Belinda Blake and the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by Heather Day Gilbert

  Carson seemed to have tired of moaning. Instead, he was slumping lower and lower into his chair, as if melting into the floor.

  When the ambulance roared up with sirens blazing, Evie and I went out to meet it. A police car pulled up soon after, and Sergeant Hardy practically leaped out.

  Evie turned to me, whispering loudly. “You deal with him,” she instructed. “I’ll deal with the ambulance.”

  I didn’t know what I’d done to earn the task of defusing the obviously outraged sergeant, but I was determined to pull my own weight around here now that everything had hit the fan.

  Sergeant Hardy looked like he was about to follow Evie as she led the paramedics inside, but I held up my palm to stop him. “I can tell you what you need to know,” I said. “I was the first one to see Carson White after his attack today.”

  The tall sergeant looked down, as if seeing me for the first time. I was five-foot-four, but I felt only five feet tall next to the brawny man.

  “Belinda Blake, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Evie asked me to fill you in.”

  The sergeant took out his notepad. “So, what happened?”

  “I found Carson just outside the second wolf enclosure, and his hand was dripping blood. From what I could tell, one of his fingers had been chewed on, and there were gashes on his hand. I wrapped his finger and walked him back to the visitors’ center, where Evie called the ambulance.”

  “What was he doing with the wolves? Anything unusual?”

  “It didn’t sound like he’d done anything out of the ordinary. He just said he had tried to pet the wolves through the fencing.” I paused. “Although he did mention that he was surprised the wolves were hungry.”

  I was startled when the sergeant hastily snaked his hand to my elbow and steered me sideways—until I followed his line of sight and saw paramedics carrying Carson’s stretcher through the visitors’ center door. The poor, injured drama king had resorted to spurts of bawling at this point, and as he turned his completely un-reddened face to me, I felt certain he was shedding crocodile tears. Evie trailed after the paramedics, accompanying them to the ambulance, and I wondered where Dahlia was.

  As the ambulance drove away, Evie told us that the paramedics had instructed Dahlia to rest at her house, given her inability to deal with her son’s bleeding. They had reassured her that Carson would be okay.

  “I’m going to go over and check on Dahlia,” Evie said. “Are you two wrapping things up here, or do you need anything further?”

  Sergeant Hardy frowned. “Actually, I’m afraid we’re far from wrapping up. I’ll need to examine the wolf enclosure where this happened. Also, the preserve is going to be closed indefinitely until we square things away.”

  Evie’s eyes widened, but the sergeant’s firm tone made it clear he wasn’t going to brook any argument. She nodded briskly. “Certainly. I will let Dahlia know, and I’ll cancel tours for the next few weeks. Belinda, could you gather up my tour lists while I get Dahlia settled? And Sergeant Hardy, can you find your own way to the wolf enclosures?”

  Sergeant Hardy nodded, then motioned to his partner, who had been sitting in the police car.

  “You might also want to compose a statement for the reporters,” the sergeant said. “They were filming the ambulance and our car as we drove in. Those sharks know there’s literal blood in the water now.”

  Evie paled, giving the sergeant a beseeching look. “I…I can’t. Dahlia will have to say something, and she’s in no shape… How do you recommend we deal with this?”

  The sergeant’s face hardened. “There’s no way to spin a situation like this, where one man is dead and another has been mauled. Now that I think about it, maybe your best plan would be to remain silent.”

  I hardly thought that was a good course of action, when Dahlia’s entire business was riding on her ability to convince tour groups they wanted to come here, but then again, the sergeant had a point. There was absolutely no way to spin wolf attacks at a wolf preserve.

  Sergeant Hardy stalked off, his partner on his heels.

  “I guess that’s that, then.” Evie’s long arms went slack by her side and her steps were heavy as she walked into the darkened gift shop.

  I followed, scrambling to think of a way to lift her spirits. “If you really wanted someone to give a statement to the reporters, I could do it,” I offered.

