Night of the Wolf: Tales of Blackwater, Texas

Again

Prologue: Hide and Seek

It was their new house. It was where they should be happy and safe. It was clean and white and perfect. The storm was messing it all up.

Daddy! Beth’s wail spiraled up to the vaulted ceiling of the front foyer, matching the pitch of the tornado siren going off. She pranced on the cold wet marble floor, trying to keep her footy pajamas dry.

Shut up Beth, not now! Daddy looked so angry as the power fluctuated, and the chandelier flickered like a strobe light over them.

BC, you’re not going back out there. Mommy clung to Daddy’s arm, water splattering off his long black coat. He whipped Mommy around in her white night gown trying to shake her off of him. Mommy was right to hold onto Daddy’s arm. It was too dark to go out there, and the thunder and the wind scared Beth. Let Hank or Darrel go after him, please! Little Mommy could be so strong. Daddy couldn’t get away.

I have to get Jacob! Daddy said.

Uncle Jacob went... Beth looked up at Daddy trying to make him look at her. Daddy, Daddy!

No BC. Mommy snatched at his duster grabbing on to him, but Daddy pulled her hands off him. Beth hopped up and down shaking her fists. Listen, Uncle Jacob said he had to fight the... But Daddy wasn’t listening.

Let go! Daddy jutted his chin at Mommy. His handsome face looked like a bad man when the lightning showed them struggling on the slick floor.

Stop it! Stop fighting! Beth screamed. Daddy was being stupid. He was not like this; Daddy was a good man.

Let the chief get him BC! Mommy’s voice broke. Please!

He’s got a gun, damn it, and he’s my brother! It’s my fault! If Claude gets to him, before I do...

The chief, he’ll... Mommy stepped in front of Daddy.

The chief’s too old. I have to do this. Now get off of me Nora! He shoved Mommy, and she stumbled back. Beth screamed and grabbed Daddy’s coat holding on to him and hitting his leg. He turned and pulled back his big hand. Beth eyes grew wide; she never saw that pinched angry face on Daddy; Beth let go, her breath catching in her chest. Daddy would never hit her. He stopped himself, shuddering, and took two steps back from Beth. His head wobbled between Mommy and her. He shook his head at them. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

BC, we need you. Mommy cried. Beth sobbed.

No one moved. Get yourself and Beth down to the basement, Daddy said. He threw open the door, but Mommy didn't stop him. He paused and looked back at her. The lights flickered on, washing them pale in the white foyer. Daddy looked like he might cry.

I know, just go, Mommy said. He nodded to her; then he fought with the wind to get out into the storm. Shaking, Mommy clutched her arms around her stomach, but the pulsing sound of the tornado siren made Mommy lift her head and look around the house, and then she leaped into the dining room.

Daddy? Beth clapped her hands over her ears to block the painful siren. Daddy! Beth gulped through tears, maybe he could still hear her. The front door, so big, and so white remained closed. Beth swiped a hand at the bubbling snot sticking her long curls to her face. She bent and wadded her pink, puppy pajama bottoms in her fists. She needed to potty.

Baby, Daddy’s not coming back! Mommy yelled over the noises outside. Beth stared at the door, sure Mommy was wrong. He’d come back. Mommy did not seem at all interested in Daddy. She ran around and around in the dark dining room. Sing that song for Mommy. You sing that. Mommy disappeared into the kitchen.

Beth stood under the cone of white light by the front door. Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so... A shadow swept past the living room windows; Beth hesitated. Her lips formed the word Daddy, but she did not voice it. She stared at the door and whispered the last words. ...Little ones to him belong. They are weak, but he is strong. She held her breath thinking the door would open. The golden door knob jiggled.

Mommy stumbled back into the dining room carrying things to the table. Beth, Beth, come help me. She turned her eyes back to her mother in the dining room arranging supplies on the table. The lights sizzled and popped off, and the dark jumped out. With no nightlight to save her, she ran grabbing on to Mommy’s white gown with both hands. Holding on tight, Beth slid in her footy pajamas on the wooden floor as Mommy moved around the dining room dragging her. Here you take the cookies. Beth let go of Mommy and gripped the cracker box and followed, bumping into Mommy as they moved around the table. We just got to go down to the basement. Oh, God, God be with us.

Daddy? Beth whimpered.

