Mate’s Harvest: Bear Sheriff III

by Becca Fanning

  Marcus didn’t answer. They didn’t have time to argue and no matter what Angie was telling him, Marcus knew that wasn’t true. He should have known.

  “Should we call Nixon?”

  Marcus looked down at the cell phone that was sitting on the desk.

  “No.”

  “Marcus, are you sure?”

  “If we call him, he’s sure to bring the whole cavalry. They could tip off Tim. They could get Ricky or Janey hurt.”

  “Marcus… what if…”

  “What?” he growled, unable to even tell her not to say it.

  “What if Janey is involved, too?”

  “She’s not,” Marcus said with finality. “She wouldn’t be able to do that.”

  But Marcus didn’t completely believe that, either. He wouldn’t have thought someone that had a loving wife and a little boy that looked up to you could ever be a killer.

  But isn’t that what I am? A killer? And soon, in a few short months, I’ll have a child and she’ll look up to me. And I’m still a killer.

  What does that say about me? What makes me so different?

  “We should go,” Marcus said. Angie looked at him with a look that said she knew too much. He cast his eyes downward, unable to meet her eyes.

  They stepped out into the cool night air. Marcus barely registered that the seasons were changing; but in Arizona, did they ever truly?

  He led the way across the deserted parking lot, careful to ensure that no one was watching them. But Charming was dead this late at night – he just hoped that no one else was.

  “Marcus? Where are we going? Where do the Finch’s live?”

  He remembered them complaining about their neighbor, over on Washington Street. He wasn’t sure their exact address but he had the sneaking suspicion he could find out. He told her that. Angie nodded and followed him across Charming.

  It wasn’t a large town by any means, but it did take them nearly a half hour to make their way to their destination, sticking mostly to alleyways and places that the lights had burnt out over the years. Marcus had complained at the time that the city needed to fix them, yet now, sneaking down the back alleyways like some criminal, he was glad they never had.

  But that’s what I am, now. A criminal. What has become of me?

  Washington Street was just as deserted as the rest of the town – with the exception of one house with its lights still on. As they approached, Marcus heard the familiar bass rumble of loud music emanating from it.

  “It has to be one of these houses,” Marcus said, indicating the houses to the sides of the party house.

  “It’s that one,” Angie said, pointing. Marcus followed her finger in the darkness and saw that there was a small, blue bicycle laying abandoned in the front yard. Marcus nodded and together they slowly made their way to the house.

  All of the lights were off. Marcus approached the porch, careful not to make any sort of sound. He peered in through the dark window – but even with his Shifter eyes, he could see little inside of the house. But everything seemed normal. The lights were off. There were no sounds. He hoped the three members of the Finch family were asleep, in bed. It would make everything that much easier.

  He gestured towards Angie, who nodded. Together, they crept around the side of the house, careful not to make any noise. As they rounded the house, though, Marcus noticed something: the basement light was on. Marcus carefully came close to the window, ensuring he wouldn’t be seen from someone looking outside, and then knelt down next to it.

  Inside was Tim Finch. Only now, he didn’t look like the typical father figure he’d shown Marcus and Angie previously. He was shirtless, working out, and his chest and upper arms were covered in grotesque tattoos of all sorts of different things that almost made Marcus’s head turn: naked women, skeletons, a bloody knife running straight down his chest. When he turned, Marcus saw most of his back was covered by a flayed man on a cross with a skull for a face.

  “It’s him,” whispered Marcus. He moved to the side so Angie could see. She gasped, then sat back up and looked at Marcus.

  “We were right.”

  “You were right, Angie,” Marcus said. “Now, we just have to stop him.” He looked around for a direct way into the basement, maybe through a cellar door, but there was nothing.

  “Looks like we’re going in through the house,” Angie said as she came to the same conclusion.

  “Let’s go through the front door,” Marcus suggested. “Farther away from Tim. Hopefully, he won’t hear us.”

