Chapter 14
Fourteen
NOELLE
B ear has been distracted the last few days. When I ask him about it, he shrugs it off, saying it's nothing. Despite this continual brush-off of my concerns, he's taken to insisting Panzer go to work with me.
Fortunately, the salon has a big office where he can sleep out of the way. Otherwise, I’d be worried he’d scare my clients. As it is, Kelly, the owner, isn’t hot on the new arrangement, not being a dog person.
But when I again ask Bear what's going on, he just shrugs, shakes his head, and refuses to answer.
I suspect it's something to do with Duane.
And, honestly, I'm glad to have my big, furry friend—there's construction happening in the lot where we all usually park, meaning we now have to park down the street in a narrow, dingy alley; the usual lot is being turned into a parking garage, which is going to be nice when it's done but means several months of parking in a seedy, poorly lit alley. With summer in full swing, it's still light out even on the nights I work late, but I don’t like the alley, and I don't like walking there alone at night. With Panzer at my side, however, I feel perfectly safe.
Two weeks pass like this—Bear broody and closed off and worried, me taking Panzer to work. I figure I'll give Bear another week to sort his issue out, and then I’m calling a sit-down. I want my sweet, cuddly, smiling Bear back. I don’t like this brooding, terse version very much.
Maybe it's time to move things to the next level. I've been thinking about it. It's been good for me to have this time to get used to my own renewed sex drive. I want him all the time, but I don't want sex to be the only thing connecting us. We talk a lot, and he's been sharing a new dream he has—he wants to help Felix build houses. He’s worried about Riley's reaction, of course, but the shifts he's spent over the last few weeks on Felix's crew have given him the builder bug. He enjoys creating, he's discovering.
I've been encouraging him to pursue this; not that demo isn't a worthy endeavor, but Bear has so much more to offer the world than merely destroying things just because he’s so big and powerful. He's starting to see this in himself, finally. He's starting to reach for more, to believe in himself, to look for more of life beyond the narrow scope of what he's known up till now.
I'm immensely proud of him.
Yes, I decide, as Panzer and I reach the alley lot where I'm parked, it's time to let myself fully invest in Bear, and in our relationship. I've been afraid, I'm realizing. Holding back.
I love him, but I'm afraid to let myself love him fully. I'm afraid of being let down. Having my heart broken again.
Even though I know, mentally, that Bear would never betray me, not in a thousand years, not for anything, my heart still clings to the fear of brokenness my ex-husband’s betrayal seeded in me.
Panzer growls, breaking my train of thought.
I stop a few feet from my car and look around: the rear of the Main Street buildings are on my left, an unbroken line of two-story structures fused together stretching from intersection to intersection, with the backs of the First Street businesses on my right. First Street runs parallel to Main, with the alley sandwiched between them. The First Street businesses are more separated than the ones on Main, broken up by employee and public parking lots and businesses with their own dedicated parking areas.
The lot my car is in is tiny, wedged between a bank on one side and a three-story office building on the other, housing lawyers, accountants, and financial planners. Both the bank and the office building feature rear entrances and a few alley-side parking slots. Dumpsters, piles of pallets, and the discarded odds and ends of the various businesses line the backs of the buildings on both sides, and despite the dying golden light of dusk on Main Street, back here, it’s dim, shadowy, and cool.
My skin crawls as Panzer growls, pressing his big, solid body against my thigh—his growl vibrates against me.
"I know, buddy," I mutter. "I don't like it here either." I reach my car and blip the locks, open the rear driver's side door for Panzer. "Komm rein," I command, and he leaps up into the car.
I close the door after him and grab the handle of my door, but my phone rings, so I hesitate, digging the device out of my purse and answering it, hand still on the door. "Hello?"
Panzer starts barking wildly, paws scrabbling on the window.
"No-No," comes Mom's voice. "Hi, baby. What're you up to?"
Puzzled and worried at Panzer's uncharacteristic behavior, I wedge the phone between ear and shoulder. "Hang on, Mom. One sec. Panzer is going nuts."
I reach for the handle of the rear door, intending to open it and calm him down.
That's as far as I get.
