The Darkly Stewart Mysteries: The Woman Who Tasted Death Page 6

  “I’m happy to put a good word in for you, if you’d like a role. I’m an acting coach, too, you know.”

  Darkly looked in Gus’s direction, opening her eyes wide. If he wanted to show her how useful he could be, now was another one of those ideal moments.

  Gus was enjoying watching Darkly squirm and decided to encourage Christopher further.

  “I think that’s a great idea. She’s such a ham. She’d be perfect. Don’t let me get in the way of your dreams, hon.”

  Darkly and Gus had agreed that, as far as the film folk were concerned, they were a couple.

  Next to the cone, a staked, cardboard sign read, “Wolf Woods…5km.” Jake pulled the van up next to the sign. Taped to the cone was a rain-smudged note. Peter opened the side door and leapt out.

  “I’ll take a look.”

  “Looks like the hero is already getting into character,” Christopher said and winked at Serena on the other side of him.

  Peter pulled the note off the cone and held it up to the sun. Then, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the woods.

  Shane, the first actor to die in the script, yelled out the window, “Litterbug!”

  Peter walked back to the van. Suddenly, there was tremendous commotion in the woods where Peter had thrown the paper. The trees shook violently, and there was the noise of snapping branches.

  “Shit!”

  Peter ran the last couple strides to the van, leapt in, and slammed the door behind him.

  Everyone pressed their faces to the glass on Darkly’s side of the van. Christopher was breathing down her neck. Darkly thought she saw something move: a sleek, brown flash across a break in the bushes. Darkly poked Gus.

  “Did you see that?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The forest went quiet, except for the call of a far-off bird.

  Jake broke the silence. “It was a moose.” When all else fails, blame the moose. It’s the B.C. way. “What did the note say?”

  Peter was still catching his breath, when all eyes turned to him.

  “Damn. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Um, the turn-off is just ahead on the right,” Peter finally revealed.

  Jake drove about another fifty feet and turned down a gravel road, which was marked by another orange cone. On either side, at the edge of the woods, large logs lay in piles. To Darkly’s pleasure, Christopher hit his head on the roof when the van’s tires fell victim to the troughs left by the logs being dragged clear of the road.

  The minivan followed the winding and hilly road up to a steep incline. The van groaned, and Jake slipped the transmission into second gear for the climb to the top of the slope.

  “Come on, baby, just a little farther. Don’t overheat on me now.”

  The van did successfully break through the tree line onto a large bluff. Ahead of the cast, was the film’s circus: a pick-up truck, a couple of RVs, and a generator that powered the camp.

  The First Assistant Director came out of one of the RVs and waved his arms at Jake.

  “That’s the First AD, and the only AD, as well as Catering Manager, Wardrobe, and Props Master,” Jake explained.

  “Is he makeup, too?” Serena asked Jake.

  “You’ll be doing your own makeup on this one.”

  Serena shook her head. This deal was getting worse by the minute.

  The van pulled up in front of a wooden barrier at the edge of the bluff. The actors piled out. Christopher offered his hand to Darkly, and at the last minute, grabbed her around the waist to lower her down to the ground.

  “Strong like bull.” He beat his chest for effect.

  Christopher then joined Serena, Shane, Peter, and Gus in hunting for a porta-john.

  Darkly walked up to the barrier and looked down at the valley below and the little town of Wolf Woods. An old 1970s GMC truck drove along the main street. A few people were milling about their front yards and store fronts.

  Darkly took out her smart phone and snapped a photo of the valley.

  “You want me to take a photo of you?”

  Darkly turned around to face the First AD.

  “Name’s Marvin.”

  Marvin was a nice, clean-cut guy. He was very enthusiastic, which meant he was new to the game and had no clue what abuse he was going to undergo at the hands of everyone else on set. If there was a problem, he would be the one expected to fix it.

