“Pop, spit it out,” Titus said, even though he was pretty sure he knew what his father was going to ask. It was written in the slope of his posture, the lines of his face.
“Would you come to Gene’s funeral with me tomorrow? He don’t have much family, and there probably won’t be a lot of folks there, and … well, the truth is I could use you there, son. I … Gene was one of my best friends.” Albert wiped his hands on his apron, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, careful to keep the hand he chopped onions with away from his eyes.
Titus sipped his beer. “I don’t know, Pop. I’m in the middle of this thing. And I just had to let one of my guys go.”
“What? Who?” Albert asked.
“Don’t matter. I just don’t think I’m gonna be able to go, Pop,” Titus said.
Albert turned back to his frying pan and turned down the heat. The sizzling became a light bubbling. He spoke with his back toward Titus.
“I don’t ask you for much, son. I know you a man who has responsibilities. Lord have mercy, ever since your mama passed you been responsible as hell. I try not to push, but I’m asking you as your father. I … I just was hoping you would come with me. And I thought maybe we could put some flowers on your mama’s grave.” He sighed. “You know, it’s funny. At first you go out there every week. It’s all you can think about. Then, little bit by little bit, like a slow leak on a tire, you find yourself going less and less, until one day you look up and it’s your anniversary and you realize you’re burying your best friend on the happiest day of your life and you haven’t been to see your wife since her birthday last year.”
Albert paused. “And I don’t know if I can do it alone.”
Titus sat his beer on the counter. His father was as close to tears as Titus had seen him in a long time.
“Okay, Pop. We’ll go. I’ll go,” Titus said.
Albert took the frying pan off the burner and sat it on the counter. He went to Titus and put his arms around him. “Thank you, boy.” He patted him on his back once, twice, three times.
“Now eat your food, I put my foot in them pork chops,” Albert said.
* * *
* * *
Later, as he lay in his bed turning the case over in his head like the slow but sure gears of some enormous dieselpunk machine, his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Darlene said.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. Was just wondering what you were doing. Haven’t heard from you all day,” she said.
Titus closed his eyes. “I know. It’s been hectic. I’m sorry. Just a lot going on.”
“I wanna come over, but … I’m kinda afraid to walk from my house to the car,” Darlene said. She laughed, but it was bereft of mirth.
“It’s okay. You can come over tomorrow night. I got some stuff to do in the morning, then I’m taking my dad to his friend Gene’s funeral in the afternoon. You can come over after that,” Titus said.
“I saw Channel Nineteen was in town today. And Wanda Leigh told me some lady is here doing a podcast or something, asking a lot of questions. Was waiting for people coming out the Safeway. I don’t know, it’s like this ain’t Charon no more. Feels like we in a horror movie, except I don’t want to be the final girl,” Darlene said.
“Hey, so I need to tell you something,” Titus said.
The line went quiet.
“Yeah,” Darlene said after a few seconds.
“So, that girl at the Safeway? Her name is Kellie Stoner. She came by the office earlier. She’s a reporter from Indiana.” Titus let the statement sit there between them for a second.
“She was telling people y’all were friends,” Darlene said.
More silence.
Titus sighed. “Well, we were more than friends. We dated for a little while. I just wanted you to know that,” Titus said.
“Okay.”
“You all right?”
“Yeah. I mean, y’all been broke up for a while, right?” Darlene asked.
Yeah, Titus thought. But today when I saw her my mouth went dry and my heart was slamming against my ribs. We used to have borderline-violent sex. To the point I used to feel dirty afterward. But I liked it. And I kinda hate myself for liking it. And there’s something wild about her that is alluring and maddening at the same time. And I don’t like being wild, feral, out-of-control.
“Yeah. That was all over a long time ago,” Titus said.
