Thrown to the Wolves (Big Bad Wolf)

by Adhara, Charlie

  Threat removed. That same little sweep of the t.

  After leaving the barn and returning to the house, Cooper hadn’t gone into the kitchen to tell Park he was back. Just quietly backed away, leaving him to his conversation with Stuart, which he couldn’t help but hear snippets of: But did you need to announce a human lover to them all, Ollie? As if things aren’t complicated enough. You know you’ll be a target now...

  Cooper couldn’t bear to hear any more. He went straight to bed, thoughts flying without ever seeming to land anywhere. He couldn’t stop seeing that little t.

  When Park finally joined him upstairs, Cooper stayed unspeaking on his side and listened to Park getting ready for bed, heard the gentle whoosh and thud of clothing shed to the floor.

  Cooper should have sat up. Confronted him. Asked him. Talked to him. Said something. Not communicating was the old Cooper. He’d worked so hard to change and grow. For Park’s sake. But damn, bad news knocks you down to your foundation fast.

  He kept his eyes shut and his breath even, faking sleep. The bed dipped as Park slipped in behind him. Cooper nearly arched back to meet him, the familiar warmth of his body an immediate pull. He stayed still.

  “Cooper?” Park murmured.

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t open his eyes. Coward. But he just...couldn’t. He didn’t want to lie to Park and he couldn’t imagine pretending nothing had happened. But he didn’t want to have that conversation tonight. He needed time to think. Really think, and not whatever this useless trembling his brain was doing.

  What he really needed was sleep. He didn’t think he’d get it.

  Park wrapped a gentle arm around his waist, obviously trying not to wake him, and his hand rested against his lower belly, fingers lining up with the scars there. He pressed a soft kiss against the back of his neck, and Cooper almost broke.

  Talk to him.

  He would. In the morning. For now he kept his eyes closed and leaned back into Park’s warmth. He needed this comfort, just for tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  Eli was sitting on his porch sipping something warm when they rolled up at six in the morning. He had a cute little house, similar in design to the Parks’ mansion, but this one legitimately cabin-sized and tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Cooper was beginning to doubt his theory that the Freemans were the mysterious campers. It seemed like an extremely out-of-the-way spot for them to choose randomly. It had taken them thirty minutes of service roads just to get to the house, and Park said it would take another forty on snowmobiles and hiking in on foot from there.

  He had to give Cooper a mini-lesson on snowmobiling before they left, and when he noted that Cooper seemed extra quiet this morning, Cooper blamed it on nerves.

  “Just follow my tracks and go slow. It’s easier than driving a car,” Park assured him, making sure his helmet was on firmly.

  “Great. ’Cause we’ve had good luck with that recently.”

  “You don’t think I’d let anything hurt you, do you?”

  Cooper had to look away at that, pulling back from Park’s fingers and fiddling with the throttle. He didn’t respond.

  He could feel Park watching him, surprised by the brush-off. “Do you want to ride with me instead?” he asked tentatively.

  “No. This is fine. Just like falling from a bike, right? You never forget how.”

  “Atta boy, cutie. Show ’em how it’s done,” Eli called, revving his own engine. Cooper was actually grateful for his presence today. Though he put on a theatrical facade, underneath it all Eli was obviously extremely observant, and it prevented Park from being able to pull Cooper aside to find out what was wrong.

  Not that he didn’t plan on talking to Park. He did. Right after they finished this. Preferably as far away from prying ears as they could get.

  He’s lying to you, Helena had said. He didn’t like that he owed her an apology after all.

  They had to leave the snowmobiles on the trail and hike in when the terrain got too dangerous. Park worried about his leg, but Cooper insisted it was fine. And it was, more or less. Trudging through fresh snowfall across unfamiliar and potentially perilous ground was not doctor-recommended, true, but he had bigger fucking things to stress about than his glorified shin splint.

