Stan Springs—half man, half monster—stood in the living room of Melanie Murdock’s home. Beer bottles on the glass coffee table. He counted seven empties in all. He hadn’t pegged her as someone who would get drunk by herself. He sniffed the air. Cigarettes and Old Spice. So, the sheriff really was shacking up with her.
He followed the faint scent of sex to the bedroom. The flannel sheets were tossed about. A torn condom wrapper sat just below the edge of the bed.
Stan took a step forward. Something sharp jammed his bare foot. He looked and discovered a gold pin stabbed into it. Not just any gold pin. A grin broke out upon his face.
The gold pin was of an eagle with its wings stretched out in flight. It had been his before he had passed it on to Joe Fischer upon resigning from active duty. He knew that his former deputy was sentimental, but to still be carrying this around with him after all this time?
How pathetic. This is going to be easier than I thought.
Stan dropped down on all fours and let the hulk within come out. Maybe her escort would ride her home upon his white horse. There would be plenty of punishment to go around.
Stan bowed his head as his body cracked, stretched and shifted into its full monthly form.
Deputy Hines stepped onto the beach. He glanced upward at the darkening clouds. Lightning flashed out over the deserted waters of Emerson Lake. It had begun to sprinkle on and off over the last thirty minutes. It wouldn’t be long before they got blasted by the full brunt of the storm. Young and old couples alike were already packing up and heading out. He continued to scan the few clumps of groups that remained for Sonya, and Alex McKinney. He watched from the bottom of the steps that led up to the dirt parking lot behind him. There was only the one entrance/exit. If the kids were still here, they would have to pass by him to leave.
He saw plenty of blondes, but no Sonya. None of the boys quite fit Alex’s build, either. He looked beyond the dwindling crowd and saw the patch of woods known as the Lookout. There were a few kids gathered around the outskirts. He decided he’d better go have a closer look.
Hines noticed the oh shit looks cross each of their faces. He smelled the weed as he stepped to the nearest member of the group, a short, blonde-haired girl maybe fifteen.
“Any of you kids know Alex McKinney or Sonya Fischer?”
A tall, lanky boy with brown hair—Randy couldn’t believe how much the guy looked like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo—spoke up, “Yeah, man, I know them. They in some kinda trouble?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. We’re just trying to figure out their current whereabouts.”
The short blonde next to Shaggy turned to Hines. “That’s the sheriff’s daughter. Shouldn’t you guys know where she is at all times?”
Randy sidestepped the remark. “So have you guys seen them out here today?”
“Oh hell yeah, I saw Sonya here earlier. She was wearing this smoking hot-pink bikini. She was with Alex. They left after some guy punched Alex.”
“Someone struck Alex?”
“Yeah, it was the guy from the radio, Wild Ted. And then Alex and Sonya left,” the short blonde said.
“Thanks, kids. I need you to head home, as well. Sheriff’s orders.”
“Can we go back to your place?” another tall guy with a Red Sox hat said to Shaggy.
“No, my ma’s home today. We should probably go over to Leslie’s.”
The short blonde agreed, “Yeah, we just have to put up with my brother…”
Their voices drifted into the background as Hines made his way up the incline to the Lookout. He stopped short of the shaded area. The space, shrouded by its forest canopy, sat dark and still. Goosebumps sprung to life on his arms. He did not care to go any farther. The sky above opened and unleashed the rain. He looked back toward the lake. The last few stragglers, towels held up over their heads, hurried for the exit. Randy turned back to the Lookout. Thunder cracked. Hines jumped halfway out of his skin. He gave a weak chuckle and then swallowed it like a glass of syrup. There was no one here. He skidded down to the beach and jogged toward the exit. The jog became a run. He did not look back until he reached his cruiser. Ted McKinney’s Honda Rebel sat all by its lonesome at the rear of the dirt lot.
“One of us will be out here to escort you home. Just call the station when you’re ready to head out.”
Mel followed Joe through the front doors of her café. She caught him under the small awning, above the café’s entrance, that sheltered them from the unwelcomed downpour.
She reached for his arm. “Are you okay, Joe?”
He was pretty far from okay at this point. His stomach felt like there was a knife resting in it. His head hurt like a son of a gun, and his hormones were all out of whack. He smiled anyway. “I’m fine, Mel, really.”
“Sonya’s got a decent head on her shoulders. Alex too. I bet they’re back at your house right now.”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
“I can think of a couple reasons two teenagers wouldn’t answer a phone.”
He shook his head.
“Joe?”
He gazed into her brown eyes. She took both of his hands in hers, leaned into him and met his lips.
“Be safe, tonight.”
He nodded, kissed the back of her left hand and headed toward his truck.
She watched him get in and drive away.
Joe picked up his two-way radio. “Randy, any luck finding them?”
“No. Sorry, Sheriff. I talked to some kids who had seen them, but no one knows where they went, but there was something of interest.”
“What’s that?”
“They said they saw Ted McKinney slug Alex.”
“Ted hit Alex?” Joe cursed himself for not making Ted come with him.
“Yeah, his bike is still here at the beach, but I don’t see him anywhere. Might have grabbed a ride home with this storm an’ all.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like him to leave his bike behind. Strikes me as the type who’d brave the weather. You sure he’s not there?”
“Beach is clear.”
Joe thought about what Olson had told him. That Ted had been looking for silver bullets.
“Randy, did you check that spot the kids call the Lookout?”
Hines shivered. “I gave it a once over. Nothing.”
“You’re probably right. He probably got a ride home. Why don’t you drive to the town line and back. Keep your eyes open. You see McKinney, Sonya or Alex, you radio me and then keep them with you.”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
Randy Hines took a deep breath, then, much to his own surprise, realized he was fine. The thought of being out on Old Gilson Creek Road alone scared him shitless, but he was tired of being afraid.
Fear had crippled him his entire life—when his dad whipped him bloody with his leather belt, when his dad threw fist after fist after fist into his ribs, when his teachers questioned him about the unexplainable cuts and bruises and when he heard his mother’s pleas for forgiveness. It had gripped him when he tried to enter the funeral home where his father’s body lay stuffed into a sealed casket. He’d halted outside the doorway, afraid the man would burst out and whoop him one last time.
Then, it got the best of him the night he laid his eyes on the monstrosity that killed Deputy Brett Curry, nearly decapitating him in the process. He had fallen down and watched the rest of the impossible scene play out as if it were some terrible nightmare. He just sat there and watched as Joe shot the beast down from behind. He just sat there and watched as Joe burned the remains of the thing into a charcoaled mass of disgusting-smelling death.
Not tonight. No.
He wasn’t going to let any more people down. As he had his mother, young Brett Curry, Joe and himself, far too many times to count. Tonight he would be there, standing side by side with Joe, defending his town, along with his honor and his pride.