Wolfwraith (37 page)

“What?”

“Jonesy said the witch lived with a man who was part Indian. That must tie in with the wolf headdress somehow.”

“What does it matter? It was just a prop. Maybe he used it to scare the girls before he killed them, or maybe it was a fetish thing, remember how we were talking about serial killers needing a thrill?” She closed up the first aid kit.

Shadow barely heard her. “You know, maybe he wasn’t crazy—at least not when he first found it. Maybe he put it on, not knowing what he had. It could have taken over his mind way back before all this started and warped him enough to think killing some park visitors would scare everyone away from False Cape.” That could be it, he thought, maybe the wolfwraith doesn’t need to be summoned. Maybe it came to Frank on its own.

He felt cold as ice, remembering his urge to pick it up. Lorene would have picked it up, too. It seemed to call out to people.

“Taken over his mind?” Lorene said. “Shadow, you’re as bad as an old woman, with all your hunches and feelings.” She knelt down between the seats and snuggled close by his hip.

Shadow put his good arm around her. “Well, we’ve got a few hours to talk about it, until the storm is over. Then we’ll fire up the Terra-Gator and drive out to the beach; it’ll be easier for a helicopter to land there. In the meantime...” He pointed at the soggy box he’d salvaged from the steeple site. “Are you hungry? It’s been a long time since either of us has had anything to eat.”

“I’ll go along with that. What’ve you got?” She pulled away, rummaged around in the box and came up with a small, oblong tin. “How about some sardines?”

Remembering the last time he’d smelled sardines, he took the can from her, rolled down the window part way, and tossed the sardines out into the hurricane.

“Jeez, Shadow,” Lorene said, once again looking at him as though he might not be quite right in the head. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling evil spirits from a sardine tin now. You’re nearly as bad as all those weirdoes who thought an actual werewolf was doing the killings. How can anyone believe in something like that?”

Shadow was thinking back to when his throat had been only inches from the wolfwraith’s savage, sardine-stinking jaws. Those teeth had been real; he had no doubts at all.

“I guess you’re right.” With a supreme effort, he lifted his left arm up and held the claw in front of her. He opened and closed the mechanical hand several times. “You’ll probably find those bolt cutters you were talking about, the ones with a wolf’s jaws on them, somewhere around here.”