Whereabouts

All over the cracked ground were chunks of meat and dried blood. The body cavity had been ripped open, sunlight playing against the inside of a ribcage, a fly buzzing here and there. She was dead. Two men stood over the body smoking cigars.
"Who do you think did this then Pete?"
"Who? I was reckoning a bear or mountain cat did this."
"When you ever seen a mountain cat around here? Besides, an animal would have eaten most of her. This was the work of a man."
"You think? I never saw anything like this done by a man."
"You were in the war, right?"
"Yes sheriff. I was in the ninety ninth infantry."
"The front line eh? I never saw anything like that, we mostly followed the front line, clearing out areas, opening supply-lines, that sorta stuff. I remember one time we came across this little village, no Germans about, but there were a few folk still there. Anyway, turned out one of 'em was crazy. One night he'd taken a knife to his family, then his neighbours, moving from house to house. And what he did to 'em looked a lot like this." said the sheriff, looking down at the body.
"What happened to him?" said Pete.
"The man? We hung him." said the sheriff before turning around and going back to his car. The birds sang in the forest around them, the morning was warm and hinted that it was going to be another hot day. "Send an ambulance up here to pick up the body, then I want you to look round and gather evidence, see if she had a purse or something. I'll meet you back at the station later."
"Where you going sheriff?"
"Gonna go question the guy at the gas station down the road, see if he'd seen anything."

An hour or so later the sheriff got back to town, though he'd stopped on the way for some onion rings. He was still wiping his fingers clean when he stepped into the station.
"We not got the air conditioning fixed yet?"
"Yeah, I just thought I wouldn't turn it on."
"Smart ass." said the sheriff. Louise went back to her crossword as Pulaski walked to his office and cracked open the window. It was still outside, quiet. He thought about buying a new fan for his office, but wasn't sure where he'd put it. His desk was thick with papers, some of the ones on the bottom had started yellowing slightly. Not that the sheriff was particularly busy, it just suited him to have access to all his paperwork at once. And the newest addition to this system was a witness statement about the discovery of the body up in the hills. He read through it quickly. Anna Bradley, seventeen, found by a hiker that morning, apparently he scared something off and it ran away into the forests that surrounded the town. There was also an envelope containing black and white crime scene photographs. Something savage had happened to Anna. Severe cuts across the legs and face, you could see the bone in one cut along her forearm. She'd been gutted, some of the organs missing though the intestines were mostly intact. There also looked to be bite marks in places, though he couldn't tell exactly what had made them. Just as Pulaski put the photographs back into the envelope Pete knocked on the door and let himself in.
"Any luck?"
"I couldn't find anything."
"Not even tracks?"
"Grounds dry sheriff, and I was never much of a tracker. Maybe if we take a few dogs up there?"
"Forget it. Where's Mike and Jake?"
"Mike's over at the Bradley house talking to the parents and Jake's doing his patrol." said Pete, sitting down across from the sheriff.
"Louise, could you radio Jake and tell him to come down here?" Pulaski shouted out from his office.
"Okay!"
"Any luck at the gas station?"
"Nope. And there coffee is atrocious. No, looks like we're going to have to do some old fashioned detective work on this one. I want you to go to the school and ask her teachers who her friends were, who she was dating, that kinda thing. When you find out who, I want you and Jake to go talk to them. Try and not let on she's dead, eh?"
"Okay sheriff."
"I'm going to go to back to the crime scene, have a look around for myself." he said, nodding at Pete. Pulaski sat in his car and looked up at the hills that surrounded the town. Acres of colours, green and brown, still beneath the summer sky that cracked cloudless overhead. Somewhere out there was a killer capable of such brutal violence that the sheriff hoped that they were obviously insane. Because if not it meant they could blend in, be anybody, pretend normal. The sheriff picked his cigar from the ashtray and re-lit it before turning the ignition.