  Cooper walked with Eli while Park trailed behind them. It was oddly reminiscent of their first case together, hiking into the White Mountain National Forest to a crime scene, low light filtering between the pines and confusing the eyes. Cooper had been ridiculously uncomfortable then, thinking Park was keeping secrets. Thinking he was manipulative. Maybe even dangerous. Looked like they’d come full circle in a way. Only this time, with every step Cooper’s heart felt like it was breaking.

  Eli seemed more than willing to keep up a steady stream of chatter. Silly, inconsequential things like hockey season and the types of tourists who did the Cabot Trail in the summer: the landscape photographer wearing a parka rain or shine, the Quebecois family carting a full barbecue set in their trailer, the inevitable amateur bikers who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into.

  No mention of packs, wolves or murder. Nothing that risked digging deeper at all, which was how Cooper had gotten into this mess to begin with. By giving Park space and time. By letting him get away with all those stupid vague responses. Apparently Park did have a type, and it was professional avoiders. Well, fuck that.

  “So how did you and Park meet?” Cooper asked brightly, interrupting a diatribe on why Eli’s favorite team had made the worst possible trade. “Did you grow up around here, too?”

  Eli snorted. “Definitely not. I had a very different upbringing than Ollie. Definitely more the Oliver Twist between the two of us. I was running with rebel packs out west when I first laid eyes on my Fagin here.”

  Cooper looked back to see Park, who had remained near silent and preoccupied, perk up at the shift in the conversation. His attention like a cautious sentry on the wall.

  “Rebel packs? Is that like the WIP?”

  Eli looked at him, surprised. “Kind of like them,” he said cautiously. “Though these days WIP can mean a lot of things. Mostly we were just a ragtag bunch of outcasts that had jumped out of the frying pan intent on making our own fire.”

  “So what was Oliver doing out there?”

  “How much farther, Eli?” Park interrupted. Cooper grimaced. God, it was obvious now, the way he carefully controlled every conversation about his past.

  “Just a few minutes,” Eli said. “Did you notice we’re moving exactly parallel to the Rosetti border? I told you it was a curious choice.”

  Park hummed, expression thoughtful.

  “So, you were telling me why Oliver was running around in the west starting fires with rebel packs,” Cooper said, going for jokey and just managing impatient with a twist of manic.

  “Oh, right,” Eli said, glancing at Park warily. “We—that is, the pack I was with—had gotten into some trouble. Ollie helped me out. Of course, I immediately got the biggest crush on him. Hearts in the eyes, trumpets-in-the-sky devotion. Then he completely ruined it by opening his mouth and speaking, and it was years before I liked him again—”

  “We hooked up a few months after meeting,” Park protested.

  “I know what I said.” Eli gave him a look.

  “What kind of trouble?” Cooper pushed. He saw Park’s eyes flicker, but he didn’t interrupt a third time. Even he must realize it would look suspicious.

  Eli looked down at his boots punching through the fresh layer of snow. It was that gray-blue light of morning before the sun had fully risen and Cooper could see every breath he released, curling like smoke around his lips. “You can imagine that groups of adults not related by blood living together draws some curious attention. I think it was easier to get away with it in the old days, but now humans are suspicious of anyone not fighting to get their very own
space. Happily paying three times as much for a one-bedroom. None of the family is allowed in my private home office. Yada yada.”

  Eli flopped his hand. “We’re not like that. With wolves, sharing is caring. But unless you’re an I-shit-money Park with multiple houses on the property, packs tend to live in rough situations. Rural slums and the like. It’s why Stuart has been pushing to develop some of the land reserves for years. We don’t have anywhere to live...unobserved.”

  Eli frowned, a little pout that just made him more good-looking somehow. “We get a lot of the bad attention. Cops that think you must be up to no good because you made the unforgivable mistake of being poor. Human gangs that think you’re up to no good and don’t want you interfering with their no good. You’re vulnerable.