It’ll be ok. Daddy’s brave like the boy, Shane, in your book. You’re brave like Shane, too. Right? Remember Shane in the story? He wouldn't be scared of a storm. We’ll be safe here. Beth clung to Mommy as they scurried from the dining room. Stopping in the foyer, Mommy struggled with the jug of water and other items she carried. Something tumbled up against the house vibrating the floor under Beth’s toes. Beth wondered what could be so big; maybe the tornado would eat them up?

Beth pointed up the stairs. Rufus, Mommy! He’ll get blown away, Beth said. She ran to the banister. One step, two steps, hold on to the rail; climb the big stairs. Bad Mommy wanting to leave Rufus.

No Honey, we don’t have time. Mommy’s voice chased after her. Beth! Mommy dropped everything with a clatter. Come here!

When the tornado threw open the front door with a tremendous bang, Beth, atop the mountain of stairs, turned. Daddy? He would save her, or maybe Uncle Jacob.

The lightning flashed behind the black-hooded monster in the doorway. Beth’s eyes opened wide. Run Beth! Mommy screamed from the foot of the stairs. Beth ran into Mommy and Daddy’s room and grabbed the teddy bear off the bed hugging it to her.

She heard running on the stairs and slipped under the bed, scrambling back against the wall. She saw Mommy’s feet and heard the bedroom door slam shut. Mommy pulled and pulled the dresser until it made a loud noise almost as loud as the thunder shuddering the house. Beth gritted her teeth at the scraping sound. All was quiet. She lowered her hands from her ears.

Beth? Mommy whispered loudly. Beth froze and closed her eyes tight but felt hands pulling at her. Screaming, Beth kicked and then slid through the dust bunnies. Swept upward, she squirmed against Mommy’s crushing hug. Sh-h-h, Baby, sh-h-h. Mommy rocked her while sliding to the phone.

Call Daddy! She sobbed against her Mommy’s cheek while Mommy picked up the receiver.

Something clawed the door. Mommy and Beth held their breaths. Poor Mommy her eye were so wide. BOOM! The monster hit the bedroom door and bumped the dresser. It tipped, teetered and crashed down to the floor, fragments of wood splintering snapping.

Call Daddy! Call Daddy! Beth cried. The heavy dresser screamed across the wood flooring; something pushed the door partially open.

Stupid Mommy dropped the phone and ran putting her in the closet. It hurt to sit on Mommy’s pointed shoes. No Mommy! Closets were the first places people looked in hide-and-seek. Mommy gibbered, her mouth saying nothing, her hands shaking as she pulled clothes down over her. Beth fought the coats and shirts, so hot.

Stay there; don’t come out. Mommy said. She shut the door.

Mommy, open the door! Mommy, come here! Please! Beth panted and tried to listen, and then she softly sobbed and worked to slow her breathing while curling small in the nest of clothes. She heard dogs whining, stamping feet, and Mommy, screaming, hit the door so hard it rattled Beth’s bones; she closed her eyes.

Oh, God! God no, no! Please Jesus! Mommy screamed. . God help me! Don’t do this! Don’t please, please, please!

The hard smacks beyond the door made Beth cover her ears, muffling Mommy’s prayers. Squirming, she squeezed her thighs tight but wet herself, and all the warmth in her slid out over her legs. Shivering, Beth’s own heartbeat blocked all the other sounds. Vibrations told her the story beyond the closet. Pounding and bumping clicked the door open a crack.

Peering from under Mommy’s favorite Sunday dress, Beth puzzled as Mommy danced in the dark with the monster in the black rain slicker. Mommy’s heels drummed the floor, and her mouth blew red bubbles. Beth shook her head no. With a shivering jump, Mommy slumped in the monster’s arms, asleep. No not asleep, the monster broke Mommy. Tears washed Beth’s face and made her cold.

The monster swept Mommy up like a baby in its arms and carried her past the bed out of sight. Beth lowered her hands from her ears and poked her head up a little straining to see where Mommy went and what the monster had done with her.

Glass shattered and wood cracked. Beth gritted her teeth. Glass tinkled like bells to the floor. Shrinking into the soft pile of dresses, she blinked at the roaring wind that rushed around the room flinging the closet door open wide.

