Mate’s Harvest: Bear Sheriff III Read online

  But the killer targeting Angie for their unborn child, who would be half Shifter?

  That was too much to bear.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re Marcus Stone,” a voice said from behind them. “Used to be Sheriff around here, right?”

  Angie glanced over at Marcus. She saw his eyes flick over to her and there was a change in his demeanor; for the briefest of seconds, he looked a little worn out. But then he raised himself to full height and that seemed to fade away.

  Together, they turned. There was a man standing on the opposite side of the gas pumps. A cigarette was clutched between his teeth, his hands opening up the gas cap and sliding the nozzle into it. He set the gas to full, flipped the switch, and then stepped forward.

  “They say it’s dangerous to smoke at the pump,” Marcus muttered, though Angie could tell he said it without any real conviction.

  The man shrugged and lifted up his shirt sleeve, showing them a patch on his left upper arm. “Trying to quit,” he explained, taking one big drag and stomping the cigarette out before blowing the smoke out quickly. “Trying to for them.”

  Angie followed his nod and saw a young woman and a little boy – he couldn’t have been older than five or six – coming out of the gas station, big fountain drinks in their hands and smiles on their lips. The little boy laughed and ran past Angie and Marcus, yelling, “Daddy!”

  “Hey, buddy!” the man said, lifting his son up and holding him close. For the briefest of moments, Angie imagined Marcus doing the same with their child. She smiled to herself.

  “Met some new friends, Tim?” the woman asked.

  “Just introducing myself to Marcus Stone, honey,” Tim said. Angie watched carefully. Marcus didn’t seem to know how to react – and she couldn’t blame him.

  “The Marcus Stone? The old Sheriff?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Marcus shrugged and said, “That’d be me.”

  “Could you do us a favor?” the woman asked. Then she laughed, shook her head, and said, “Excuse my manners. I’m Janey Finch and this is my husband, Tim. That’s our son, Ricky.”

  “Pleasure,” Marcus said. Angie half expected him to ask what he could help them with – but she knew he was a changed man now.

  “Look. Our neighbor – we live over on Washington Street – he’s been a bit of a pain lately. Plays loud music at all hours of the night and no matter what we do, he won’t quit.”

  “I think that’s more of a job for Sheriff Nixon than me,” Marcus said, his voice torn. He wanted to help. It was in his nature. But he couldn’t. Angie felt her heart breaking for him.

  “That’s the thing,” Tim said. “We’ve told the Sheriff what’s going on, but he doesn’t do a thing about it. We’ve been trying not to raise too much fuss but Ricky can’t get any of his schoolwork done, and his mom’s tough about that kind of stuff.”

  Janey looked embarrassed for a few moments.

  “You teach up at the elementary outside of town,” Angie said. “I saw your name in the paper.”

  “Guilty,” she said, raising one hand awkwardly.

  “You can’t have been here long,” Marcus said. “What made you want to move to Charming?”

  Janey shrugged and Tim said, “We moved from Texas. The school district laid off a lot of people at the end of last year. There was a position opening up and Janey took it. It’s not such a bad place.”

  Marcus grunted his agreement.

  “You moved to Charming even after all of this stuff was going on?” he asked.

  Janey looked uncomfortable but Tim shrugged with a smile on his face and said, “Well, you were good and locked up when she accepted the offer. And it’s a little bit late now, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry,” Marcus told them. Angie followed his eyes to the little boy, running around without a care in the world, unknowing that there was a serial killer on the loose, ready to strike.

  “Well, we figure you’re the best person to keep us safe, anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Marcus said and grabbed the man’s extended hand. The family climbed into their van and Marcus and Angie watched them go.

  Marcus started to pump the gas and Angie headed into the small gas station to get a few drinks.

  The guilt she had seen in Marcus…

  Marcus, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. It’s not your fault. You don’t deserve to worry about any of this. There was nothing you could have done.

