Page 35 of Thunder Road

In normal life, Vic wasn’t a fan of shoot first, ask questions later. But since joining forces with Simon, he had gained an appreciation for the expediency of frontier justice, at least when it came to the supernatural.

“You know what Ross and I found is probably not the whole picture, right? Without bodies, there’s no way to prove that theperson isn’t still out there somewhere, even though that’s highly unlikely. No bones, no DNA,” Vic pointed out. “The kinds of places these folks holed up would be perfect for the troll to poof them and not be seen. Hell, even if someone did see them disappear, they either wouldn’t tell anyone, wouldn’t believe what they saw, or wouldn’t be believed even if they did say something.”

“I think we’ve figured out how the troll has co-existed for so long,” Simon replied. “As long as he picked victims that the people in charge either didn’t value or wanted rid of, the troll didn’t get hunted…even without the lighthouse wardings.”

“What changed?” Vic asked, although he had a few suspicions.

“Viewpoints. Values. More enlightened approaches became mainstream right about the time the lighthouse wardings weakened. Mental health programs, homeless shelters, intervention services—trying to save people and help them get back on their feet instead of writing them off. That meant a shift from seeing the troll as doing the dirty work of cleaning up problems to viewing it as a monster preying on the most vulnerable people,” Simon replied.

“I never thought monsters paid attention to public opinion,” Vic replied. He had put the call on speakerphone, and Ross chuckled at his comment.

“Actually, sentient monsters have to pay a lot of attention to the culture around them,” Simon said. “Remember all the vampire TV shows where the vamp looks like everyone else, except for not going out during the day? He doesn’t swan around in a cape looking like Dracula. Too obvious.”

Now that Vic thought about it, all the paranormal shows he had seen lately had vampires, werewolves, and other creatures hiding in plain sight by finding creative ways to blend in. From the people with supernatural abilities Vic had met throughSimon, he knew such things were more than just the invention of television scriptwriters.

“And trolls are shapeshifters. So he can look like anyone and change appearance,” Simon reminded him. “Keep that in mind. I’m pretty sure the troll knows we’re paying attention to him.” He told Vic about spotting the tall man just before the traffic signals fell.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Vic replied. Ross’s eyes had gone wide at the story.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Tough to tell if we’re being stalked if the troll can change how he looks,” Vic observed. “I wonder if the tall man is his main form. Maybe he can’t do as much if he’s shifted.”

“I’ll ask Father Anne. That’s a good point,” Simon replied.

“Like that’s not creepy as fuck,” Ross muttered.

“Just—be careful,” Vic told Simon. “Don’t take any crazy chances.”

“Same for you,” Simon told him. “See you at home.”

The cop on desk duty leaned in their doorway. “Hey guys—there’s a man here to see you. Are you expecting anyone?”

Vic and Ross exchanged a look. “No, but did he say why he came?”

“He said he was on the force during the gang wars and heard someone was looking into them,” the desk cop replied.

“That was over forty years ago,” Ross said.

“He’s up in years. Should I send him back?”

“Sure,” Vic said. “Thank you.” The cop returned to the front desk as Vic looked at Ross. “This should be interesting.”

Several minutes later the cop escorted an elderly man back to their office.

“I know the way,” the man grumbled. “Haven’t forgotten everything yet.”

“No offense intended, sir,” the much younger officer replied, hiding a smile. “Here you are.”

The officer looked at Vic and Ross. “This is Mr. Caldwell Henshaw. Mr. Henshaw, Homicide Detectives Vic D’Amato and Ross Hamilton.”

“Are you two the ones looking at the gang wars?” the old cop’s voice was strong and steady despite his age. He was slight and stooped, but Vic bet from the width of the man’s shoulders that he had been a much larger person in his youth.

“Yes, sir.” Vic hurried to set out a chair for their guest. “Have a seat, please. How can we help you?”

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Ross asked.

The man gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Thanks, but that just tears up my stomach these days. Guess I overdid it back then.” He gratefully accepted a bottle of water and settled into his chair.

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