Beth’s frozen eyes took in the wolves circling the room sniffing and licking the floor. One red wolf paused lifting its head at the open closet. The monster walked among them patting their heads – rubber boots squishing through the dark blood.

A wolf nosed its way towards the closet, and Beth squeaked. The hooded monster’s eyes, bright as its bloody blade, darted to the closet. The approaching wolf bared teeth, and the monster’s smile glittered.

Beth closed her eyes, imaging herself in the picture book – the pages turning--hand and hand with Shane the boy, the boy with coyote eyes. They quested across a cartoon world of deserts beasts. Beth knew his magic words from the story to tame them all. She whispered, Heart and soul be true, be true, be true.

Chapter 1: Down in Caddo Bayou

Blackwater, Southeast Texas

just off Farm to Market Road 6635

two years later

Swooping through super-heated air, the bird rode the sky. The little Mexican crow held the whole world in its the fishbowl gaze – Neches River, lake, bayous, and hills. The bird took it all in from pinion to pinion. Turning north, it tipped its wings heading east into the approaching night. The last light rippled in azure lines over the crow’s ebony feathers, a sweeping shadow against the golden Texas sunset. Below, the silver gravel road cut like a thin razor’s edge down the center of the ancient forest which reared up dark walls on either side of the road. The crow hunted.

The shimmering vehicles on the road were, to the gaze of the carrion bird, like fish in the great river so that it circled back with curiosity and landed on the bough of a long-needled pine. The lights of the squad car splashed red and blue over the scene. Excited, the Tamaulipas crow bobbed, beak open, then settled and studied the two men wandering at the top of the embankment near the edge of Caddo Bayou. When a third vehicle, a police SUV, rolled up, and a young man in a dark uniform climbed out, the bird cocked its head and hopped forward on the branch. The bird’s eyes tracked on the new chief of police of Blackwater, Texas.

***

You sure that body’s Pete? Chief BC Carnot asked. He took off his department baseball cap and ran a hand over his sweaty head shaved, high and tight on the sides, and resettled the cap, looking out at the simmering swamp land.

Oh, yeah, see that’s his vehicle parked down the road. Colby the big blond fisherman pointed.

BC spotted the Game and Wildlife truck up the road from them. Ok.

He was ate up pretty good, Colby said, but I could tell it was him. He was wearing one them tan park ranger uniforms. Colby scratched his head under his NASCAR cap and sucked on his forty-four ounce cola.

BC slapped a mosquito on his ropey tan arm then squatted like a catcher peering down the embankment to the woods and the barely visible body.

Officer Darrel Carnot cleared his throat, and BC glanced to his lanky younger cousin who rocked on the heels of his boots, thumbs tucked in his duty belt.

Something? BC asked

Uh, well, um, Pete’s actually a game warden. You see a game warden’s a peace officer...

I know. BC suppressed a smile.

Oh, right. Darrel said.

BC glanced at Darrel and frowned. Quit fiddling with that moustache Darrel or shave the damn thing off. Darrel dropped his hand, head bobbing. Everything’s going to be ok, guys, BC said. We just need a win on this one, so it’s by the book. Just do what I tell you.

Yeah, sure, Darrel said.

Right, Colby said slurping hard, finding the bottom of his drink. You know, I’m sure glad you got elected, Colby said. He ran a hand over his ‘Don’t Mess with Texas’ t-shirt and gut.

Thanks, but the city council appoints the chief of police. BC sighed.

Oh well, voted for something -- thought it was you. Maybe it was that bond issue. Did we get that money for the guns? Colby reached down and grabbed up a good size rock and chucked it down at the body.

Colby, don’t do that, BC said. Jeeze, you’re a reserve officer for God’s sake.

Right, sorry Boss.

BC and Darrel looked at the big man sideways. Standing, BC shook his head at Colby and his giant Coke then turned tilting his head this way and that thinking on the situation, hands on his hip. He stopped when he realized his two buddies unconsciously mimicked his actions. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Darrel took on the role of kid brother since BC’s wife and brother were killed. Now with their first murder investigation before them and with his military experience, BC knew they looked to him; everyone always did. BC brought both his hands up and curled the bill of his police cap, puzzling on the scene.

What’s that? BC pointed into the bushes at a red plastic tool box on its side.

Well, that’s, that’s my tackle box; I dropped it. Colby said. He tried sucking on his empty drink.