  She paid for the drinks and gas and went back outside to find Marcus sitting in the Bronco, one leg out of the open door.

  “Look at what I’ve done.”

  “You didn’t do anything,” she said, handing him his tea. “You couldn’t have known you would get locked up. Couldn’t have known you would get blamed for the murders. All of this was out of your hands, Marcus. But now we can do something. We can get to the bottom of this. I just don’t know how, yet.”

  He smiled then, even if it was a little sad. “Hop in.”

  Angie walked around the front of the Bronco, opened the door, and let Marcus pulled her up into the passenger seat. She sipped her drink as they made their way through the changed Charming, coming to a stop in front of the Sheriff’s Department. There were four cars parked out front; Angie was surprised to find it that busy. She’d never seen anyone doing anything to stop the killer. They always seemed to be one step behind.

  She followed Marcus inside, struggling to keep up with his long strides. Sheriff Nixon was sitting inside at Marcus’s old desk, his old cowboy boots propped up on it, and his big hat pulled over his eyes. He looked asleep.

  Then he slowly leaned his head forward, tipping his hat back as he did so, and the look he gave Marcus was enough to make Angie feel intense hatred for the man.

  “Change your mind, slick?” he asked, a disgusting grin on his face. Angie had never liked the Sheriff – but she’d done her best to ignore him and get on with her life. Seeing him there, right then, she knew he didn’t care what happened to Marcus, didn’t care what happened to her. Hell, he probably didn’t even care what happened to Charming as long as he looked good doing it. Sheriff Nixon was a man looking out for only one person – himself.

  He’s the opposite of Marcus. Marcus cares too much – though I love him for it. And this nasty man in front of me doesn’t care at all. He’d be happy if Marcus ended up dead. Me, too, probably – just to get us out of his hair.

  “You’re in over your head, Sheriff,” Marcus told him. The other man bristled at the comment but kept his mouth shut. “You don’t know this man.”

  “And you do, Stone?”

  “No,” Marcus said, pausing for a moment. “But I know about him. Angie has done research. I’ve seen what he can do. Hell, I was framed for his murder. He wants me out for some reason. Keep me close; let me help you. I can be more use to you at your side. Don’t let your prejudice against me stand in the way of solving this case.”

  The man’s boots clacked loudly on the floor as he dropped his legs and stood up to his full height, rage blazing on his face.

  “In case you forgot the memo, Stone, you’re out. You’re done. You’ll never work in law enforcement again. Those poor FBI agents that you or your psycho little friend killed determined you weren’t fit for duty.”

  “That’s –” Angie yelled.

  But the Sheriff cut her off by saying, “Shut your mouth when the men are talking!”

  Marcus was across the small room in a moment, hands flashing out for the Sheriff’s throat. He looked almost feral at that moment and Angie realized that he was part Shifter. When was the last time he shifted? She’d embraced that side of him almost immediately, falling for the man that was Marcus: part man, part bear, but a wholly good man.

  The Sheriff was quicker. Angie hadn’t expected the man to move so fast, but he had jerked backwards out of Marcus’s reach, his hand holding a pistol that was pointed directly at Marcus’s chest.

  “I could do it,” he said.

  �
��It won’t stop me,” Marcus growled, holding his ground. “You can pull the trigger, but I’ll be on you before you can scream. I’ll take you down with me.”

  Angie could feel the tension in the air. These were two men – one pushed to the edge, running on fumes, the other nasty and hoping Marcus would just try something – and Angie stepped in between them.

  “We need to go,” she whispered, placing her hands on Marcus’s chest. He was breathing hard, muscles tense, and she could practically feel the pistol trained on her back, knowing that with one twitch of the finger she’d be shot, again, and she wasn’t so sure that Sheriff Nixon would miss his mark. “Marcus.”

  His eyes were blazing, focused on Sheriff Nixon, and they traveled down to Angie’s and they softened. He nodded.

  “You’re making a mistake, Nixon,” Marcus said. “Reconsider.”

