Page 7 of Wild Wolf
"What's your name?”
"I ain't got a name.”
"In case I have any additional questions, I need to be able to get in touch with you. Tell me your name.”
"I ain't got no phone. Ain’t got no address.” He did a little dance as he spoke, proud of the fact he was unencumbered. "The world is my living room,” he said, making a grand gesture, arms outstretched. “You can't buy or sell the sand. You can't own the air and the oceans. I am, I am,” he said. "My name is Sam. My name is Tim, John, Jim, Jack, and that ain’t no smack. I am infinite. I'm box wine, sometimes a bottle of champagne. And a .45 if you make me bring the pain,” he said with a mischievous grin.
"You got a criminal record, Mr. Infinity?”
"There is no past. There is no future. Only the now exists. I've got no record.”
My patience had run dry. “Okay. Looks like you're getting a night on the county. I'll find out who you are. You can be damn sure of that. Turn around, place your hands behind your back," I said, pulling the cuffs from my pocket. They jingled in the night air, the sound of the surf crashing against the shore in the distance.
“McCormick Shaw,” he said before I got around to slapping the cuffs on him.
"My friends call me Mickey or Mac or Mick or Shaw, but I suspect you ain’t a friend. You’re Johnny Law."
I slapped the cuffs around his wrist anyway.
He growled. "Man, I told you everything you wanted to know. I've been cooperative. Have I not?"
"I'm gonna run a background check and make sure you don't have any outstanding warrants. If you're clean, I’ll cut you loose.”
"I’m squeaky clean,” Scruffy assured.
I logged into the system on my phone and ran a background check. McCormick had numerous violations. Plenty of trespassing, public intoxication, etc. No outstanding warrants. Nothing violent.
I shined my flashlight on him and examined his clothing. There weren’t any bloodstains. No speckles on his shoes. You couldn't have mangled Ophelia like that without getting covered in blood.
The assailant had left a trail of blood down to the beach, along with what looked like oversized pawprints.
We left Scruffy with Faulkner and followed the trail of blood as it led down to the beach, growing ever more faint. The blood drops and paw prints ended at the waterline. From there, whatever, or whomever, did this could have moved in any direction. The surf had wiped away the tracks. Like a ghost, the predator was gone.
We returned to the scene and talked to Scruffy once again. He confirmed thebeastran down to the surf, then along the waterline. I took everything Scruffy said with a grain of salt—delusions of an unstable mind.
We cut him loose and wrapped up the scene. Brenda and her crew bagged the body and wheeled the remains to the ME’s van.
Paris Delaney and her news crew captured the tragic footage. It didn’t take her long to find and interview Scruffy. He came alive once again when the lights hit his face. The cameraman pulled focus, and Scruffy told his werewolf tale, albeit with a little embellishment. I suspected the tale would grow each time he told it.
I shook my head in dismay as we passed, walking back to the Porsche. Scruffy was going to start werewolf mania. The phone lines would be flooded with calls from sightings. The hysteria wouldn’t help the investigation.
I called the zoo as I climbed into the Porsche. At this hour, it went straight to voicemail. Jack fired up the engine while I searched the zoo’s website for names and contact information for staff. I called the Chief Operating Officer, Sherry Finley. I figured she wouldn’t be thrilled to get a call near 2:00 AM, but she sounded alert and panicked when she answered.
5
"Oh dear God," Sherry said when I gave her the bad news. A guilty silence hung in the air.
"You haven't had any escapees, have you?”
She took a deep breath. "We had a little incident here at the zoo."
“Incident?”
"I was just made aware of this myself," she said to cover her ass. “Protesters broke into the zoo this evening and released numerous animals and vandalized the property. Among them is a clouded leopard. We are in the process of doing damage control. As you can imagine, it's a madhouse, and we don't have a full inventory of every missing animal just yet.”
“Have you notified the FWC?”
“Yes, as well as local Animal Control. You were my next call. We also have a highly trained staff of recovery agents working to secure the animals.”
