The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles) Page 6

“Anonymous tip. Gotta go. I’m getting another call.”

  Tala sighed. Of course, it didn’t mean the crime had been solved. But it made her even more determined to find out what Malcolm meant regarding the solution that might backfire and result in many deaths.

  The next step involved studying the diary further. “Come on, Maeve. We have reading to do.”

  She walked downstairs to the kitchen. Tala picked up the diary from the table and went to the living room. She’d just gotten comfortable on the couch with Maeve when the doorbell’s ring startled her. She walked to the window. A man holding a bouquet of ruby-red roses exited the Garden Party florist shop’s van. Matt must have sent them!

  She flung the door open with a smile, but Willis Sharp appeared from the side, and she frowned. “Now what do you want?” she asked with venom.

  He took the flowers from the man, who walked away. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Please accept these as an apology.”

  Maeve bounded over to the doorway. She arched her back and spat, fur puffy, her tail, a bottlebrush.

  Tala glared at Sharp. “I’m not interested in your flowers. My only wish is that you never bother me again.”

  “I hope you’ll change your mind.”

  “Not a chance in hell.” She slammed the door.

  ***

  Sharp convinced himself this represented just another temporary setback. But the clock was ticking. Tala had held a book when she answered the door. He’d seen the letters a, r, and y. Probably the diary he’d paid a grand for, the book that held the key to the secrets he lusted after. He also noticed the amulet she wore. If Tala wouldn’t cooperate, he knew someone who could take care of the situation without the long court wait.

  Chapter Seven

  Tony Miller, sharpening his knife, sat on the couch in his parent’s house. He waited for his brother, Vinnie, to come home from the police station. His mother had gone to pick him up. She’d asked him to go, but he never wanted to go near the place again. Gave him the creeps, he’d told her. He’d been there himself enough times.

  At twenty-two, though, he’d learned to make money using his good looks or his brawn. Sharp needed him at the antique shop, both to help him with moving furniture, and as eye candy for the men and women who shopped there. His daily stint at the gym had paid off, and he went from a kid with a pizza belly to a god in blue jeans.

  When Sharp asked him about a different job he wanted him to do, Tony immediately had his doubts, though. He knew what went on in the basement. Even helped him get rid of evidence...including bodies. Accessory to a crime was bad enough. Didn’t want a murder charge hanging over him. However, Sharp had convinced him, more with money than words, that it would be worth his while.

  Tony wanted to think he had put all that behind him, but hey, may as well get it while the getting was good. Besides, the spotlight shined on his brother right now, so if anyone would be under suspicion, Vinnie would be. The hell with that family-is-everything crap his parents had drummed into him.

  He remembered that mousy little geek, Tala. She’d given him the hardest time when she babysat. That girl just couldn’t take a joke—like the time he’d put a dead mouse in her sandwich. He remembered the beatings he’d gotten from his father because of her. So now, it was payback. And yeah, it was personal and not just business. One thing Tony knew for sure—he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

  The family’s clunker of a van drove up, and he parted a window curtain. Vinnie got out, disheveled, a bruise on his cheek. Tony would keep the deal between Sharp and him a secret.

  ***

  She hoped she’d never see Sharp again. Tala locked the door, twisting the deadbolt with more force than necessary.

  Maeve meowed, her fur smooth and shiny again.

  “He’s a creep, isn’t he, Maeve?”

  The cat rubbed against her leg. Tala picked her up, balancing with the diary under her arm, and walked to the couch. They cuddled while Tala continued reading.

  I feel I have no other option but to try to find Gregory myself. The weather should hold out for a few days, and I can wear warm clothing and take food. Although rumors abound concerning wolves, I won’t let that stop me. In any event, I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t act on what I learned from Malcolm. I owe this to my precious granddaughter. I want Tala to know how much I love her. I tremble at the thought of how her mother might treat her.