Oh, okay. BC nodded, peering into the web of plant life.

When did you find him Colby? Darrel asked his hand snaking up to his dark moustache again. BC sighed at the damn irritating habit.

Well, I parked right here. Colby motioned to his faded green seventy-eight Ford pick up. It was maybe about 6:30 this evening. I started down to go fishing when I noticed him and came right back up here and got on the radio and called you boys, but you know I didn’t really look so close.

How close did you get Colby?

Not too close, thirty feet maybe. Figured you wouldn’t want any good prints tracked up by me wandering around.

Good. You set up a perimeter?

Well, no. Nobody out here, and figured no badger or squirrel would pay attention to some damn rope or tape I put up.

Colby chewed the straw. You want me to go down there with you?

With the sun fading, BC eyes swept left and right over the embankment and ground below to the body twenty feet beyond. BC’s eyes traced the suggestion of Pete’s body, his boots half hidden off among the big old ferns. No, Colby, BC said, we got this; you stay up here.

What you thinking BC? Darrel asked.

I don’t know yet until we take a closer look -- poachers maybe. BC avoided saying that the man looked to be running for his truck.

Another squad car rolled to a stop, crunching gravel. BC allowed himself a peek at the dark haired woman who unfolded her five foot eleven curvy frame from the patrol car zipped her department windbreaker, adjusted her utility belt and jogged up to stand beside Colby and Darrel. You got a body? She asked her great blue eyes circling the area as she knocked one boot against the other dislodging some red mud. BC nodded at Officer Carol Ann Lambkin. Who is it? She asked.

Pete, you know, the park ranger, Colby said.

Carol Ann crossed her arms over her chest and sucked in her upper lip, Oh.

He’s a game warden, Darrel said. He began wringing his hands. You see a game warden's a peace ....

Okay, okay. BC stretched his back listening to it pop. Carol Ann, go call Andrea and Sherman and tell them come down here for this body; tell them to bring their flood lights and generator – the works. We’re losing daylight then call out to the ranger station over in the preserve, find out if Pete’s been out there today. Let’s go ahead and call the Rusk and Beaumont headquarters; suppose once we get a positive ID we’ll send someone round to his family.

Sure, BC, Carol Ann said. She straightened, and pushed her ample breast out as though at attention; BC averted his eyes from her. Oh uh, BC, we don’t got to call county -- mean the sheriff -- do we?

He shook his head no, his jaw muscles tightening. No, this is our baby, but get us a J.P. down here, will you. BC hated to bother the old Justice of the Peace, but one needed to be present in such a case.

Carol Ann gave a big nod. Right.

Man, Poor Pete. Colby slurred his words around the straw still in his mouth.

This our first big case so focus. BC put a hand on Darrel’s shoulder. Darrel get the crime lab and latent finger print kits and that camera of yours. Colby, show him where to come down.

No problem, Chief. Colby waved the monster drink.

Walking down the road, BC looked to see if there were any signs of where Pete or the killer stepped off the road to walk down to the fishing area around Brown Creek. There was only one trail of crushed grass from Pete’s vehicle. He stepped down the embankment. He heard the gravel behind him sliding and looked back at Colby shuffling around above him. Stay put. BC jabbed his finger back at Colby. Carol Ann, don’t let Colby down here. Colby froze in mid step and backed up and Carol Ann patted his back.

I can help. I need the practice, ain’t got my sixteen hours yet, Colby said. BC shook his head.

Don’t worry, I got him, Carol Ann put a hand on Colby’s shoulder.

BC nodded at her. Darrel Carnot, with his equipment, rattled along behind BC. You got some gloves? BC asked.

Oh, sure. Darrel dug around in one of the bags. Here you go. BC then high stepped through the grass putting on the latex gloves. They passed a toppled cypress tree with its root mass taller than both men. Darrel clanked along with their gear. BC led the way around the little inlet careful not to fall over any knobby cypress knees, sticking up out of the water. Be careful here.

Uh BC?

Yeah?

I don’t mean this bad or nothing, but I feel kind of excited to have a case. I have this real strong feeling this’ll be big, real big. You know, I got to say, it’d be great you and me solve a mystery. Well, I, uh, I’ve always loved mysteries.

