Wolf Killer (The Hammer Commission) Read online

"So, just what is a member of the European police forces, an Italian no less, doing here in West Virginia?" The reporter asked with quite a bit of hostility.

  "As Agent Woods briefed you earlier, I'm here on loan as part of an inter-agency cooperation effort. There are aspects of this investigation, ones that I'm not allowed to comment on, that involved Interpol. That's how I ended up working here."

  "So," the reporter interjected, before Mark could continue, "I must imagine that working in such a small 'hick' town here in the hills must be quite an experience for a cosmopolitan Italian, such as you."

  "I merely work in Rome, I did not grow up there, or in Italy, and I am not Italian, Mister...?" Mark smiled looking at the reporter.

  "Jacobs," the reporter replied, and then sneered at Mark. "So which country are you from then?"

  Mark looked around at the other members of the press who were starting to look interested in the conversation, and winked.

  "Oh, its a rather small country, you may have heard of it. It's called Oregon."

  The rest of the people there started to snigger, and a couple even laughed out loud.

  "Wait, what?!" the reporter sputtered.

  "Someone else?" Mark asked scanning the crowd.

  "Hayes, CNN," A woman said sticking up her hand. Mark nodded to her.

  "Just how did a guy from Oregon end up working for Interpol in Rome?"

  Mark smiled, at least he knew how to answer this, he'd been using the same story for years now. "I got involved in an investigation into some artifacts that had been stolen from the church. They were rather impressed with my performance, so they offered me a job working for their office in Rome. The pay they were offering was better than my army disability payments, and I have a family to support, so I accepted their offer."

  "So, you're a disabled army veteran?" the CNN reporter asked, and Mark tried not to smile as most of the reporters turned to stare at Jacobs.

  "Yes," Mark smiled and couldn't help but turn the knife a little, "combat, Afghanistan. But we're not here to talk about me; do you have any questions about today's announcement?"

  Mark noticed that Jacob had now moved to the back of the crowd.

  "Agent Woods mentioned that there were several women involved, and that you were personally involved in their rescue, what can you tell us about that?"

  "Umm," Mark said and looked down at the podium a moment, "I'd rather not comment on their situation and circumstances, other than to say that they're doing better now, and thankfully Mr. Pope will no longer be around to make money off of his wanton disregard of women."

  "Is it true that you were the one responsible for killing Mr. Pope?"

  Mark nodded, "He refused to surrender, in fact he attacked us when we were investigating his recent killing of the local pastor, Father Breaner. In the ensuing battle he holed up in a cave not far from here, one where he had been hiding out with his accomplice. Both of them died in the ensuing firefight... err, excuse me, I mean gun battle."

  "What about the women who first reported this?" Another reporter, a man, spoke up.

  "Oh, Miss Meyers!" Mark said brightening. "Yes, it was an incredibly act of bravery for her to not only escape, but to come forward after what had been done to her. She is the real hero of this story. The rest of us were really just doing our jobs, if it were not for her, Mr. Pope and his evil would still be preying on the innocent youths of our country.

  "Would you like to meet her?" Mark asked, happy to move the spotlight now to someone else.

  The assembled press all nodded and called out 'yes' so Deke led Susan out, who immediately latched onto Mark's arm.

  "Hi," she said rather shyly.

  Mark smiled at her, and then pointed to one of the reporters, who asked her a few questions about herself, then he picked another, then the lady from CNN again. Mark was impressed that they were treating her with quite a bit of respect.

  "Jacob," Mark said, smiling at the local reporter who looked rather surprised, "You can have the last question, then I think Susan and her uncle can go back home."

  "You have family here?" Jacob asked, and Mark could have kissed the man, he fell into the right leading question without any further prompting.

  Susan nodded, and said what she'd been coached to, "That's what saved me, I knew where I was, so I ran to his house and he called the police."

  "She's going to be staying at our house, until things settle down," Deke said and turning, he lead Susan away from the podium, with Mark following as Sheriff Clayton came back up to answer a few last questions and end the press conference.