A cold, clammy, viciously strong hand claps around my mouth, cutting off my scream. I'm yanked backward, off balance. nasty, hot, sour, alcohol-stained breath huffs on my face. "Finally got you away from that fuckin' dog and that big fat stupid fuckin' oaf," an icy, evil, rage-filled voice grates in my ear. "Time to teach your snotty, uppity little ass a nice long lesson in respect ."
Duane.
Panic smashes through me—I struggle and kick, screaming into the gritty, cold, strong hand clamped down on my mouth and jaw. I'm thrown to the ground, the back of my head cracking against the concrete; stars of white light burst behind my eyes, dizziness washing over me.
"Now, now, none of that." A wicked slap rocks my head to the side, pain searing through my cheek. "That was a warning. Don't wanna have to ruin this pretty little face." Something sharp and cold trails down my cheek.
"Bear…" I whimper. "Don’t. Please. Don't."
Panzer is going apeshit, barking and snarling, smashing into the window and door, rocking the whole car so its shocks squeal and protest at the mad force of his attempts to get to me.
"Think your big dumb boyfriend is gonna magically appear and save you?" The knife tip slides under my shirt at my belly and slices upward, cutting open my shirt and severing the front of my bra; he flicks the garments aside, exposing my chest; I squeeze my eyes shut, not breathing, not moving as the knife tip pricks the underside of my chin. "Got him taken care of. Permanently."
The knife moves away, and I thrash anew, eyes springing open and my blurred vision clearing—Duane is wearing a red bandana over his mouth and nose, a ballcap and sunglasses hiding the rest of his face, clad in dirty denim and a filthy T-shirt. The reek of booze on his breath turns my stomach.
He slaps me again and then presses the blade to my throat. "Hold the fuck still or I'll start cutting. I'll fuck your corpse if I have to.”
I gag, gasp, and go still, wheezing and whimpering.
Panzer is still going nuts, and I hear the window crack. The car is only a few feet away. If I can get away for even a split second, I can yank the door open and let Panzer have Duane.
I have to time it just right.
I go still, watching with a revolting stomach and hammering heart as Duane knees astride me, pointing the knife at me while fumbling at his belt with the other hand.
He's drunk, and his hand is unsteady, working in my favor.
He looks down for a moment, struggling to get the prong of his belt out of the hole. I buck, dislodging him and making him wobble backward; I yank my feet back and kick at him with all my strength, screaming as my feet connect with his chest. He flies backward and lands on his back, gagging for breath.
I scramble backward on my backside, away from him and toward the car, toward Panzer.
"Oh no, you fuckin' don't, bitch !" Duane snarls, jackknifing forward.
He stumbles to his feet, staggers unsteadily sideways, and then lunges for me as I scramble desperately backward, reaching for the door handle.
He stands over me, swiping at me with the short-bladed folding knife; the tip whistles past my face. I grab the handle, but his fist cracks across my face, smashing into my nose, loosing a freshet of hot, salty blood down my face.
With another scream, I lash out with my foot, catching him in the crotch. He doubles over and I kick him again, missing his crotch but getting his thigh, sending him to a knee as he wheezes, eyes bugging out in agony.
I yank open the rear door an inch; Panzer smashes it open with his shoulder as he leaps, clearing six feet in a single bound. His teeth latch onto Duan's knife hand, the blade clattering to the ground. The man screams, a gargling howl of pain.
Panzer snarls, shaking his head—a wet crack echoes through the alley: Duane's arm breaking in several places.
I tug open the driver’s door and haul myself in by the steering wheel. My purse is still slung around my torso, and I dig for my keys frantically as Panzer thrashes and savages the screaming, howling Duane. I hear another crack of breaking bone.
I get my keys free and shove the key into the ignition, starting the motor. "Panzer. Komm Rein." I can barely manage the words past the blood flowing out of my nose and filling my mouth, staining my chest and throat.
Panzer releases Duane and hops up into the car, panting. His brown muzzle drips red.
Duane is on the ground, moaning, rolling. His arm is mangled and unrecognizable, bone protruding in several places. I don’t want to be responsible for his death, but I’m not upset that he’ll never use that arm again.
A groan of agony escaping me. I reach into the back, yank the rear door closed, and then gun the engine out of the parking lot.