  Tala stopped reading and looked off into the distance, trying to gather memories of her grandmother. Kind eyes, white hair, a soft laugh, and a strong hug. Grateful for the memories, she smiled. Maybe her grandmother really did appear to her in the kitchen to warn her, a comforting thought despite the misgivings it generated. She continued reading.

  This trip may be foolhardy, but if it is the last thing I attempt, I want to know I’ve done everything in my power to stop the horror from continuing.

  It is time to go. I did not say goodbye to anyone else except my brother Gunther because only he could tell me how to get to the cottage. I hope my clothes and my supplies will last me. The sack cannot be too heavy, or I doubt I will get very far. Tala, if you read this, remember how much this old woman loves you.

  The text ended there. The last sentence brought Tala to tears. Such a short diary, yet how much information it divulged.

  Her father had said her grandmother had just disappeared one day.

  What could she do now? And then the idea formed—speak to Gunther. If he were still alive.

  ***

  “I can’t believe you talked me into doing this.” Edgar Owl sat next to Tala in his truck outside the nursing home.

  Tala smiled. “Don’t you know how grateful I am? Besides, just think of it as an adventure.”

  A loud sigh escaped through his lips. “I might be getting too old for an adventure. But okay, let’s go see Gunther. At his age, though, don’t be disappointed if we don’t get much information.”

  An acrid odor overpowered Tala when they walked into Gunther’s room. His bureau held black-and-white and sepia-toned pictures. An ancient Bible lay on his nightstand.

  “He’s been sleeping for a half hour,” the nurse said. “It would be a shame to wake him.” She frowned but left the room.

  Tala was grateful for the privacy. She noted the man’s quiet breathing, the breaths barely making his chest rise. “Gunther, I’m Tala, Louisa’s grandchild.”

  Gunther still appeared to be sleeping.

  Tala looked at Edgar. “It’s no use, is it?”

  “Don’t give up so easily.”

  Tala bent down to Gunther’s ear. “Gunther, where’s Louisa?” she asked in a loud voice.

  The old man opened his cloudy eyes and coughed. He mumbled something.

  She touched his hand. “I can’t hear you. Please try again.”

  “Told her don’t go,” he said in a raspy voice.

  His voice startled her. “Go where, Gunther?”

  “Cottage.” Gunther coughed again. “Wouldn’t listen.”

  “Can you tell me how to get there?”

  “Boulder.” He stared at the ceiling. “Brook.”

  “What else, Gunther?”

  “Wolf...trail.” His eyelids closed halfway. “Stream.” Then they shrouded his eyes completely, and he snored.

  “Edgar, do you think you can find the cottage now?”

  “I might be able to, Tala, but I can’t make any promises.”

  Tala kissed Gunther on the forehead. “Come on, Edgar, let’s let him rest.”

  “How about starting out tomorrow?” Tala asked Edgar when they got into the truck.

  He twisted his mouth to one side, his hands on the worn steering wheel. Then he turned to her and smiled. “Okay, we’ll give it a try.”

  “Great. Let’s go pick up things we’ll need for the trip.”

  ***

  The locksmith’s truck chugged down Blackthorn Road and stopped in front of the house at about five o’clock.

  Tala started get
ting out of the truck, but Edgar touched her arm. “Wait. Be sure you’re where you need to be before nightfall. It’s a full moon tonight.”

  “Okay, Edgar, thanks. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  When she opened the front door, Maeve’s angry-sounding meows greeted her.

  “I’m sorry for leaving you so long. I have some treats for you. Let’s have dinner early tonight.” Edgar’s warning haunted her. At least she was home, but she still wanted to do more searching in the attic, although she didn’t relish the idea of being up there with the anemic attic light.

  While she was eating a hamburger, her cell phone rang.

  “What have you been up to?” Vanessa asked.

  Tala swallowed. “Well.” She took a sip of soda. “I’m planning an adventure with Edgar Owl.”

  “Isn’t he a little old to have an adventure with?”

  “It’s obviously not what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I learned a lot when I read the diary, and I think the only way I can get to the bottom of this is to try to find my Uncle Gregory.”