  Marcus spared one last look back at Tim, who was now locking something up in a large cabinet. Marcus felt his hackles raise. There was something in there that shouldn’t be; he was sure of it.

  They made their way back around the house and to the front door. Marcus took time to make sure that there wasn’t an alarm system. Satisfied there wasn’t, and shaking his head for Tim’s stupidity, Marcus tried the door. Of course, it was locked.

  He tried the window next to it and was surprised to find that it was unlatched. Carefully, as slowly and quietly as he could, he lifted the window up inch by inch. He was relieved to hear the thum of an AC unit somewhere else in the house, masking some of the noise they were making.

  He paused for almost a full minute before climbing in through the window. He turned back to Angie – he had almost told her to wait outside while he finished this, but he knew she never would – and helped her through the window, too.

  She closed the window and they stood in the silent, deserted house. There was no sign of anyone else besides Tim. In front of Marcus was the living room, a couch, chair, and coffee table facing a large TV. To his right was the front door and small foyer with a staircase leading upstairs. He couldn’t see what the room past the living room was, but he assumed it was the kitchen based on what he’d seen creeping around the house.

  Chances are, the stairs leading to the basement are in the kitchen. Then we’ll wait him out. He has to come up eventually, and when he does, we’ll be waiting for him. We’ll capture him, subdue him, and then call Nixon. We’ll clear out names. We’ll be free and The Skinner will be stopped. All of those that died will finally have their killer captured.

  But you’ll still be out there – and you’re still a killer.

  Marcus pushed those thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t think those kind of thoughts, especially at a time like this.

  They carefully made their way through the living room, giving themselves a wide berth around all of the furniture. Their footsteps were silent; he hoped that downstairs Tim wouldn’t be able to hear them approaching.

  They entered the kitchen. Marcus’s eyes scanned the room, starting with the kitchen counter to the left, over the sink – and then Marcus froze. He had heard something on the right side of the room. He looked right and…

  Light flooded the room. Marcus almost jumped forward but held himself in check.

  It was the fridge – there was someone there, opening it up, and Marcus saw that it was little Ricky getting a drink in the middle of the night. He had grabbed a pitcher of water, turning to the counter, his eyes moving up… up… up…

  And he saw Marcus and Angie standing in the doorway, frozen. For the briefest of moments he just looked at them, silent, unsure of what to do – then he dropped the pitcher of water and screamed.

  From the basement came a roar of pure rage, then the sound of footsteps making their way up the staircase. Marcus looked frantically around for the door to the basement, ready to meet The Skinner in his own house.

  And there it was! He strode across the room but then he heard Angie scream from behind him. The door opened from the basement and Marcus saw Tim Finch, The Skinner, his normally calm face a mask of complete rage – and then when he focused on Marcus, he smiled.

  Marcus heard something behind him, felt a flash of pain, and then everything went black.

  * * *

  Angie struggled against her bonds, waves of panic sliding over her, reminiscent of wh
en she’d been kidnapped and tortured by the Wolf Shifters. But this time she knew there wouldn’t be any torture. Tim Finch was unlike anyone she’d ever met before – and it chilled her to the bone.

  “Marcus?” she called. Her question was met by the back of Tim Finch’s hand. She screamed in pain, a trickle of blood running out of the corner of her mouth.

  It had all happened so fast. They’d been carefully making their way through the house until they’d reached the kitchen. They’d seen Ricky getting a drink. He’d seen them. Then he’d screamed and they heard Tim’s roar of rage. Marcus had tensed up, ready to fight the man, and then Angie had felt hands wrap tightly around her throat. She’d had enough time to scream and flail as someone had pushed her into the wall. She’d hit face first, hard enough to make things spin for a moment.

