest against one wall. They smelled slightly dusty but he was tired enough he didn’t care. Shaking them out, he made the bed, put the two blankets they’d bought over the sheets, and crawled in. Within minutes he was sound asleep and dreaming.

  At first the dreams were pleasant, verging on erotic, as they involved him and Mick. Then they changed. Something dark was stalking them. They couldn’t see it or hear it but they knew it was there. Then Mick vanished from the dream and it was only him, fleeing through the trees then turning to face his enemy.

  He woke with a start just as his attacker leapt for his throat. He thought it must be early morning from the angle of the sunlight that snuck through a crack between the drawn curtains. Although there was a decided chill in the room, he was drenched in sweat.

  Wrapping one of the blankets around him, he went into the kitchen. He needed coffee, even if it was instant. No, what I need is a good stiff drink, but that’s not happening. After putting water on to boil, he went into the bathroom, cleaned up, and got dressed. By the time he finished, the water was hot. He made a cup of barely palatable coffee, going out to the porch to drink it, his jacket wrapped tightly around him.

  It was bright and cold, the sun glittering off the snow. He leaned against the porch railing, breathing in the chilly, fresh air as he looked around him.

  Hope you get here fairly soon,
Mick. I need to get that nightmare out of my head. The rest of the dreams…He chuckled softly. I’d better wipe them out of my thoughts before he does get here or I could be in trouble.

  He was just about to go back inside when he heard a soft rustling at the edge of the clearing surrounding the cabin. He swung around, every sense taut with anticipation as he tried to find out what had caused it. Then the cup he’d been holding fell to the ground with a crash.

  * * * *

  The white cat snarled, his lips drawing back to reveal sharp fangs as he sprang toward the black jaguar. The jaguar snarled in reply, standing its ground, fearsome claws unsheathed. As the white cat landed in front of it, the jaguar’s claws raked through the fur on one extended leg, tearing through almost to the bone.

  Ignoring the pain, the white cat swept one massive paw out, contacting hard with the side of the jaguar’s head, almost knocking the jaguar to the ground. It rolled, sprang to its feet with a roar; the white cat roared back and the true battle began.

  Chapter 8

  Mrs. Peters had done as they’d planned. She’d told Mick as much when she called just before he left the house. All they had to do was wait and hope Lionel Knight heard the gossip about the ‘crazy artist’ who had moved into the cabin.

  Now, as Mick made the turn onto the snow-packed road leading up to the cabin, he swore softly when a bright ray of sun hit his windshield, blinding him for a moment. He could feel the car begin to slide, corrected quickly, and sighed in relief as the car straightened again.

  He made it the rest of the way, without any problems, to where he’d had to leave the car yesterday. Parking and getting out, he began walking the final half mile.

  A fierce roar suddenly ripped through the silence, then another deeper one. Mick froze as the roars, followed by enraged snarls, told him two large cats were battling somewhere just ahead of him.

  Hell, they’re right by the cabin! He drew his gun, racing toward it as quickly as the deep snow allowed, fearing Wynn might be in grave danger if he’d been foolish enough to step out of the cabin to see what was happening.