It never occurs to me to call 911, or anyone else. All I care about is Bear—Duane's words echo in my head: Got him taken care of. Permanently.
I race at reckless speeds toward Bear's apartment complex, knowing that's where he'd be at this time—showering and changing between work and the shelter.
Tires squealing as I fishtail into the lot and screech to a halt at an angle in front of his building, I shove open my door and race, panting and sobbing, for his unit.
I trip and lurch up the stairs, slicing my palms bloody as I cut them on the metal stairs. " BEAR !" I scream.
His door stands open. Bodies litter the floor, six or eight of them—my first thought is that they're all dead. But then I hear a chorus of ragged moans and realize they're all still alive.
Panting, hanging against the splintered doorframe, I survey the scene.
Bats, chains, knives, and brass knuckles lay discarded near their erstwhile wielders. I see one arm broken, bent at a horrible angle, white shards protruding from ragged flesh. A jaw is dislocated, hanging loose. A leg is bent horribly inward at the knee. One man rolls to his side, vomiting—I see teeth amid the puddle of bile and blood.
Nauseated at the gory scene, I turn away.
A trail of bloody dots leads away from the apartment. I follow the dots down the stairs, Panzer at my heels, whimpering.
"I know, boy," I whisper. "We'll find him. He's okay. he has to be."
The trail of blood leads part of the way across the parking lot, abruptly stopping near a pair of tire marks.
Out of options and desperate to find Bear before he does anything else, I fumble my phone out of my purse and call Riley—I've spoken to him a few times to coordinate picking up and dropping off Bear.
He answers after two rings. "Noelle, hey. What's up?"
I'm hyperventilating, my broken nose making me slur and spit blood. "Bear—attacked. Apartment. Help. Please help."
"I'm not even five minutes away. Hang tight. be right there."
Hyperventilating, choking on blood, all I can think about is Bear—where he is, how badly he's hurt. I pace back and forth and in circles until I see Riley's silver pickup fishtail around the corner and barrel toward me, skidding to a halt.
Panzer puts himself in front of me, growling viciously, until he sees it's Riley.
"Ruhig," I mumble; ROO-ihg : quiet. "Platz." Panzer goes silent and lowers himself to his belly onto my feet.
“Holy fucking shit," Riley shouts as he leaps from his truck. "Noelle, what the fuck ? You said Bear got attacked!"
I point at the apartment. "In—in there."
“Yeah, but what in the fuck happened to you ?” He whips off his shirt, approaching me warily, since Panzer, even lying down, is rumbling softly, daring Riley to make one wrong move.
"Duane," I mumble.
The adrenaline leaches out of me all at once, and I collapse to my butt. Heedless of the fact that my chest is exposed, ignoring the blood still dribbling from my nose, I cling to Panzer's neck, sobbing.
"Hey, hey." Riley crouches in front of me. "Let's get this on you, yeah?"
I nod. He gently slides the shirt over my head, and I shrug it on over the ruins of my cut-open top.
"Be right back," Riley says, jogging up the steps toward Bear's unit. A peek in, and he trots back down to me. "Bear's not there."
I shake my head, pulling my arms in and wriggling out of the cut-open shirt and bra, pull the remains out, and re-insert my arms into Riley’s oversized T-shirt. I use the scraps of my shirt to pinch my nose and sop up some of the blood. "I dunno where he went. I guarantee you he knows it was Duane. Probably looking for me." I grab Riley's wrist. "We have to find him before he does anything, Riley. He can't go back to jail."
Riley helps me to my feet. "Come on. We’ll find him."
I command Panzer into the back seat of the truck and let Riley help me up into the passenger seat.
Riley turns toward me. "Can I set your nose? It'll help."
"Okay," I mumble, dazed and panicking.
"Just make sure Panzer doesn't, you know, eat my face. It, um…it'll hurt at first and then feel better."
"Panzer—bleib," I command, as Riley puts his hands on either side of my face, earning a warning rumble from Panzer. "Ruhig."
“Ready? On three. Deep breath. One—two— three .” On three, he jerks his hands backward, away from my face.
A bright bolt of white light and lancing agony blast through me, and I scream. Moments later, though, the throbbing pain subsides to a dull ache.
"Let's check your house and your work first," RileyRiley says.