  She turned and gave me a wan smile. “That is kind of you, Belinda, but it’s too late for statements, I suppose.” She strode into the kitchen and poured fresh water into the electric teakettle.

  I reflected a moment on her strangely adamant refusal to offer a statement on behalf of the preserve. Wasn’t that part of her job?

  I stepped closer. “Excuse me if I’m being too bold, but I was surprised you didn’t want to speak to the reporters. You’re so outgoing, and you certainly know the ins and outs of this place. Besides, if you can handle irritated tourists, the press can’t be very different.”

  Evie dropped two English breakfast tea bags into mugs, but her lips thinned into a tight line.

  “I mean it’s okay,” I rambled on. “You’re just such an enthusiastic person. At this point, I’m sure you’d do a much better job of things than Dahlia.”

  She stared at the counter, swirling one of the tea bags in the water. “I’m glad you think so. I don’t feel enthusiastic much of the time.” She raised her head and gave me a fleeting look.

  I caught my breath as I recognized something in her glance.

  The brown wolf, Freya, had shot me the same kind of wounded, overly hopeful look—one that said she’d been hurt so deeply, she didn’t even know how to trust anymore.

  Who had crushed Evie’s spirit like this? Was it the same person she’d been hiding out from?

  As Evie picked up one of the mugs and headed for the side door, I realized she’d brewed the second cup for Dahlia and was probably taking it to her.

  Katrina had often told us, “You have to build a supportive environment in order for someone to start to heal.” With those words in mind, I shoved the door open for Evie, then said, “Hey, would you want to head somewhere for lunch tomorrow? There are some great places nearby, and it would give us a break from the daily grind—such as it is.”

  She wrapped both hands around the mug. “I would enjoy that,” she said. “Oh, and those tour lists should be behind the front desk, if you don’t mind getting those together for me. I’ll need to start calling everyone when I return.”

  “Sure. I’ll stack them on your desk before I head out,” I said.

  I pulled the door closed behind her, happy I’d taken the initiative and asked her to lunch. With the combination of her furtive behavior and her injured look, I knew there was something weighing on her.

  And it was entirely possible that it was connected to Shaun’s death.

  11

  It took longer than I’d planned to go through Evie’s tour lists. Apparently, she was the kind of person who had her own system that appeared messy to everyone else but her. Tour groups were listed on random pieces of paper, and I had to do some digging to match phone numbers with contact names. I had just finished compiling a master list for Evie when she returned.

  She looked over what I had done. “That’s simply brilliant,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me so much today. Dahlia is basically off her head, she’s so worried about Carson. She wants to be with him, but doesn’t feel strong enough, so I suggested we call someone who could go to the hospital and stay with him. She finally let me call Carson’s grandpa—Dennis Arden—so he’s heading over there now and can give us updates.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  Evie tugged at a dangling silver earring. “I hate to ask you for anything else, but would you mind going out and making sure the police found the right enclosure? I would do it myself, b
ut I need to start calling people.”

  “No problem,” I said, jumping on the opportunity to get a little fresh air.

  I left Evie to make her customer calls and strode outside. The baby blue sky, full of fluffy clouds, seemed completely incongruous with the wolf attack that had occurred today.

  Once again, I was struck by the fact that Rich hadn’t showed up, even with all the tumult at the visitors’ center. Was he even here today? Would I have to feed the wolves alone? Surely Evie would have told me if something had come up for him.

  And then there was Veronica. Was she going to stay on any regular schedule, now that she wasn’t leading tours? Today’s turn of events would definitely play into her master’s thesis nicely. Would she care that Carson had been injured, or would she laugh?

  I reached the first enclosure and found the sergeant’s partner examining part of the fence. “This isn’t the right enclosure,” I said. “You want the one with the white wolf.”

  He nodded. “We weren’t sure, so we checked this one first, but didn’t find any signs of struggle or blood. The sergeant just headed over to the other enclosure.”

