Fossen pursed his lips and dropped his chin. “As I said, please forgive me. It is rare to have someone visit, and I was in a bad mood yesterday. I should have realized that having someone else to work on our little problem could only help.”
Fossen took a step closer and held out his hand. For a second, Rook was torn. Should he just shoot the man and get it over with? He couldn’t do it, not with Fossen in front of him smiling and trying to shake his hand, never mind the fact that shooting people—even assholes—in cold blood broke his own personal code of ethics.
There’s no way he knows about his son, Rook thought. He couldn’t be that good of an actor.
So if Fossen had sent his son to kill Rook, and here Rook was, what did the town’s leader think had happened? It didn’t make any sense. Sometimes, situations demanded shooting first and asking questions later, but this didn’t seem like one of those times.
Rook shook Fossen’s hand. “I’m glad to hear that, I guess.” When he met Fossen’s eyes, he didn’t see any deception, though he saw the same power he’d noticed the previous day. He wouldn’t kill the man, but trust…? Well, Rook would watch his back every second in this town, Fossen’s apparent change of heart notwithstanding.
As they shook hands, Fossen seemed to scrutinize Rook’s face. “Where are you from?”
Rook wondered if the man was on to him. “Russia.”
“Yes,” Fossen said. “I mean originally. Your lineage.”
Rook saw no reason to lie about that, so he told the truth. “My father was born in Germany. My mother in Sweden. Both families immigrated to…Russia, and my parents met in school.”
“I sensed you had a strong bloodline,” Fossen said, looking strangely pleased. But his lips turned down slightly. “Though it is strange. Immigrating to Russia? I can’t help wondering why.”
“You and me both,” Rook said. “It’s a family mystery I’m afraid.” The truth, of course, was that both families had immigrated to the United States, as many families at the time did. If Fossen suspected the lie, he didn’t press it.
“I had my first encounter with the creature last night,” Rook said, changing the subject. “Have you seen it?”
“Yes, one time. After the first killing. We have not had a murder here in two decades, and people were very upset. That night, my son Jens and I patrolled the area to see what we could learn. The moon was full and I smelled the stench right before I saw it. As soon as it recognized me, it ran away, faster than you would think possible.”
Rook said, “Oh, I saw the bastard coming at full speed toward me—I know about fast. What do you mean it recognized you?”
“I am sorry, I meant it saw me. As soon as it saw me, it ran. What did you do when it came at you?”
“I put a bullet in its leg. It changed directions but hardly slowed at all, like the bullet didn’t even hurt it.”
Fossen’s eyebrows showed a trace of surprise. “You hit it? Really? That is more than any of us have managed.”
“Yeah, well, the thing can outrun me in its sleep, and I doubt I’ll get so lucky again. Do you have any idea what it is?”
“I do not know. We are an unusual town, but a monster such as this…” Fossen held his palms up, “…is beyond our experience.”
Rook thought he detected something in Fossen’s voice, a sign that his answer didn’t constitute the whole truth. No surprise there. He decided not to pursue it. “I’ve had an experience or three, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen a guy built like a tree who can run like a cheetah and smells like Satan’s asshole. So tell me about the wolves. How do they fit in?”
“The wolves.” Fossen eyes darted to the ground for a second. “That will take a few minutes to explain. Why don’t you come back to the house? We will have some tea and I will tell you the whole story.”
Rook stifled a laugh. No way he’d hear the whole story about anything. Tea with Fossen could be more hazardous to his health than chain-smoking unfiltered Russian cigarettes. Still, he had no other options.
“Sure, that sounds fine.”
“Then come this way.” Fossen turned back the way he had come. Rook followed, glancing at the houses as he passed them. He noticed one disturbing thing. Every single house had at least once face pressed to the glass of a window.
They were watching him.
“So you want to know about the wolves?” Fossen didn’t waste any time getting to the point after a woman—possibly his wife, Rook wasn’t sure—brought their tea into the living room. Rook considered this directness one small point in the man’s favor.
“Seems like a good idea.”
“Very well. It might seem odd in such an isolated town, but I am a scientist by trade. I have a small lab where I study animals, with a special focus on wolves.”