Wolfwraith (16 page)

“You do that.” Alex grinned. “And watch out for werewolves.”

Shadow left the station and drove toward Wash Woods, four miles south. It was late afternoon and he wanted to get something to eat and grab a short nap before he began his patrol. He followed the interior road, looking at the swamps and woods from a new point of view, taking note of spots he could pull the truck off the road or hide without being conspicuous.

On the way, he began to feel better. At least he was doing something to protect the park visitors, perhaps even to catch the killer. It must be a man, despite the bite marks, but he still couldn’t discount his earlier feelings. There was something else involved, something non-human and evil, which somehow only Shadow could sense.

Another thought came to him. If he could manage to have a hand in catching the person responsible for the three deaths, it would probably make up for his inept handling of the arrest in Lorene’s eyes. Then he caught himself. Why the hell was he worried about her opinion? He’d only talked to her twice. Sure, she was good looking, but he’d had enough of women to hold him for quite a while, hadn’t he?

When he reached False Cape, he checked the three ocean-side sites first and saw the scouts had pitched half a dozen tents along the shore. The remote nature of this campground reminded Shadow of the theme song from that old castaway show. What was it? ‘No phones, no lights, no motorcars, not a single luxury?’ Here, nothing was provided except picnic tables, barbecue grills, a hand pump for washing and cooking water—it was unfit to drink—and a cross-tree for hanging foodstuffs above the reach of greedy raccoons. There were also men’s and women’s pit toilets and a roofed, open-sided kiosk that would allow a couple of dozen people to get out of the sun’s rays or the rain.

He stopped and talked to the adult leaders, cautioning them about letting the boys go unsupervised into the dunes or woods and then drove to the meadow campground on the bay side. The same amenities were provided here, except there was a large tree at each tenting site so campers could take advantage of the shade if they wished.

The first site, number 10, on the left, had two small tents. Four bicycles leaned on their kickstands nearby and four kids sat at the table, two boys and two girls, cooking hamburgers on the small charcoal grill while a portable CD player blasted heavy-metal music. He stopped the truck and walked over to the group.

“Hey, how’s everything going?” he asked.

“Smooth, dude, real smooth. ’Sup with you?” answered a young man, who stood up. He appeared to be in his early twenties, wearing black leather pants and a tee shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve. The youth, tall anyway, towered above Shadow since he was wearing high platform boots. His hair was jet black and pulled into long spikes.

“Just checking the park. We like to stop by on the first day in case campers have any questions.”

“Naw, we’re fine,” the young man said. “Except for the motherfuckin’ bugs. You wouldn’t have any bug spray on you, would you?”

“No. Sorry.” The rangers at the park made it a habit not to provide supplies for campers unless it was an extreme situation. Each camper was sent a brochure when his or her reservations were made, listing items that might be needed and insect spray was emphasized, so Shadow felt no sympathy.

“I’ve, like, got a question,” one of the girls said. She didn’t look to be more than sixteen, dressed in extremely low-riding jeans and a top that left her midriff bare, showing a butterfly tattoo below her navel, just above...Shadow forced himself not to stare. Her blond hair was streaked with wisps of green and orange and a jeweled ring pierced through her left eyebrow as well as many rings on each ear. “Is this where those two girls were camping? The ones who were, like, murdered, y’know? The first ones?”

“We’re still not sure what happened to them. It was likely a boating accident. I’m not sure where they were camped,” he lied.

“Yeah, but it happened, like, around here somewhere, right? Way spooky. I’ll bet I won’t get a bit of sleep tonight, y’know. I’ll be, like, scared to death.”

“If it’s so frightening,” Shadow asked, “why are you here?”

“It’s chiller. This is better than a roller coaster ride or a scary movie. There’s actually something to be really scared of. It’s, like, off the hizzook, y’know?”

Shadow drove away wondering if these kids might be carrying guns, like the one he had arrested, earlier. He also tried to guess what the hell a hizzook was.

The second tree, marking site eleven in the middle of the meadow, had a tent, but the flap was open and he could see no one inside. Probably hiking one of the trails, he guessed.

