Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Luna
Shadow and I cut across the backyard with Maren trailing behind us, all three of us heading toward the screened porch.
With cooler weather approaching, it’s time to install the glass panels for winter.
I hate having to enclose it, but it’s too cold in Colorado not to.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to use it all winter.
I make a mental note to call Eddie, the sanctuary’s handyman.
The panels are too heavy for Maren and me to install alone.
I barely slept last night after the body I found on my porch.
The forensics team was here half the day, throwing off the sanctuary’s usual rhythm and schedule.
Maren told all the volunteers to take the day off.
Neither of us wanted them dealing with the shitshow the day turned into.
Maren stayed last night, and I’ve never been more grateful for her presence.
She made spaghetti and meatballs, and we watched a mindless comedy, both of us trying to forget.
I double and triple-checked the locks on all the windows and doors before bed and stared out the window for hours, looking for anyone lurking in the trees.
I saw nothing unusual, but I still found it impossible to sleep.
Just as the sun started to rise, I gave up and decided a hike would help me shake off this incessant fear pulsing through me.
I intended to go alone, but Maren must have heard me leave my bedroom because a few minutes later, as Shadow and I were about to head out the back door, she came traipsing down the stairs, grumbling about stupid dead bodies fucking with her sleep schedule.
The hike started slow, my fatigue weighing me down, but I found my stride. Now my legs are tingly and pleasantly tired, but Maren’s dramatic groaning suggests she’s having a different experience.
“Oh, come on. A hard, brisk hike is good for you in the morning.”
“So’s a good hard fuck. But you don’t have the equipment to give me the railing I need.”
I open my mouth to respond with a sarcastic comeback, then the feeling crawls across my skin. Invisible eyes watching, tracking our movements. I slow my pace, scanning the treeline. I stop walking. “Do you feel that?”
“What? My legs? No, not after that hill you made me traverse like some kind of mountain goat.”
“No, I’m talking about that.” I look around. The feeling is stronger now, more focused. “Like someone’s watching us.”
“Again?” Maren’s body stiffens as she follows my gaze toward the forest. “Wouldn’t Shadow be freaking out if someone was out there?”
“You’d think so, but—” I stop mid-sentence and point, directing Maren’s attention to Shadow.
He’s on full alert, ears pricked forward, body tense as he stares toward the dense forest, his growls growing louder with each passing second.
“Well, that’s not creepy as shit. Come on, let’s go inside. You need to call the sheriff.”
Tate pokes his head out the back door of the main sanctuary building, interrupting the argument forming on my tongue. He’s one of our early volunteers, often showing up before I head over. He’s not usually here on Sundays, but he offered to come in today when we canceled him yesterday.
“Luna, Roger’s on the phone. Said he’s got a case he needs you for.”
Shit. We detour inside, forgetting about who might be watching, and I pick up the extension. “Hey, Roger, what’s up?”
“Got a call about a wolf hybrid chained up at an abandoned property about twenty miles east on Highway 34, outside town. It’s bad.” The last two words come out clipped, bitten off at the edges.
My heartbeat stutters. “How bad?”
“Worst I’ve seen in years. Animal’s barely alive. Owner left town. Neighbor called it in. I’m texting you the address. Can you come?”
“I’ll grab my emergency kit and head out now.” I end the call and rush to gather supplies.
Maren looks up from petting the rabbits as I burst into the treatment room. “What’s happening?”
“Wolf hybrid, severe abuse case.” I’m already filling my medical bag with extra IV fluids. “Can you handle things here for a few hours?”
“Of course.” Maren’s expression darkens as I zip my bag shut. “Take the truck. I filled it yesterday.”
I nod, grabbing my keys. “If I don’t call in an hour—”
“I’ll handle everything here and be ready when you bring the patient in.”
I jump in the truck and speed down the driveway. As I pull out to the main road, my phone rings. It’s Karen. Damn it, what now?
“Hi, Karen. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve identified the body from your porch.”
“Already? Who is it?”
“Daryl Rawlings.”
The truck swerves. I yank the steering wheel hard, wrestling it back onto the asphalt. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Who would kill Daryl Rawlings?”
“He wasn’t well liked around here, but you’re the only person I know of who threatened to kill him.”
Oops. I did say that, didn’t I?
“Karen, that was said in the heat of the moment, in anger, when we were at his place, taking Buddy from him.”