  “And where might he be?”

  “Vanessa, don’t you know? I thought the whole town knew about him.”

  “Oh yes, now I remember. He was the one who supposedly ran off into the woods a long time ago and no one ever found him. I think he was implicated in the Bolton murder.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “So, that sounds dangerous to me.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “It’s suicidal, you know, to even think about going there by yourself.”

  “Who said anything about going there by myself?”

  “You’re going with Matt?”

  “No, silly. That might really be dangerous. I already told you. I’m planning an adventure with Edgar Owl.”

  “Oh, Tala, I’m so relieved you’re going with him. What is he—like ninety years old?”

  “I think he’s only pushing eighty.”

  “Oh well, that makes a big difference. Tala, this is the most harebrained scheme I’ve ever heard about. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I have to, Vanessa. If I find Gregory, he might be able to help me get rid of this… whatever this is.”

  “I guess I can’t talk you out of it, can I?”

  “No, you can’t. But you could offer to come with me.”

  “Oh no. Not me. Picking you up at the airport is one thing. Risking my life in the forest is another.”

  “It’s okay. Can’t say I blame you.”

  “Listen, Tala, just make sure you take flashlights, plenty of batteries, and your cell phone.”

  ***

  “So, Vinnie. How was it in jail?” Tony took a swig of beer and cut his steak.

  Mrs. Miller came to the table and sat down. Mr. Miller shoved a heaping fork load of mashed potatoes in his mouth.

  “I wasn’t in jail. I was just there for questioning.”

  “Aw, come on, Vinnie. Act like a tough guy.”

  “Cut it out, Tony. I’m tired, and I don’t feel like talking about it.”

  “I’m just—”

  “Shut up, you punk,” Mr. Miller yelled.

  “Calm down, Pete,” his wife pleaded.

  “And you shut up, too, Ellen,” he yelled even louder.

  “I can’t take this,” Tony said, getting up from the table with his plate and can of beer. He walked to his room and slammed the door. After he finished his meal, he packed the bag he’d bring with him that night. First, he put in his hunting knife. Then he threw in latex gloves and a flashlight. Next, he included the duct tape. He almost forgot the crowbar. Soon he’d be getting the satisfaction he deserved.

  ***

  Tala knelt on the attic floor and glanced out a window with a black-curtain view. The wind moaned through the cracks in the walls, and the single bulb hanging sputtered its light. Maeve’s company, some consolation.

  Tala again scanned the drawing that had frightened her so much. It still did. It seemed to represent every angry, violent, and murderous tendency, though depicted through a child’s eyes. She set it aside quickly. She’d try another box.

  That one contained more photos. The first showed a picture of a picnic table laden with food and with a backdrop of evergreens. The next one was a group photo, but she couldn’t recognize anyone in the group with certainty. Her grandmother, her mother, and her uncle Gregory were probably there.

  A photo lay facedown in the box. She hesitated for a moment. Turning it over revealed a charming cottage with window boxes brimming with flowers and a door decorated with painted birds. If that was where she was heading, she doubted it would look the same now.

  A noise like something falling on the floor traveled upstairs. The cat walked over to the doorway.

  “Maeve, come here. It’s probably just the ice machine.” Maeve looked at her and growled.

  Tala’s skin prickled. Maeve usually reserved that growl for something serious. “Maybe we should investigate.” Tala rose and walked to the door. Maeve rushed down ahead of her. Raucous caterwauling came from the kitchen, and she considered calling 911, but she didn’t want to if it were only a false alarm. She slowly walked down the stairs, trying not to make any noise, an impossible task in an old house with ancient woodwork.

  Tala crept down the hall.

  Maeve alternately spat and growled.

  Tala hesitated. Maeve had been on her way to becoming feral when she found her, and she still feared neither man nor beast. Tala had been surprised she hadn’t given Edgar a hard time. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and stepped into the kitchen.

