Page 28 of The Evening Wolves

As John-Henry and Emery approached, the St. Louis detectives got out of the sedan. North was hugging himself, chafing his arms. Shaw, still dressed in the snowsuit and quilted booties, looked remarkably comfortable, although he did make a lot of rustling noise when he moved.

“It’s colder than Frosty’s balls out here,” North said. “What the fuck took you so long?”

“It’s approximately twenty minutes from—” Emery began.

John-Henry laid a hand on his arm. “What happened?”

“We followed him out here,” North indicated farther down the road with his chin, “and we called you. We were going to check out his goat orgy, but the shooting started.”

“I didn’t need to see the goat orgy because I’ve been to one before,” Shaw said.

“Go on,” North said, squaring up with Emery. “Ask him.”

“Honestly, I didn’t care for it. So much hair. Wait, is it fur? North, is it fur?”

“It’s blow my fucking brains out.”

“And one of the goats bit me right on the hinus.” In a rush, Shaw added, “And not in a sexual way.”

“Breathe, love,” John-Henry said, stroking Emery’s arm.

North glared at him, of all people. “It was a petting zoo, since you’re absolutely fucking dying to know. And it wasn’t an orgy, it was a feeding stampede. And we’re banned for life, thanks oh so fucking much.”

The starlight robbed the world of color, but it looked like Emery’s face was a startling shade of red. “And then?”

“Oh, I wasn’t really in the mood after I got bit,” Shaw said. “Which was a shame, because they really did seem to be having a good time—”

“I meant after the shooting,” Emery snapped. He managed to control his volume, but only barely.

“Nothing,” North said.

“Nothing?” John-Henry asked.

North shook his head. “Not one fucking thing.” He shifted his weight. “Do you want us to call this in? Anonymously, I mean. Whatever happened in there, it’s going to be bad.”

“He’s still in there,” John-Henry said. “Vermilya, or whatever his real name is. You said nobody left, so he’s still there. But if we leave and call the police, he might disappear again.”

“Fantastic,” Emery muttered. He drew a deep breath, squeezed John-Henry’s shoulder, and started down the road. “If you fall in that fucking snowsuit,” he shot back, “I’m not helping you up.”

“Those goats didn’t help me up either,” Shaw said as he hurried after him. “Oh! Wait! Unless the one who bit my, um, fanny was trying to help me up. Emery, slow down. Did you hear my breakthrough?”

“Lots of big trees,” North said, looking around. “Should be real easy to hang myself.”

They quieted as they moved down the road. When they followed another bend, light shattered the darkness ahead of them: bright, white, and high in the trees. It outlined the bare winter branches and threw shadows across the rutted dirt. Behind the screen of old-growth oaks, John-Henry could make out the straight lines of man-made structures. A metal gate stood open, and parked in front of it was an old, battered Jeep.

Emery was the first to draw his gun. John-Henry was second. North got a handful of Shaw’s snowsuit and yanked him backward, the fabric rustling, and produced a handgun of his own. Discomfort flickered inside John-Henry; it was dangerous enough conducting any sort of tactical operation with men and women who had trained together, who knew what they were supposed to do—and, as importantly, what they weren’t supposed to do. North and Shaw were more than competent as private investigators, but John-Henry doubted they’d had any training on how to work with a group to enter and clear a structure.

“I want you two to hang back,” he told North. “Nobody comes in. Nobody goes out.”

North’s grin was surprisingly knowing. “Plus you don’t want me blasting your tits off.”

“That would be ideal, yeah.”

“Don’t say tits,” Shaw whispered from behind them.

North scowled over his shoulder, but he spoke to John-Henry. “All right. The big, bad cops can do the hard work. I’ll just sit back and—”

He cut off, and his face filled with something that, on someone else, John-Henry would have called guilt. Or, at the least, fear.

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