Mate’s Harvest: Bear Sheriff III

by Becca Fanning

  But there was a ladder leading up towards one of the elevator cylinders. He could see the slightest hint of light from the top of it: flickering candlelight.

  He took Angie’s hand and pointed towards the light. After a few moments, she tensed up. She’d seen it, too. He paused for a few moments.

  What was their play?

  But he knew their only choice was to go up.

  They made their way across the floor, pausing at the old ladder. Marcus and Angie both looked up. There was, without a doubt, candlelight up top. Marcus figured there was some kind of room at the top of the cylinder, most likely an electrical room. That was where their killer was.

  Marcus nodded at Angie and he grabbed the ladder rungs. He put his full weight on the first one as it creaked but held his weight. He steeled himself and began climbing. The ladder protested but held.

  He felt it shake as Angie climbed the ladder. He almost told her to wait down below but the thought of leaving her alone in the darkness was something he knew he couldn’t do.

  They made their way up the ladder, rung by rung, drawing ever nearer to the light. Marcus’s heart was pounding in his chest harder than ever. He half expected himself to pass out and tumble to the floor, knocking Angie down with him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

  What’s gotten into me?

  He reached the landing to the room, pausing just below it. He took a few deep breaths and then pulled himself up, ready to fight.

  But there was no one there.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. His heart dropped in his chest as he bent down to lift Angie up.

  There was someone there, strung up, stripped naked and skinned alive.

  “Oh my God,” Angie said as she stood up, hands flying to her mouth. Marcus saw tears in her eyes. “That’s…”

  But she couldn’t finish the sentence, so Marcus said, “Branson.”

  The other Shifter had been lifted up, a noose around his neck, arms limp at his side. His skin was entirely gone, Marcus noted, as he approached it.

  “Just like the Wolf Shifters,” Marcus said. “Not a drop of blood anywhere. He’s methodical. He knew we were coming.”

  “How can you be like this?” Angie yelled. “He’s dead! He was a friend! He was here to help us! What’s gotten into you, Marcus?”

  He didn’t know what to say. He just looked at the body. Next to him, Angie wiped away her tears, trying to make herself ready for what they had just witnessed.

  “We need to call the cops,” she said, sniffling slightly. “They need to know what happened.”

  “We can’t,” Marcus said.

  “What do you mean, ‘We can’t’?” she yelled. “This man could have been your friend, Marcus, and all you’re doing is looking at him like some science experiment!”

  “If we turn him in, they’ll blame this on us,” Marcus said, grabbing Angie gently by her arms. She protested at first and then let herself be pulled into Marcus’s embrace. “We have to leave an anonymous tip. We can’t be here.”

  “Fine,” she uttered.

  “Angie,” he said, pulling away just enough so he could look her in the eyes. “Angie, listen to me. I know Branson was a good man. He helped you out when I couldn’t. He was there for you. He was a friend, even if I never got to know him. But he’s dead, Angie. And the killer is targeting Shifters, and I’m next, and then it’s you. And I won’t let that happen. I’m sorry he’s dead, Angie. But I have to focus on you. On us. And I have to protect us. And that starts with us being smart. When all of this is over, we’ll honor Branson.”

  “Okay,” she said, nodding. “I know. I’m sorry. These damn pregnancy hormones.” She laughed slightly, rubbing her eyes. Marcus reached a finger up and wiped away the tears. They stood like that for a few moments.

  “He knew we were coming,” Marcus said, looking around the room when they had their emotions under control. And sure enough, Marcus recognized one of the killer’s distinctive notes.

  He reached down and grabbed it, flipping it open. It said one word: RUN.

  “Marcus, what does that mean?” she asked, voice quivering.

  “Oh, no,” Marcus said, crossing to one of the boarded up windows. With powerful hands, he ripped the boards down and tossed them to the floor. He looked out the broken window and his heart dropped.

  “Marcus? What do you see?”

  “Sheriff’s Department,” Marcus said, adrenaline starting to flow through him. “He set us up, Angie. This is like some kind of sick game to him.”

  “Oh my God, Marcus,” Angie said. “What do we do?”

  At that moment, there was the sound of a door being broken in somewhere downstairs, followed by yelling and the sound of heavy boots on metal.

  “We run,” Marcus said, grabbing Angie’s hand and pulling her up towards the broken window he had been looking out of. “But first, we climb.”

  Chapter 11

  “We can explain this,” Angie said, vertigo taking over as Marcus lowered her outside of the window. “Marcus, they’ll understand. All we have to do is tell them…”

  “They’ll never believe us,” Marcus said. “They’re looking to blame this on me.”

  “Okay,” Angie said. She knew it was true. She felt her feet touch the small walkway. It groaned under her weight. She held her breath, testing it, her arms still wrapped around Marcus’s. “Okay, I think it’s good.”

  He released her slowly, her head spinning. She leaned against the grain elevator, hot metal pressed against her back. She tried not to look down but it was impossible.

  Marcus had lowered her out of the window onto a walkway that led from the top of the cylinder tower all of the way to the bottom. There were multiple levels that ran the entire way around the building, connected by old, rusty ladders. The walkway was old, rusted mesh. She looked past her feet, through the diamond shaped holes in the metal and at the massive drop underneath them. She felt herself grow dizzy.

