Chapter 45 Chapter notes
Brady left a print in the mud, and a naturalist has been called in to evaluate it.
The chapter title belongs to The Guess Who
Chapter 45 Clap for the Wolfman Sunday, October 29th
Seattle is almost a four-hour drive from Trail 42, so Charlie assumes he and Mark will arrive before the naturalist. He parks the cruiser, and at the trailhead they come upon a knot of people surrounding a young woman who looks like she could still be in high school. She extends her hand. "Moira Robinson. Your deputy sent me a picture of the track in question first thing this morning, and I had to see it for myself."
Moira stands a little over five feet tall and looks like she's been living on a ranch somewhere. With her wavy red hair straining to be free of its bandana and her freckly skin shining in the weak light, he imagines her on a horse, riding the fence line.
She wears no makeup, but her cheeks are rosy. Her entire being exudes good health, a natural diet and a devotion to exercise.
In short, her very presence is a subtle rebuke to Charlie and his entire lifestyle. He feels incrementally guilty for the doughnut he ate for breakfast and the cigarette he smoked a few minutes ago. He thinks, She's probably one of those vegans. Immediately, he doesn't like her, then silently chastises himself for being judgmental.
They walk up the trail for about a quarter of a mile until they come to a deputy standing guard over two tarps. "Track," he says, as he points to the tarp on the left. "Body." He points to the right. "We found him as soon as the sun came up. His girlfriend told us where he was headed so he was easy to find. She was out here earlier and identified him. His name is Trevor Wilkerson."
Charlie frowns. "She came out here? Why didn't she wait and identify him in town?"
"She showed up." The deputy grimaces. "Pretty hysterical. We had to take her back to the motel." He looks meaningfully at Charlie.
"Why didn't somebody call me earlier?" Charlie wonders aloud, and then realizes he'd turned his phone ringer off when he and Maya were in the ER. He flips it open and sees that he'd missed three calls. Shit.
"The park ranger was out here earlier. He didn't have any idea about what made that print, and puked his waffle when he got a look at this guy." He looks down at the tarp at his feet, where the body lay.
Charlie crosses his arms. "Well, did he have an opinion about cause of death?"
The deputy shakes his head slowly but deliberately. "Wouldn't look closely enough to make an opinion, Chief."
Moira has no interest in the body; it's the track she's driven half the day to see. She pulls the tarp away and gasps, staring open-mouthed at the single, giant print. After blinking a few times, she kneels down on the muddy ground, peering at the print and the area around it.
The track is examined from every angle. After taking out a ruler and a caliper, she makes precise measurements and scratches them in a small notebook. Finally, many pictures are snapped with a sophisticated-looking little camera, then a few are snapped with her phone.
Moira stands up and brushes dirt from her jeans. She looks out to the wilderness beyond and then back to Charlie and Mark, who are waiting expectantly for her assessment.
She begins slowly. "Three canid species live in this area: coyote, dog, and Canis lupus, the common wolf. They all share the same characteristic print with four symmetrical toes, with the front print slightly longer than the hind." She points out the features with a stick she grabs from the ground. "Because all three animals live in the area, we use size and deductive reasoning as an indication of which animal makes the print." Her voice trails away at the end. She looks troubled.
She pulls a book from her bag and thumbs through it, locating the page she's looking for. "This is a print from a common wolf. The animals usually weigh between 90 to 110 pounds. You've seen wolves in the wild, I'm sure. They're about the size of a malamute." The print she shows them is about four inches wide.
"The track here is six inches wide." She swallows and taps her lip with a trembling finger. "The dire wolf, extinct for 11,000 years, wasn't large enough to leave a print six inches wide. If this is real and not a hoax, it represents a rare scientific find."
"Can you clarify that remark?" Charlie just wants to know if she can tell them if the animal that made the print is what killed the guy under the tarp.
Moira looks at her book, then down at the print. "I need to make a call and send a pic. Is there signal out here?"