I nod.
He guns the engine, driving recklessly fast. He taps a speed dial entry on his phone, putting it on speaker.
It rings once, and then I hear Felix's voice. "Riley, what’s—"
Riley cuts in. “Noelle got attacked by Duane, and Bear got jumped in his apartment. He fuckin' wrecked the shit out of them—fuckin' eight of 'em, man. They're alive but royally fucked up. Now he's missing. I’ve got Noelle, and she's in bad shape too, but we gotta find Bear before he does something he can't come back from."
" Fuck me," Felix growls. "I’ll check the salon, you check her house."
"Got it. Call you back." Riley ends the call and keeps the phone clutched in his hand as he slams his brakes to haul us around the corner onto First and then into the alley behind the salon. A quick glance tells us that he’s not here—the salon is quiet and dark, no sign of Bear. Riley peels out and whips past the front on Main, just to be sure, and then re-dials his brother.
"Not here," he says after Felix's snapped greeting. "Now what?"
"He'll look for Duane,” Felix guesses.
Riley looks at me. "What kinda shape is Duane in?"
I shake my head. "I…I don't know. Bad. Panzer got his arm. I called him off before he killed him."
"Shoulda let him," Riley mutters.
"No, she shouldn't have,” Felix snaps back. "That’s the last thing anyone needs. He needs to be brought to proper justice, not mauled to death by a dog."
"You haven't seen her," Riley snarls in response. He looks at me. "Did…did he…?"
I shake my head, pulling the scrap of shirt away, refolding it, and pressing it to my nose, which isn't gushing anymore but still dribbling a little. "No. I fought him off until I could get Panzer."
"How'd he get past Panzer in the first place.?" Riley asks.
" Rye ," Felix says, his voice whips sharp. "She can give a statement to the police. She doesn't need a goddamned interrogation. We need to find Bear. Focus . Where would Duane be?"
"He wouldn't go to a hospital," Riley says. "The man doesn't trust any institution. Probably home."
"Where does he live?" Felix asks.
"Fuck. I don’t know. I've got files on everyone at the yard." Riley's face clears, and he guns the engine. "Bear knows that's where the files are: the yard. Come on!"
A few minutes later, we're skidding to a halt in the gravel lot in front of Riley's and Felix's equipment yard—a U-shape of three long, low, steel-sided buildings with large bay doors, with a single smaller office as a dot in the opening of the U. The front door of the office hangs open, smashed inward.
Riley hops out, and I follow him—Panzer scrambles over the console and leaps out after me, ears picked and swiveling, head low, eyes roving, body pressed against my side.
Riley pauses at the door, whistling in awe. "Holy fuck, man. He didn't just kick this in, he smashed the whole fucking frame right out of the goddamned wall."
I see what he means—the frame has come away from the wall itself, the whole door frame hanging askew, daylight streaming between frame and wall, the door dangling open at an angle. The office is tiny, a single room containing three desks in a U, a row of filing cabinets along one wall, computer monitors on the desks, a large map of Three Rivers and the surrounding area on one wall, and pins of varying colors in different locations. A dark doorway reveals a bathroom; the office smells of old coffee.
One of the filing cabinets is open; the drawers yanked open despite the locks keeping them closed, the metal warped and ripped with the force of Bear’s pull. Files are scattered everywhere, papers strewn in piles.
A single manila folder lays open on the nearest desk, with Duane's mug shot, a separate, newer headshot, and a printed sheet of details, including his record, biological data, and last known address. A large, bloody fingerprint smears the last known address.
"Got the address," Riley says, still on the line with his brother; he rattles off the address. "Meet you there."
"Riley, if you get there first, you gotta be smart. You've got a record, too. Don’t do anything stupid."
"And don't you go calling the goddamn cops, Dudley Do-Right," Riley snaps. "Not till we know what's happening."
"Fine," Felix answers. "Just…be smart. Please.”
Riley ends the call with a savage snarl and a stab of his index finger, and then we're back in the truck and racing across town to Duane's address.
We arrive at Cooper's Hollow, a trailer park on the far southeastern edge of town; it's rundown, overcrowded, and dangerous. A lot of residents routinely call for it to be leveled and rebuilt, but the occupants of the trailer park up a right about that, stopping any action from being taken.
