veterans could get away with just about anything—but they were flat out afraid of the motorcycle club. Hitchens was bull-headed and coarse, but his superstitious nature had those qualities beat. Too many long nights in the woods, Maxim supposed.
Still, maybe the timing of the full moon had influenced Maxim's decision to watch the bikers on this particular night. The veterans had reasons for their beliefs; if Maxim was to be convinced as well, tonight was a promising candidate.
Cole, ever diplomatic, attempted to ease the tension. He was a decade older than the sergeant, but that didn't stop the taller man from hitting the gym and showing up his friend. "Just make sure when the marshal reads your report that it doesn't involve us, 'cause we're not here."
Officer Cole wasn't as abrasive as his counterpart, but his message was the same. For someone in such prime physical condition, Maxim thought it curious that he was afraid of the wolf stories too.
"You got it," was all Maxim could get in before they marched toward the exit.
Hitchens, without looking back, left one last piece of his mind. "Make sure you know what you're doing." The two veterans left the marshal's office for the night.
So it was to be a skeleton crew downstairs as well, then. Their gray hair may have been evidence of wisdom or cowardice, but neither rubbed off on Maxim.
iv.
The detective entered the small interrogation room as Gutierrez locked Diego's left arm to the reinforced steel bar on the table.
"And his right arm too."
Maxim wasn't sure that he believed in werewolves, and he knew the man's right arm was bruised, but it wouldn't be said that he taunted the unknown. He gave Gutierrez his set of cuffs to keep Diego comfortable with stretching room and then slid a plastic chair across the dirty linoleum tiles to the front of the table opposite Diego. Maxim considered the empty chair for a moment.
"Don't worry, Detective Dwyer, I won't bite." Diego spoke plainly between the thin mustache and goatee circling his lips. "I can guarantee your safety if you can guarantee mine."
He looked calm in his seat, leaning forward on the table with his hands clasped together. For a man banged up in an accident and wearing nothing but tube socks and a hospital gown, he seemed strangely put together. He had a confident, strong jaw, a decent tan, and aside from his frazzled black hair, he was well groomed.
The rookie grabbed a camcorder leaning against the corner wall and unfolded the tripod. "Don't tell me you buy into all this dog talk, sir." Gutierrez positioned the camera to get a good view of Diego in the limited light, putting his hands up to block out a shot like a director might frame a scene. "Although this video could make the front page of Reddit if this guy did something crazy!"
Diego contemplated the young man with the waning patience of a father, eyes again appearing black as night. "You live in the middle of these beautiful woods, just south of the Grand Canyon, yet your computers..." he said, trailing off as if his amusement were enough explanation.
Gutierrez raised his eyebrows. "Don't pretend like you're too good for Facebook, bro. When you take pictures of your giant hole in the ground, you gotta post them somewhere."
The prisoner blinked slowly and said, "I don't like to carry my cell phone on me."
The rookie scrunched his eyebrows together. "Why not? It's called a mobile phone because you're supposed to take it with you."
It may have been the harsh yellow bulbs recessed in the low ceiling, but Maxim had no need for jokes or philosophical discussion at this late hour. He just stood there and gave Gutierrez an unwavering stare that conveyed the state of his sense of humor until the rookie retreated from the boxy room, closing the door behind him. Maxim's gaze traveled from the video camera, making sure it was on, to the suspect, seated calmly and leaning on the table, and finally to his vacant chair. With everything in place, the
Still, maybe the timing of the full moon had influenced Maxim's decision to watch the bikers on this particular night. The veterans had reasons for their beliefs; if Maxim was to be convinced as well, tonight was a promising candidate.
Cole, ever diplomatic, attempted to ease the tension. He was a decade older than the sergeant, but that didn't stop the taller man from hitting the gym and showing up his friend. "Just make sure when the marshal reads your report that it doesn't involve us, 'cause we're not here."
Officer Cole wasn't as abrasive as his counterpart, but his message was the same. For someone in such prime physical condition, Maxim thought it curious that he was afraid of the wolf stories too.
"You got it," was all Maxim could get in before they marched toward the exit.
Hitchens, without looking back, left one last piece of his mind. "Make sure you know what you're doing." The two veterans left the marshal's office for the night.
So it was to be a skeleton crew downstairs as well, then. Their gray hair may have been evidence of wisdom or cowardice, but neither rubbed off on Maxim.
iv.
The detective entered the small interrogation room as Gutierrez locked Diego's left arm to the reinforced steel bar on the table.
"And his right arm too."
Maxim wasn't sure that he believed in werewolves, and he knew the man's right arm was bruised, but it wouldn't be said that he taunted the unknown. He gave Gutierrez his set of cuffs to keep Diego comfortable with stretching room and then slid a plastic chair across the dirty linoleum tiles to the front of the table opposite Diego. Maxim considered the empty chair for a moment.
"Don't worry, Detective Dwyer, I won't bite." Diego spoke plainly between the thin mustache and goatee circling his lips. "I can guarantee your safety if you can guarantee mine."
He looked calm in his seat, leaning forward on the table with his hands clasped together. For a man banged up in an accident and wearing nothing but tube socks and a hospital gown, he seemed strangely put together. He had a confident, strong jaw, a decent tan, and aside from his frazzled black hair, he was well groomed.
The rookie grabbed a camcorder leaning against the corner wall and unfolded the tripod. "Don't tell me you buy into all this dog talk, sir." Gutierrez positioned the camera to get a good view of Diego in the limited light, putting his hands up to block out a shot like a director might frame a scene. "Although this video could make the front page of Reddit if this guy did something crazy!"
Diego contemplated the young man with the waning patience of a father, eyes again appearing black as night. "You live in the middle of these beautiful woods, just south of the Grand Canyon, yet your computers..." he said, trailing off as if his amusement were enough explanation.
Gutierrez raised his eyebrows. "Don't pretend like you're too good for Facebook, bro. When you take pictures of your giant hole in the ground, you gotta post them somewhere."
The prisoner blinked slowly and said, "I don't like to carry my cell phone on me."
The rookie scrunched his eyebrows together. "Why not? It's called a mobile phone because you're supposed to take it with you."
It may have been the harsh yellow bulbs recessed in the low ceiling, but Maxim had no need for jokes or philosophical discussion at this late hour. He just stood there and gave Gutierrez an unwavering stare that conveyed the state of his sense of humor until the rookie retreated from the boxy room, closing the door behind him. Maxim's gaze traveled from the video camera, making sure it was on, to the suspect, seated calmly and leaning on the table, and finally to his vacant chair. With everything in place, the
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