“I could have helped you if I wasn’t set up!”
“But that’s the thing, Stone! You were! You were set up and stripped of your position. I’m in charge now and if you don’t like it, you can get the hell out of my town.”
He crossed the room and got right in Marcus’s face.
“I’m doing what I think is right, Stone,” he whispered. Fury was radiating off of him. “And I don’t give a rat’s ass if you think it’s what’s right or wrong. I’m in charge. You’re not. So you have two choices. Get in jail or get the hell out of my way.”
Marcus didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he said, “What have you found out so far?”
“What?”
“What have you found out so far?” he repeated.
Nixon looked incredulous but reached into his desk and pulled out another folder, this one even thicker than the first.
“What is it?”
“It’s all of the information we have on the murders. More than the newspapers reported. More than you could ever see on TV. This is the real information.”
“Let me see,” Marcus demanded, pushing Nixon out of the way.
“What are you doing, Stone?”
“I’m going to help you, Nixon,” Marcus growled. “There’s no need for us to do this alone.”
“The Charming Sheriff’s Department doesn’t need your help.”
“Well, you’re getting it,” Marcus said, looking through the papers. “Do you mind if I take these with me?”
“I do.”
“Then you’re just going to have to shoot me, Nixon.”
Nixon looked like he wanted to – but he had no sidearm.
There was a silence that seemed to stretch for hours but last only moments. Then Nixon let out a long breath and said, “Shit, Stone. You got more balls than I assumed at first.”
Marcus didn’t say anything.
“They’ll find out it was a fake call sooner rather than later. You’d best be long gone before then. And I won’t be able to cover up what happened here. You’re going to be on the run, Stone. You won’t be able to go back to your house until all of this is over – if ever. You do realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, right?”
Marcus nodded and then glanced over at Angie. He had hated getting her involved – but she nodded and smiled just the same.
“I don’t like this,” Nixon said.
“Likewise.”
“Take this,” Nixon said, grabbing a cell phone from one of the desk drawers and handing it to Marcus. “A burner. They won’t be able to track you. I know the number. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. There’s a vacant lot ten miles west of town up on 2600. Might be a good place to lay low.”
Marcus nodded.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Nixon said, shaking his head. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Feeling goes both ways,” Marcus said. He nodded again and turned and left the building, unlocking it with Angie right on his heels. They crossed the street, keeping their heads down until they made their way back to the Bronco. Marcus fired it up and angled it east out of town.
“This is the point of no return,” Marcus said.
“I think we passed that point a while back,” Angie said with a lighthearted laugh. It did little to improve the mood. “Do you trust him?”
Marcus shrugged his big shoulders. “I don’t know. Not completely. Not yet.”
“Where are we going to go?”
Marcus said, “I don’t know. But not to that vacant lot west of town. I don’t trust him that much, yet.”
They were silent as they drove out of town.
“So. We have another ally,” Angie said, more to herself than anything. Marcus didn’t know if he was supposed to answer. “Does that carry any weight?”
“I doubt it.”
“He’ll probably be dead or missing before morning”
Marcus grimaced; he’d been thinking the same thing himself.
Sheriff Nixon, on our side. Helping us out. Who would have thought? What the hell is going on around this damn town?
Marcus wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“I’m surprised the shower’s still running,” Angie said, stepping out of the bathroom and drying her hair with a towel. She had another wrapped around her body. Steam billowed out of the bathroom behind her. Marcus sat at the table closest to the window, a small lamp illuminating the seemingly hundreds of papers laid out in front of him.
He didn’t answer. Angie watched him carefully.
They’d parked the Bronco nearly ten miles out of town on an old farm Marcus had assured Angie would be deserted, then they’d walked back to town. It had been a hot and dusty day. Angie was certain she was sunburned – even her hair felt warm.
Slowly, carefully as not to be seen, they’d made their way back into Charming and ended up at the Great Southern. After its owner’s untimely death, the Great Southern had closed indefinitely. Angie wasn’t sure if it would ever open again. She expected most of those attention seekers that had stayed at the Great Southern had been too much for Maudette to handle. She also had the feeling that most of the people staying there had been unhappy to hear of her death – but at least they were out of a place to stay, and hopefully out of town.
“It feels weird to be back here,” Angie continued, watching Marcus. His golden eyes kept scanning the pages. Occasionally, he would ruffle through them until he found what he was looking for, then he’d hold it up and look at it while completely ignoring Angie. “You know… after the murder… after Copeland tried to kill me…”
She knew how important it was to find out what was going on in Charming. She knew it was important to find out just who was committing these murders. Finding it out was probably the most important thing in the world right then. But Angie couldn’t help but feel left out.
Attempting to help Marcus dig through the papers had caused them nothing but annoyance, Marcus had his own way of doing things and Angie had hers. While Marcus was content to throw papers every which way while looking for the one he had sought, Angie had wanted to be much more methodical. She’d tried to lay them out across one of the unused beds but Marcus had been having none of that.
