“Sure he is.” Max snorted, diving into the fries and ignoring the half-eaten burger. “It’s weird is what it is. Maybe Alex and his brothers are the ones dumping those body parts all over the Palms and Yucca.”
“Unlikely!” She laughed. “The video footage from the gas station puts the guy well under six feet. And none of them could pass for that.”
Released two nights prior, the FBI had finally had a break in the case. Security feed of a man depositing a bag into a gas station dumpster had provided the first visual of the killer. Enhanced imaging had provided a decent profile, one Charlotte shuddered to recollect.
The tourist in the sedan.
Max tossed his napkin on her plate and pushed away from the table. “I can’t do this. Tomorrow, you feed me right or you take back the north run.”
*
Charlotte clocked out and headed to the back room to change out of her uniform before joining Max and the others at the tavern. Pulling the elastic from her ponytail, she shook out her hair, using her fingers to fan it out before deciding water was the only solution to the rigid line spanning her head. When her damp hair was flattened out enough, she nodded over at Becky as she entered. “You joining us?”
Becky gave her a once-over and smiled sadly. “You sure you’re okay to go?” she asked with feigned concern. “It must be tough.”
Reaching into her purse for her eyeliner, she glanced at her colleague in the mirror. “Why would it be? You should come.”
“I would, but Jonas has me heading out on an animal sighting first.” She sighed, squeezing beside her to check her lipstick. “Big dogs sighted around the Chasm. Tranquilize on sight are the standing orders.”
Charlotte bit her lip, widening her eyes as she applied her mascara. “Probably Butch passing through again,” she said, thinking back to the aggression the large animal had exhibited the last time she saw him. “I’ll swing through the area on my way out. He knows me, and I know him. He was getting territorial the last time I saw him, so if I come across him, I’ll call it in.” She applied her lipstick carefully, using her pinky to smooth it out. “But don’t tell Max.”
Becky smiled at her, unbuttoning her work shirt and pulling a slinky silver tank top from her bag. “I won’t.”
*
Alex loaded the last of the groceries into the back of the SUV and got in, rolling his eyes at the sound of a beer being cracked. “You can’t wait an hour?”
Bo lifted the bottle into the sight line of the rearview mirror. “Curse of the gods.” He grinned as he downed half the bottle, smacking his lips and wincing. “Too bad this swill ain’t the nectar, right?” He stretched his arms across the back seat. “I only stocked up enough for a week, so you two fuckwads better lure the Pirithous in before my stash runs out.”
Snapping a newspaper open, Ryan began perusing the most recent reports. “Amazing how much I’ve come to rely on internet service over the past few months,” he mused, turning the large page awkwardly and pointing to a series of grainy photos. “The arch of the spine and bending of the legs is consistent with a late feral status.”
Alex glanced over as he exited the parking lot and sped up. “Barreling around on a moped and bagging the remains seems a lot more methodic than that of a full-on feral bloodline.”
“This one may be on the cusp,” Ryan said, closing the paper and folding it neatly into his lap. “I’m concerned that the populated campgrounds will become a slaughterhouse when he fully flips.”
“And I’m concerned Alex is passing all the good bars,” Bo chimed in, craning his neck back. “Pull into the Washout. We can have a half-decent meal, a drink, and then return to squatter’s paradise for a night of scorpions and barking at the moon.”
Ryan’s brows lifted for a moment before he nodded. “I’m in.”
Alex pulled into the parking lot, scanning the cars and letting out a breath. “Let’s go.”
*
Charlotte slipped on her work boots and bent over to lace them, setting her flashlight on the passenger seat. The Chasm was deserted, the only sign of life the small brown snake watching her from a few yards off. She pushed her gun into her back pocket and began her trek toward the hidden entrance to the cavern, using her flashlight to scan the area for Butch.
Or Not-Butch.
“Here, boy,” she called out, using the large stones to balance herself as she made her way into the opening. “You in here?”
