John was up and running at Sammy's shriek, newspaper clippings shoved into his journal and journal shoved into his jacket, heading across the town park for the knot of children where Sammy was. A girl Sammy's age or a little younger, he noted, two boys a little younger than Dean; Dean was certainly involved and probably hurt, from the way he was holding his arm, and the fair boy was either the likeliest victim or the likeliest instigator, since the darker boy was pinning him to the ground; the girl had the same skin tone as the darker boy, and the girl was certainly and the boy probably the children of the woman running full tilt to the same destination.
The woman dropped to one knee between Dean and the other boys. "Harry, Drake?" she asked.
"We're fine, he's not," said one of the boys, John couldn't see which.
"Something broke," the girl said, pointing at Dean.
The woman turned to Dean. "I'm Carrie, I'm a doctor. Are you hurt?"
"'Mfine," Dean protested, scooting back towards Sammy.
"Let me see," Carrie said, reaching to take Dean's arm. Something was odd about the way she was holding her arm, or the way her sleeve draped over her arm and hand—she ran her fingers along his arm, lips moving silently, pausing to poke every half inch or so till Dean winced. "Not broken. Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"No."
"Dean," John said warningly.
"No sir."
"I'm glad," Carrie said to Dean, then turned her attention to the other boys. "Drake, I know you didn't hit him without reason."
"Oh so it's my fault," the fair boy said, while John checked Dean's arm: no, not broken, though there'd be a nasty bruise. "Nice."
"If it was his fault I'd help you," the darker boy answered.
"Harry, let him up," Carrie ordered. The darker boy, Harry, rolled off of Drake. "Let me see," she added, and Drake held out his right hand, which had blood at the knuckles. "Tell me what happened."
"He scared Megan," Drake said, glaring at Dean over Sammy's head.
"Dean?" John asked.
"I was just askin' about stories," Dean said sulkily. "For your book," he added. "And he jumped me."
John winced. Dean was eight; eight was too young to be caught up in this. Twenty-eight was too young to be caught up in this. But if Dean had gotten any intel on whatever was mauling local children, John couldn't complain, and any Marine in John's unit showing this sort of initiative ought to be commended. "She's Sammy's age. Werewolves and black dogs aren't stories for kids Sammy's age."
Carrie froze, just for a heartbeat.
"He said Padfoot was hurting people," volunteered the girl, Megan.
"Padfoot's her dog," Sammy said.
Ah.
"Whoever named that dog for a death omen has a bizarre sense of humor."
"I'll tell my husband you agree with me," Carrie said, half smiling. "Drake, I don't think you'll be able to practice piano or recorder for a few days."
Drake's face fell. "No music?"
"I didn't say no music," Carrie said. "But it's hard to play one-handed. Natural consequences," she added, looking at John.
"Best kind," John agreed. "Dean, apologize to Megan."
"I'm sorry I scared you," Dean said earnestly. "I didn't mean to."
Megan looked up at him consideringly. "Okay."
"I'm sorry I hit you," Drake said, unprompted.
Dean glanced between Drake and Harry and Megan. "She's like your sister, right?"
"Cousin," Drake said. "But yeah."
"You're not sorry. But I'd hit anyone who scared Sammy and I wouldn't be sorry. So it's okay."
"I think it's time we left," John decided, scooping Sammy up and standing. "Thank you," he added to Carrie.
"I'm just glad your son's all right," Carrie said. She lifted Megan with one arm and held out the other hand. "Carrie Black."
"John Brown."
xXxXx
"I think my arm broke a little," Dean said when they were safely in the car, away from unfriendly ears. "I heard it. And it hurt worse before she poked me."
John glanced out at where Carrie was hurrying the children out of the park, accompanied by a woman who might be Drake's mother. "And now it's not broken," John said, "and the way she reacted to hearing what we're investigating..."
But by the time John tracked down Carrie Black and family, at a considerably more upscale hotel than the one where they themselves were staying, the Blacks were long gone.