  “You ever heard of a snowball’s chance in hell?” the man asked.

  Marcus gave him a curt nod and Angie grabbed his hand and pulled him from the Sheriff’s Department. Outside, the sun was blazing. Angie shaded her eyes and looked at Marcus.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “What was what?”

  “You went after him, Marcus,” Angie said, unsure. “You went after the Sheriff.”

  “We went after FBI agents.”

  “That was different! They wanted us dead!” she hissed. “This man may be horrible, but he’s not out to kill us!”

  “Yet he doesn’t care if we end up dead.”

  Angie didn’t have a good answer to that. She’d seen Marcus angry before, seen him attack those and tear them limb from limb, seen him kill…

  But have I ever seen him do something like this?

  The ride back home was quiet, the tension growing between them. Angie wanted to say something, yet she didn’t know what to say. Every time she glanced at Marcus, his head was staring straight ahead, watching the road, hands clutching the wheel.

  They pulled up in front of the house and killed the engine. Angie opened her mouth to say something again but just closed it, sighed, and got out of the vehicle. She made her way up to the front door. Angie could hear Marcus walking up behind her.

  She paused, one hand out to open the door, when she saw the note taped to it.

  “What’s that?” Marcus growled.

  “A note,” Angie said, her heart beating very fast. “He’s never left a note on the door. They’ve always shown up in the mailbox…”

  Marcus reached out and plucked it off the door without a moment’s hesitation, tearing open the package and handing the envelope to Angie.

  Angie watched as he unfolded the note.

  “Freedom won’t taste so sweet for long,” she read. Marcus turned the note over in his hands, looking for any other words. There was nothing.

  Angie looked at the envelope in her hands, turning it over. It was unaddressed. She opened it up. At first glance, she thought there was nothing there. But as she looked closer…

  “Marcus?” she asked, handing him the envelope. “Look inside.” He looked in, his sharp eyes intent. “What is it, Marcus?”

  He reached a finger into the envelope, prodding the slightest hint of an orange-ish red powder, little more than a speck – she wasn’t sure how she’d even seen it.

  “It’s rust,” he said, pulling his finger out and smelling it. “Old rust.”

  “Rust?”

  Recognition dawned on his face.

  “I think I know where our killer is hiding out,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the Bronco.

  Angie was confused – yet she followed eagerly.

  Chapter 10

  Marcus drove them out nearly ten miles north of Charming.

  “It’s been abandoned for the better part of twenty years,” Marcus told Angie as the building loomed on the horizon. Instead of driving straight to it, Marcus pulled off onto an old dusty side road, parking underneath a copse of trees lining the road.

  “Have you ever been there?”

  Marcus shook his head and said, “Never needed to.”

  “What did it use to be?” Angie asked. They climbed out of the Bronco and made their way across an old field.

  “Grain elevator,” Marcus said. “Back when Charming used to be more prosperous. Copeland wanted more stuff like this, once upon a time. Before he resorted to murder.”

  Angie shivered slightly. Marcus squeezed her hand. They walked through the field, making their way towards the old grain elevator. The sun was going down behind it, casting a long shadow across the field.

  “Why did they never take off? The elevators, farming?”

  Marcus shrugged. He wasn’t entirely sure.

  “Some people wanted to move Charming into the future. More factories. There’s an old canning factory south of town, though it’s little more than scrap, now. Others wanted to focus more on this kind of stuff. Farming. They wanted to keep Charming to itself. Self-sustaining.”

  “The age old conflict between the Copelands and the Rivers.”

  Marcus nodded.

  “I would have hated to see Charming industrialized,” Angie said. “This. Maybe this wouldn’t have been so bad. But factories? It would ruin Charming.”

  But what’s stopping it, now? Charming seems to be getting all of the attention, for better or for worse. If we survive this, will Charming?

  “Angie, I’m sorry,” he blurted out. He hadn’t entirely meant to say it; it had just slipped out. He still hadn’t known exactly what had come over him in the Sheriff’s Department with Nixon.

