Page 18

CHAPTER 18

REDLEY

Deputy Porter stares at me like I’m the one responsible for telling him his life is a lie. I know he’s young, but I’m surprised by his naivety. I kind of assumed all law enforcement knew they were full of shit. I didn’t realize only some of them were in on the grand con.

“That’s not—someone would have come out here,” he tries to defend the locals, but there’s no use.

After Granny died, I ran from town to town, begging for help. I knew what the killer looked like, and he walked like a man, so what did it matter if he was a monster? They all turned me away. Outside their jurisdiction. When I ran from home, it was a cop who convinced me to just walk away. They might think it was you. After, I shoved her in the ground and made myself scarce.

“You’re far from the first officer I’ve asked.”

He stares at the wood pattern in the table, eyebrows pushing together with a little bit of guilt.

“What would you say if I told you I didn’t actually believe you when I came out here? If I did it to prove you were crazy?” His eyes still can’t meet mine.

“I would say, I’m not surprised you didn’t believe me, but I am surprised you cared enough to check.”

He looks up at me then and smiles. “Ah, well. That’s because you’re so pretty.”

My cheeks turn pink at the compliment. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten one, even if I’m not interested. He puts his hand to his chin.

“Maybe I’m changing my mind about not believing you, though. I’ve never seen a bear kill someone in their living room, not with a door that size anyway. Sorry, Miss Little. I don’t mean to be crass.”

His words don’t bother me. It’s hard to be affected by a description of something when you live each day with its reality.

“Of course not, Deputy, but you’re right. It wasn’t a bear.”

My heart races. There’s no way, no way someone might actually help me. He swallows hard, the movement bobbing in his throat. If he’s a better shot than I am, we can end this. We might end this tonight . A shiver of fear runs down my spine and turns my stomach. With sickening dread, I realize I'm not afraid for myself, but it can’t be. I wouldn’t be worried about the Wolf.

“Is there anything else in here you need to show me?” he asks, with a little bit of hope, or maybe it’s him calling me pretty that’s coloring my opinion of the situation.

“Just one thing. It’s in my bedroom.” I swallow, trying to clear my throat and the misplaced fear. This is what I want , I remind myself.

Porter looks up at me, and I realize my mistake before he even responds.

“The lighting is awful romantic, Miss Little.” Too bad his blue eyes aren’t yellow.

My cheeks turn red, this time, not out of interest but pure embarrassment. I’m not sure which is worse, the misunderstanding or my own thoughts.

“Not that , Deputy,” I correct him.

He coughs to cover a laugh. “Of course not, Miss Little. I do apologize. Which room is yours?”

“This way.”

We head down the hall, and he follows a little closer than he needs to. The lamp in the bedroom is already burning, and when I open the door, his expression says he’s still not entirely convinced we’re in here because of evidence. Quickly planning to get that idea out of his head, I point at the windowsill where the Wolf’s dried blood has been smeared for the past four years. Inside the bloody network are at least a few partial fingerprints.

He may be a monster, but he has to have money too. He’s involved with regular society, so it’s possible he’s been caught committing a crime at some point.

Porter holds the lamp up to the windowsill, looking carefully. “I could definitely pull some prints from this if we ever found a suspect to compare them to. I’d need to get a kit, though.”

“No one has even compared them to the locals.” I doubt an immortal monster has his prints in the local database, but it’s worth checking.

“Really?” His brow scrunches up like he’s having a hard time believing me again.

“Who would have done it exactly? Whose jurisdiction is this?” I ask him the same style of question I asked at the station, yet rather than getting angry with me like the rest of the cops have, he seems to accept my point.

“You think whoever did this is still in town?” he continues.

“I sure do. He’s the same one who killed the kid in the woods the other night. I’m telling you, Deputy, bears don’t slit people's throats.” I told him this already, but I guess you don’t remember things when you’re not really listening. I don’t know why the Wolf likes slitting throats so much, but it seems to be his preference.

“I’m not sure how to handle this. I wasn’t lying when I said it’s not my jurisdiction, but…” He stares at the blood for a minute before finishing. “Someone needs to do something.”

A rush of warmth fills my stomach. If I wasn’t smarter, I’d think I was in love with Porter. He’s handsome. He keeps flirting with me. Someone seems to give a shit, and I’m less terribly alone than I’ve been these last four years, but I stamp the thought to death right there.

That same weakness is why the Wolf got so close to me, and why I still think about him in ways I shouldn’t all this time later. My need for a little warmth and connection is as pathetic as it is dangerous, and I won’t be nurturing it. That’s exactly why I don’t ever want to have sex. I can’t trust myself when someone is gentle with me, not when they make me feel good. Unlike the Wolf, I’ll keep the deputy at arm’s length.

“There’s one more thing I need to show you. If you really want to do something about all this.”

He turns and raises a brow, waiting like this was some test and he passed. Now he’s expecting me to get naked for him.

“It’s down the mountain a ways. We need to drive,” I say, edging toward the door.

“Oh, sure, of course,” he says as he clears his throat. “After you.”

Much to my satisfaction, his cheeks are red this time. I blow out the lamps as we leave, and he gives Granny’s bloodstain one last frightened look before I lock up.

“I’ll drive,” Porter says as he walks quickly down the steps and over to his still running cruiser. He checks the surrounding forest as he moves, and I think what he saw in my cabin really spooked him. Try living with it.

His fear speaks to the violence inside me that keeps growing bigger and hungrier. I want men as afraid of me as I’ve been of them, feeling as helpless as they’ve left me. Porter isn’t one of them, and I don’t want to hurt him, but his reaction satisfies me all the same.

He opens the passenger door for me with a shaking hand, and I climb in. A moment later, he’s sitting in the seat next to me.

“Take the road straight back down. There’s only one way, really.”

He nods as he pulls out and slowly rolls down the slope. It’s thickly dark tonight, the stars high and bright above us but too far away.

“Where are we going, Miss Little?” he asks.

“My other house, I suppose.” It’s strange to think of it that way, but everything that once belonged to the Littles now belongs to the last one left. “It’s a long drive.”

He whistles. “How many acres you got out here?”

It’s not an unusual question in these parts. People are proud of their land, especially when it’s been in their family for years like mine. I don’t feel proud, though, just bound.

“Somewhere around six hundred acres. I would have to get out the survey to know for sure.”

“You own two houses and all that land?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t quite call the cabin a house, but I own about a third of the mountain proper,” I tell him.

“I would. It just needs some work, a rewiring.”

I don’t like how much thought he’s already put into the cabin's renovations.

“I suppose I do, then.” I watch the dark forest passing, my dread growing with each second.

“And you don’t have a husband to help you take care of all this?”

Take care of it? I can barely face it.

“Just me.”

He’s thinking for a moment, and I don’t know if I like where this is going.

“You know, Miss Little. If I had a vested interest in this mountain, I’d be sure to serve justice myself.”

“What does that mean exactly?” I ask.

“If this was my land— our land ,” he corrects himself. “There isn’t a chance in hell I would let anyone get away with killing people on it.”

My heart pounds, not bothering to decide whether he’s being truthful. That’s how appealing the idea is.

“Do you mean that?” I ask.

“I surely do.”

He glances over at me to make eye contact before looking back at the road. I let his offer hang in the air between us, not sure if he’s even serious, but I’m forced to ask myself, am I that desperate?

And maybe I am.

But what if the Wolf actually dies? And why the hell should that worry me?