TWENTY
Titus arrived at his desk by seven the next morning. He was greeted by Cam and a note from the night shift. Mrs. June Baker, an octogenarian with terrible aim, had shot through her window at two kids who lived down the road a piece who’d been knocking on said windows at ten at night. According to Pip, Mrs. Baker thought it was “that boy who killed them children” at her window. The kids were okay, just a little glass in their hair and a little urine in their underwear.
“Medical examiner on line two,” Cam said before Titus could set down his coffee. He picked up the phone and cradled it against his neck as he put his valise down on the desk.
“Hello.”
“Sheriff, Dr. Kim. Just wanted you to know we confirmed Cole Marshall’s identity through dental records and DNA.”
“Thank you, Dr. Kim, I appreciate your hard work with all this,” Titus said, making a mental note to contact Cole’s parents and put a statement on the sheriff’s office’s social media page.
“Well, as I expect you’d say, it’s our job. Also, while I have you, I wanted to let you know we are running tests on the section of skin your office received. Also, we are running DNA on both the samples we found on the bodies and samples taken from the bodies themselves. Using a new technique to make connections through familial DNA. Should have some results by this weekend,” Dr. Kim said.
“That would really be some good news. We could use a little bit of that around here.”
“Sheriff, I also wanted to tell you we found the same synthetic fibers that are consistent with fibers used in some wigs on Mr. Marshall’s body as we found on the remains from the weeping willow tree,” Dr. Kim said.
Titus nodded. That confirmed what he had suspected. The Last Wolf had killed Cole Marshall.
“What was Cole’s cause of death? I’m assuming it was having his throat slit, but was he alive when that was done? And were you able to identify the kind of knife used?” Titus asked.
“It was a combination of the lacerations to the carotid and femoral arteries. We believe he was alive when the assailant perpetrated the removal of his lungs. We found damage to his hyoid bone. That could have come from either a choke hold or manual strangulation. The knife was probably a wide-blade instrument, like a bowie knife. Extremely sharp,” Dr. Kim said. Before Titus could respond, she spoke again.
“The person who did this, Sheriff, they are an incredibly disturbed person. I don’t think I’m telling you anything you don’t know.”
“No, you’re not,” Titus said.
* * *
Titus finished posting the update about Cole on the office’s social media page. He’d called on Cole’s mother and father at their house an hour ago. As long as he’d been in law enforcement he would never get used to the screams of parents when they realized their child was never going to see the sun again.
Steve knocked on the frame of his open office door.
“Come on in. You pick up Elias?” Titus asked.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I went by there about thirty minutes ago. His wife said he wasn’t there. Then one of those creepy daughters blurted out that he hadn’t been home for a few days,” Steve said.
“Tell Cam to send out a BOLO on him. Pull up his registration and get a description of his vehicle,” Titus said.
Steve frowned. “You think he’s the guy? You think he ran?”
“I don’t know. But I’d rather have him here than not be able to account for him,” Titus said.
“I was thinking about something. Elias is, what, sixty-five, sixty-eight? And he weighs a buck-fifty soaking wet. I just can’t see him stringing up Cole Marshall between two trees like that,” Steve said.
Titus leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing, but I still want to talk to him. The killer using that phrase isn’t an accident. Elias said he’d used it for years. He’s connected to this; I just don’t know how yet.”
But I have my suspicions, he thought.
“What about Dayane Carter? She run for the hills too?” Titus asked.
“No, sir, Carla is bringing her in now,” Steve said.
“Okay. Get that BOLO out, then go and try to track down Elias’s movements. See if anyone saw him last night,” Titus said.
“Okay. Hey, boss, we’re gonna get this guy, right?” Steve asked.
Titus sat forward. “You think we won’t?”
Steve looked down at his feet. “No, I mean, I think we will, it’s just, I feel like … I mean, do you really think Elias ran, if he isn’t the guy? Because Elias doesn’t strike me as the type to up and leave town,” he said.
“We are gonna get him, but it won’t be easy. But the most important things never are. Go put that BOLO out,” Titus said.