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Authors: Ray Garton

Ravenous (6 page)

BOOK: Ravenous
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Leaning heavily on the tree, Hurley climbed to his feet, covered with mud. He turned and shone the flashlight back up the slope. It fell on Garrett. Hurley trudged back up the muddy slope and stopped at the prone figure of his deputy.

Garrett's leather jacket had been pulled half off, his spread arms almost completely out of the sleeves. The shirt of his uniform had been torn open. The undershirt beneath it had been ripped to shreds. So had Garrett's abdomen. Ropes of intestines hung out of the great hole that was his torso. Hurley moved the flashlight's beam up to Garrett's face and saw that his throat had been torn out. His eyes and mouth were open wide.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, Garrett,” Hurley said, his voice broken. His stomach turned over inside and for a moment, he thought he was going to vomit. But he swallowed frantically and held it down.

Then he stopped moving, stopped breathing, and listened.

No more rustling bushes, no sounds of movement. Only the gentle whisper of the drizzling rain, the dripping of rainwater from the branches of trees.

Hurley was alone in the patch of woods with his eviscerated deputy.

 

 

 

3

 

An Animal

 

 

An hour later, three Sheriff's Department cruisers were parked in the Emergency Room parking lot, and four deputies were spread out, looking for the naked man. Sharp flashlight beams cut through the rainy night in the strip of woods on the slope that ran down to Finch Road—the road that led up to the hospital—as well as across the road in another patch of woods. So far, no sign of the man had been found—except for Deputy Garrett's eviscerated corpse.

Hurley sat at the desk outside the morgue, listening to his deputies communicate on his portable radio, waiting for word that the man had been found, and waiting for George Purdy to finish the autopsy on Garrett. George had invited Hurley to observe the autopsy, but he wasn't up to it—finding Garrett as he had was enough for one night.

He heard the door push open and turned to see George come out of the morgue in a long white smock stained with blood. He wiped his hands on a strip of paper towel as he smiled down at Hurley.

“Well, that's done,” George said.

Hurley stood. “So, what's the story?”

“It's a
strange
story, Sheriff,” George said. “Very strange.”

“Well, let's hear it.”

“From what I found, Sheriff, you shouldn't be looking for a man. You should be looking for an animal.”

“An
animal
?”

George took in a deep breath as he nodded. With the wadded paper towel in his right hand, he put his fists on his hips, elbows out at his sides. “Your deputy was partially
eaten
, Sheriff. His insides and his throat were torn by fangs, and his intestines and other organs were partially eaten. By something.”

Hurley frowned as he looked at the deputy coroner, tilted his head to one side. Before he could speak, George continued:

“There's no way my John Doe could have done what was done to your deputy, Sheriff. It was an animal, most likely a large animal.”

“Like what? A ... a bear, maybe?”

“Possibly. A bear, a mountain lion, something big and strong, with claws and fangs.”

“We don't have bears around here.”

George shrugged. “You've got
something
 out there, Sheriff—something big and hungry, now with a taste for people. You hear stories all the time these days about wild animals showing up in all kinds of places. Civilization spreads and drives animals out of their natural homes and into towns and cities. Surely there are bears up in these mountains, right? It wouldn't be impossible for one to make its way down here.”

Hurley remembered the howling he'd heard earlier that night. He was just as certain there were no wolves around Big Rock as he was that there were no bears, so he decided not to mention it. It probably was, after all, a dog. But he filed it away in the back of his mind.

“You're sure it couldn't have been done by your John Doe?” Hurley asked.

“My John Doe was unarmed—he was naked, remember—and he didn't have fangs. It took fangs to tear your deputy open like that, Sheriff, fangs made the bites on that body. It wasn't done with a knife, or any other weapon. There are bite marks around the edges of the openings in both the throat and the abdomen and on the arms, bite marks made by large jaws—marks no human could make.”

Hurley nodded as he slowly stood. “So I'm looking for an animal.”

“That's right. You might want to tell your deputies who are out there searching tonight. They could be in danger.”

“Thank you, George. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Sheriff.”

“I'll see you later.”