  “Anyway. Long story short, some people figured out we were hiding something and...used that to their advantage. They used us.” Eli drifted into silence again. His charismatic face was unusually blank now. He looked lost in memories. The sort that still carried big sticks to poke at the corners of the mind, rustling up your worst fears.

  Eli hummed, a self-soothing sound. “Until one glorious day Ollie rode in in his white Jeep and made it all go away with the magic words.”

  “What words?” Cooper whispered.

  “Cash or check.” Eli laughed at himself, dark mood vanished. “Don’t ever let them tell you money doesn’t buy happiness. It bought my freedom and that’s the same fucking thing.”

  “Great TED talk,” Park said, rolling his eyes. “But we’re here.”

  The trees had opened up to a small clearing and the smell of a campfire was heavy in the air. They had finally made it to the site.

  By silent agreement, the three of them spread out to look around. Pink ropes suspended multiple heavy packs from the trees in bear hangs, and two tents were set up in the shelter of the cliff. They were empty and their front flaps hung loose and open. The sight of it sent a prickle of apprehension down Cooper’s spine. Anytime you saw a door left open with nobody home, it did not bode well for the resident. Even if the door was just a stretch of nylon.

  Inside he saw a couple of packs of clothes and recognized the same UCLA logo from Dr. Freeman’s hat on a sweatshirt casually left strewn on the tent floor. Cooper knew deep in his gut he’d been right. The research team had set up here. But there was no sign of them and no sign of the violet sample case. They must have already set out for the day, or...

  The hairs on the back of Cooper’s neck were up. He ducked back out of the tent. In the center of the small clearing was a ring of stones around a wet pile of charcoal and ash. He crouched and held his hand over the sludge. It was cold. Out late last night at least, then. There were no tracks. Everything pristine and blanketed by last night’s snow.

  “Do you come across a lot of campers when you’re doing your patrolling?” Cooper asked Eli, who was checking the other tent.

  “Sure,” he replied, coming up behind Cooper. “You’d be surprised how many people think a tent exempts them from all private property laws.”

  “You were right about the location. It’s a weird place to set up,” Park said. “A full six miles in from any public road access.”

  They were all speaking quietly. Clearly Cooper wasn’t the only one who sensed a lingering evil in the air. “Whoever was here didn’t want to be found?” he suggested.

  “But here specifically? It really is directly on the Rosetti border,” Park said. The wind changed direction and he angled his face into it, frowning. “You smell that?”

  The question wasn’t meant for him, but Cooper inhaled deeply, anyway. All he got was wet ash and cold air.

  Eli clearly got something more. He was looking at Park and shaking his head. Not a negation, more like this isn’t good.

  “What?” Cooper said. “What is it?”

  Park walked out of the small campsite and down a hill, one hand out behind him as his boots slipped and he disappeared. Cooper followed him, but Eli stepped into his path. “Hey, cutie. Maybe you should stay here—”

  “Please get out of my way, Eli.”

  “You and I can just jump on a sled and get out of here before the snow hits the fan, eh?”

  Cooper studied him. There was genuine fear there, and a darker, hunted expression. Suddenly he could see quite clearly the wolf raised in a gang, struggling to survive. What would have happened to him if Park hadn’t intervened?

  “What’s over there?” he said calmly.

  Eli grimaced and looked over his shoulder, unsure. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t try to stop Cooper again when he continued after Park.

  It was icier up here in the shadows of the cliffs, and Cooper had to slide down the incline on his ass. Despite the good gear, snow snuck up the back of his jacket and the skin over his spine tightened and prickled, so cold it felt raw.

  He got to the bottom with a grunt. “Oliver?”

  Park was standing with his back to him in a small copse of trees. More pink, ultra-strong ropes hung from the branches, like festive party decorations. Cooper could trace each one up to a bright orange bear bag suspended fifteen feet up like something out of Dr. Seuss.