  When everything had spun back into focus, Angie watched Janey Finch reach into the corner and grab something – it looked like a bat – and advance on Marcus. She opened her mouth to warn him but it had been pointless. He was so focused on Tim Finch that nothing could have broken him from his trance. The bat had met the back of Marcus’s head and he’d collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

  Sitting across from him, tied up in the Finch’s basement, Angie was relieved to see that he was still breathing. There was a trickle of blood – no, more than a trickle – running down the side of his face.

  He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s a Shifter. He has to be okay.

  But she knew just how bad it was when someone took a blow to the head and was out. Brain damage. Marcus… He could be…

  He’s alive. That’s the important thing.

  “Marcus?” she asked again. He seemed to stir at his name – but that was it.

  The basement room they were in was separate from the workout room they’d peered into, and it was a thousand times worse. This room was bright white, two chairs facing each other, chains wrapped to them. On the far wall was a display case and it was the most ghastly thing Angie had ever seen. Skins – the skin of countless Shifters – were displayed inside. Her eyes kept coming up to them, unable to look away. Angie felt her stomach churn when she recognized Branson’s face looking back out at her.

  She watched as Tim Finch, his heavily tattooed chest so at odds with the friendly face he’d showed her when they first met, walking around his basement. The rage he’d shown when he’d first made his way up the stairs had subsided and was replaced by a smile.

  “No one knows you’re here, do they?” he asked without looking up from a tray of shining silver surgical tools. “No, of course not. If they did, they would be here by now. And they wouldn’t have sent you in alone. You two decided to get to the bottom of this by yourselves. Foolish, but I do appreciate it.”

  Angie didn’t say anything. She pulled at her restraints. They were tightly bound ropes. Marcus, on the other hand, was wrapped tightly in chains. They were pulled across his chest, his arms, his legs, with a final one wrapped tightly around his neck. He wasn’t getting out.

  But maybe I can…

  It was true. Her restraints weren’t unbearably tight. Janey Finch had tied her up, all the while Tim had yelled at her for being so stupid to let them sneak into the house. He’d walked past her, pulled at her restraints and focused on Marcus, convinced that she wasn’t a threat.

  It’ll be the last mistake he’ll ever make.

  But looking at all of the skins hanging in his display case, Angie wasn’t so sure. How was she going to stop this man when so many others had failed? And almost everyone this man had killed had been a Shifter: bigger, faster, and stronger than Angie could ever hope to be. What was she going to do?

  Tim Finch walked over to Marcus, holding something in his hand. She watched as he snapped something under Marcus’s nose and suddenly Marcus’s head jerked up, eyes wide.

  He looked disorientated for a moment, then his bright golden eyes focused on Angie and he whispered, “Angie? Are you okay?”

  “Right here, bud,” Tim Finch said, crouching down and blocking Marcus’s view of Angie. She saw him try to slide to the side to see her but his restraints were too tight.

  “I’m here, Marcus. I’m okay,” she told him. Tim turned around and lashed out at Angie, slapping her again. She heard Marcus’s roar of rage, the sound of his chains clinking together, and then Tim’s high, sharp laugh.

  “You’re not going anywhere. This is the end of the road for you, my friend. Soon you won’t have to worry about anything any longer.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Marcus growled.

  “Yeah, right,” Tim said. He got to his feet and went over to the table with his instruments on them. He grabbed a syringe, held it up to the light, and tapped it with his fingers to get the air bubbles out. Then he squeezed it ever so slightly. Angie watched as liquid shot out of the end of it.

  “What’s that?” Angie asked. Tim came close to Marcus, then injected it into his arm. The entire time Marcus was struggling to get free.

  “This is a special compound used to keep Shifters under control,” Tim explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s used in various places around the world – for those that know Shifters exist. Governments. Prisons. Me.”

  “Is it going to kill him?” Angie asked, ashamed to hear it quivering.