Can’t say I feel the same – besides, this is Pete. BC stopped by the smooth grey trunk of a young beech tree some thirty-five feet from the body and looked at the ground, bushes, and up into the trees.

Sorry, I didn’t mean nothing. I didn’t know Pete so well, Darrel said. He stopped behind BC. Do you smell that? Whoa. What is that? Darrel asked.

Just beyond, on the ground some fifteen feet from the body a dark pattern of blood spray, brown in the dusk, covered the leafy ground. Pete Connors lay sprawled, face up.

Animals, I don’t know – not a skunk, maybe a badger, BC said. He shook his head at the pungent odor, not the normal smell of a dead man cutting loose his bowels. Squatting, BC strained to see the body and could make out the chunks of flesh torn from the jugular, hand, arm, and soft belly of the body. He thought of all the stories he heard growing up of black panthers – not that anyone ever saw one.

The shredded khaki and green uniform helped identify the victim as the game warden. The ground was so disturbed by whatever tugged and dragged the body that it was hard to see how it all went down.

Take some pictures first, will you. Make sure to get the ground around the body and that trail leading into the brush first. That camera will work in low light, right?

Darrel hesitated, flipping switches. Oh, yeah, sure, the camera. I wish I had Nikon D80 camera with the normal 18-70 zoom lens. Now that...

Not now, BC said. That camera, that one’s ok, right?

Uh, yeah, it’ll do. You can see everything in this view screen on the back. It has a flash, but see, it works in the dark. Hey, this looks just like The Blair Witch.

Cut it out.

Right. Darrel pulled his head up from the view screen and looked over the top of the camera. Sorry, Darrel mumbled. BC watched Darrel try to steady his hands as he adjusted the camera and snapped the pictures from a safe distance. Uh, BC these look like paw prints. Remember, Ike saying he saw a pack of dogs at the dump?

Okay, BC said. His eyes combed the woods, but bits of bark fell from above him. BC tilted his head up hearing something overhead shifting in the branches.

A dachshund.

B.C. squinted at Darrel. What?

Dachshund, you know -- wiener dog. Darrel straightened looking at the back of the digital camera.

What? BC sighed, and watched Darrel stepping around the tree with the camera to get a different angle and do some video work.

Ike said that pack even had a wiener dog.

Will you focus, damn it? BC slumped, closed his eyes and rubbed them.

Darrel nodded. Sorry, of course. It’s just my mouth runs off before I think sometimes.

You got enough? BC asked.

Yeah, for the first round. Darrel slung the camera and picked up his cases.

Ok, BC said, move in carefully and watch where you’re stepping.

BC felt his pulse pick up as he moved in on the victim and surveyed the gaping mess of bone and flesh in the thorax region, all chopped and sliced. The chest cavity was broken and crushed. The bald man’s mouth hung open and twisted -- blood caked around the mouth and nose, and the eyes squeezed shut. Flies buzzed over Pete.

Damn, Darrel choked on his words, someone chopped his chest all to hell, crushed his ribs! Oh, God it’s like Nora... Darrel dropped one of the kits.

BC stood and clamped a hand over his eyes and didn’t move. His brow furrowed under the deep shade of his cap; he wiped his trembling fingers across his mouth, shook his head, glancing again at the body – his breath ragged, his eyes watering.

You okay? Darrel asked.

BC’s eyes snapped back at Darrel. Their eyes met. Darrel flinched at the mistake then Darrel’s big brown, puppy-dog eyes looked around for a place to hide in the crime scene.

Sniffing up loudly to cover his reaction, BC hawked some snot and thought to spit, but realized his mistake and swallowed. Yeah of course.

BC steadied his emotions and mentally mapped Pete’s panicked retreat from the forest by the broken branches and footprints. Pete’s tan standard issue-cowboy hat sat crisp and perfect off some thirty feet to the east. He scanned the woods thinking of all the time he spent down in the swamp as a boy. This area was fairly tame along the road; folks fished along here. Sure, his grandmere used to tell him ghost stories about the Caddo Bayou, but he’s never seen anything to make him run panicked except a water moccasin. He was sure few things in the woods would spook a game warden.

Across the body from BC, the victim’s extended left arm showed defensive wounds on the palms and fingers as he fought to protect himself. BC leaned back some and looked down at the man’s holster – empty. You see his weapon? BC asked.