Charlie sighs and says, "It's spotty, but you can try." Moira walks away a few steps, hits a speed dial key and smiles when the call goes through. She speaks animatedly for a minute. Flipping the phone shut, she says, "I have a team on the way to examine this print and to take a plaster cast. If it's authentic, we can assume that there's a massive canid running around this area that weighs approximately 250 pounds. This represents a new species."
Mark bends down and looks closely at the print. "Couldn't just be from a really big dog?"
"Great Danes and the English Mastiff are huge animals, but they're not wild animals. They are domesticated. I think if one of these dogs were in this area, somebody would have seen it. Dogs are bred to be social companions. Alone, in the wild, one of them would have almost certainly approached a hiker or someone from the park service."
Charlie wants to wrap up this interview. "Ma'am, can you tell us if the animal that left that print killed the hiker here?"
"I'm not a trained forensic scientist, but I can take a look." Moira pulls on a pair of latex gloves as the deputy folds back the tarp. The hiker's body has been carelessly tossed in a shallow ravine that's about six inches deep and half-full of water. She grimaces as she looks up at Charlie. "Ah, have your people taken pictures and swabs and all? Can I approach him?"
Charlie looks at the deputy and he nods. "Let's move him out so I can get a better look." Charlie and Mark lift the hiker out of his makeshift grave and lay him out on the path.
Trevor Wilkerson looks like he walked into an airplane propeller. His clothes are torn and bloody and he's suffered massive damage to his throat. His right hand looks like it was bitten off, and something, probably a bear, took a swipe down his arm, slicing open his shirt sleeve and leaving long, parallel gouges from his shoulder all the way to his wrist. His face is ice-white.
Moira kneels and does a cursory exam of the body. She lifts the damaged arm and measures the width between the gouges and notes the severity of the damage to the wrist. She gently turns the head to examine the neck. After a few minutes, she stands.
"He wasn't wearing a jacket?" She looks around.
The deputy points to another tarp, behind him. Moira lifts the tarp and examines the jacket. She shakes her head. "Okay. In my opinion this guy here is the victim of multiple attacks, from both a member of the canid family—a wolf or coyote—and Ursus americanus, the common black bear. Moira's hand hovers over the hiker's arm. "These symmetrical scratches and the general state of the body are indicative of a tussle with a large black bear.
"But the injury to the neck and hand point to a canid attack. Canids have sharp teeth meant for tearing flesh, but wolf attacks on humans are quite rare. Wolves are generally shy of people. They live in substantial numbers in this area, but they are surrounded by a plentiful food source in the way of numerous ruminants such as deer and elk, and smaller rodents such as rabbit and squirrel."
"So they're not hungry enough to attack humans," Mark says.
Moira nods, then her voice drops to a murmur. "If we assume that a common wolf attacked this guy, why wasn't more damage done? His throat is all but torn out, but why the throat? Look at what's left of his clothing. He's wearing a turtleneck that looks as if it has been pulled down, as it's not damaged." She points to it. The neck is bloody, but hasn't been bitten or torn.
She's arguing with herself. This does not help Charlie's mood. "Also, why is his coat off? Look at it." The item in question is not bloody or torn. It had definitely been removed prior to the attack.
Charlie glances briefly heavenward for patience. Why can't she just speak plainly? He takes a deep breath and says slowly, "So, what you're saying is that this guy was attacked by more than one kind of animal. He probably came across a bear, who batted him around, and as he tried to defend himself, got clawed down the arm, and then he was, maybe in his weakened condition, set upon by a wolf, but not the one that made the print, because that is probably just a weird coincidence."
"Yeah," she says, uncertainly.
"Did I miss something?" Charlie wants to get this interview over with, have a cigarette and call Carmen to see how Maya is feeling.
Moira pulls the tarps back over the hiker and the print. "My team will survey the area to look for more prints and for the animal that made it. Luckily, it was protected from the rain." She points to a large-leafed plant that overhangs the single, enormous print.