“Not too soon, I hope. It's never anything good that brings us together.”

They shook hands and George went back through the swinging double doors.

As Hurley started down the corridor, he took the microphone clipped to his shoulder. Its curly black cord was attached to the radio on his belt. He depressed the button with his thumb and said, “This is Hurley. Come on in, all of you. I'll meet you at my rig in the parking lot.”

Another woman raped, but probably not by the serial rapist who had already attacked four women in town ... a missing corpse that apparently was not a corpse after all ... and ... an
animal
. Hurley released a heavy sigh as walked down the corridor.

The Pine County Rapist
, Hurley thought as he pushed the button to summon the elevator. It would be nice if Emily had killed the rapist for them. But Hurley had his doubts. For one thing, nobody had reported that the rapist had such a bad odor. Emily said her attacker reeked, and everyone how'd come in contact with the John Doe confirmed it. And so far, the Pine County Rapist had killed no one, while Emily's attacker had, according to her, been trying to kill her. The Pine County Rapist wore a mask, Hurley knew that much, a cheap Halloween mask, and Emily had said nothing about a mask. It certainly didn't sound—or smell—like the Pine County Rapist, who was described by two of his five victims as smelling of some kind of cologne or aftershave, although they'd been unable to identify it.

 

* * * *

 

Hugh Crane pulled the RAV4 into his driveway, waited for the automatic garage door to open, then pulled into the garage. Before going home, he'd stopped at the all-night Walgreens Drugs to fill the prescription for Valium that the doctor had given Emily.

She slept beside him, her head leaning against the window at her right as she snored purringly. The kids were sound asleep in back. He reached over and put his hand on Emily's shoulder, nudged her gently.

“Em? Em, honey? We're home.”

She did not stir at first. Hugh hoped she'd wake up, because there was no way he could carry her into the house—she simply was too heavy.

“Emily? Honey?” He shook her carefully, not wanting to startle her.

“Mmmm?”

“We're home. Come on, let's go inside.”

Finally, she lifted her head and looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She smacked her lips as she sat up, then opened her door.

Once inside the house, he put his arm around her and said, “Come on, let's get you into bed.”

She did not argue. They went up the stairs slowly, then down the hall and into the bedroom. She went to the bed, sat down on the edge, turned on the lamp on her side. She just sat there for a long moment, then started to unbutton her torn and dirty blouse. She stood and Hugh helped her undress.

“I want to take a bath,” she said.

“Of course, of course. I'll start it for you.” He went into the attached bathroom and ran the bath. When he came out again, she was wearing her blue robe. He put an arm around her and led her into the bathroom.

“I'm fine now,” she said. “I can ... y'know ... take it from here.”

“Okay. Just call me if you need anything. I'm gonna get the kids and put them to bed.”

She nodded.

Hugh left the bathroom and closed the door. He went out to the garage and woke the kids up in the backseat, brought them inside and put them to bed, carrying Jeannie. That done, he went back to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. “Everything okay?” he said.

“Yeah, fine,” she said. The bath was thick with sudsy bubbles. Her eyes were puffy, as if she'd been crying.

“Okay. I'll be right outside.”

He closed the door, went to his side of the bed, and turned on the bedside lamp.

Before they left the hospital, a rape counselor had come to talk to Emily, a thin, pale woman with mousy brown hair in a bun, wearing a long blue coat and carrying a large leather bag slung over her shoulder. She wore large glasses, spoke in a high, tremulous voice, and had a pinched, thin-lipped smile. She'd gone behind the curtain and she and Emily had spoken in quiet voices for awhile. She'd left a card with Emily and told her to give her a call when she was feeling better physically and wanted to talk. Emily had given the card to Hugh, and he'd put it in his pocket. He took it out now and looked at it. It read, simply, DIANE CONNIVER, with a phone number below that. He put the card on the nightstand, along with the bottle of Valium.

Hugh took off his clothes and put on his plush dark-green robe. He stretched out on the bed with his back against the headboard. He used the remote to turn on the television so Emily wouldn't hear him talking in the bathroom, then he picked up the phone and punched in Vanessa's number.

She sounded sleepy when she answered. “‘Lo?”