The doctor pulled back the sheet to reveal the body, then began to pace backwards and forwards.
"At first glance this looks like an animal kill. We've had a few over the years."
"I know."
"Exactly. So you know that this must be the work of a man. How deliberate it is, almost ritualistic. There's relatively little damage on the arms and legs, though our killer showed a great interest in the genitals and face."
"What about the organs? I thought I saw bite marks."
"Right again sheriff. It seems our boy has cannibalistic tendencies." said the doctor, pointing out crescent rings of teeth imprints. "Thing is, there are two sets of canine teeth. Not only that but they must be huge."
"How did he actually do it?"
"From what I can tell she was first attacked around the throat, exsanguination followed quickly. Though she defended herself beforehand, hence the cuts on her forearms. I can't see any kind of clean cuts on the torso, I'm guessing he must have used either a bluntish instrument or his bare hands."
"Jesus Christ." said the sheriff. "Is that even possible?"
"Anything's possible sheriff. I've been the doctor in this town coming up thirty seven years, I've seen some strange things in my time. Though this...nothing like this. Have the Bradley's been told?"
"Mike's over there now."
"Good. Such a shame, she was a bright girl, kind to. God rest her soul." said the doctor. He looked down at the body momentarily and stopped pacing.
"You said our man has two sets of canine teeth. Any chance he's wearing fake teeth?"
"Could be sheriff. I never seen any record of it happening naturally." said the doctor. He bent down slightly, his knees cracking as he did so. "Look here, at the left lung. I'd say the teeth must be pretty darn big."
"Well, I don't think there's any werewolves in our town." said the sheriff. He looked around the morgue, the dozen polished steel doors behind him reflected his beige uniform slightly, as if seeing himself through a metallic fog.
"Sheriff, could you pass me some tweezers?" said the doctor. Pulaski turned around and saw the doctor was leaning close to the body, his face hovering just a few inches from the cold flesh with a magnifying glass in one hand.
"Seen something doc?" said Pulaski, handing over the tool. The doctor carefully moved the miniature tongs forward and clasped at something before gently teasing it out from a wound.
"Come here sheriff." he said. The sheriff walked around the table and looked through the magnifying glass. A long, thick, black hair, encrusted in blood. "Looks like our killer needs a haircut."

Pulaski drove back up into the hills and looked around the crime scene for a while, the sun was beginning it's slow dive off in the west. On a clear day you could perhaps just make out the ocean if you were up high enough, though Pulaski was looking closer to the ground. He could track most animals that lived in the forests around the town and saw that several different species as well as a few of his officers had worn away any track that may lead to the killer. He cursed under his breath and rooted around in his pocket for his tobacco tin. He pulled out a brown cigarette and lit it as he began to drive higher up into the hills. Few people lived so far away from town, but most of them kept themselves to themselves. Old families that had lived in the hills for generations, a couple of people preferring the solitude the rural living provided them and a few odd ones. The sheriff knew most of the hill people, though they usually weren't that welcoming. He drove past an old man following the edge of the road, he held a dead raccoon in one hand and a short bow in the other, a few arrows he'd made himself dangled in a rope loop he wore round one leg. On the forest went, some areas deeper in began to grow dark. He knocked on the doors of a few cabins, came across a camp site and was beginning to make his way back towards the town. None of the people he came across seemed suspicious to him, nobody had seen anything. A dead end. He guided the car through the failing light and came across an old house with the lights on. He had thought this had been abandoned, yet it looked as if somebody had moved in. He parked in the drive and got out, looking around at the overgrown weeds amongst what would have been the front yard. The house itself was rather big, perhaps one of the biggest in town. He remembered his dad telling him at been home to somebody who'd gotten rich from prospecting in the south, though once he'd died the house hadn't been lived in since. It must have cost quite a lot of money back then, the workmanship good enough that the house hadn't fallen into complete disrepair in the last thirty years. It also looked like somebody had been renovating it, curtains were drawn behind every one of the new windows. A high fence had also been erected around the back. Pulaski went up to the door and knocked a few times. He heard footsteps inside and a few locks clicking and the door opened.

The man who answered the door was a good deal shorter than the sheriff. Beneath thick eyebrows that joined above a broken nose was a tired face, skin mottled red and a small beard, marked pink in places with small scars. He wore a red waistcoast and a grey suit, maybe once it had been expensive but now looked shabby and worn.
"Can I help you?" he said, his voice sounding thick and french.
"My name's sheriff Pulaski, I was just wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"
"Sheriff? I'm not in trouble am I?"
"Just a few questions. Where were you last night?"
"I was in my home."
"You see or hear anything odd?"
"Odd sheriff? I live in the forest, you hear a lot of odd things up here."
"Yeah, you do, don't you? You know, I don't think we've met. Can I ask your name?"
"Nicholas Vineur. I moved here just before the war, saw that things may get a little uncivilized, don't you see? As well, myself, I am not much of a soldier." he said and held up his hand. It was made of wood.
"What was it you did in France?"
"I was a professor at the university of Strasbourg."
"How does a professor lose his hand?"
"Ah, I taught chemistry. Accidents happen."
"That's too bad. My brother lost a few fingers though he worked in a saw mill. Still doesn't stop him from picking his ears though. You live alone here Nicholas?"
"It is just me and my dogs sheriff."
"Dogs?" said the sheriff.
"Yes, come see them if you like."