Making her way through the first stretch of the Chasm, she continued to call out to Butch and Not-Butch, periodically tapping her gun in reassurance. She turned her shoulders sideways and squeezed through a tight formation, glancing behind her into the darkness as she wedged herself toward the pinnacle of the pass. Hefting herself to the shelf, she scanned the area with her flashlight, calling out for the damn dog.
“Stubborn little beast, aren’t you,” she muttered into the emptiness, looking around one last time before shining her light across her path and memorizing the descent into the chimney. Shoving her flashlight into her empty pocket, she steadied her footing and dropped into the darkness.
*
Alex stood at the bar beside his brothers, tensing when gentle fingers ran across the back of his neck and the blonde woman he recognized from Tom’s Tavern smiled up at him, a shot of tequila in her hand.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said, waving off the drink and tossing an annoyed look at Bo. “We’re heading out right away.”
The woman pressed up against him, her perfectly lined lips aligning with his ear. “We could sneak out back for a bit first.”
Shaking his head, he leaned away from her and met Ryan’s gaze. “Ready?”
“Am I ever.” Ryan extricated himself from a gorgeous brunette and elbowed Bo in the ribs. “Now, Bo.” He tossed his credit card on the bar counter and waved the bartender over. “I’ll cover our tab and another round for the ladies.”
His teeth clenched as the blonde continued to whisper offers in his ear while she traced her fingers down his spine, an inherent sense of wrongness washing over him as she pressed against his arm. He tracked the bartender’s movements, cursing inwardly as the guy stopped to refill a water before swiping the card and handing the receipt to Ryan to sign.
Ryan hesitated, pen in hand. “What’s the standard tip rate at bars?”
“Twenty percent,” he muttered, frowning when he felt a strange bump under his feet. “What the hell was that?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte.
Alex hit the floor, bringing the blonde woman down underneath him and exposing his back to the bottles and glasses dropping off the counter. Her screams were drowned out by the clamor of liquor bottles rattling off the shelves, chairs upending across the hardwood floor, and wooden beams creaking under the strain of the quake.
Fighting against the instinctual need to transform in the wake of danger, he locked his eyes on Ryan to ground himself, his frantic thoughts funneling and channeling until they narrowed into a single stream.
Where the hell is Charlotte.
Bo lay crouched over another woman, snarling as his half-empty beer bottle bounced off the back of his head and shattered at his feet.
Who’s with her.
Ryan crawled across the floor as it shook, making his way to assess the bleeding gash across Bo’s head as the shaking came to an end.
Alex rose off the blonde woman screaming underneath him and began the frantic search for his phone amid the overturned chairs and glass shards. Spotting it just out of reach, he scrambled forward and latched on to it, bracing himself as another wave rolled through the bar, the intense sound drowning out the screams of the patrons.
He wiped his phone on his shirt, snagging the fabric on the broken screen before he tapped his phone to life and hit Charlotte’s number as he crawled toward Bo and Ryan, his cell tight to his ear and his pounding heart stuttering when it went straight to voice mail.
He dialed again.
And again.
Ryan reached over to him and ran his hand over his forehead. “Surface cut,” he called over his shoulder to Bo, using his jeans to clean the blood from his fingers. “Fan out and start checking for injuries. Stay low to the ground.”
He sat against the bar, staring at his phone as it went to Charlotte’s voice mail for the fifth time. “I need to get to the park.”
“Our site’s fine,” Ryan yelled back, easing a young guy to his feet.
Bracing himself on the counter as another aftershock rippled through the bar, he trained his attention on the exit. “I need to go.”
Bo’s hand gripped his arm. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he growled. “We’re staying together, finishing off that bloodline, and getting the fuck out of this place tonight.”
He looked down at his twin’s bloodied hand before searching the room for Ryan, watching his brother calmly unbutton his shirt and press it against the neck of a man hunched on the floor. “I have to, Bo. I need to know she’s okay before I’m done here.”