  Then the metal walkway creaked as Marcus lowered himself onto it. There was a moment where Angie knew it was going to collapse, a moment where she could feel it in her gut, but it passed and the walkway held.

  “Okay, Angie,” Marcus said as reassuring as he could be. “You go first. Just take it one step at a time. Work your way around the walkway, then we’ll take the ladder down straight to the bottom. Then we go from there.”

  “Okay,” Angie said, gulping. Marcus made it seem like the easiest thing in the world. She took one step, the metal creaking underfoot. Underneath her, she could see a few police cars and Sheriff Nixon’s vehicle parked down below. She could only see one officer watching the outside of the building and his gaze was focused on the front door. She imagined that the officers and sheriffs were storming the building now. How long would it be before they found the ladder and Branson’s body? How long would it be until they found them?

  She tried not to think about any of that. She found herself almost thinking of Branson, and how he’d protected her when Marcus had been away – but there was no time for that.

  And then she was on the other side of the elevator, out of the view of the officer down below, and she suddenly felt better. But she knew she wasn’t out of the woods, yet. Marcus was right behind her, inching along.

  She reached the ladder and knelt down in front of it.

  “It’s okay, Angie,” Marcus reassured her. “Just one rung at a time.”

  “Okay, okay, I can do this,” she said, taking deep breaths. She put her foot on one of the rungs, testing it. It held. She lowered herself down onto the next one, grabbing the first rung with her hands, feeling just a bit better.

  And when she took another step, she felt it give – her footing lost, and then the rung in her hands snapped, and she fell. She didn’t even have time to scream.

  Marcus’s hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, holding her tight. He was leaning over the edge of the railing, lower body wrapped around the guard rail that creaked alarmingly.

  “I ha
ve you,” he said, holding her until she was able to find her footing. Angie found that everything was numb: her life had flashed before her life and she was unsurprising to find that she’d mostly thought of Marcus. Going down the ladder after that was nothing. She just moved each arm and leg and didn’t even realize the danger she was in.

  And then suddenly, she felt the ground underneath her feet. She was safe. And she started crying. She had almost died and for a moment, it had seemed like nothing had mattered.

  What’s gotten into me?

  Marcus held her for a few moments, then he whispered, “Angie, we need to go.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. She wiped her eyes and pushed those thoughts of almost falling to her death away. There simply wasn’t any time to dwell on moments like that. They were still on the run – and she knew the police would be closing in soon.

  They were on the west side of the building, now, standing in the blazing hot sun that was slowly making its way down for the evening. Angie felt brutally exposed and judging by Marcus’s attitude, he did too. He took her hand and led her around the edge of the building, moving north, out of line of sight of where the police cars were parked.

  They peeked out. The coast looked clear. If they could head straight east, using the grain elevator as cover, they would be able to make it back to the field, cross it, grab the Bronco, and head back into town.

  Marcus turned the corner, hand wrapped tightly around Angie’s, and they ran right a police officer. His back was to them, but he was turning, having heard them – and Marcus pulled his hand free from Angie’s and brought it straight into the man’s temple. He collapsed to his knees, dazed, and Marcus brought another hand down directly into the man’s nose.

  The man was out cold. Marcus grabbed Angie’s hand again and they were running, stepping over the man’s body. Angie spared one last glance at the officer, confirming he was out cold. Angie hoped that he would be okay but she knew they didn’t have any other choice.

  Marcus…

  She knew how much it must have pained him to have to do that. But he didn’t have a choice and she knew that.

  They were in the field when they heard a yell of alarm behind them.

  “They must have found the body,” Marcus growled.

  But Angie had thought she had heard the word field being yelled. She turned backwards just enough, half sprinting, half looking, and she saw that she had been right.

  “Marcus! They see us! They’re coming!”

  He turned slowing just enough for her to slow down and get a better look, her heard dropped in her chest. Officers were running at them, four that she could count – and two of them had dogs. As she watched, they released them, and they bounded off towards Marcus and herself, barking madly.

  “We’ll never make it,” she said. “It’s over.”

  “Hold on,” Marcus yelled, peeling off his shirt, then his pants, kicking off his shoes until there was nothing left on his body. “Grab my clothes and then hold on tight.”

  Angie gulped as she watched him shift. It had been a long time since he’d had to shift, a long time since he could, and it was everything she had remembered. Amazing and terrible, somehow beautiful yet scary and intimidating. She remembered the first time she’d seen Marcus in his bear form – she’d shot him.

  But she grabbed his clothes, making sure she didn’t even leave a sock of evidence, and then she climbed onto his back. Even with the heat of the sun beating down on them, Angie couldn’t help but smile as she felt Marcus’s warm pelt against her.

  She latched her one free arm around his neck as best she could and then with a roar, he started to run. They started off slow but quickly increased in speed until the field was nothing but a blur. Marcus’s strides were surprisingly smooth and when she dared a look backwards, there was no sign of police officer or their tracking dogs.