The sheriff walked through the house lead by the little man. Everything inside was shades of brown, a few oil burners were lit here and there. There was a stale sort of smell in the air, sweat and alcohol. A dark book shelf dominated one wall, filled with at least two hundred or so leather bound books. They entered a kitchen, the remaining daylight played through dusty windows onto the green tiles that surrounded them.
"You like dogs sheriff?"
"Sure, had a few in my time. Work dogs mostly." said the sheriff, looking out into the yard. In the corner was a large kennel, the only thing in the yard besides the two huge mastiffs that paced around with their thick heads bent low towards the dirt.
"I've always been interested in them, I got my first dog when I was just a tot."
"You go hunting with these dogs?" said the sheriff, glancing at Vineur.
"No, no. These are here for company. They may look intimidating and I hope that that will be enough to scare anyway any thieves and other miscreants, but otherwise they are more like kittens than hounds." said Vineur. He went over to a stone cabinet set towards the floor and opened it, revealing several parcels of meat.
"Dinner time?"
"For the dogs, yes. Is there anything else I can help you with sheriff?"
"Not right now. Thanks for showing me around."
"Not at all sheriff, the pleasure's all mine. Let me see you out." said Vineur. The two men walked through the front door, the sheriff nodded at a horse box parked at the front.
"You keep horses?"
"I use it to transport slaughtered cows here. The boys do eat a lot."
"Yeah, mine to. See you around Nicky." said the sheriff before getting into his car and set off back towards the town.

The sheriff walked into the station, his three deputies were sitting around with the last of the day's sunlight coming in through the dusty windows making it all look like a sepia toned photo. Pete and Jake looked up.
"Where's Louise?" said the sheriff.
"She went home, needed to look after Jack Jnr."
"Okay. Anybody have any luck with finding the culprit?" said Pulaski. Pete glanced to Jake before stepping forward.
"Sheriff, how do we know a bear didn't do this?"
"I spoke to the doc, he said there were...human teeth marks."
"So who we looking for? Bela Lugosi?" said Jake.
"Nah, Lon Chaney played the wolfman. I caught it at a drive-in up in Portland." said Pete.
"You had any luck with the friends?"
"Nope. Nobody saw anything. We haven't found the boyfriend yet though."
"Well, go and look for him then." said the sheriff. Jake and Pete paused momentarily, unsure if Pulaski meant it. He nodded them on before going over to the reception desk and taking a few peanuts out from the top drawer. He cracked one open and began to eat it before looking at Mike, leant by the coffee machine as he did every day. Hated sitting down.
"And you Mike...what've you been doing all day?"
"Well I was looking after the town, there was a fight in O'Sullivan's, some girls were smoking cigarettes at the cemetery and a car broke Kyle Goldstein's arm when the jack broke."
"So all that's been done now? Are you ready to hunt down a murderer?"
"Yes Sheriff."
"Thanks. Well, looks like the only lead is this boyfriend. Go and help the other two, they'll probably need it. Meanwhile, I'll be waiting here, doing Louise's job." said the sheriff, sitting down and taking more peanuts out for himself.