There were two young women bustling about, setting up camp at site twelve, close to the outhouses. At first glance, the situation was eerily similar to the circumstances when the two kayakers had been killed in the early spring. These new campers had chosen the same campsite and were also pretty, one with long, wavy brown hair, the other a short-haired redhead with enough hoops in her ears to make a lamp chain. The brunette came forward to greet him, wearing jeans and a tee shirt that showed a nice figure.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Ranger Fletcher. I stopped by to make sure everything was okay at your site and see if you needed anything.”

“That’s really nice of you,” she replied with a smile. “My name is Marlene Riggins and this is my friend, Billie Enders.”

“Hi,” the redhead mouthed with a little finger wave over Marlene’s shoulder. She was also dressed in jeans, but wore a woodsy, denim shirt that was loose but didn’t hide her large breasts since she’d left the top buttons undone. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, ranger. We’ve camped here every spring for the last four years, so we’re used to the drill. We forgot to waterproof our matches one year and now we make sure everything is crossed off a checklist before we leave home.”

Shadow was almost sorry they hadn’t forgotten anything. He wouldn’t have minded doing them a favor; maybe it would have given him an opening to talk to them more. They were too young for him, of course, but it was still nice talking to pretty girls.

“Did you hike in?” Shadow asked.

“No, kayaks. They’re down at the dock.”

Shadow was reminded of the other two girls again. “Okay, I’ll be going then. Just hike up to the contact station if you need anything.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be okay with so many people around,” Marlene answered. “We heard about that girl being killed up on the refuge and almost canceled our trip, but we decided to come anyway, since we’d already put in for vacation time. Besides, we feel safer here than in the city.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. But I’ll be checking the meadow every once in a while anyway.”

“Say, that gives me an idea.” The redhead, Billie, spoke for the first time. “I’m sure no one would bother us with a ranger around. The tent’s small, but I’m sure we could fit in three if everyone was friendly.” She grinned and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Billie, stop that,” the other said. “Can’t you see you’re embarrassing the poor man? Don’t mind her,” she said to Shadow. “Teasing men is her way of having fun.”

Marlene’s remonstrance didn’t faze Billie in the least. The red-haired girl looked straight into Shadow’s eyes and then slid her tongue seductively out to reveal a gold stud.

“Th...that’s okay,” Shadow stammered in surprise at the brazen sexuality. “I’ll check back on you, er...I mean your campsite later. From time to time, I mean, when I happen to be passing by. On patrol or something.”

“We’d appreciate that.” Marlene smiled gently. “I’m glad you’ll be around if we need you.”

As he pulled away from the meadow and started down the road, he noticed a bicyclist pulled off to the edge of the road so his truck could pass. As he went by, he saw it to be False Cape Frank, in the same red shirt and floppy hat as before. There was some sort of contraption on his bicycle, perhaps a surveyor’s transit like Jonesy had mentioned, and a large rucksack strapped to a rack above the rear fender. Shadow probably should have stopped and talked to the man, but he was still upset at himself for being such a prude. His cheeks felt flushed. Had that invitation from the redhead been even slightly serious?

Then, as he came into the Wash Woods area, he saw Jenny Ostrowski at the front of her residence, unloading her truck. Her one-bedroom cottage sat at the fork of the gravel road, one side leading to the E.E.C. building and the other to Shadow’s place and the Taj Mahal. All of the rest of the rangers’ houses were up by the Barbour Hill dock.

Jenny was a short, heavy-set girl with legs like those of a weight lifter. Her face was plain, with a pug nose providing support for her thick eyeglasses. She was not very attractive, but then again, she did nothing to help her appearance. Her seldom-brushed black hair was cut in an unflattering style and Shadow had never seen her wearing any make-up, not even lipstick. She was friendly, though, with an outgoing personality that made her a natural at her job of showing various groups the ecology of the region.

She was throwing gear into assorted piles on the ground as he stepped from of the truck and walked over to her.

“Hey, Shadow,” she said, without pausing. “What’s up?”

“What’s not up? Seems like all hell is breaking loose around here lately.”