  Marvin was wearing shorts, and Darkly could see from the welts all over his legs that the mosquitoes were bad around here. Marvin followed Darkly’s gaze.

  “Oh, I have a bug zapper paddle if you need it. And spray. They don’t generally come out till dusk. And to be honest, I seem to be the only one they really like. Would you like to see your trailer?”

  “Oh, I’m not -”

  “Serena?”

  “No.” Darkly waved her hand in the van’s direction. “We just hopped a lift.”

  “Ah. I get it now. Well, if you’re staying in town overnight, there’s a hotel. Doesn’t look like it’s been renovated in fifty years, but it’s clean. Ish.”

  Gus scoped out the scene on the way back from the toilet-in-a-box. A sign that read “Star Trailer” was taped to the side of one of the campers. The custom-renovated RV was divided into two compartments, and there was a door to each compartment. Serena’s name was posted on one of the doors, Peter’s on the other. Gus watched Serena climb the little metal steps up to her half of the trailer. She looked back and gave Gus a smile.

  Marvin called out to her, “Craft services is just on the other side of the circus, if you want a coffee or anything?”

  Serena disappeared inside without answering, but Gus thought he could do with a caffeine jolt.

  “Thanks, I could use some coffee,” Gus replied.

  Gus returned to Darkly’s side and shook Marvin’s hand.

  “Then I think we should head down into town, right, hon?”

  Darkly wasn’t liking the profuse use of Gus’s chosen term of endearment for her. She nodded her head with contempt.

  “Think one of your boys could give us a lift? Down there?” Gus asked Marvin.

  Marvin stammered, looking for a way to say no to Gus without appearing rude. He had a helluva lot to do.

  “Seeing as we fixed your van, got your actors here,” Gus pressed.

  “Oh, right. Thank you. Sure. I’ll drop you both off myself.” Marvin tapped the outlook railing. “Wait here for me. I just have to get the talent settled in.”

  “Thank you, Marvin,” Darkly said in her most flirtatious voice.

  She touched Marvin’s arm lightly, and the bespectacled kid in his early twenties melted.

  Finally, it was quiet. Serena could hear herself think for the first time since she was standing in her shower at three this morning. She looked around the trailer. It was a nice size. There was a toilet at one end, which she wished she had been told of before entering that fly-infested portable septic tank. Across from the toilet, there was a small kitchenette with a counter, beer fridge, and sink. She peered out the little window above the sink and watched Peter and Shane laughing beside the craft services table.

  Serena popped her second colloidal silver pill of the day. The actress swore by it to protect her against all matter of infection. No doubt she swore by her breast implants, as well.

  Darkly took a long hard look at the town below. The placement of buildings was vaguely familiar to her. She looked to the left of the center of town, where she expected to see a church steeple, and there it was.

  Gus followed Darkly’s gaze.

  “So, there’s this fugitive. She’s wanted for trafficking young women.” Gus was relaying the facts back to Darkly.

  “I think this one’s hunting men,” Darkly corrected him.

  “You sure?”
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  “I’ve seen her in action. She preys on men with low self-esteem.”

  “Wow. These actors better watch their step then. Narcissism and low self-worth go hand in hand.”

  “I think Christopher would ask her where to sign up. Thanks for helping me out with him in the van, by the way. I don’t think she’d be Shane and Peter’s type. Look at this town, Gus. Only one road to the outside world, situated at the bottom of the valley, not listed on most maps, and no way to physically see it unless you’re looking down on it from above. You get kidnapped and brought here, no one’s going to find you.”

  Darkly looked back at the two actors, Shane and Peter, now making their way to their trailers.

  “No one knows they’re here,” Darkly continued. “The sheriff himself told them to keep it a secret.”

  “Holy Christ, Darkly. What sort of place have you brought me to?” asked Gus.

  Darkly pulled out her smart phone. No bars.