  Nixon had insulted Angie by the way he had talked to her, but that wasn’t all. There was something lurking just below the surface, something that Marcus could feel bubbling upwards. He was angry, he was tired, and he was ready to start his life with Angie. Everything seemed to be against them.

  And I almost let it get to me. I almost attacked an officer of the law. What has gotten into me?

  Marcus didn’t have all of the answers, yet he knew one thing: Angie hadn’t deserved the attitude he had given her, either.

  “You can make it up to me later,” she said, smirking. That faded as they made their way towards the front of the old grain elevator. He could see ladders that had once led up to the top, now rusted and fallen off, crumbled to nothing at the base of the elevator. Giant cylinders reached to the sky, now empty but once full of all sorts of grain.

  Rust hung heavy on the air; the exposed metal was rusted through. The entire place looked deadly.

  “Marcus, are you sure this is safe? It looks like it’s about to collapse.”

  He agreed. They walked to an old building that Marcus had assumed had once been the office.

  “Do you want to wait here?” Marcus asked Angie. “It could be dangerous inside. The whole place could collapse. Plus our killer could be inside.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Angie said. She flashed Marcus her best smile, though he knew that she was nervous. He felt his heart beating in his chest. He was, too.

  Marcus grabbed her and kissed her, then. This was it. He knew without a doubt this was where the killer was holed up. He felt it in his gut; the rust had tipped him off. Besides the collapsed canning factory, there was nowhere else to hide in or outside of town like this.

  And it made perfect sense. The old grain elevator had been abandoned and it was illegal to go there. Plus, being so far from Charming, Haven, and other towns made it so even teenagers looking for something to do would find it too much of a hassle to explore.

  It was the perfect hide out.

  And the killer had slipped up.

  Marcus smiled.

  Marcus peaked inside of the old office building. Most of the windows had been busted out and the smell of mold and mildew on the old carpets was almost overpowering. He used his keen eyes to scan the building, yet there was no sign of habitation.

  “He’s hasn’t been in there,” Marcus confirmed.

  “So that leaves the eleva
tor,” Angie said. She gulped. Marcus squeezed her hand.

  “We’ll get him, Angie,” Marcus assured her. “He messed up.”

  Marcus imagined the killer sitting at an old desk in the darkness, writing that letter to him and Angie. He imagined a fleck of rust breaking off from an overhead walkway, falling down almost as light as a snowflake and landing in the open envelope. It was sheer, dumb luck; but it was all Marcus needed to pinpoint the killer’s location.

  They made their way towards the grain elevator proper, keeping to the shadows as best they could. They’d parked on the road east of the elevator, crossed the field, and made their way around to the north of the elevator, which was considered the back entrance.

  The door had rusted and long ago fallen off its hinges. Marcus peered inside, taking a deep breath. There was something there besides rust and decay. It might have been a person, yet he couldn’t entirely be sure.

  He felt his hackles raising. This was it.

  They carefully stepped around the old door. Marcus led the way, stepping around fallen pieces of metal and rusted screws. Angie stepped exactly after him, careful not to make any noise.

  The hallway was long, dark, and deserted. Occasionally, they would pass a room full of dirt and decay, broken windows letting in little shafts of sunlight to light their way. But each room they passed in succession was empty and deserted. Dust motes flittered.

  Marcus found that he was covered in sweat. This could all be over.

  But he was nervous, too. But it wasn’t for himself. He was nervous he was bringing Angie into this, though he knew it was her choice and he had no say in the matter, no matter how much he wished it to be so.

  The hallway ended in a large, open room. Marcus paused right on the inside of it. Angie bumped into Marcus’s back. He moved aside just enough for her to enter the room. Even with his eyes, it was hard to make out the layout of the room. There were some crisscrossing catwalks, though he noticed that one had collapsed at one point. Old desks littered the room, many tipped over. Chairs were laying everywhere.