Charlie gives the okay for the body to be removed. Moira stays and guards the track, a grim expression on her face. He and Mark walk back to the cruiser and Charlie mutters, "I know less now than I did when we got here."
He calls Carmen as soon as he's in the parking lot. She says she left a message earlier, and that Maya's temp is hovering around 104 degrees, but she's comfortable and sleeping. She does not have spinal meningitis, so the doctor thinks it's a simple viral infection. Charlie closes his eyes briefly and breathes a sigh of relief.
They drive back into town and soon, Charlie's sitting at his desk, wishing he could reset this day. Go to Maya's. Watch the game. Eat leftovers from the bonfire. Shower together. Make love and nap in her bed.
Instead, it's a viral infection with a sky-high fever, a badly mauled victim, and a wolf print so big it has the naturalist freaked out. Finally, when he's about to leave the station and go over to Carmen's house, the phone rings. He answers and is pleased to hear Deb Stanley's voice on the other end. She's the pathologist, a squirrely little woman with cat-eye glasses and short, permed hair the color of carbon steel. She's thorough to the point of mania, leaving no stone unturned in her quest for the truth.
"So, what's the verdict, Deb?"
"Chief, I've only had a short time to examine this body, but I'm puzzled. There are claw marks down one arm, indicative of a bear attack, but the neck is broken, only not by the attack that tore most of the throat out." She pauses. Charlie waits, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Here's the thing that's odd." She draws a deep breath and gives a huff. "The body was drained of blood, Chief. I examined the photographs, and because of the rain there's no way to tell how much blood he lost due to his injuries, but nobody ever loses all six quarts."
"Drained of blood," Charlie repeats. "But it wasn't a wolf that broke his neck."
"No, definitely not a wolf. If a wolf, or a bear for that matter, had broken the neck, there would be massive trauma to the upper torso, but there's not. The throat has been torn out, but it's a specific injury. In fact, there isn't even a scratch below the head. When I X-rayed the neck, it almost looks as if it's been wrenched around, as if done with strong hands, but there's not much flesh left to examine."
"What about the hand?" Charlie remembers the bloody stump, but the hand was nowhere to be seen.
"That might have been from a wolf. Sharp teeth definitely tore it from the guy's body."
"Okay, Deb, this is your area. What do you think killed this guy?" Charlie hopes they don't have a maniac on their hands.
"Not an animal. I spoke to the naturalist, and she thinks his wounds are indicative of multiple animal attacks. That may be true, but that's not what killed him."
"We haven't had an instance of multiple animal attack since I've been on the force," Charlie says.
Deb agrees. "I've never seen one in this office. Usually, animal attack is pretty straightforward. Now, the gouges to the arm suggests he was clawed or mauled by something large and powerful, but I can't be certain at this stage. We'll try for DNA, but since the body was found in a flooded ravine, trace evidence has probably washed away. Bottom line? I don't know. Something roughed up the guy pretty good, then nearly turned his head around on his shoulders. And then took a bite out of him."
Charlie thanks her and hangs up. He calls Bella and brings her up to speed on his day. He tells her he'll be home around seven. "Anything I can do, Dad?" she asks.
"Yeah." Charlie thinks about Trevor Wilkerson, on vacation from sunny New Mexico, drained of blood. "Stay out of the forest, there, Bella."
"Um, okay?" She makes her answer sound like a question and Charlie smiles as he hangs up. On the spot decides to stop at Sam's Quickie Mart on his way home and buy a pack of smokes, and one for Mark, as payback.
Sunday evening October 29th
When he arrives at the Quickie Mart, Charlie doesn't buy cigarettes. His thoughts are only on Maya. He fills a soda cup with crushed ice and Sprite, remembering an awful bout with flu a couple of years ago, and how that's what he'd survived on for days and days.
Carmen's house is a short drive from the Sam's. Actually, everything is a short drive from everything else in Forks. That's why Charlie enjoys living here so much. No traffic, very little crime, if you don't count the odd hiker that ends up half-submerged in a ravine with his neck broken, his throat torn to shreds and missing a hand.
