Chapter 33
Deputies had a man in custody. Clifford Beaumont. The same guy Paris had interviewed earlier. Tears streamed down his round cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I was just trying to help,” he said as Mendoza stuffed him into the back of a patrol car.
A few others were in custody in the back of squad cars.
Red and blue lights flashed. Paris and her camera crew were already on the scene. A crowd of curious onlookers had gathered.
We made our way down the path to the beach to see Brenda examining the remains of a young man in a werewolf costume. A high-powered rifle had put a hole in his chest and left the cheap suit stained with blood.
My stomach twisted at the sight. The kid was young, and there was no way anyone in their right mind could have mistaken him for a panther, or a werewolf, or any kind of predator.
A teenage girl stood nearby sobbing.
Daniels looked on with a grim face.
“I see you’ve got the perp in custody,” I said.
“The nimrod was with his friends, drinking beer when he saw the wolf attack,” he said in air quotes. Daniels shook his head in dismay. “I knew something like this was going to happen. I blame that asshole that put out the reward and everyone in the media that pushed the story out.”
Daniels was not a happy camper.
JD and I watched as Brenda and her crew bagged the remains and transferred the body to a gurney.
“The kid’s name is Jeremy Davies,” the sheriff said. “I just wanted you two down here to see this. Maybe that will light a fire under your asses to solve this thing. This damn island has turned into a circus, and the only way it’s leaving this town is if there’s no more werewolf to hunt.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” I said.
“Do more,” he barked before storming away, disgusted by the whole thing.
I felt like crap about it. His words didn’t help. By the look on Jack’s face, he felt the same way.
Paris knew better than to approach at a time like this, but I sought her out.
I stormed across the parking lot with a tight jaw and fire in my eyes. The cameraman shouldered his rig as I approached and lensed me up.
“Can I have a word with you off-camera?” I asked.
She motioned to the cameraman to back off. “This is not my fault. I warned people on air, just like you asked.”
I wanted to be mad at somebody. “Did you get a chance to see the body?”
Paris nodded and frowned.
“Media shapes perception. Stories have consequences.”
“Every station on the island ran with that story.”
“A boy is dead, his girlfriend will be traumatized for life, and that drunk idiot threw his life away. Just something to keep in mind.”
“I’m sorry, Tyson. I really am.”
“Just get the word out that vigilante hunting of supposed werewolves will not be tolerated. I don’t want to get called to another crime scene like this.”
I marched back to the Porsche. We hopped in and headed back to Oyster Avenue.
“Nothing we could have done,” JD said.
“I know,” I said, deflated.
“We’ll catch a break, sooner or later.”
“Hopefully sooner.”
It took a minute to unwind, still hot about the whole thing.
The engine howled, and wind whipped in through the open windows. The air still smelled damp. I lost myself in my thoughts for a moment.
I pulled myself out of it and called Taryn along the way.
She didn’t pick up.
I left a message. “Hey, sorry about the interruption. We wrapped up and are heading back to Oyster Avenue. I’m sure I can’t convince you to meet up again, but if you get a wild hair, let me know. Hopefully, there are no more emergencies tonight.”
I didn’t expect to hear back, but it was worth a shot.
The boulevard was way more crowded than before. Jack found a place to park on a side street, and we met the guys at Vibe. They wanted to catch Venom Kiss, who were headlining.
The place was packed. Plenty of girls in seductive costumes. Lots of fishnets, short skirts, and high heels. Not a bad place to be, but we were both still in a somber mood.
Neon Voltage was on the stage, cranking out neo-post punk.
Crash, Dizzy, and Styxx hung out by the back bar. They had already drawn a small crowd of groupies.
We hung out for a bit but decided to call it an early evening. Neither one of us felt festive at the moment.
JD and I left Vibe just after Venom Kiss took the stage. What I heard of them sounded pretty good. We strolled the avenue, weaving through costumed revelers, heading back to the car.
“Tomorrow, we’ll track down some of those contestants with decent costumes,” Jack said. “It's a long shot, but you never know.”
"We might want to have another talk with that former student of Taryn’s. I want to find out who his mystery client is.”
"Somebody with money to burn,” Jack said.
We found the Porsche and drove back to the Avventura. Jack parked by the dock. Just as he killed the engine, the sheriff called again. It couldn’t be good news.
“There was another attack,” Daniels said. “I need you two at the cemetery, pronto.”
“We’re on our way,” I said with a sigh.
Jack cranked up the engine, and we sped across town to the city of the dead.
Patrol cars flickered red and blue. A small crowd had gathered by the wrought-iron gate. Deputies kept pedestrians at bay.
An ambulance pulled out, lights flashing just before Jack pulled in through the gate. We followed the asphalt road to more patrol cars and the ME’s van.
Jack parked, and we hopped out and hurried to the scene.
The dappled rays of moonlight pierced through the oak trees.
Moss hung from branches, and there was an eerie mist on the ground.
Above-ground tombs and mausoleums created a haunting necropolis.
It was everything you wanted a spooky cemetery to be at midnight near Halloween.
Something straight out of a horror film.
We found the sheriff, who was talking to a frazzled kid. He was maybe 17 or 18. His raven hair fell into his eyes like a mop. He was skinny with a narrow face and an angular nose. Dressed in all black with a cape and pale face paint that had faded, he wasn't a convincing vampire.
"Is Avery going to be okay?” he asked the sheriff, his worried eyes darting between the three of us.
"I don't know," Daniels responded.
"I want to go to the hospital. I want to see her. Now!”
