Page 13 of Woodland Web

“Oh, thank heavens. You two were made for causing havoc together, and heaven help us if that got disrupted.” But even in her snark, I could hear the genuine relief. She was friends with both of us, and it couldn’t be easy when two of her friends were on the outs.

“So, what do you have for me?” I asked.

Millie handed me a file folder. “Warning, graphic imagery involved.”

I steeled myself and opened the folder. “What am I looking at?” But then, I saw the words autopsy report across the top of one of the papers. “Oh…unexplained homicide?”

Millie nodded. “I think it’s your creature. We found the victim—Dwayne Stephens—in a field next to Devil’s Gulch this morning. He was roughed up pretty bad, and the marks are similar in nature to those of a big cat or a bear mauling, just like the first death. But the doctor confirms he’s never seen anything quite like either case.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then began flipping through the report. I knew there were pictures at the end, and I was dreading them, but anything I could learn to help me understand the sluagh, the better. As I read about some of the damage done to the victim, I grimaced. But there was nothing to prepare me for the pictures.

The man had been eaten alive. Well, not all of him, but enough to know just how much pain he would have been in. Bite marks littered his body, deep gashes obviously made by teeth. Chunks of flesh had been ripped out. The worst was that his nose had been bitten off. I quickly closed the folder and slid it back across the desk.

“You said it happened next to Devil’s Gulch?” I tried to focus on the peripheries of the murder, rather than the gory details.

She nodded. “I have to tell you, there’s an energy to the gulch that scares the fuck out of just about everybody. Two of my officers found his body right beside the gulch this morning. A neighbor about two streets over usually jogs every morning along the street that runs parallel to the gulch. He saw the body from the road—the victim was wearing a bright yellow tank top. A.D. Anniston, our runner, wasn’t sure what it was at first, so he darted into the turnout to find out, and saw the blood. A.D. immediately called the cops and then waited on the side of the road rather than next to the ravine. That was probably a good idea.”

I nodded. She was correct. If the sluagh was hiding in the ravine, anybody close was fair game. “He’s smart, at least. All right. And the medical examiner said it’s not an animal attack?”

“She’s never seen anything quite like it,” Millie said. “You saw the pictures. It was worse in person, trust me. No animal did that. Not even a grizzly would leave such a mess. And there was no sign of a human’s hand in it, either.”

“All right. From everything I’ve heard so far, we have a place to start looking. I guess I’d better get home and come up with a game plan. I’ll contact you when we go out hunting. Can you ask Cece and Tyson to be on call? We may need them.” I stood, trying to quell the nausea that rose up when I saw the pictures.

“I will. Meanwhile, seeing what can happen…”

“We’ll be careful. Trust me, Hank and Tad are far more cautious now, especially since Tad’s stuck with a limp forever.” I waved at her and, with one last look at the folder, I headed out. I wanted to stop in the library to find out the history of Devil’s Gulch before I left for home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Garrison Library was the only part of City Central that was two stories. As I entered through the double doors, I crossed to the customer service desk. My friend, Charles Crichton, worked on the second floor. He was a member of the Moonshadow Bay Historical Society, and he was also a research librarian. It occurred to me that Charles might know more about the sluaghs, and that would be easier than trying to find out the history of the gulch.

“May I help you?” The librarian looked overworked and harried, but she still managed a smile.

“Is Charles Crichton in today?” It was always better to check with the main desk, in case he might be working on some project that he needed to focus on. He was so polite that he wouldn’t hesitate to stop what he was doing, and I didn’t like interrupting.

“Charles is in his office, yes. Would you like me to call him to see if he’s available?”

“Thank you. Tell him January Jaxson’s here and I’m wondering if he has a few minutes to help me out.” I waited while she picked up the landline and punched a button.

A moment later, she rested the receiver back in the cradle. “Charles says for you to go right up to his office. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, unless he’s changed offices any time lately. Thank you,” I said. I headed toward the elevator. A moment later, I was knocking on the door with his nameplate on it.

Charles opened it, ushering me in. A tall man—six-four if he was an inch—he was close to eighty, but his posture was straight and he was in good shape. He had smooth silver hair, neatly trimmed and slicked back, and he had on a pair of brown trousers and a lightweight sports jacket over a pale blue shirt. He had a wide smile and twinkling brown eyes.

“January, what a lovely surprise! Come in, please. Here, have a seat. Would you like some coffee? Water? I think I have a scone left, if you’re hungry.”

No one could ever accuse Charles of being impolite. “Thanks, I’m fine for now. It’s good to see you, too, Charles. How have you been?” I didn’t want to start off with an immediate request. I settled into the chair opposite him.

“It’s been a difficult past couple years, actually. My lovely wife died. She was hit by a car while she was out on an evening stroll.” His eyes dimmed and I could feel his sorrow.

I immediately prepared to leave. “I’m so sorry—I don’t want to bother you. I’ll go.”

He let out a sad sigh. “No, please stay. It’s been six months. It’s still very difficult, but anything I can do to take my mind off of it helps. I’ve spent more time at work than I have in my home for the first time in years. It’s so quiet there. We lost our cats a few years ago—they reached a dignified age. And now, the house echoes with memories that I can’t face.”

I wanted to hug him, but he seemed fragile, as if he’d shatter if I touched him. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Charles. Please, if you ever just want to talk, you can call me. We can go somewhere and have coffee or tea, and just…talk or sit in silence.”

He adjusted his glasses. “Thank you. I may take you up on that. I can tell you stories about all the haunted houses and areas, and you can tell me about your ghost hunting. I think that would be a pleasant evening.”

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