When he arrives at Carmen's, she opens the door and ushers him in, beckoning him to follow her to the spare bedroom. Charlie thinks that Maya looks worse now than she did this morning. Carmen won't let him get too close. "She's sleeping, Chief. I'll take that soda and leave it here."
Charlie wants to stay but Carmen says he would only be further exposing himself to her illness. They argue but Carmen puts her foot down.
A very disgruntled Charlie drives home, and actually does stop to buy cigarettes. He smokes as he drives, wondering what all the cloak and dagger is concerning Maya and her mysterious illness.
When he gets home, Bella is in the kitchen. He smells onions and garlic, and walks into the kitchen to find the table set. She looks up. "Hey. You look beat."
Charlie collapses onto a chair and holds his head with both hands. Bella pulls up a chair next to him and pats his back. "What's going on with Maya? Any news?"
He tells her that Carmen wouldn't let him stay. "She looks awful, Bells. I don't know what's wrong with her. I think maybe she should be hospitalized."
Bella doesn't know what to say so she serves up their supper. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes is one of Charlie's favorites, but he does a Bella and just moves it around his plate. He eats very little and finally begs off and goes to bed. Bella cleans up the kitchen. She locks up the house and gets her stuff ready for school tomorrow, wondering what Charlie would do if something happened to Maya. She doesn't think he would ever recover.
It had taken him a whopping seventeen years to get over a plain old divorce, after all.
Carmen calls her uncle as soon as Charlie leaves. Chief Littlefoot isn't surprised. He didn't think that Charlie would back off just because Maya's sister flapped her hands about the danger of him getting too close.
"I'll handle it, Carmen. Don't worry. How is she?" Maya is a strong woman. He isn't worried that his niece will incur any lasting injury from her transformation. He's more worried about what she will say or do when they tell her she can't see Charlie anymore.
"Her temp is high and she's been vomiting and moaning. Like when you were here."
"I spoke to Julius earlier. He said we should move her to my house, so he'll be closer to her and can keep a better eye on her transformation. Also, Charlie can't hassle you, at least not with regularity. He has a shift at the clinic, but he's done at eight. We'll see you about eight-thirty."
Carmen sits with her sister until she hears the car pull up out front. The Chief carries Maya to the doctor's car. Carmen is distraught; her uncle tries to comfort her but she is inconsolable. The Chief tells her he'll call her if there's any change in Maya's condition.
Carmen calls her uncle after she's finished washing the bed linens. "I know it's late, but I packed a bag. I'm coming up to stay with Maya until she's through this." When she arrives at her uncle's house, he looks relieved and points her to the spare bedroom, where a very unhappy Maya moves about restlessly on the bed, clutching her head and moaning.
She makes sure that Maya stays hydrated and talks to her about what's going on with her transformation. "I called the hospital and told them you were still sick," Carmen says. "They said they hope that you feel better soon."
Carmen purposely leaves her mobile at home so she won't have to field any calls from Charlie. Her son had been with his father this weekend, and will stay with him until Maya recovers. Carmen's principal was also very understanding and helped her arrange a substitute teacher for her class for at least the next three days.
Maya's temp has risen ten degrees since she'd sat in the emergency room with Charlie this morning. Her fever, now a whopping 112 degrees, has them all on edge. Carmen is certain that Maya is going to die and she can't imagine what they're putting Charlie through.
Monday, October 30th
Charlie sleeps very little and wakes well before the 5 A.M. news. He looks in on Bella and finds papers and books spread out on the floor. She'd said something about a paper due in Economics today. And of course, there's the unintelligible calculus, looking like the written language of an alien civilization.
Not even bothering to brew a pot of coffee, Charlie heads to work. He calls both Maya's and Carmen's phones but they always go straight to voicemail. On his lunch break, he drives over to Carmen's house and is alarmed to find it empty. He peeks in windows and walks all around it. When he comes back to the front of the house, he sees Carmen's elderly neighbor, Mrs. Whitcomb, in her front yard.