“I know, Luna. I don’t think you killed him. But you did threaten him in front of me and half a dozen other deputies and county animal services employees. Now he’s found dead on your property. It looks suspicious.”
I slow the truck to avoid interfering with a family of elk crossing the road ahead. “How is that suspicious? Do you really think that if I killed him, I’d call it in? No, I would’ve buried him in a shallow grave and been done with him.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
The elk wander into the meadow beside the road, and I speed up again. “I don’t get it. Who would do this? Who would want to leave me the dead body of a person tied to one of my abuse cases?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to figure it out. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”
“Thanks. I didn’t do it, Karen. But I’m not sad he’s dead.”
I want to regret my words, but there’s a sense of freedom in the honesty.
Karen is quiet for several beats. “I’m not either.”
It’s almost as good when she agrees.
“Stay vigilant, Luna. Get those cameras, and call if anything doesn’t feel right.”
“I will.”
Twenty minutes later, I pull my truck onto a dirt road leading to a dilapidated single-wide trailer, still in shock over Karen’s call.
Roger’s county-issued SUV is parked in front.
I push Daryl Rawlings and my unexpected and confusing happiness that he’s dead to the back of my mind as I grab my bag and jog around the back, following the sound of Roger’s low, soothing voice.
The sight steals my breath. A massive white wolf hybrid, with one amber eye and one blue, lies on its side in mud mixed with its own waste.
A heavy chain attached to a crude collar has rubbed the animal’s neck raw.
Its ribs protrude against matted fur, and flies buzz around several infected wounds.
A large paper plate sits in front of him, scattered with kibble crumbs.
Roger kneels a few feet away, keeping his distance from the weakened but still dangerous animal.
“Jesus.” I crouch beside him, unzipping my medical bag.
“Been chained here for at least a week, from what the neighbors say.” Anger threads through Roger’s voice as he runs a hand through his hair. “Owner skipped town, left it to die.”
“Has it had any water?”
“Dirty puddle from yesterday’s rain. That’s it.”
“Did you give him that food?”
Roger nods. “A cup of kibble. I didn’t want to overdo it. Poor thing wolfed it down in seconds.”
The animal’s eyes track my movements with a dull wariness. Not aggression, just the exhausted vigilance of something that expects only pain from humans.
“I’ll need to sedate him to get him back.” I open my drug kit and start preparing a syringe. “Can you get a catchpole ready? I don’t want to approach until he’s under.”
Roger nods and walks around the house.
I creep forward, pausing between steps to gauge his reaction, my voice a gentle murmur. “Hey there, handsome. I know humans have been nothing but terrible to you, but we’re going to help now. You just need to hold on a little longer.”
The hybrid’s ears twitch at my voice, his breathing labored.
With Roger’s help, I manage to administer the sedative via a long injection pole. We wait in tense silence as the drug takes effect, the hybrid’s mismatched eyes closing as its body goes limp.
I pull on my gloves and approach him. Up close, the damage is even worse. Deep lacerations across the animal’s haunches suggest beatings. Cigarette burns dot its muzzle, and the pads of its paws are cracked and bleeding. I clench my jaw, examining the crude metal collar embedded in infected flesh.
“A week on this chain? What kind of monster would do this? And why did it take the neighbors that long to call it in?”
“Don’t go there.” Roger helps me lift and place the unconscious animal onto a tarp. “Focus on saving him.”
I insert an IV line and begin pushing fluids. He’s severely dehydrated and malnourished. “We need to get him to the sanctuary. I’ll need to surgically remove this collar.”
Roger’s hand on my shoulder is some comfort, but I don’t need it. This animal does. Together, we lift the tarp into the back of his truck and secure him. I administer another dose of medication to keep him sedated for the drive back.
“I’ll follow you.”
My eyes sweep over the weathered shed beside the spot where the hybrid was chained. The name “DEMON” is crudely spray-painted on the side.
“Did you get the owner’s name?”
“Thomas and Bertha Meyers. Sheriff’s already looking for them.”
“Good.” The single word carries the weight of all I can’t allow myself to say. “Thanks for calling me, Roger.”
“If anyone can heal him, it’s you, Luna.”
My vision blurs as I nod and climb into the truck. During the drive back, tears carve hot tracks down my cheeks as I punch in Maren’s number.
“Prep the surgical suite,” I manage between hitched breaths.
“Already done.” Her voice carries that familiar calm that keeps me anchored.