  “To a place where no one can hear you call for help,” she replied.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sheriff Buckwald Robertson opened the chamber of his 1972 police-issued handgun and placed a single bullet inside. His friends, or those who thought of him as a friend, called him Buck. He personally didn’t think of most people as friends. There was a difference in having your fate tied to people and liking them.

  Doc Ross shook his head.

  “You’re a piece of work, Buck. What’s she gonna do now?”

  “I’m not questioning your abilities as a medicine man, Doc. This town expects me to take precautions. I’ll live with your disapproval, if it means I’m doing my job right.”

  “She’s seventeen. She’ll grow out of it. And if you’re going to shoot her, give me a little warning so I can step back.”

  Doc winked at the teenager sitting on the examination table in front of him.

  “No one grows out of it completely,” said Buck knowingly.

  Buck never winked at anyone in his life. Nor did he find anything charming. Ever.

  Victoria looked coyly at Buck.

  “You’d shoot your girlfriend’s only child, Sheriff?”

  Buck’s expression was as void of emotion as a stone.

  “We were over before you were born.”

  Victoria winced as Doc poured whisky over a deep cut on her arm.

  “A waste of good whisky.”

  That might have been the hint of a smile on Buck’s face, if he ever actually smiled.

  “I wouldn’t have to waste it, if your boy could steal me some rubbing alcohol. Maybe those movie people have a first aid kit. Well,” he paused, “Victoria, that’s the best I can do under these conditions. You’ll heal without the stitches. Good thing, too, as I’m all out of cat gut.”

  Doc shook his head in frustration.

  “Wash the wounds thoroughly a couple times a day and let the air get to them at night.”

  Doc pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door of an antique wood and glass chemist’s cabinet. He pulled out a brown glass bottle full of pills and passed it to the girl.

  “Take two of these just before bed next time you feel a little anxious. You are guaranteed to not wake up for eight hours. Hell, an elephant wouldn’t wake up for seven.”

  “Do you have a pair of scissors?” Victoria asked Doc.

  Victoria jumped off the examination table. Its leather padding had been sewn up innumerable times, and stuffing was poking out of the corners.

  Doc Ross opened a drawer next to the medicine cabinet, pulled out a pair of stainless steel scissors and handed them to Victoria. He then had second thoughts about it, and a battle appeared likely.

  “I need a haircut.” Victoria wasn’t letting go.

  Doc gave in, and Buck frowned. Victoria walked over to a mirror on the examining room wall and began cutting out chunks of hair. Clumps of tangled, chestnut brown hair filled with nettles and dirt fell to the floor.

  Buck walked up close to Doc and whispered, “And when you run out of pills?”

  “Why don’t you go give one of those Hollywood actors a ticket for littering, Buck.”

  “I didn’t hurt anyone,” Victoria shot in Buck’s direction.

  “So you say,” said Buck as he left Doc’s office. He had other work to do.

  Victoria looked at the reflection of her shorn hair in the mirror. There wasn’t a strand left that was the same length.

  Doc put his hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “It will look fine after you wash it. I’m told short hair on ladies is in fashion now.”

  “What do I do when I run out of pills?”

  “I’ll get more.”

  “That’s a little hard when you don’t actually have a license to practice medicine, isn’t it?” Victoria looked at herself in the mirror again. “I’ll grow out it.”

  Doc turned his back on Victoria and said coldly, “Make sure you do, or I’ll put you down myself.”

  Buck walked into the Moon River Diner and sat down at the counter. An attractive woman in her late thirties placed a coffee cup down in front of the sheriff and filled it. A feint scar ran down the woman’s left cheek.

  “How is she?”

  Buck grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her face in close to his. A wooden cross fell out of Geraldine’s cleavage and swung back and forth in front of Buck.

  Momentarily, he was lost to another time. Seventeen years previous to be exact.

  The ticking of the Westminster clock accompanied the beading of sweat on the upper lip of a woman fighting for what she believed was her own salvation. Her corneas were turning yellow, and the blood pooling under her nails was seeping onto the white sheets. She tried to pray, but her vocal chords no longer worked.