"There’s nothing you can do for her right now.
The trauma team will evaluate her and take her into surgery immediately.
It may be a few hours before she's out. I’ll have deputies take you to the hospital after we’re finished here.
These two are Special Crimes. I need you to tell them everything you told me. ”
The kid looked at us, and I made introductions.
Cameron’s impatient eyes surveyed us. "You don’t look like cops.”
"They're the best in the department," Daniels said, trying to reassure the kid. I was surprised the words came out of his mouth. "Start at the beginning.”
"Avery wanted to come to the cemetery. I know, I know, it's trespassing, but everybody does it. She said it was hot and spooky, and she wanted, you know…"
It was not uncommon to catch people engaging in lewd and lascivious acts in the cemetery around Halloween at midnight.
"We were fooling around right over there," he said, pointing to a raised tomb that now had speckles of fresh blood on it. His eyes grew wide with panic as he relived the moment. “That's when it attacked. It just came out of nowhere.”
"Describe it," I said, full of doubt.
"It stood about 9 feet tall. It had the face of a wolf and glowing amber eyes. It slashed at Avery with razor-sharp claws, cutting across her abdomen. I took off running, but it charged at me. I grabbed a branch that had fallen and whacked the fucker over the head. It shied away and took off, running toward the exit. The fucking thing was fast. I called 911, and the EMTs arrived a few minutes later. I did everything I could to stop the bleeding.” Tears filled his eyes, and he trembled with fear.
His shaky hands were covered in crimson. "There was so much blood.”
It was all over a nearby gravestone.
I shared a look with the sheriff. He didn't believe it any more than I did.
"How much have you had to drink tonight?" I asked.
The kid’s face wrinkled with anger. "I saw what I saw.”
"How much?”
Cam shrugged. "Not much. I don't know. Maybe a six-pack.”
"Anything else?”
"Dude, I'm not tripping on shrooms or anything!”
"What else did you take?”
He hesitated for a long moment. "Am I going to get in trouble?”
"Nothing you say, short of admitting to murder, is going to get you in trouble. We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Cameron said, "We both popped a tab of X earlier. The plan was to come to the cemetery and bang it out while we were peeking."
"So you could have hallucinated the whole thing?”
"I didn't hallucinate shit! A fucking werewolf came out of nowhere and attacked me and my girlfriend.”
I shared another doubtful look with the sheriff.
I shined a flashlight on his clothes. It was hard to see against the dark fabric, but there didn't appear to be much blood, apart from his hands. A few cast-off speckles here and there. "What's your relationship like with your girlfriend?”
Confusion wrinkled his brow. "I love my girlfriend. We’re gonna get married eventually. We’re going to be together forever.” His eyes filled again. "At least, that was the plan." He broke down into sobs.
“Was anyone else around?” I asked.
“No,” he replied with a tight throat.
We stepped away with the sheriff for a conference, giving the kid a moment to compose himself.
Daniels muttered, "I'm not inclined to believe any of this nonsense.
Everybody who's seen this thing has been on some kind of substance.
Now, I don't think this kid is just making it up, and I don't think he killed his girlfriend.
But I certainly don't believe there's an eight- or nine-foot werewolf stalking the cemeteries and beaches of Coconut Key. And this ain't no panther.”
"We’ve got a couple of weak leads that we're going to follow up on tomorrow," I said. “I’m convinced we’re dealing with a guy in an elaborate costume.”
"This ain’t like no costume I’ve ever seen. If and when Avery gets out of surgery, I want to hear her perspective on this.”
"We’ll follow up with her,” I said.
Paris Delaney and her crew were on the scene, soaking up the footage as usual.
I gave Cam a card and told him to get in touch if he remembered any additional details.
Paris interviewed him, and he repeated his story just as he told us. That was the third time he told it—once to Daniels, once to us, and now to the reporter. His story maintained consistency throughout. Liars usually can't keep their story straight.
Daniels had another deputy drive Cam to the hospital after the interview.
Paris approached as JD and I walked back to the Porsche—this time, without her camera crew.
"Tyson. I interviewed Cam. He talked about the werewolf. I know you’re concerned about how we’re portraying this whole thing.
But he swears up and down it's real. I made a statement at the end of the segment that hunting any animals within the city limits is illegal and that anyone attempting to kill or capture a supposed werewolf will face legal consequences.
I am not endorsing this thing. I am just reporting what's happening in our city.”
"I understand. You’ve got a job to do. I appreciate you trying to bring balance to the reporting.”
"So, are we good? Or are you still mad at me?" she asked with a sassy hip and a cutesy voice.
I smiled. "Who could stay mad at you?"
She laughed. "I think a lot of people. But don't worry, I'll keep pissing those people off. It's the people I care about that matter.”
I gave her a look, then I asked JD, “Did she just say she cared about us?”
"That's what I heard.”
"Neither one of you have proof I said it. If it's not on video, it didn't happen.” She smiled, spun around, and marched back to her crew, her high heels clacking against the asphalt.
We left the scene and headed back to the Avventura. There was no point spending the evening in the hospital. If Avery survived, she would need time to recover and would likely be heavily medicated when she got out of surgery.
When we got back to the boat, I grabbed Buddy's leash and took him out for a walk, then settled in for bed.
I flipped on the TV before going to bed and caught the replay from the cemetery.
I watched Paris interview Cam. There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice.
But I still couldn't wrap my head around the idea of a mythical beast roaming the streets.
Brenda called first thing in the morning with the break that we were looking for.