“No, you did, you lunkhead. In my store, couple days ago, just before all the fun and games started.”
Terry nodded. “Fair enough.” But he didn’t elaborate right away. Crow gave him a “go ahead” arch of the eyebrows but by the time Terry finally answered Crow’s coffee had cooled by several degrees and Party Cat had fallen asleep, his head on Crow’s crotch. The air was utterly still and off in the distance they could hear music from the bars on Corn Hill. Despite the ongoing manhunt, tourists were still pouring into the town and everywhere there was laughter and music. Even Crow thought that was weird.
When he spoke, Terry’s voice was soft and Crow had to forcibly tune out the music to catch his words. “Crow, next to Sarah you’re the one person I really trust.” He turned to see if Crow was going to make one of his smartass comments, but Crow just raised his cup in silent acknowledgment of the trust, so Terry continued, “And I know that if anyone is going to have my back, and to not judge me based on what I’m about to say, it’s going to be you.”
“We’ve been each other’s wingmen for a lot of years, Wolfman.”
“And don’t ever think I don’t appreciate it. I know I’m sometime high maintenance.” He sipped his coffee and set the cup down. “For the last month or so I’ve been having problems, and the nightmares are just part of it…but let’s start there.” He described one of the dreams to Crow, going into more detail than he had even shared with his psychiatrist, and once more he turned to see if there was any mockery or humor on Crow’s face, but while Terry was talking, Crow had just leaned forward, listening, his face very serious, his cup forgotten in his hands.
When Terry finished, Crow asked, “And you say you’re having some hallucinations where you think you see this monster face in mirrors and such?”
Terry nodded. “How crazy is that?”
Instead of answering, Crow asked, “What does the beast look like?”
It wasn’t the question Terry was expecting and his surprise showed on his face. “What does it matter? A monster’s a monster.”
“When it comes to nightmares, I don’t think so. Maybe if we understood the kind of critter you’re seeing it might mean something, you know—the way one thing means something else in regular dreams. You dream of hotdogs flying through the Lincoln Tunnel and it means you need to get laid.”
A crow flapped out of the east and landed in the tree above him, cawing softly. “It’s a wolf,” Terry said at last.
Crow nodded. “Well, that much makes sense.”
“How?” Terry loaded that one word with a hundred questions.
“Well, last time I looked at the name on those checks you give me to manage the Hayride, your last name is ‘Wolfe.’ Not really much of a stretch. If you’re dreaming about becoming a beast and fate conveniently gives you a last name like that, it’s pretty much a gimme. Plus, we’ve all been calling you Wolfman since grade school. Look at me—Crow—if I dreamed about becoming a bird, what do you think would be first on the list?”
“No,” Terry said with a vigorous shake of his head, “it can’t be that simple.”
“Not saying it is, brother,” Crow said, “but it’s at least part of the puzzle. What’s your doc say about it?”
“He thinks it’s stress.”
“And you
“This started before Ruger.”
“Has it gotten worse since he’s been here?”
A silence, then Terry nodded. Crow gave a “well, there you are” hand gesture.
“No,” Terry said, “there’s more.”
(2)
Vic always drove carefully. He’d never so much as logged a parking ticket, let alone a speeding ticket, so when he saw that there was a police unit behind him he didn’t sweat being pulled over. On the other hand, he was less than half a mile from the hospital, heading away from it on the only major road that passed those gates. He stared at the headlights of the cruiser in his rearview mirror and his mind was working, working.
When the light ahead turned red, he made a decision and braked to a stop, pulling halfway onto the shoulder and waving his arm out the window. As the cruiser pulled up Vic could see that it was Dave Golub riding alone. He knew Golub through Polk. A big Jewish kid playing cop to pay his way through law school. Vic grinned. “Hey! Dave!”
Golub peered through his passenger window and saw who it was. He put his unit in park and hit the button to drop the window. “Vic?”
“Yeah, glad to see you,” Vic said and jerked his door open. “You’re a gift from God, let me tell you.”
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, well it is and it ain’t,” Vic said, flashing his grin. “I hit a deer a couple miles back. Mashed the son of a bitch but good and slung him in the back.” He jerked a thumb toward the truck bed. “But I just heard a thump and I think the poor bastard ain’t dead after all. Mind taking a look?”
Without waiting for an answer he started walking back toward the tailgate, knowing that Golub would follow. He just hoped he wouldn’t call it in, but didn’t think he would. Vic was a townie and everybody knew Vic. Vic never got drunk, never got into trouble, and he was a buddy with Polk.
Golub said, “Sure, but I’m no vet,” and got out.
As he crunched along the gravel on the shoulder, Vic waited, one hand inside the cab holding onto the corner of the tarp, sizing Golub up. The kid was huge, maybe six-five and beefy tending toward soft. Vic knew he could take him if he had to, but that wasn’t on the menu.
“Let me see what you got,” Golub said, putting one hand on the rim of the bed and using the other to shine his light at the tarp. “If it’s still wounded I can call someone to bring out one of those humane-killer things, and —”
As he said this, Vic whipped back the tarp. There was nothing humane about what happened next.
(3)
Val parted the curtains just slightly and peered out. The kitchen was dark and she could see Terry and Crow outside. “What do you think they’re talking about?” she asked.
“Besides what’s going on in town?” Sarah asked from the doorway. She had her arms folded and was leaning against the frame. “Probably talking about Terry’s dreams.”
Val let the curtains fall closed and turned to Sarah. “Dreams?”
“Come in to the parlor.” When they were seated on opposite sides of the fireplace, Sarah leaned close, taking Val’s hand. “I know you and Terry don’t get along that well…”
“That’s ancient history.”
“No, it isn’t,” Sarah said, “but it’s good of you to say it. The point is, Terry loves Crow like a brother, and if I had to guess what he’s doing out there, he’s opening up to him about some stuff he should have told him weeks ago. You see…Terry has been having some problems.” She paused. “Psychological problems.” Val squeezed Sarah’s hand, and Sarah took a breath and plunged ahead. “Terry is telling Crow, and I need to tell someone, too, and I was going to call you a few days ago, and then all of this stuff happened with your dad, and the farm and all.”
“It’s been bad for all of us, honey, but if you need to get something off your chest don’t worry about how I’m going to take it. Tell you the truth, right now I need to be somebody’s rock, if you know what I’m saying. I’m not good at being vulnerable—I need to be the strong one. That make sense?”
Sarah smiled and there were tears in her eyes. “Of course it does, Val. Sometimes I think you’re the toughest one of all of us. I know Crow thinks that, too; and it may surprise you to know, but so does Terry.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know if he’s ever managed to say it, but he’s really sorry about what happened. He knows he betrayed you, he knows he broke your heart. It was a bad time for him and if he could take it back and make it right, he would, but sometimes Terry is wound so tight he doesn’t know how to reach people. Sure, he’s great at press conferences, but he’s never been very good at getting to the heart of things. You know that as well as anyone.”
Val nodded, and thinking about the grudge she’d been holding for almost sixteen years she felt suddenly ashamed. She sighed, and then gave Sarah a rueful smile. “Okay, sweetie, as far as I’m concerned that stuff is