  And there in the center, the main attraction. David Freeman in his sleek black jacket hung upside down from one ankle, swaying slightly in the breeze, rope creaking against the branch the only sound. His mouth and eyes were open in a dumbfounded look and a cluster of three fuzzy pink tranquilizer darts stuck like a dapper little boutonniere out of his neck.

  * * *

  “Have you completely lost your mind?” Cooper said.

  He paced in the living room, already spotlessly tidy after last night, with no hint of the fifty-plus wolves that had passed through. Even Geoff’s little wine stain was remarkably absent. Cooper had looked for it hard. It gave him something to focus on besides the memory of Freeman’s carefully kept face loose and ugly in death.

  Cooper’s adrenaline was still racing, though it had been over an hour since they’d started the long trek to the house. Eli had disappeared by the time they’d made it back up the slope to the campsite, a fact that didn’t seem to worry or even surprise Park.

  “He needs to tell the others. It’s faster this way,” Park had explained, nodding at the hastily shed pile of clothes he’d left behind. “We won’t get service up here and Helena will need to prepare.”

  Cooper hadn’t asked what she was preparing for. He’d assumed Park meant calling the police. Now he wished he’d clarified. That way he might have been less shocked when Park led him into the house and told him that while the rest of the family “cleaned up” he and Cooper needed to get their stories straight.

  “Stories?”

  “Yeah,” Park said, as if it was obvious. “You know, what we’re going to tell them about why we were out there, why Eli lives in the middle of our woods with no public road access, what we were doing yesterday. Obviously they can’t know about the other attacks.”

  That was when Cooper realized the family was preparing the property by destroying any evidence that might attract too much attention and no one had called the cops at all.

  “Nothing has changed,” Park said tiredly, once Cooper had stopped cursing and calmed down marginally.

  “Nothing—? Right, right. Except for the fucking backyard DIY gallows, dead man included!”

  “Look, I’m not saying we shouldn’t call the police at all...”

  “But you want to make sure I don’t mention anything about why I spent most of yesterday in a drug-induced slumber or the fact that your own grandfather was murdered less than a week ago.”

  “We don’t even know they’re connected.”

  “Not connected?” Cooper spluttered. “So murder via tranq is just a fun tradition up here? Three people have been shot by the same weapon within days of each other. That’s, what, at least five percent of the town population?”
Park rolled his eyes. “Something is going on.”

  “Obviously something is going on,” Park said, annoyingly calm. “But we need to move forward very carefully with what information goes where.”

  “What infor—Are you even listening to yourself right now? I’m calling the police—which we should have done an hour ago—and I’m telling them the truth, that they’ve got a potential serial killer on their hands who has already attacked at least three times. Maybe more.”

  Cooper yanked his phone out of his pocket, but froze when Park’s hand closed around his arm.

  “Let go of me, Oliver,” he said quietly, tone even. Park dropped his hand immediately and didn’t try to hide the confusion and hurt that flashed across his face.

  “What—what’s wrong?” Park said, obviously thrown. Cooper knew he was asking what was wrong between them, besides the whole murder thing. He pretended he didn’t.

  “A man is dead. Dr. Freeman and Charles Girard are potentially missing and you want to cover it up, thanks for asking. How about you? What’s wrong with you?”

  “We’re not covering anything up,” Park protested. “If Freeman and Girard are out there, we can find them faster than any human police. We will deal with it. But if you want to call them, go ahead. Get the cops here. But we can’t tell them about the previous incidents.”

  We will deal with it. That phrase again. How many times did something need to be repeated to become a mantra? What about a curse?

  Cooper exhaled shakily and put his phone back in his pocket. “Oliver, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be entirely honest with me.”

  Park’s face twisted with confusion, and just a hint of fear and guilt. Cooper felt it like a kick in the ribs. But he had to go on.

  “Do you not want the police to know about your grandfather and the attack on Helena because you think one of your family killed David Freeman?”

  Park blinked at him, like he hadn’t even heard. “What?” he said finally.