"Hey there, Mrs. Whitcomb. Did you see Carmen and her sister leave the house sometime yesterday or early today?" He's trying to quell an incipient panic.
"Yes, Chief. Yesterday late. I'd come home from church and was getting ready to look at TV. Two Indian men drove up in a big white car and they put Maya in the back seat. She looked pretty sick."
"How about Carmen? Did she go with them?"
"Left in her own car about an hour later." It sounds to Charlie as if Maya was driven to the reservation after his visit. Why would that be? I wonder.
Charlie thanks Mrs. Whitcomb and wonders why folks fuss about nosy neighbors. They're better than a troupe of investigative reporters for getting the facts. He calls the station to tell them he'll be out for an hour or two and points the cruiser southwest, toward some answers.
In less time than it takes for a frozen pizza to heat up, he arrives in La Push. He doesn't know exactly where to find Maya, but he has a friend who might help him. Billy answers the insistent knocking, surprised to see Charlie fidgeting on his doorstep.
Charlie lays out his story. He knows Maya is here on the reservation and he wants to see her immediately. Billy, in his soft-spoken and gentle manner, points Charlie to a chair and makes him a cup of tea, all the while thinking furiously about what to tell him. He knows exactly where Maya is but he can't tell Charlie.
Or can he?
"Okay, Chief, here's the deal." Billy invents wildly on the spot, hoping facts don't trip him up. "This is what Chief Littlefoot told me. Carmen called him after you left, saying she wanted to do the best she could for her sister. The Chief suggested bringing her to his house. That way, she wouldn't be alone and could be near the family doctor."
"Why can't I speak to her? I want to see her right now." Billy muses that Charlie can be very authoritative. It's a side Billy hasn't seen very often, and one that isn't seen on edge of a river, when you're holding tight to your fishing pole.
"I can take you to her door. No further." He wheels over to Charlie and pats him on the back. "C'mon Chief. You're goin' kinda crazy here. Nothing is going on! Maya's fever is high and she wanted to be with her only remaining family."
Charlie's face falls. "Why didn't someone call me?"
Billy's never seen him look so vulnerable. "Maya is half Quileute. We like to take care of our own. Maya doesn't live here on the res, but she belongs to the Quileute Nation. She is ours, as much as she is yours. She'll be over this in a few days and everything will go back to normal."
Billy shakes his head mentally at that pronouncement. Back to normal. He wonders what Charlie will do when he sees Maya phase for the first time. He doesn't know Maya as a woman, as she left the reservation many years ago as a teenager, but irreverently imagines she will be a tornado between the sheets, when it's all done and dusted.
Billy wheels over to a cabinet and pulls out a bottle. "Here, Chief. Take a swig."
Charlie doesn't even look at the label, just uncorks the bottle and tips it up. He shudders as the liquor hits his throat. He tips it up once more, then hands it Billy, who shakes his head. "Medicinal use only." He re-corks the bottle and returns it. "Let me make a call, and we'll get you to see your woman."
Billy dials Chief Littlefoot's number and when he answers, mutters a few lines about how Charlie is at his house and won't leave until he sees Maya. After a brief exchange, Billy hangs up. "Okay. Chief said she was sleeping but you could have a peek."
Soon, Charlie is peering through a crack in the door to Chief Littlefoot's spare bedroom. Carmen is sitting next to Maya, who is curled in a ball but facing the other way. Billy is certain that Maya's face was deliberately turned away from the door, as it shows her obvious fever and malaise.
Charlie stands at the door, hat in hand, an expression of worry and longing on his haggard face. After a moment he turns away. "Thanks," he mumbles. "I need to get back to work. Listen, call me if her condition changes." He puts his hat back on and walks out of the house. The cruiser pulls out and Billy turns to the Chief.
"We better hope that Maya recovers quickly, because Charlie is never letting this go."