  Maeve resembled the traditional Halloween black cat with arched back and fierce eyes. Bottlebrush tail. She still growled. The reason—she’d cornered a huge rat. Tala breathed a sigh of relief that Maeve had recently gotten her shots.

  “Maeve, come away from there.”

  Of course, the cat ignored her.

  “Now what?” Somebody’s name did come to mind. She resolved to put him on speed dial.

  ***

  A loud shot rang out, and Maeve tore out of the kitchen and ran up the attic stairs.

  “Success. I’ll clean up the mess,” Edgar called out.

  “Oh, thank God. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sure my friend Vanessa wouldn’t have had a clue about getting rid of that.”

  When Edgar had finished cleaning up, the kitchen didn’t have any evidence of the intruder. Tala sat with him at the table.

  Edgar took a sip of chamomile tea. “I knew this was going to be a strange night. The thing is, I don’t think the strangeness is over. When I walked outside at dusk, I saw four owls flying to a tree. When I see only one, it gets my attention. But four…” He shook his head. “Something’s going on. And then the fact that the cat cornered a rat. That gets me thinking, too. And to top everything off—the full moon.”

  “It’s probably just all coincidence, Edgar. Now let’s not have our imaginations run away with us.” Despite her brave words, she gulped.

  He looked pensive for a moment. “You’d be surprised what’s not imagination. The last time I saw four owls flying into the same tree was the night Jenny Bolton was killed.”

  “Bolton? You mean the person Gregory was blamed for killing?”

  “Yes, she’s the one. So sad…. She had those little children, too. An infant and two toddlers. It had gotten late, and her husband had paced the floor, waiting for her to get home from choir practice. He called his neighbor to come and watch the children. He walked two blocks and saw something that looked like a pile of clothes on the ground. It was Jenny. She’d been stabbed about fifty times, and bite marks covered her body.”

  “Okay, now you’re scaring me, Edgar.” Tala crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Do you have a gun?”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t even know how to use one.”

  “Well, why don’t I show you? You can keep th
is one with you tonight.” He reached into his holster and laid the gun on the table.

  “Edgar, that gun scares the heck out of me. Please put it back where it came from. But maybe someday I’ll have the guts to learn how to shoot.”

  “And I’ll be happy to teach you.” He paused, pursing his lips. “If you need anything tonight, make sure you call me, Tala. But I still wish you’d take the gun.”

  “I just can’t, but thanks for offering.”

  Maeve finally wandered back into the kitchen and jumped on the table. She sniffed Edgar and then rubbed her head against his arm.

  “This cat has some strong magic in her,” he said as he petted her.

  “You think so? She’s just half wild. She even gnaws on my arms and ankles sometimes.”

  “The strain in her is like the strain in some people.”

  “Tell me more about that, Edgar.”

  “That is not for your ears, Tala. I’ve hinted at that before. You must learn it on your own.” Edgar glanced at the clock and stood up. “I better go. We’ve got to start out early tomorrow, and we need a lot of rest. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk on that foot.”

  “I’ll be fine, Edgar. I’m wearing the boot, and I’ll put only partial weight on it.” She put her hand on his arm. “Please, I have to resolve this situation. It’s the only way.”

  Edgar looked into her eyes for a while and then finally nodded. Tala followed him to the front door. “Wait, Edgar. Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “I don’t know. You probably remind me of my daughter.”

  “Where is your daughter?”

  Edgar’s eyes filled with tears, and it took a while before he answered. “My daughter was Jenny Bolton.”

  Chapter Eight

  After Edgar left, Tala sat at the table again, feeling shocked and still very afraid. Poor Edgar, losing his daughter that way. She’d definitely leave all the lights on that night. And hoped there wasn’t a blackout.

  She stayed up as long as she could, but when she couldn’t fight sleep any longer, she picked up Maeve and hobbled over to the chair lift. Tala pressed her back against the chair, and the lift slowly rose. A chill overtook her. Shadows haunted the second floor as she neared the top. She held Maeve closer.