The lots are narrow, and most of them are weedy and scraggly, others bare dirt, the trailers ancient single-wides with sagging porches and bowed roofs and crumbling cinderblock stairs. Junk is strewn everywhere, and the streetlamps, what few of them there are, flicker and strobe, casting jumping orange light on the buckling blacktop road that winds around the trailer park.
"Should be just ahead," Riley mutters, his brights on to illuminate the street numbers on each trailer; night has fallen in the time since my attack, shadows lengthening as sunset fades.
A shotgun blast rings out ahead.
"Fuck," Riley growls. “Looks like we found him."
Another shotgun blast rings out, and I scream. "Bear!"
Riley's truck skids to a halt, just in time for a third concussing blast to shudder through the still, warm night. The trailer is long and low, once white and now a dirty off-white, with cinderblock stairs, a leaning fragment of black metal railing, and filthy, grime-smeared windows. A gray, twenty-year-old sedan is parked in front, the lights on, the engine running and the driver’s side door open, the chime dinging repeatedly. Light sprays upward in narrow, pin-thin streams from the ceiling of the trailer; a fourth blast creates more holes.
Felix's truck halts an angle near Riley's, and Felix jumps out. Riley hops out too, glancing back at me. "Stay in the truck."
“Bear," I whimper as yet another blast goes off, more holes appearing in the ceiling.
A split second later, a shotgun sails through the front window of the trailer and lands in the dirt at Riley's feet.
Despite Riley's instruction, I get out, but I shut the door to keep Panzer inside. "Do something!” I shout.
A bellowing roar shudders the trailer—Bear. Pain. Anger. Animal rage.
Riley and Felix trade looks. "I'm not going in there. My money's on Bear," Felix says.
"He'll kill him!" I scream. "Stop him!"
Both men stare at me. "How the hell are we supposed to stop him?" Riley asks.
A crash shakes the trailer.
Another.
A man howls—Duane. The already shattered window splinters out of the walls as an entire Lay-Z-Boy recliner flies through it, bowing the wall outward and causing the whole structure to lean precariously.
"Holy shit," Riley mutters. "Glad I'm not Duane."
A pistol goes sailing through the window to land in the dirt—it's bloody.
Bear's roar of rage echoes again, and Duane himself staggers past the opening where the window used to be. Bear follows, reaching for him.
"Bear!" Riley shouts. "Stop!"
No answer.
The door of the trailer, already hanging askew, smashes backward, hits the exterior wall, and falls to the ground. Duane flies backward through the open doorway, slams hard into the dirt with an agonized screech, and rolls another six feet, flopping to a stop nearly a dozen feet from the door.
Bear appears in the doorway. Hulking, chest heaving, his face a rictus of murderous rage, his once white T-shirt is tattered and crimson-stained. A knife handle protrudes from his back near his shoulder. His nose is broken, sluicing blood down his front, and his torso leaks blood from several wounds to his chest and stomach.
He stomps out of the trailer and leaps off the porch, striding with grim intent toward Duane's prone, sobbing, pleading form.
Riley's arm circles my waist, hauling me back. "You can't get near him in that state, Noelle."
"LET ME GO!" I screech, thrashing. " BEAR !"
I fight against Riley's hold as violently as I did to get away from Duane, if not harder.
Felix rushes at Bear, grabbing at his arm—Bear doesn't seem to see him or recognize him. He brushes Felix off as if he's no more than a buzzing fly, shoving him absently aside; Felix, all six-two and two hundred pounds of him, goes sprawling in the dirt.
Bear reaches Duane, fists his shirt one-handed, hauls him to his feet, shakes him once like a rag doll, and then takes two spinning steps like an Olympic hammer thrower and hurls Duane six or eight feet into the side of the trailer. Siding cracks, the frame splinters, and the roof caves in where the structure has been compromised. Duane lands heavily in the dirt at the base of the trailer, sprawled awkwardly, limp.
Desperate to stop Bear before he kills Duane, I bite into Riley's arm. He lets me go in shock, and I sprint across the dirt lot.
I grab Bear's arm and haul on him. "Bear! STOP! It's me. Stop. Stop. Please stop. Please stop.”