  “No,” Tim said. “I’m going to kill him. This just makes him more… docile. And it makes the skinning process a little less painful.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “Your boyfriend is a monster. I’m a monster. But I don’t want him to suffer.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Angie asked. She pulled at her restraints. She could almost get a wrist free…

  “Why would I tell you?”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Eventually,” Tim said, stepping back from Marcus. Angie watched as his eyes started to glaze over. His head nodded. He jerked it up, trying to focus on Angie. A look of defiance crossed his face… and then it faded as the drug started to work its way through him.

  “Eventually?”

  “How’d you find out it was me?” Tim suddenly asked. “I covered all of my tracks. Moved into town at the perfect time. How could you have possibly known it was me?”

  “You’ll have to ask Marcus,” Angie spat. She had almost pulled her wrist out of the restraint…

  Tim grabbed Marcus’s face with one hand, squeezing, and yelled, “So you figured it out, did you? How?”

  “Because you’re a terrible father,” Marcus wheezed. Angie could tell it was taking its toll on him just talking.

  “Because I’m a terrible father? Me? I’ve given my son everything! What do you mean?”

  But Marcus was nodding off again, so Tim turned his attention to Angie.

  “You burned your son,” Angie explained, proud that they’d figured out who The Skinner was – even if they were going to die. “And you burned one of your first victims. Someone else will find out eventually. They always will. Your time is short, Tim.”

  “Not as short as yours, honey,” Tim said, dropping down in front of her. “I’m going to skin Marcus here alive. I’m going to wear his flesh. And then I’m going to wait until you give birth to your child, and then I’m going to kill it, and I’ll finally shift. I’ve tried for so long. I’ve been trapped in my human body for so long and I’m so close.”

  “You’re insane!” Angie yelled. Behind her, Marcus had snapped awake at what Tim intended to do. He was struggling against his restraints. But it wasn’t going to be enough. Slowly, over the course of a minute, Marcus’s struggles died down.

  “I’ll finally be what I’m meant to be.”

  “And your wife? Your son?”

  “They’re weak,” he told her. “She couldn’t give me the son I desired. But when I change, I’ll be able to finally raise my own son. I’ll be able to rule my family.”

  “What’s going to happen to Ricky then? To Janey? You’re just going to abandon
them?”

  His laugh was short. “Janey will do everything I say. She’s a good wife – even if she can’t give me the heir I need.”

  “She’s a coward.”

  Tim looked like he was going to hit her but then he changed his mind. He turned back to Marcus – just as Angie finally, somehow, managed to slip one wrist free. She started working on the second one. Tim was grabbing the tray of surgical tools and rolling it close to Marcus.

  “You’re going to watch while I slice your lover’s skin off, bit by bit. It’ll take hours and hours. I have to be precise. It’s an art, after all. They don’t call me The Skinner for nothing.”

  Angie watched and almost cried as the first scalpel sliced into Marcus’s chest. He gave a small gasp of pain but his head never fully lifted from his chest.

  Marcus gave a real scream of pain as the scalpel moved downwards towards his stomach and Angie moved. Her legs were still restrained but the tray of surgical tools had been moved just close enough to her. She felt her fingers slide up over the tools and they jingled around.

  Tim was turning, howling in rage. Angie felt the tray slide out of her grip and she lunged for it, legs still bound to the chair, and she fell forward. The tray kept rolling but her fingers found something – she didn’t know what.

  She fell on the ground, knocking the wind from her chest. Angie tried to turn over completely but the chair was stopping her. Tim was yelling and he was on her, spinning her around – she felt her leg twist horribly, the sound of the chair on the ground, and she watched as Tim brought his fist up, ready to kill her –

  And Angie slammed whatever she’d grabbed into his face. She saw the glint of the needle as it flashed in the harsh light. Then it slammed into his face – she couldn’t see where. He was howling in pain, falling to the floor, clutching his face – his eye – and blood was everywhere. The tray of tools was next to her, tools scattered across the bright white floor.

  She grabbed one at random. She lifted herself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain in her leg, and sliced the restraints open. Tim was still screaming, laying on his back, clutching his face.