  They had just left the field when Marcus reared up on his hind legs. Angie screamed in alarm, losing her grip and she fell into the ditch, unsure of what was going on.

  She looked up to find that there was a police cruiser tearing down the dirt road towards them. Mercifully, Marcus had parked his Bronco under the trees, out of sight – but if they kept coming down the road they would surely see it.

  And she knew what Marcus was going to do. He charged the car, tearing out into the road. They immediately hit their brakes – Angie half expected to hear the tires squealing – but they fishtailed on the dirt road, losing traction, sliding almost out of control. But they couldn’t stop completely.

  Angie saw the look of terror on the two police officer’s faces before Marcus’s large body hit the car. There was a loud crunching noise, the sound of shattering glass, and then a yell of pain from Marcus. The car lurched to the side, coming to a stop against Marcus’s body. He was half on the hood of the car, half off. Inside, the men looked dazed.

  Wasting no time, Marcus pulled himself off of the hood of the car. Angie could see where his form had dented it. Smoke was pouring out from underneath the hood. But the men inside were starting to come to. He moved to the driver’s side of the car and moving his front paws, started to lift. There was a moment where Angie didn’t know if he would be strong enough – but then the car was rolling over onto its side, falling into the ditch, still rolling, and then it came to a rest on its roof, smashing the flashing lights.

  Marcus was running then, back towards the car, and as he did so he was shifting back into a person. She watched as his strides became smaller – and she also noticed he was limping. Nasty bruises were already forming across his body.

  “Get in the passenger seat,” Angie ordered, climbing out of the ditch and running across the dirt road. Marcus didn’t object. She made her way to the driver’s side door, wrenching it open. She tossed his clothes onto him and onto the floorboard, then turned on the Bronco. It rumbled to life, shaking, and she threw it into drive and tore off down the road. She wanted the dust to settle before the other officers climbed out of their car.

  They were back in Charming in record time, making their way towards the house. Angie turned down the dirt road, then up Marcus’s driveway. They paused for a few moments, silent.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. Marcus was touching his side tenderly.

  “Just bruised,” he said, grimacing. “Help me out. Please.”

  Angie got out of the Bronco and ran around the side, opening the door and helping him get to his feet. Then she led him up to the house, through the front door, and into the bathroom. She ran him a cold bath as he leaned heavily against the doorframe, wincing with every breath.

  “Marcus, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Maybe a cracked rib,” he said. Looking at him, she could tell that even that hurt him. “But I heal fast. I’ll be fine.”

  He lowered himself into the tub with Angie’s help, then closed his eyes.

  “I’m going to go grab your clothes from the Bronco,” she said.

  Angie made her way out into the kitchen, into the mudroom, and opened the door. She screamed in alarm to find Sheriff Nixon standing there, a mixed look of anger and sadness on his face.

  Oh, how did he know?

  “Where’s Marcus?” he asked without preamble.

  “Taking a bath,” Angie bit off. “What do you want?”

  “Where was Marcus last night?”

  “Last night? We were here.”

  “He have any witnesses?”

  “Am I not enough?”

  “I need to speak to him, now.”

  “You can speak to me first. What’s this about, Sheriff?”

  He looked like he didn’t want to answer, but he said, “There’s been a murder.”

  Branson. Why did you have to get so involved?

  “Joanna Rivers was found dead in her home this afternoon and we want to take Marcus in for questioning.”

  Angie felt like a sledgehammer hit her in the chest. She could hardly breathe. And then the tears came.

  Chapter 12
>
  Marcus had just relaxed in the bath, cold water soaking his bruised body when there was a knock at the door. He looked over to see Angie standing there, tears flowing down her cheeks. He winced as he sat back up.

  “Angie? What’s wrong?”

  She tried to say something but couldn’t manage to get the words out.

  Carefully, Marcus climbed back out of the tub and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around himself. He followed Angie out into the living room. Sheriff Nixon was sitting at the couch on the wall, looking at him. Marcus narrowed his eyes at the man.

  “Awful nasty bruise you got there, Stone. What happened?”

  “What are you doing in my house, Nixon?”

  “There’s been another murder in Charming.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?” Marcus asked, looking over at Angie. Something wasn’t right. They’d already known that Branson had been killed – however sad that may be. “I warned you that this would happen.”

  “Don’t you want to know who it was?” Nixon asked, getting to his feet. “Or do you already know?”

  “Who?” Marcus growled. He would never admit to knowing.

  “We found Joanna Rivers’s body this afternoon in her house,” Nixon said simply, like it was nothing more than him talking about picking up a gallon of milk from the store. “And we need you to come in for questioning.”

  “What?” he asked. Angie sat down in one of the chairs and started to cry again. “Joanna Rivers is dead?”

  “Dead as can be,” Nixon said. “Growing colder by the second. So why don’t you throw on some clothes and come with me?”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “You know what’ll happen. You’ve dealt with this kind of stuff before. Don’t make me call in backup. Don’t make me take you down in your towel. Get dressed and get in the back of the damn car.”

  Marcus felt like a robot. He walked back into his room and fished out some clothes. When he was dressed and turning to leave the room, he found Angie standing there, Nixon standing behind her.