The sheriff sat alone, listening in now and then through the police radio at brief updates from the three men he'd sent out. He could count on them to break up fights at the local bar or catch people speeding, but they didn't have too much experience in solving murders. Neither did the sheriff at that. He went back into Louise's drawer for some more peanuts and found he'd eaten them all, he checked his watch. The store wasn't due to shut for another fifteen minutes. He was just about to go when a teenager walked in. He had big shoulders and his hair was a little longer than a lot of the other boys around town, but the sheriff thought he recognized him from the local football team.
"Can I help you son?"
"Hello sir. I'm Anna's boyfriend."
"Yeah? And why've you come here?" said the sheriff, getting up slowly. His revolver rested in his belt holster reassuringly, nine times out of ten the victims of violent crimes knew their attacker.
"I heard you been looking for me, so I came in."
"What did you say your name was?"
"Brad Whittle. I'd have come in earlier sir but I was out by the lake, only heard the news an hour ago." said Brad. His voice wavered slightly, the sheriff could see he was trying to keep himself together.
"Sit down Brad. I've had my deputies out looking for you, y'know? Good of you to come in. Now, can you tell me what you were doing last night?"
"That's the thing sheriff, I was with Anna last night. We were going to go up to Peak Top and...look around. Anyway, we had a bit of an argument, she got real sore at me so she left."
"Most kids who go up to Peak Top don't go to look around. What happen? She say no? You get angry?"
"It was the other way round sheriff, honest!" said Brad. One of his eyes had a tear building up above his lower lid, it danced up and down his pupil like a little bead of glass.
"Well, look at it from my perspective. You were the last one to see her alive. You're a big guy, maybe you got a temper on you, I don't know. So what happened?"
"We were going to go up there to...make love, yeah. But I chickened out. I didn't want her to get pregnant, I wanna go to college in the fall. So we argued and she left, that was it sheriff. I drove back home and got in by ten, you can ask my old man."
"So you abandoned a teenage girl in the woods?"
"No, no, I thought it'd be safe, see? None of us had seen that weird guy for months."
"Which guy?" said the sheriff.
"You know, the guy from the asylum." said Brad. The sheriff frowned and tilted his head. "Okay, there's this guy who lives up in the woods, nobody ever saw him up close, but he's up there alright, especially round Peak Top. Anyway, this guy just stands there, watching us, we leave him alone because we thought he might just be some bum or something, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Anyway, one day little Eddie Spivek's brother came to town, the guy used to be a orderly at the loony bin upstate, he don't talk about it much but he's a good guy. So anyway we decide to go up into the woods and go camping or something you know, the weather's been good and just as we were settling down to start a fire we see this bum again standing in the woods. We ignore him like usual but Jessie Spivek freezes, acts like he's seen a ghost. Says that he recognizes the guy from the asylum, he say's he was pretty crazy even amongst the other crazies. Guy used to have to wear a mask to stop him from biting other people."
"You know which asylum it was he worked at?"
"Can't remember sheriff, but it was upstate."
"You remember anything else this Jessie Spivek said?"
"Yeah, apparently this guy...well Jessie didn't know exactly why this guy was in in the first place, but there was rumours this guy was nuts. Killed and ate his own mother. His papa didn't get off lightly either, lost a hand" said Brad.
"The man's papa only had one hand?" said the sheriff.

The sheriff's car drifted through the forest with Pulaski and Pete sat inside, both lit from below with a strange green light. Sweat daubed both brows, faces still as they stared at the road ahead. White lines raced, eaten by headlights, each second bringing them closer to the house of the professor. Both of the men had been soldiers and felt they could see no worse than what they already seen. The sheriff joked with his deputy about bogey men and the sasquatch. After a few minutes they arrived. They got out and looked at the dark windows of the house, it didn't look like anybody was in. They walked up to the door and knocked, immediately followed by loud barking from the mastiff's in the back.
"Doctor Vineur! It's the sheriff. Open up." A light came on somewhere and they heard the shuffling of slippered feet. The door opened.
"Yes?"
"Vineur, I've got a warrant here to search your premises. Please step aside." said the sheriff, handing over a piece of paper before pushing through the small gap in the door.
"Excuse me, excuse me monsieur, but I insist that you return in the morning." said Vineur.
"I don't need an invitation, I'm here with a court order. We have reason to believe there is another person living here, we'd like to see him."
"No, there is nobody else here."
"I called Dammasch State Hospital. I know about your son."
"My son's not here, nobody is. Please could you leave?" said Vineur. The dogs continued barking.
"Pete, check the house. If Mr. Vineur tries to stop you, arrest him." said Pulaski.
"You got it sheriff!" said Pete. Vineur watched the deputy begin walking upstairs.
"Tell me about your son."
"John? He's a troubled boy."

