Wolfsbane by William W. Johnstone Page B

around your neck, Edan? A leather thong! You gone hippie on us?”
    â€œIt was a gift,” Sheriff Vallot replied, and did not elaborate. He changed the subject. “There are large footprints out back.”
    â€œI saw them.”
    â€œThey are definitely not dog tracks.”
    â€œThey’re not human, either,” Doctor Lormand said.
    â€œI don’t want any word of this to leak out, Don. I’ll ask Blanchet at the funeral home if he can’t rebuild the. . . throat area. I’m going to try to pass this off as a throat-cutting. Simple murder. I want these people in the ground as fast as possible.”
    â€œWhy, Edan?”
    â€œBecause I . . . I don’t want to start a panic, that’s why.”
    Don Lormand studied his friend’s face closely. “You maybe know something I need to know? Now, you want this down as a throat-cutting . . . okay, I’ll play. But you tell me what’s on your mind, buddy. It’s a gruesome way to die, yes, but a panic?”
    â€œWe’ll knock it around tonight—okay?”
    Doctor Lormand snapped his bag shut and walked to the door. “All right,” he said, looking at his friend. He shook his head and walked to his car.
    Edan knelt by the bodies and once more examined them. He fingered several more strands of the dark hair before putting the hair into a plastic evidence bag.
    â€œThere’s more of that hair on the door jamb,” Deputy Andrus said.
    â€œHow high up?”
    â€œToo damned high to be from a dog.”
    â€œUnless it was one hell of a big dog.”
    Blaine Andrus smiled grimly. “You see a dog that big, Edan . . . you let me know—okay? ’Cause if you do, I’m gonna trade this .357 in for an elephant gun.”
    â€œYou got the pictures, Blaine?”
    â€œIn living color.”
    â€œThat’s not funny.”
    â€œI wasn’t trying to be.”
    â€œOkay, take some from this angle. Not quite so vivid from this side. I’m gonna try to pass this off as a throat-cutting.”
    â€œWhy would you wanna do that, Edan?”
    â€œWhy start a panic—if you know what I mean?”
    â€œMaybe I do, maybe I don’t.”
    Edan ignored that.
    Blaine looked at the stiff hair in the evidence bag. “That isn’t human hair, Edan.”
    â€œI know it.”
    Their eyes met. Neither man said a word for a very long moment. Finally, Blaine said, “So if it wasn’t done by a human . . . what did do it?”
    â€œA real big dog,” Edan replied, trying to force conviction into his tone.
    But the chief deputy wasn’t buying. “Sure,” he said dryly. “Right. And if you think the coroner’s jury won’t buy a throat-cutting, you’re gonna tell ’em it was dogs?”
    â€œWhat else is there to say, Blaine?”
    â€œNo signs of a forced entry. Very little signs of any struggle. It happened over a period of days, I say. Come on, Edanl You’ve already added it all up. And more. You finish it for me.”
    Sheriff Vallot looked at his friend, his deputy. He sighed. “If it had been dogs, how did they gain entrance? For dogs to leave that much hair on the door jamb, they’d have to be five feet tall. I’ve never seen a dog five feet tall. But they could have reared up and done it, remember that. But . . . had it been dogs, the couple would have fought them; gone into a panic, lamps and chairs turned over. None of that here. And why were they naked? And where is the blood?” He shook his head.
    Deputy Andrus looked at the hair in the bag. “You believe much in the old ways, Edan?”
    â€œDon’t start that crap, Blainel”
    â€œHow come you got a gris-gris around your neck, Edan?”
    â€œLike I told Don, it was a gift.”
    â€œHow many sightings we had in the past two weeks, Edan?”
    â€œThere is no such thing as a roo-garou, Blaine.”
    â€œJust remember