  "I'm really sorry," Jacob, the local reporter said, coming over to three of them as they walked back to the sheriff's office. "I had no idea."

  Mark laughed, "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have called on you last if I was into grudges."

  "Can I get a picture of you and Susan?" He asked.

  Mark nodded, "Sure, just share them with the other papers," and they posed for a couple of pictures. He could tell Susan was a little nervous, but she knew they needed some good photos to draw in Craig.

  "Thanks!" Jacobs said when he was done; a couple of the other reporters came over and took some pictures as well before they went inside.

  "Well, I'm glad that's over," Susan said with a shudder as Trevor came over and put his arms around her.

  Mark smiled as she leaned into the young man, who kissed her and hugged her close.

  "I always used to wonder about that saying 'It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good,'" Deke said softly to Mark as they both watched Trevor and Susan drift over into a corner, talking to each other. "After watching the two of them, it does make you think."

  "They're that taken with each other?" Mark asked.

  Deke nodded, "It's gone beyond hero worship, turns out they have a lot in common, they were even in the same wow clan."

  "What's a wow clan?" Mark asked surprised.

  "Some online game all the kids play," Deke said and shrugged, "I don't really get it. So, when are you coming out to the house?"

  "After the sun goes down. We have to be pretty careful, while I don't expect Craig to show up as a wolf, we still don't want the place stinking of us."

  "Yeah, I can understand that, you and your wife will kinda stand out if he does."

  "What about the feds?" Mark asked.

  "If he falls for us being her kin, most likely he's going to expect us to be human," Deke pointed out.

  Mark nodded, "Good point. Well, I'll see you later tonight. Hopefully this works and we're not in for a long wait."

  22: Charleston, West Va.

  Craig grumbled as he came back to the cheap hotel room he'd rented in Charleston. He only had the clothes on his back and the money in his pocket when he got here, but after killing a couple of drug dealers he had a bankroll now at least. Not a lot, but enough to let him move on. He'd dyed his hair a lighter color, and cut it shorter. He was debating growing a mustache as well, to hide his appearance further.

  Tomorrow he'd go on craigslist and buy a cheap car. Maybe buy a laptop as well. But the first priority was to get as far from here as he could. Maybe even leave the country and go south a ways. There was no way a bunch of pissant peasants in some third world hellhole would give him the kinds of problems he was having now.

  Walking by the newspaper box, the woman's picture on the cover briefly caught his attention and he thought he saw her, Susan, the bitch who had started it all.

  "Nah, it couldn't be..." he mumbled, but he stopped and took a few steps back and looked at the paper in the machine, 'Co-ed Serial Killer Shot Dead!' the headline declared, and right under it was her picture alright.

  Swearing he dug out some change and fed the machine, and then opening it he got out a paper.

  There were a number of pictures on the front; one was that damn fed, the one he'd tried to kill, the werecougar. There were a few others as well, not that he remembered any of them, all in their FBI jackets, and standing next to that damn fed was t
hat bitch!

  He almost tore the paper in half, as his hands started to shake in rage. Skimming down the story he found what he was looking for: '... Susan Meyer, whose heroics saved several others from death, is currently staying with her aunt and uncle in the local area as she recovers from her ordeal.'

  "That bitch!" he growled and looked over the rest of the story, swearing louder and louder as they recounted several of his crimes, they even listed Ursula as his accomplice! But as he read down further he slowly smiled: 'Craig Pope was killed after being trapped in a cave that he was hiding out in.'

  They thought he was dead! That meant that no one was looking for him! He could just buy a car under his real name, and drive off to wherever he wanted, safe as can be!

  Smiling for the first time in days, Craig went back to his room, and tossing the paper on the desk he sat down and started to unlace his shoes. In the morning, he'd still get a cheap used car, and head west. Once he was far enough from here, he'd check his bank account, the one under his real name, and see how his finances were.