  “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” I picked up my pace and was jogging by the time I reached Njord’s enclosure, anxious to see if the wolves were acting strangely.

  What I saw there made me stop in my tracks.

  Almost in slow motion, I watched as Sergeant Hardy put his hand on his gun and slipped it out. He aimed toward the gate, and I held my breath so I wouldn’t make a sound and startle him. My eyes flew to the wolves, but I only saw Njord.

  And once again, the white wolf was standing over a body.

  I blinked, hoping I was just seeing things, but the body was still there. I wasn’t able to tell who it was, or if the person was still alive. Was the sergeant going to shoot Njord right here and now?

  One shot rang out, but all it did was blow the lock on the first gate. Njord tore off, heading deeper into the wooded section of the enclosure. Sergeant Hardy repeated the process with the other lock, then stepped into the second gate.

  The sergeant’s partner raced toward him, stopping behind the second gate.

  “I didn’t have time to get the key, but I’ve called for backup,” Sergeant Hardy said, edging toward the body. “Cover me, but block the gate in case the wolves try to escape.”

  As the sergeant crouched next to the body, he felt for a pulse. I still couldn’t make out the person’s face.

  He turned and shook his head. “The victim is deceased,” he said. “Radio it in.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the first gate. None of the wolves were in sight.

  “Who is it?” I asked. “Dahlia and Evie will need to know.”

  Sergeant Hardy shifted so I could see better.

  Suddenly, I wished he hadn’t.

  The kind, fatherly face of Rich O’Brien stared at the ground with lifeless eyes.

  I grabbed at the gate for support, unable to stand. Just yesterday, Rich had been playing with these very wolves. This was some kind of mistake.

  I forced myself to look closer. There wasn’t a bit of blood on Rich. In fact, from where I stood, his body looked like it was in pristine condition.

  “You think this was a wolf attack?” I asked.

  Sergeant Hardy gave me a puzzled look. “There are no visible injuries.”

  The other officer stopped talking on his radio and turned to me, giving me a once-over. “Ma’am, are you able to return to the visitors’ center and alert them to this? Or do you need me to accompany you?”

  I was probably paler than pale and my limbs felt wobbly, but I knew what I had to do. “No, please stay and get Rich out of there. But thank you.”

  I propelled myself into motion and didn’t slow as I passed the first enclosure. Veronica was pacing outside the visitors’ center, and she actually looked worried.

  “Evie told me what happened to Carson,” she said. “I feel bad. Once I saw Carson heading into the woods this morning, I stayed back and restacked the bags of chicken feed. I couldn’t risk having him leech onto me again, because I get next to no research done when he’s around.”

  I understood how frustrating it must be for her, but I surely didn’t have time to linger for a chat. “Is Evie still inside?”

  Veronica nodded, falling silent.

  I walked toward the door, but stopped when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I whipped around and focused on a bulky man standing at the edge of the parking lot. He looked directly at me, then dodged into the woods.

  Veronica stared in the same direction. She gave me a curious look. “Who was that?”

  “Probably a reporter,” I said, telling myself that was the most likely explanation.

  But the man hadn’t been carrying a camera.

  And the unguarded look on his face had been one of sheer animosity.

  * * * *

  Veronica stayed outside the visitors’ center so she could let us know if the man returned. I went inside and found Evie in the kitchen, munching half-heartedly on a scone. I hated to drop the news of another death on her, but she seemed to be more capable of handling it than Dahlia at this point.

  “Brace yourself,” I said.

  She put down the scone and dusted crumbs off her hands. “Yes?”

  “There’s been another death.”

  Evie’s eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to process the news, but she didn’t respond. Maybe I’d miscalculated her ability to deal with ghastly situations right now.

  I patted her shoulder, hoping to jolt her from her apparent shock. Softening my tone, I said, “I hate to tell you, but Rich has died, in Njord’s enclosure. The police are out there now. We’ll probably need to find something to help them secure the gates, since they had to shoot the locks off to check on him.”