Plus, seeing the true police reports of all of The Skinner’s victims was even harder than finding snippets of newspaper articles on the internet. Where on the internet she’d seen pictures of the Shifters killed while they were still alive, all of the police files that Nixon had pulled showed The Skinner’s various victims skinned alive – and while he had eventually perfected his technique, his first victims had been killed in spectacularly brutal and disgusting fashions. It had made Angie sick, so she’d decided to take a shower.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Angie watched Marcus. Since she’d come out of the shower, he hadn’t even glanced at her. She knew why – but she couldn’t help but feel unwanted. Ever so slowly, she ran a hand down the towel around her body, undoing it ever so slightly to show some cleavage. She made a fake coughing noise. Marcus gave her just enough attention to shoot her an annoyed glance.
Angie pulled her towel a little lower, exposing her breasts. She felt scared – and she wanted Marcus.
“Marcus…” He didn’t answer. “Marcus?” No answer. She got up, the towel falling completely away. She took the towel off of her head and tossed it to the side. He didn’t spare her a second glance.
She walked to him and grabbed one of his hands that was in the process of flipping through some papers. She watched as he looked up at her, eyes taking in every inch of her naked body.
“Angie…” he said. She knew it almost pained him to say it. She could tell he was torn.
“Marcus, I need you right now,” she whispered. He slid his chair back and she straddled him, sitting in his lap and putting one hand on his chest and the other around his head. She dug her fingers through his thick hair and pulled him close to her. Angie’s lips touched his own and there was the slightest hesitation there, th
e slightest second where Marcus debated whether he should embrace Angie or turn back to his work, and then his lips began moving against her own.
It was slow at first; neither was really sure what the other wanted but then their lips began moving quickly, passionately, almost desperately. Angie knew that Marcus was feeling the same thing. No matter what happened in the next few days, this would all be over for them no matter what. Either The Skinner would be captured, he would have captured them, or they would be in prison.
Marcus’s hands came up, grabbing her breasts and squeezing. Angie let out a little moan as his fingers pinched her nipples. Angie arched her back, leaning away from Marcus and onto the table. She felt the papers underneath her, sliding under her back, arms, and hands. Marcus reached his big hands down, grabbed her firmly by the hips, and slid her up onto the table.
Sitting in the chair still, he leaned forward, his lips brushing the inside of one of her thighs. She felt his scratchy whiskers against her thigh and laughed. He gave her a questioning look for a moment but then pushed his lips between her legs and all laughter turned into moans.
Angie had already been dripping wet; even just stripping in front of Marcus, spreading her legs wide and straddling him and taking control of the situation was enough to turn her on. She figured that another reason was the danger, the impending doom, everything about their situation was enough to make her want to spend as much time as she could with Marcus.
His lips were fast but consistent, his tongue darting deep into her wetness and tasting her. She moaned as his hands squeezed her thighs, lifting her legs higher than they had been, giving him the perfect angle to sink his tongue deep into her. Then his tongue was sliding out of her, pushing up against her clit and she was bucking forward in pleasure, moans filling the room. Marcus reached out one hand and covered her mouth – chances of them being caught were slim, but possible – and she moaned even louder, closing her eyes as his other hand held her hips upward and she started to cum.
She hadn’t expected it to happen so fast – but with everything going on, from the hand over her mouth to his heavy hand upon her thigh, to the special angle he had her and the danger of the situation – and there was nothing she could do. It had built rapidly into a crescendo, washing over her and consuming her. Her whole body was warm; her nipples hard and her clit delicate and wonderful.
Marcus rose to his feet as the pleasure dissipated from Angie’s body. In one smooth motion, he peeled his shirt over his head and dropped it at his feet. She watched with anticipation as he unbuttoned his belt, sliding it through the loops and tossing it away. His fingers were quick as they unbuttoned his dusty jeans, just enough to free his hard cock from his jeans, and then he was grabbing her just underneath her knees and sliding her across the desk to him. Papers crumpled underneath her sweaty body.
She looked down and saw Marcus grab the base of his cock and angle it between her legs. She felt the pressure there as he pushed against her and she held her breath, watching and waiting as he pushed ever so slowly into her. There was the slightest hint of resistance, then her wetness opened up and he sank into her, their moans simultaneously filling the deserted motel room.
He pushed in deeper, holding Angie in place, and she rolled her head backwards and let the pleasure fill her up completely. Marcus pushed more and more until he was completely inside of her, his entire length filling her up, making her completely full. She reached out one hand, grabbing one of his own, and then he pulled himself almost entirely out of her.
With barely a second’s hesitation, he was pushing back into her, harder and faster than the first time and this time he showed no signs of slowing down. Angie moaned with every stroke, her body shaking in pleasure. He let go of her and lifted her legs up even higher, over his shoulders, and she let out a scream of pleasure that neither had been expecting. Then he was thrusting again, her breasts bouncing with every movement, and one of his hands came down and grabbed one, squeezing.