  Undressing, he laid back on his bed smiling up at the ceiling. Those fools, they must have thought that the sage in the cave was him. Maybe they just blew it up or something and figured the remains were his?

  Whatever it was, it didn't matter! He was free! He thought about that bitch for a moment, Susan. He really should have killed her himself, rather than leaving her there in the cabin. He didn't like leaving loose ends around, but they were probably guarding her, so going after her wouldn't be safe.

  Maybe once the story had died down.

  Craig woke up suddenly. He'd been having a dream, and in it that bitch, that stupid filthy bitch, was being praised by everyone for being 'brave' being 'fearless' for coming forward and exposing him, him! They were cheering her! A stupid filthy dog!

  And worse, she'd gotten away from him. No one had ever gotten away from him! He'd always been the one to decide who lived and who died, and by some stupid accident, she'd gotten away, burned down his cabin, called the FBI, cost him his shop, his livelihood, gotten the one woman who he might have liked killed, and caused the sage to be killed before he could teach Craig the secrets of the blood!

  That bitch, that filthy mongrel! He'd given her a gift; he'd actually slept with her! And this was how she repaid him? By ruining him!

  Oh no, definitely no. They thought he was dead, so they wouldn't be guarding her anymore, they'd never ever expect for him to come back and get her! He was dead! They said so!

  He got up and started to pace the room back and forth, he had to make it look good of course, so they wouldn't think that he was still alive. Victim of a robbery wouldn't work, too suspicious. Snapping his fingers he had an idea, he'd get some rope and hang her, he'd even make her write a suicide note first! Let them see what a weak cowardly bitch she really was!

  Then he'd win! He'd be the strong one, the one that survived all of this, while her frail filthy body hung from a rope, because she couldn't cope, because she couldn't live without him!

  He'd be moving on because he wanted to, because he had won! With no unfinished business, and no filthy bitch claiming she'd taken him down!

  Yeah, that would do it, that would fix everything! Smiling Craig looked at the clock, it was still too early to go look at a car, and he'd need to go to the library and borrow their computer. At least he had a cell phone, so he could make some calls.

  With any luck, he'd be able to pay her a visit soon enough.

  The sun was setting as Craig left Charleston. He would have liked to have left earlier, but it took him a couple of hours to find out just where the hell that bitch was staying. Apparently the Meyer's family lived out of town in a fairly isolated area. Not that Craig was going to complain about such a gift! But figuring out the best way to get there had taken him a while. He eventually decided on a good place to park the car, where no one would notice it, and bought himself a compass and printed out some maps, so he could find his way there.

  A handheld GPS would have been nice, but he didn't have enough money to buy one and still be able to pay for gas and food for the next few days when he made his escape.

  Still, it shouldn't be all that hard to get around and he didn't want to get there too early anyway. Two or three a.m. should work out just fine, and by the time anyone discovered the body, he'd be long gone.

  It started raining about a half-hour into his trip. He swore, he should have checked the weather before he left. The tires on the car were not the best, and the roads could get pretty bad around here during a storm.

  On the bright side, however, the police would be even less likely to pull him over. They didn't like getting wet anymore than anyone else did, and with all that water coming down, his movements would be well covered. Even if anyone did pick up his scent, they'd never be able to track him in it.

  He'd just have to remember to be careful not to leave any wet footprints around when he took the bitch down. He had picked up a nice length of rope, he found something that was old and used. He figured a new rope might look suspicious, but the guy selling him the car had one that he was willing to throw in for a few bucks more.

  Craig whiled away the rest of the trip thinking of just what he'd say to her, once he had the rope around her neck. He decided he'd stay and wait until she was dead, just to make sure she didn't get away, yet again. Plus he wanted to watch her die, he'd never hung a girl before, and he'd always wondered about that 'dance of death' thing he'd always read about. Maybe he could use it in a movie? The news story mentioned he'd been working with pornographers, but Craig was pretty sure that his overseas connections were still around. Some of those countries really didn't care what you did, as long as you didn't do it there, so he doubted that the FBI had gotten anywhere with them, assuming they'd even figured out he'd been doing business with them.