Bo’s fingers dug into his arm before he released him, cursing loudly as he stormed over to Ryan and knelt beside him. Ryan looked over at Alex for a moment, his expression unreadable before he turned his attention back to the chaos in the room.
Pushing through the heavy wooden doors, he tried Charlotte’s number one more time.
Voice mail.
He jumped into the SUV and tore out of the lot, dodging a fallen power line as he turned onto the main drag.
Max.
Pulling up Max’s cell, Alex veered to the shoulder of the street to allow an ambulance to rip past him.
“Hello, Alex?” Max answered, panting and frantic. “Where are you?”
“Just left the Washout,” he replied, taking a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. “Where’s Charlotte?”
Max swore and the SUV swayed on the road, another aftershock rippling through the area. “She was supposed to be here.”
He smacked his fist off the steering wheel. “Where are you?”
“The tavern.”
Running his hand through his hair, he took a sharp right and sped up. “I’m a minute away. Did she work tonight?”
“She was supposed to be off two hours ago. Her phone’s going straight to voice mail.”
He pulled into the lot, the mayhem of evacuating patrons forcing him to abandon his SUV along the fire lane before he took off toward the entrance and pushed through the horde pouring through the open doors. Catching sight of Max, he sidestepped the overturned stools and made his way to the rangers, kneeling alongside the group as Jonas assessed Thomas.
“Alex, boy,” Thomas called over, lifting his hand toward the bar. “You walked out and the place fell apart.”
Scanning the elderly man over, he gave him a grim smile. “You can bill me for it tomorrow.” He turned to Max. “Where was she last seen?”
“The station,” Max replied, his bloodshot eyes giving away just how drunk he was before the earthquake hit. “We’re not getting an answer there either.”
*
Alex watched his phone intently, pulling over once the Wi-Fi bars lit up. He threw his SUV into park and sat back.
The Keys.
The Mine.
The north entrance.
He’d run Charlotte’s usual route twice, crawling through the park as he scoured the terrain for any sign of her or her car.
Wherever she was, she’d gone off course.
His phone vibrated as it filled with texts from Max.
He’d gone to her apartment.
The place was a wreck.
And empty.
He dropped his head to the steering wheel and swallowed in vain to rid himself of the lump that sat in his throat.
Where the hell are you?
He sped back to his campsite, kicking up a spray of sand as he braked. He turned off the engine and opened the door, yanking his boots off his feet and tossing them into the back seat. His clothes were next before he swung the large black collar around his neck and slammed the door shut, wedging the keys under a handful of sand behind the back tire.
Swinging his head to the sky to orient himself by the stars as he transformed, he tore southeast over the sand and rock with more agility and speed than he was capable of in human form. The silence of the desert in the aftermath of the quake amplified the scattering of stones under his paws as he ripped over the terrain hunting for any remnant of Charlotte’s scent.
Where are you, baby?
He paused at the entrance of the Jumbo Rocks campground, lowering his muzzle to the ground when a familiar stench hit him.
Pirithous.
His ears flattened back, his hackles rising as he skulked through the empty sites, the scent path strengthening as he moved closer to a cluster of smooth rocks stretching high into the black sky. Following the foul odor, he pawed his way over the formation, stopping once he breached the peak.
It had been there.
Within the hour.
He scanned the darkness for movement, bracing himself as another aftershock rippled under his feet, the stone ledge he stood on quivering.
He needed to find her.
He needed to track the bloodline.
He had a lead on one, and a shot in the dark for the other.
Lowering his nose to the rocks below him, he locked on to the Pirithous and descended the smooth stones until his paws hit the sand.
*
Charlotte took a deep breath and contracted her shoulders, shrinking back into the cavern as the ground trembled under her boots again. She tucked her head down in anticipation of the shower of loose sand and stones that filtered through the rocks surrounding her, remaining motionless until the movement subsided.
Howling.
She froze, her heart jumping into her throat as a gravelly howl echoed through the rock, an unfamiliar voice joining in with punctuated growls.
