Chapter 22
"That's an interesting legend," I said, getting down to business.
"There are many,” Taryn replied.
“I’d like to hear more.”
"As I said, what fascinates me is that similar legends appear in multiple cultures that had no contact with one another. Don’t you find that odd?”
"I suppose.”
"Over time, the legend evolves, gets more dramatic, the details change, the context changes.”
"I'm sure you're familiar with the most recent attack,” I said.
"How could I miss it? It's been all over the news. It seems they’re having a field day with this whole thing.”
"They are, and I don’t like it.” I paused. “If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?”
Intrigue filled her alluring eyes. "Ooh, a secret! Now that sounds interesting.”
I told Taryn about the escaped panther.
"I’m not a zoologist. That's not really my area. But from what I understand, it would be rare for a panther to attack a human. But, if the animal is in a stressed state, hungry, excitable, it's definitely possible.”
"Both of our witnesses were under the influence to varying degrees.”
"I don't care how many glasses of wine I've had, I'm not mistaking a panther for a werewolf,” Taryn said.
"I think we’re looking for a guy in a suit.”
"Then you're probably looking for someone with advanced skills to create one or a lot of money to have one commissioned.”
It sparked an idea. I kept it in my back pocket for a moment. "You must run into all types of occult enthusiasts. Are there any groups we should look into? Werewolf aficionados?”
Her eyes narrowed at me. "You're asking if I know anyone obsessed with werewolves who might go so far as to dress up as one and murder somebody under the full moon?"
"You catch on quick."
She shifted uncomfortably. Taryn started to speak, then stopped.
"I do have a group of students. They're really good kids.
They have an extracurricular social group.
It's not university-sponsored. It's for werewolf enthusiasts.
People who identify as werewolves. People who are fascinated by the legend. "
"Identify as werewolves?" JD said, incredulous.
"Nobody in the group actually thinks they're a werewolf. At least, I don’t think so. They identify with the transformative spirit of the werewolves. The power within. We all have a wolf inside of us, don't we? Two, actually—the good wolf and the bad wolf."
"I need the names of everyone in this social group," I said.
Taryn shook her head. "Absolutely not. I can't give out student information. That would be unethical. The students have come to me in confidence, and I will not violate their trust.”
"One of the students could be a murderer.”
Taryn shook her head. "Not possible. Like I said, these are good kids.”
"Never underestimate what a motivated individual can do.”
"And what exactly is the motivation for a double homicide?"
"You're the occult expert,” I said. “You tell me.”
Her eyes narrowed at me. "These kids are having fun, escaping reality. Role playing. Exploring themselves. That's all it is. Pretty soon, they’re going to be in the real world, paying bills and taxes, dealing with life and everything that comes with it. Let them have their little fantasies.”
"I think this is far more than a fantasy for some.”
"Even if I wanted to, it’s against school policy and federal law. That’s protected information. You know that.”
It was worth a shot.
"What I can do is ask around and see if anyone is willing to volunteer any information. How does that sound?”
"It's better than nothing," I said with a resigned sigh. "Listen, it's almost happy hour. How about we buy you a drink?”
She lifted a salty eyebrow. "You gotta be kidding me?”
"I'm dead serious."
"It's not even noon yet."
Jack smiled, "It's happy hour somewhere.”
Taryn shook her head in disbelief. “No wonder you haven't solved the break-in. Do you guys ever work?”
JD and I feigned offense and exchanged a glance.
"We’re the hardest working men in show business," JD said.
"This isn’t show business. This is law enforcement, or have you guys gotten confused?”
I laughed.
"Work hard, play harder,” Jack said with a mischievous grin.
"Well, I have another class in 45 minutes. You're more than welcome to sit in if you'd like, but I will not tolerate any distractions.”
I asked, "Can we ask questions?”
"As long as they aren’t disrupting.”
My phone buzzed with a call from the sheriff. I pulled the device from my pocket and swiped the screen. "What is it now?”
"Possibly a break in that pumpkin murder.”
“I'm all ears.”
"Apparently, one of the kids found a bloody sneaker in their father's closet. DNA results haven't come back yet, but preliminary blood tests reveal it's the same type as the victim. Echols signed off on a warrant. Find that son-of-a-bitch and bring him in.”
"Where’s he at?"
"Not at home. But I'm sure you can find him."
"I'm on it," I said before ending the call. I gave an apologetic shrug to Taryn, not that she cared. "Duty calls. Looks like we'll have to catch your class another time.”
"I'm heartbroken," she replied, thick with sarcasm.
I gave her another card and told her to get in touch if anything came up.
We said our goodbyes, hustled up the stairs, and stepped into the hallway. I filled JD in on the situation.
My next call was to Isabella. "I need another favor. See if you can locate Grant Peterson.”
Her fingers tapped the keys. After a moment, she said, “Looks like he's on the golf course. He's on 16 right now. You could probably catch him as he comes off the 18th if you hurry.”
"You're a doll," I said.
JD and I jogged across campus to the Founders’ Court, hopped into the Porsche, and sped over to the Coconut Key Country Club.
We pulled into the parking lot that was full of luxury vehicles and found a place to park by the 18th green.
Jack made sure not to park too close. A wayward golf ball wouldn’t be good for the body panels of the classic car.