  By the time he parked the car, he had a new plan of action figured out. He'd miss having the help of the sage, but now that he knew about the secret of the blood, that it actually existed, he could devote his own time to discovering what it was, so he too could have that kind of power.

  The rain hadn't stopped as he made his way through the trees, but at least it wasn't raining as hard as it had been. It took him almost an hour to get to the house, coming up on it from the west side. It was late, after midnight, and it was dark, there wasn't a single light on, inside or out.

  That stopped him a moment, but then it made sense, this was out in the middle of nowhere. No one was around, so why the hell waste the money on a light?

  He waited a while, just in case, to be sure, taking shelter under one of the larger trees. But nothing stirred, nothing at all.

  Moving closer to the house, he kept his ears open, and started trying to see if he could smell anything. The rain started to work against him now, but that was to be expected.

  He circled the house twice; nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, so he tried the back door. Sure enough, it was unlocked. Again, living in the country, why bother, right? No one ever breaks into houses here.

  Going inside, he was in a small mudroom. Taking off his shoes, he looked around, there were three pairs of shoes, one that were obviously her uncles, one of the others he guess was her aunt's. Picking up the third set he took a sniff and then smiled, Susan's alright!

  Now he just had to find what room she was in. He saw a nice scarf hanging on the wall and grabbed it; it would make a nice gag for her. After all, he didn't want to wake her aunt and uncle.

  Opening the door leading from the mudroom, he crept out into a large hallway. The stairs going up were to his right, at the other end of the hallway. Taking his time he walked down the hall. It was a nice place actually, kind of old, but clean, with lots of pictures on the walls. It was too dark to make them out, even with his improved night sight.

  He'd just got to the bottom of the staircase when the hair on his neck started to rise, something wasn't right. Stopping he looked around, and standing behind him was a dark shape,
a large dark shape!

  "This is for Sue, you bastard," the figure snarled, and Craig's face exploded in pain, as he was punched, hard!

  Trevor had watched as Craig snuck into the house. Yeah, the plan was to corner him upstairs in the hallway, just outside of the room that Sue was supposed to be staying in. The agents and his pa had spent quite a bit of time laying that little trap two days ago.

  But Sue was his woman now, and he was going to do what a man did, he was going to be the one to punish the bastard who had laid his hands on her. As far as he was concerned, it was a matter of honor now, his personal honor. If anyone had the right to beat this pretender, this cur, to death, it was going to be him. No man, no wolf, nothing, was every going to mess with his Sue again, ever.

  So he'd snuck down the stairs when no one was paying all that much attention, after three nights of waiting, things had gotten a little more relaxed. He'd found a good place to hide, behind the sofa in the living room, and he lay down in his wolf form. He didn't care how good this guy was, when the door opened, he'd hear it.

  Sure enough, Trevor had jolted awake the moment the outside door had opened, so shifting back to human form, he carefully put on his shorts and just waited.

  When Craig had come in, Trevor watched as he slowly walked down the hall, being careful not to make any noise. He was so focused on what was in front of him; Trevor didn't have any problems sneaking up behind him. He was about to say something when Craig turned around on his own, looking rather shocked.

  "This is for Sue, you bastard!" Trevor growled and putting his full two hundred and fifty pounds into it, he punched that bastard just as hard as he could, knocking Craig back and off his feet.

  Standing, legs spread slightly, fists clenched, Trevor glared down at Craig, who snarled and quickly scrambled back to his feet.

  "I'll kill you, you bastard!" Craig snarled, "And then I'll kill that Bitch!"

  Trevor raised his fists, for the first time since he'd been a pup; he knew anger, real anger. It wasn't the threat against him; he knew this pathetic excuse of a wolf couldn't hurt him, ever. But how dare he threaten his Sue! He was going to beat Craig to death, and he wasn't going to regret a single moment of it.