“Not-Butch!” she yelled out, inching her feet along the narrow path, her fingers grazing the rock surrounding her. “I’m here! Here, boy!”
The dogs went silent, the complete stillness of the post-disaster desert stretched out as the seconds turned to minutes until a faint howl punctuated the silence in the distance.
About time, Butch.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alex stilled, the fresh stench of the Pirithous coating his nostrils and tongue, overpowering every other scent in the desert. He lowered his muzzle to the ground, burrowing his nose into the sand in a desperate search for any hint Charlotte had passed through the area. Shaking the dust from his face, he arched his head back and scented the air for the only odor that could carry for miles in the still night.
Death.
Rot.
When nothing but the cursed bloodline filled his nose, he locked on to the scent and continued to prowl through the unchecked terrain, his ears perking up as Bo’s coarse howl carried through the park, followed by Ryan’s sharp yelps of warning. He barked back in spurts, allowing his brothers to track his location easier as he closed in on their howled replies.
Ryan’s lithe form was first to appear over a ridge, his graceful stride almost regal against Bo’s predatory skulk. He lowered his ears while he crossed the dirt road separating them, crouching down when he approached Ryan and sitting back as his brothers transformed.
He couldn’t join them, couldn’t risk them seeing the panic that was settling in his bones with every passing minute.
He needed to breathe. Needed to cool his head.
Needed their help.
Bo stretched his arms over his head, cracking his back. “I’m putting the Pirithous a mile south of here and moving slow. We can be done and drinking mead with Dionysus within the hour if we don’t fuck around.”
A peculiar look crossed Ryan’s face before he looked into the desert. “We could bring him down and hold him,” he said quietly, glancing down at Alex. “Give you ti—”
“Fuck no.” Bo’s eyes darkened. “We do this. Now.”
/> Alex shifted into human form in a heartbeat, rising to his feet and watching Ryan. “We could find her,” he said, unable and unwilling to hide the plea in his voice. “The three of us could cover the park easily. Once we do, we can pick up the trail here…” He trailed off when Ryan glanced in Bo’s direction. “What?”
Ryan’s mouth opened as Bo barreled into him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him down by the throat. “One mile from freedom,” he snarled, grunting when Ryan flipped him over and shoved his face into the sand. “It’s not fucking worth it!” he spat, bucking his head back and making contact with Ryan’s jaw.
As Ryan’s hold loosened, Alex knocked his older brother off, jumping onto his twin. “Nothing’s ever been worth it for me,” he growled, panting to catch his breath when Bo’s knee made contact with his gut. “I need one goddamn hour before I’m sucked back into hell to play show pony for gods who would sacrifice us to the sun if they thought it would gain them followers.” Scrambling to hold Bo down, he shoved his forearm against his twin’s face. “One. Goddamn. Hour.”
Bo began to transform beneath him, his jaw locking on Alex’s arm in a vise grip before Ryan dove in, the long canines tearing a chunk from Alex’s skin as the jowls were pried open and Bo’s face morphed back into human form. He booted Alex in the ribs, shaking off the echoes of his bite from his own arm. “I’m fucking dying up here,” he hissed, doubling over as Alex’s foot made contact with his gut. “It’s not. Fucking. Worth it.”
Alex jumped onto Bo, dropping him into the sand and grappling until Ryan leapt in. The eldest brother tossed his full strength into the fight, shoving Alex aside and keeping the upper hand until he finally subdued Bo enough to look over.
“Two miles southwest,” Ryan growled, digging his knee into Bo’s back. “Cluster of rounded rocks. We’ll hold the Pirithous.” He rose up off Bo as Alex took a step toward them. “Get her to safety and get your ass back here.”
Pushing himself to his feet, Bo used the back of his hand to wipe the blood and sand from his mouth. “Not fucking worth it,” he spat again, widening his stance as Alex closed in on him.
Junkyard Dog Page 19