No.

BC bent lower looking under bushes and spotted the glint of the forty-five in some water a few feet from the hat. It’s over there. Watch for the casings and slugs too.

Uh, ok.

Caw!

The croaking cry above BC jerked his head upward. A hot breeze chilled his moist skin. He crawled his eyes over the narrow swaying pines. His senses prickled like a cactus on his spine – feeling something watching him. Squinting up, he spotted the oil bright crow gleaming in the last rays of light. BC twisted up his lips at the old bayou; damn place been trying to kill Carnots since they stepped foot in this country.

BC stood and faced the forest, keeping Darrel at his back. His thumb worried the snap on the holster of his nine millimeter Barretta Px4 Storm. He turned back to the body. A bit paranoid, he felt around on his belt and found his flashlight choking the thing with his nervous hands and turned away. We’ll do a general sweep and then set up a grid.

BC? Darrel hesitated turning the camera over in his hands. I’m sorry about, well, about mentioning her. Really, really sorry.

Don’t matter.

The bushes rattled and BC tensed. The female officer pushed through the brush on the other side pulling her long braid free of the brambles; her dark uniform made her blend with the shadows.

Shit, Carol Ann, BC said. She waved her flashlight blinding them and poised a foot over the crime scene. Get your head in the game, will you, Officer Lambkin? BC snapped.

Sorry. Andrea and Sherman are on their way, Carol Ann said. The chief nodded.

What about the other calls? BC asked.

Colby’s making those, gives him something to do.

The crow dropped with wings open. It landed by the body alive with fire ants; the bird’s head jerked down at the man’s entrails stabbing the sticky mess. The bird nipped and pulled at the chewy flesh. BC scowled at the bird and shooed it away; the bird danced and flew into a bush. Damn thing, BC said.

BC glimpsed Darrel, mouth open, held in the grip of some catatonic state by a tree.

What have you got over there? BC asked.

Darrel jumped. Uh, I, uh, nothing really...

BC stepped around to join him. Darrel’s light wavered over the white symbols painted on the trunk of the tree-- disturbing in their complexity – stair steps and a cross—carved and painted on the tree. The two men looked at each other and back again.

You call that nothing? BC said. Take some pictures, will you? BC felt his skin crawl looking at the odd scratchings.

BC wandered to the edge of the sunlight looking into the woods, but glanced back, watching Darrel with narrowed eyes who stared at his camera. Darrel seemed to be trembling. BC wondered if his junior officers, hell his only officers, really, were going to hold it together.

Darrel stood nodding his head thoughtfully then dropped his right hand scrubbing it against his pocket and thigh then brushed his moustache with his knuckles. Balling his fists, BC frowned at Darrel’s compulsive behaviors. Darrel raised the camera to his eye. This is some bad mojo man, Darrel mumbled.

Carol Ann you’re going to need to act as our recorder, BC said. Get all those documents out and your notepad.

Sure. She searched her bag.

The rustling of feathers pulled BC’s attention back to the bird that hopped forward and nipped at the ranger’s hand pulling from his palm a bit of blood encrusted fabric. Looking around, the bird flapped up into the cypress tree just above them. BC pulled his weapon gripping it and pulled back on the slide, considering whether to shoot the thief, but he grimaced turning his head unable to get a shot. Damn it, what the hell was that? BC asked then noticed Carol Ann looking up in the tree at the crow as well. Hey, you with me? BC asked. She didn’t seem to hear. Scooter!

She dropped her pretty face to her papers. Sorry, but shoot, BC, don’t call me that at work, okay?

BC clamped his mouth closed at the slip and turned his back on her. He dropped to one knee and looked at Pete’s blood coated hand now empty. Shit, BC hissed. For a moment, he felt a shock rush through him, and he closed eyes against the memories of his wife Nora’s cold hands, bloody and cut. Damn it. He closed his eyes picturing Beth’s stark white face the night he found her in the closet. He could feel Beth’s small arms choking him as he lifted her up holding her and his innards twisted at the memory of his tiny child.

This isn’t connected, BC whispered to himself, but some how he knew he was wrong; Grandmere always said to listen to your feelings. His head came up at the rustling sound in time to see the crow lift from the branch and fly through needles into the fleeing twilight, flapping up and over the