He registers my presence, at least, his eyes flicking to me, recognition fluttering in his gaze. "Move." His voice is ragged and raw, guttural and grating.
He pushes past me, and his titanic strength and size brush him past me as if I were no more than a piece of paper. Undeterred, I run ahead and circle in front of him, putting myself between him and Duane.
"Stop, Bear. Stop . No more." I hold out my arms as if to create a barrier.
His eyes clear a tiny bit, flicking over my bloody face, and Riley's oversized T-shirt. "He hurt you."
"I'm fine, Bear," I say, inching closer. "I'm okay. Let it be over. Please."
His gaze goes past me to Duane, who, while broken and battered, is still alive, watching in abject terror. "He raped you."
I shuffle closer, inches from him now. "No. No, he didn't. I promise you. I fought him off. Panzer got him. He didn't. I'm okay."
A shake of his head. "He touched you." His voice is flat with terrible finality. "He dies."
Another long stride carries him closer to Duane, who tries to crawl away.
With no other options left, I'm beyond desperation now. I sprint around in front of him once more and leap onto Bear, latching my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I bury my face in his throat, heedless of our blood smearing on each other, mingling
"Please." I grab his beard and jerk his face to mine, hard. "Bear. Listen to me. Look at me, baby. Look at me. Please."
It's the "baby" that gets him. He stands still, eyes moving almost robotically down to mine. His hands are fisted at his sides, chest heaving; my weight clinging to him is nothing whatsoever. "Noelle?" That soft, quiet growl, finally, his eyes clearing of the haze of rage.
"There you are," I whisper. I cling to him all the harder. "Take me home. Please, Bear. Please. I want to go home. Let it go."
His hands uncurl from the fists and lift to my butt, supporting my weight. "You're hurt."
I shake my head. "It's nothing. Broken nose. Bumped head. I'm fine. I promise you I'm okay. He didn't touch me like that."
"He was going to."
"Yes," I admit. "He was. I fought him off, and Panzer stopped him."
"Panzer." He blinks, looking around. "Where is he?"
"Riley's truck."
Sirens howl in the distance, approaching us. At the sound, Bear tenses. Looks at Duane. At me. "Should've let the dog have him."
"I couldn't. I had to get to you. I…I didn't want his death on anyone's conscience. Not mine, not yours, not Panzer’s.” I shake my head. "I know dogs don't have consciences, but still."
Felix and Riley approach us.
"Bear?” Felix meets Bear's gaze, his voice low, calm, and hesitant. "I know Sheriff Mannix personally, okay? He’s my friend. I called him and explained the situation. It's going to be okay. Just stay calm and follow my lead, okay?"
Bear nods and looks at me. "Give me a second."
I hesitate to let him go. "Leave him alone."
"Won't touch him," he promises.
I slide down his front to my feet, and Bear crouches in front of Duane, who cringes away, whimpering pathetically, trying to scrabble under the ruined trailer.
"Thank her for your life." It's a command.
"Th-th-thank you," Duane says, past missing teeth and split lips.
"Don't give a fuck what the police do with you," Bear growls. "No one in Three Rivers ever sees you again. Understand?"
Duane nods, curling into a smaller ball. "Understand."
Bear rises to his feet and comes back to me. His face is troubled, now, sorrowful. "They were a distraction. So he could get to you."
"I know," I say.
"I wasn’t there."
"Bear." I lean into him. "You can't be with me every moment of every day. He'd have found a way somehow."
The sirens are close, now—arriving. Two squad cars and two ambulances skid to a halt behind Riley's and Felix's trucks, lights flashing, sirens going silent.
Four officers approach Bear, hands on their weapons. Bear takes a deep breath and looks at me. "I'm sorry."
He steps toward the officers, wrists together in front of him, his body language resigned.
The officers, however, move past him. Two of them grab Duane by the arms and haul him to his feet. "Duane Murphy, you're under arrest for assault and battery, attempted rape, conspiracy to cause bodily harm…" the list goes on, followed by his Miranda rights, as they drag him to the ambulance, where he’s handcuffed to a gurney and loaded inside. The ambulance departs, leaving behind the second ambulance, the other two officers, and a very puzzled Bear.