“So I’ve heard. You found the body of that missing girl, they say.”

“Yeah, lucky me. Hey look, I’ve been meaning to catch up with you. I had a conversation with False Cape Frank a while ago and I wanted to ask what you know about him.”

She stopped and faced him. “No more than anyone else, I suppose. Sometimes he’s nice, but he can also be a cranky old man. He doesn’t let anyone get close to him, but he seems to tolerate me a bit. Why?”

“I met him at the cemetery. He was putting shells on Mamie Bunch’s grave.”

“So?” She looked at him carefully. “You’ve been talking to Jonesy haven’t you? That stuff about the witch of Wash Woods?”

“I asked him about Mamie Bunch.” He paused. “It seemed strange the old man would single out that one grave.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Frank must have some reason for always being around here, but who knows? False Cape has a long history, maybe he fits into it one way or another, or maybe he’s caught up in the magic of the place; I know I am. There are all sorts of stories about the cape, but I don’t put a lot of stock in most of them. Besides nobody but Jonesy seems to believe that particular witch stuff and the story’s been passed down through word of mouth and is sort of vague anyway. There are plenty more-documented legends. Shipwrecks, pirates, life-saving stations, whorehouses, and there are all sorts of legends about...”

Shadow held up his hand to stop her. “Wait a minute. Pirates I can buy, but whorehouses?”

Jenny laughed. “You mean you haven’t heard the legend of the headless madam? She ran a ‘sinful house,’ as they called it, out on Cedar Island in the middle of the bay. The johns would be rowed to the island by boat; her old man would circle the island to watch for police. Well, one night he got drunk and the place was raided. When she got out of jail, they got in a terrific fight and he chopped off her head—threw it in the bay—then stole her money, never to be seen again. They say you can sometimes see a light moving about the bay at night. That’s the madam, rowing in a boat and looking for her head with a lantern.”

“I hadn’t heard that one.”

“We don’t make a habit of telling that particular tale to the visitors but they’re not all that outrageous,” she said. “There was a ship carrying a group of schoolchildren, back in the nineteenth century, that sank off the coast. They all drowned, boys and girls alike, not a single survivor. It’s said you can still hear them moaning at night. There were loads of shipwrecks along here. Men used to walk patrols up and down the beaches between life-saving stations here and in Carolina. Little settlements grew up around the stations: False Cape, Barbour Hill—Wash Woods was here before that, though.”

“But they’re all gone now,” Shadow noted.

Jenny shrugged. “Can you see anyone trying to farm here? You’d have your choice of sand or muck. At least twenty miles up the beach and over to the mainland for the nearest store, so everyone used boats. Once more lighthouses were built and navigation became more certain, these towns were doomed. Some of the men guided hunters for a while, but it wasn’t long before the great flocks of ducks and geese were a thing of the past.”

“Yeah, this would be a tough place to make a living.” Shadow agreed. “I can’t help but feel sorry for those who were still living here and displaced by the park, though.”

“They got the shaft, alright. The public clamors for parks and schools and such, but no one thinks of those who get the boot.”

“No different than when they put in a new highway,” Shadow said. “If you’re in the way of the government, you’re flat out of luck.”

“Yeah.” She glanced down at the gear strewn at her feet. Well, I’d better get busy. I need to get this stuff sorted before I take a group on a flashlight hike tonight.”

“Okay, see you.” Shadow walked back to his truck and drove the short distance to his house, thinking that living in the small community of Wash Woods had probably been pretty much like living on an island, isolated by geography as it was. Had the inhabitants been close-knit, he wondered, or prone to feuding?

Later, as he made himself dinner with a packaged casserole mix, he couldn’t keep his mind off the two girls at campsite twelve. He found himself considering all that could happen in a tent with two good-looking girls, and forced his mind in another direction. It was no use getting all frustrated but he kept returning to the arousing fantasy. Even though the pretty, red-haired girl had been the bold one and had shown an amazing amount of cleavage, she seemed to have a rough edge about her. Shadow had been more attracted to the brunette, Marlene, tall and willowy, with a pleasing smile.