  Evie picked up her cup of tea, absently took a sip, then held it aloft as if unable to think what to do next.

  I tried to be patient, but Evie needed to snap back to reality so we could clean up this mess. “Evie, this is serious. We need to help the cops with things, and we’re going to have to tell Dahlia what’s happened. But maybe not just yet, if she’s still resting at her house. In fact, we won’t worry about Dahlia. We can just ask Sergeant Hardy what he needs from us, okay?”

  Her face crumpled. “But…Rich? How? Why?”

  Those were the right questions. Why would the wolves have killed Rich, their recognized human alpha? Besides, it hadn’t looked like they’d killed him at all. So how did he wind up dead in the wolf enclosure?

  Things didn’t add up.

  * * * *

  By the time Evie, Veronica, and I had scrounged up enough rope to temporarily hold the gates, more police vehicles had arrived. Officers swarmed into the woods, toting forensic equipment. I had actually welcomed Veronica’s help, because Evie was far from her generally efficient self.

  Sergeant Hardy and his partner walked briskly past the others to meet us in front of the visitors’ center. The steely glint in Sergeant Hardy’s eyes said he was finished playing around.

  Evie shook her head, extending the rope toward the sergeant. “I just can’t believe—”

  He cut her off. “I’m going to find out which wolves are killing people, and I’m going to put them down myself.”

  Well. That certainly didn’t seem too PETA-friendly, but I figured that was protocol when there was a rash of killings by wild animals, even animals in a secure enclosure. I tried to recall what had happened years ago when a gorilla attacked a toddler in a zoo. I was pretty certain they’d killed the gorilla.

  Sergeant Hardy handed the proffered rope back to Evie. “We’ve already secured the gates with new locks. Here’s the key, Ms. Grady.” He gingerly handed it to her, as if aware of her state of shock. “And where is Ms. White?”

  E
vie looked like a deer in the headlights, and I felt truly sorry for her. This entire situation was so far beyond the bounds of what she was supposed to be handling, and Dahlia had been practically AWOL since she got home.

  Evie motioned toward the white farmhouse. “The last I checked, she was resting. I haven’t told her about Rich’s death yet.”

  Sergeant Hardy’s face was unyielding. “She needs to know about it.”

  Evie’s face blanched. It was clear that she didn’t want to hear details of what had happened to Rich, much less report them to Dahlia.

  One of the officers and Veronica both approached Sergeant Hardy at the same time. The sergeant’s gaze first traveled to Veronica, lingering there just a second too long. I caught a flicker of unveiled softness in his eyes. This girl really made an impression on men, it seemed.

  Veronica placed a hand on Sergeant Hardy’s arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, giving him a little nudge.

  I couldn’t believe she was being so bold, but no one else seemed to notice it. The officer hung back at a respectful distance until Sergeant Hardy had gently dismissed Veronica by telling her he’d talk to her later.

  Once the officer had finished talking, I stepped closer to Sergeant Hardy. “I’ll let Dahlia know what’s happened. I wanted to check and see how Carson was doing, anyway.”

  Evie shot me a grateful look.

  I hesitated, wishing I could tell Sergeant Hardy about the strange man in the parking lot, but that might bump Evie’s slowly recovering equilibrium. I ambled away, figuring I could catch up with the sergeant a little later. His cleanup crew didn’t seem to be going anywhere fast.

  Besides, the real reason I’d volunteered to talk to Dahlia was because I needed to find out if she had anyone else who could step in to feed the wolves. I surely wasn’t going to do it.

  12

  As I walked over to the white house, I pondered the dubious nature of Veronica’s claim that she’d been moving chicken feed when Carson was yelling for help this morning. I didn’t know if Veronica had ever fed the chickens, but it didn’t seem to be the kind of chore that was up her alley.