Angie wasn’t sure how long it went on – she was completely lost in the movements of pure bliss. With another scream, this one of alarm, Angie felt herself be lifted up off of the table. Without missing a beat, Marcus had lifted Angie off of the table and carried her to the bed, leaving papers scattered in her wake. They flew through the air, landing on the floor, one even making it all of the way to the bed.
But neither was worried about the papers any longer. They were only focused on each other. Marcus dropped Angie softly onto the bed and lowered himself over her. He pushed between her thighs, sliding easily into her wetness, and then his lips found hers again and they kissed and made love.
Fingers ran through hair, hands cupped naked flesh, and moans split the air. Angie still didn’t know how long they made love but it was the most wonderful, most necessary thing.
Every stroke brought her closer to utmost bliss. She felt the smallest hint of fire between her legs, building slowly, almost imperceptibly, just enough to be there to finally grow into a full blown orgasm. The process took slow, agonizingly blissful minutes, almost as if a storm was brewing.
And finally, it hit. Angie’s moans of pleasure were no louder than any before, yet her body was on fire with one of the best orgasms she’d ever felt. Her eyes closed, her fingers grabbed at Marcus’s bare flesh, and then he too was moaning, and she knew that he was going to cum deep inside of her. She felt his thickness jerk inside of her, then a hot flow of cum exploded in her, and together, they came.
Their orgasms seemed to last hours but eventually they passed, leaving both breathless. Marcus rolled over in bed, breathing hard and flushed. They lay together in silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other.
Finally, Angie rolled over on her side, facing Marcus. She felt a piece of paper crunch under her naked body. She rolled over just enough to pull it out from underneath her and then looked at it, unknowing why she bothered. She knew what she would find.
Sure enough – it was one of The Skinner’s first victims. The paper showed close up marks of the man’s skin, torn apart, blood everywhere. But there…
Something looks…
Different.
“Marcus? Who is this man?”
“Craig Arnold,” Marcus said, taking the page from her. “I think The Skinner’s fourth or fifth victim.”
“Where are the rest of the pages?” she asked, getting out of the bed and going towards the table. She rummaged through all of the papers, throwing ones to the floor she knew she didn’t need.
“Angie? Why?” Marcus asked. Still, he got up and began looking through the papers until he found the next one and handed it to Angie. “Angie, what’s wrong?”
She stared at it for a few moments, recognition dawning on her face, then a smile.
“I just found out who The Skinner is.”
Chapter 18
Marcus was confused. How could Angie have found out just who the killer was just by looking at one piece of paper and then confirming it with a second? He looked at the first paper she’d looked at. Craig Arnold was an older Shifter who had lived out on the east coast, occasionally traveling for work. He’d been killed in a small town west of Atlanta, Georgia.
Marcus scanned the page. He saw the man’s weight, age, time of death – but none of the information printed jumped out at him. He looked at the man’s picture. He didn’t see anything distinctive about the picture, either. It was just Arnold brutally slashed open.
He took the other page from Angie, the one he’d just found and given her. She looked at him with a smug look on her face. For a moment, he wanted to yell at her and tell her to stop playing this stupid game, that it was important that they figured out who was – but it could wait a few seconds and if Marcus was honest with himself, he wanted to see exactly what she saw.
The page he was now holding was close up wounds of Craig Arnold’s chest. He had been cut open viciously. The Skinner must have used a sharp blade – after all, the cuts went all the way down to the bones. Marcus saw the bright
gleam of ribs. And next to the cut, there was another sort of wound – something Marcus hadn’t seen before.
How could I be so ignorant? I was so focused on The Skinner skinning his victims and killing them in his usual style that I completely ignored the other wound.
“I thought it was from something else. Maybe he got it where he worked,” Marcus said, recognition slowly dawning on him.
“He worked in a gas station, Marcus. Nothing there that could have burned him.”
“How could we have missed it, Angie? I should have known. I should have recognized the signs of a man like that.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Marcus.”
“I should have known. After I saw what he did, I should have known. What kind of a person could inflict that kind of pain on another person? Especially his own son?”
“We have to stop him, Marcus. We have to stop him tonight.”
“Get dressed,” was all Marcus said. He felt like the world’s biggest fool. He’d seen Tim and Janey Finch come into the restaurant with their son Ricky. The images of the burns on Ricky were still fresh in Marcus’s mind. And he’d looked right at pictures of one of The Skinner’s victims where the man had been burned – and he had probably been burned alive. And it was all before The Skinner became The Skinner: he hadn’t skinned his victims, yet. He was still trying to figure out his MO, and Marcus had missed it completely.
And seeing what he did to his own son should have been proof enough that there was something wrong with the man. I should have known he was the killer just by what he could do to his own child.
How could he do that to his child?
They dressed quickly, almost in silence.
Then Angie said from next to him, “Marcus. This isn’t your fault. Not at all. You couldn’t have known that a man that would do that to his own son could do that to others. This isn’t your fault.”
Mate’s Harvest: Bear Sheriff III Page 12