“Hi. It's me.”

“Hey. What's up?”

He sighed. “I got her home. She's in the tub.”

“What happened?”

He gave her a brief version of the night's events.

“God, that's awful.”

“But you know what?” he whispered.

“Hm?”

“I wish I was with you.”

“Aw, that's sweet,” Vanessa said. “But she needs you now.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then: “I have an empty house I'm showing. Can you meet me during your lunch hour tomorrow?”

“You're going to work tomorrow? Don't you think you should stay home with her?”

“Yeah, I'm going to call in, say I can't work tomorrow. But I can get away for your lunch hour. The house is on Clauson.”

“Sorry, I can't tomorrow.”

“You can't? Why?”

“I have plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yes.”

“Well ... what kind of plans?”

She was silent for a long moment. Finally, she took in a breath and said, “Hugh, you know, you don't have any exclusive claim over me.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You realize that, don't you?” Vanessa said.

“What do you mean? Are you saying ... are you seeing someone
else
?”

“You're married, Hugh. There's no real future for us, right? On the other hand, I'm single and free, and ... well, I'm taking advantage of that.”

Hugh felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “Then you're seeing someone else.”

“I'm not saying if I'm seeing someone else or not, I'm just saying that I'm
free
to see someone else if I want. Understand?”

“Are you ... am I ... am I losing you?”

“Of course not. I'm just saying that for me to devote myself exclusively to you would be a waste of my time, because our relationship isn't going any further than it's gone already. Understand?”

He said nothing for awhile—he didn't like it, but he could not think of a good way to argue against it. Then: “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good. Now, maybe I can see you the next day. Will that house still be available?”

“Sure.”

“Good. It's a date. My lunch hour on Thursday, then.”

After he hung up, Hugh sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone, frowning. He imagined Vanessa with another man and felt a pang of jealousy. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then stood. He set his alarm, took off his robe, and got into bed.

They'd met in the parking lot of the Safeway grocery store at the northern end of town. She'd hit the back fender of the RAV4 when she backed out of her parking space without looking. They'd both gotten out of their vehicles, exchanged insurance information, and Hugh had found himself, quite surprisingly, flirting with her. She was very attractive—tall and voluptuous with that beautiful auburn hair, milky skin, big dark-brown eyes and luscious, rosy, kissable lips. The flirting had been innocent at first, and she'd played along, laughing with him, reaching out and touching his arm a couple of times. Then he'd said it, surprising himself even more:

“How would you like to have lunch with me today?” He'd already bought his lunch in Safeway, intending to eat his pastrami sandwich in the car. He had almost two hours on his hands until he had to meet with a couple who were interested in seeing a house on Rampart just outside of town. But when he'd asked her to lunch, that sandwich in the paper bag on the passenger seat was immediately forgotten.

“Lunch, huh?” She'd looked at his wedding ring quite obviously, then into his eyes. There had been a challenge in those brown eyes then, a question:
Are you sure you know what you're doing?

“Yes, lunch,” he'd said. “We could go right over there.” He pointed to the Perko's in the front part of the Safeway parking lot.

“Sure,” she said. “Lunch sounds good.”

That was how it had started. The lunch had been slightly uncomfortable for Hugh because he was so attracted to her, he'd found it difficult to concentrate on their conversation.

He had never been unfaithful to Emily before, but things had changed between them. Emily had gained a lot of weight since having Jeannie three years ago. She'd become lazy, sometimes going for days without doing a bit of housework. She seemed to have lost interest in sex, and when they did make love, she was sluggish and tired easily. More often than not, she turned him down with one excuse or another—usually, “I'm too tired right now.” Hugh had begun to feel neglected without even realizing it. And his eyes had begun to wander. The excess fat on Emily's body was a turn-off to him. The jiggling hanging flesh, the long jagged stretch marks, the patches of lumpy cellulite, the rolls of fat that went around the middle of her body like gelatinous belts. He found himself noticing other women more than ever before, fantasizing about them. Vanessa had come along at precisely the right time, and he did not waste any time in getting the relationship moving.

BOOK: Ravenous
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