  “Come on, sweetheart. It doesn’t have to be this hard.”

  A much younger Geraldine held Catharine’s hand. Geraldine wasn’t thrilled about helping the woman who despised her and all who were like her. But if Catherine was important to Buck, then Geraldine must make an effort. Perhaps she would win Buck’s affections yet.

  Outside the cabin, the growling and scratching at the door was frantic. Buck looked back at Geraldine, resignation in his eyes.

  “At this rate, they’ll kill us all.”

  He tossed the kitchen chairs out of his way like kindling and grabbed hold of the heavy oak table that dominated the cabin’s main room. He dragged it to the door and grunted as he overturned it.

  Catharine’s condition was becoming more desperate. As well as breathing heavily, she was now snarling. Saliva was dripping from her mouth, and her nails had become as sharp and long as talons. But she was still fighting it. Geraldine could see that in Catharine’s eyes. Nature was still not guaranteed to win. The black hair on Catharine’s head was spreading out onto the bed like ivy. She reached out her hand toward Buck.

  It was Geraldine who called to him. “Buck!”

  Buck took another look at the door. It would hold for now. He went to Catharine’s side.

  Catharine grabbed Buck’s arm and dug her nails deep into his flesh. He didn’t pull away. The muscles on her arm were taut and well-defined. At this moment, she was stronger than he was, and Buck knew there wasn’t much time left.

  “Let go. Please. Just let it happen. For the sake of your son.”

  He tried to sound comforting. But, the man on the other side of that door, his brother, had killed their father and had now come for him.

  Catharine found the strength to plead with her voice one final time. “Do it.”

  The words were tormented whispers, but they tore through Buck’s spine like the most piercing of screams. He looked down at his gun holster.

  “Buck, what are you doing?”

  Geraldine had had enough of both of their games. She placed her hand over her extended belly. Her husband had been banis
hed, so she had taken a stand with Buck. Now that same husband would take revenge on her. His unborn child would not save her. This was a classic grab for power, and the man outside was prepared to accept his own losses as part of the devil’s bargain.

  Buck removed the gun from its holster. Geraldine let go of Catharine’s hand.

  “Buck. No.”

  Catharine smiled and nodded her head with difficulty. She let go of Buck’s arm. Her head sank back into her pillow, and she panted softly.

  Catharine wished to die on her own terms, if not free of the curse, at least in the way and form she chose. Geraldine did not know how Catharine remained alive. Their kind must change at least once during a moon’s cycle. To have fought nature in this way through sheer willpower, for three cycles, was unchartered territory.

  Buck’s hands shook, as he loaded one silver bullet after another into the gun.

  But Buck didn’t finish off the suffering woman in his bed. No. Instead, he got up and walked over to a bassinet, where his adopted son was soundly sleeping, oblivious to the deliverers of death at the door.

  Buck took the safety off the gun and pointed it at the child. At Catharine’s little boy, Trey.

  Catharine turned her head and opened her eyes. Her panting became ferocious in its speed, met by the splintering of wood at the front door. As an intelligent woman, her reasoning told her that, in death, her son would be spared a painful life. As a mother faced with her child’s immediate demise, her instinct had other ideas.

  Buck was now completely calm in his resolve. “If they make it through that door, your son is dead. I can’t shoot them all. If you won’t turn, not even for him, then I will be the one to end his short life. Not them.”

  Buck knew that his brother’s followers numbered maybe seven or eight at the most. They were young, inexperienced. They drew their strength from their leader. They rallied to him as to a king. Kill him, and their loyalty to one another would collapse. So, there was a small chance.

  Catharine’s eyes turned from yellow to red. Buck and Geraldine alone would be overpowered. But, if Catharine turned, if she gave up this silly notion of noble suicide, their odds would improve.