"How about I go look in those kennels out there?"
"Sheriff, my dogs are awake and aren't as friendly as I may have previously stated."
"Well you better go and rope them dogs up, because I want to look in the kennel." said Pulaski. Vineur looked confused for a moment before nodding, walking off towards the kitchen. The sheriff was left in the living room, listening to the sounds of Pete's footsteps as he searched upstairs, the dogs continuing to bark at the back. It was still hot, even in the night. The sheriff waited.
"Come this way then sheriff." said Vineur, appearing at the door. He lead the way into the back, the dogs now crouching and growling with thick chains through loops in their collars holding them in the centre of the yard watching them walk by the fence.
"Why aren't they in their kennel?"
"Because they're animals sheriff. Who am I to tell them this or that?" said Vineur. The kennel was about seven feet tall, a box made of wood painted in thick red enamel. The sheriff took out his flashlight and pointed it at the doorway of the dog's house.
"You going to look inside sheriff?" said Vineur.
"Yeah." said the sheriff. He crouched down and began to crawl towards the entrance, flashing the torch around in front of him. The floor was made of concrete and the whole thing stunk of hair and grease and shit and warm and animal. Inside the house a gun was fired. The sound of it cracking in the night made the sheriff spin to face it's source, he saw Vineur running towards the house. The dogs had leapt back up and were barking throatily, spit gathering at the mouths that snapped open and shut as they leapt towards him, fully extended they were almost as big as a man. The sheriff took out his revolver and began to run through the yard, dodging a mouth going for his elbow. Pulaski got into the house and pointed the gun in front of him as he walked.
"Pete?" he shouted. The only sound were the footsteps of Vineur as he ran upstairs. The sheriff followed, finding himself walking through a dark corridor. There were five doors and all were shut. The sheriff flicked the light on and listened carefully, walking forward to check the first door. But before he could reach it the door opposite it banged open. Standing in the doorway was John Vineur. A man shape as intimidating at it was horrific. He was a good seven feet tall, with this long, thin hair dangling off his naked body. It wasn't quite right, muscles were overdeveloped in some areas whilst others looked thin and malnutritioned. His head was a fat lump of bone and fat with the face of a child. Before the sheriff could spin around the strange son knocked the pistol away with a howl. It went off and blasted a hole in the wooden floorboards, the smell of gunpowder filled the air. The blood was coming from the hide of John Vineur, gore ran down his front and from his screaming mouth, each sharp, deformed tooth coated in red, poking out from diseased gum. It was all the sheriff could look at as the man threw himself forward, gripping the sheriff with powerful hands about the shoulders. Pulaski crouched down before fully extending his legs, pushing with everything he had at his attacker. In the army he'd been disciplined multiple times for brawling. He'd been on the boxing team at high school. And his dad had been a drunk. Pulaski and the creature fell back into the room it had just come from, the sheriff throwing punches and swinging elbows at the thing's head. It wasn't like any man Pulaski had ever fought, nor was the way this fight was going. John Vineur fought with the strength and ferocity of a wild thing, not throwing punches as kicks as much as a constant attack with his whole body. The sheriff quickly found they were rolling in thick, sticky blood and his mind barely registered the dead body of his deputy crumpled in the corner, the shadows hiding his features. But Pulaski was fighting for his life and hadn't time to properly process what was happening entirely. He rolled around on his back, kicking out his feet so that he slowly moved backwards, the thing clawing at him, snapping at his arms. He stood up over Pulaski momentarily only to bring both fists smashing down onto his forehead. Everything seemed to be white for a moment, he forgot what he was doing. There was the face, jaws stretched open wide and the spit and the breath coming out smelling of blood and damp leaves. Pulaski slipped on the floor, skidding an arm upwards. He needed the gun. The sheriff brought a foot up and kicked back at the creature. His hands wrapped round something metal, heavy. He brought up the pistol and pointed it at the middle of his attacker's body and started pulling the trigger. John Vineur moved quickly, flexing out of the way like a cat dodging cold water. Though two bullets had still run through his shoulder, leaving exit wounds like thumbs glistening in the hallway light thrown from behind. The man screamed and bounded away, using all four limbs to propel himself to safety and leaving the sheriff and his deputy in the room, dazed. Pulaski edged his way into the hallway, pointing the pistol forward. He knelt and picked up his other gun and holstered it before walking towards the staircase. The sheriff moved through the living room as if in a dream. There was no sign of either of the Vineur's, though the dogs kept barking in the yard. The sheriff looked down at some splats of blood leading out of the front of the house. Nicholas Vineur was probably still in the house and the sheriff could find him easily. But the one who'd escaped had killed his deputy and most likely murdered Ms. Bradley. The sheriff went out into the night.

The man made his way through the forest as his ancient ancestors had, the animal inside him guiding him between the trunks of the trees that surrounded him like pillars holding up bunches of black and blue leaves. He stopped now and again and listened to the sounds of the night, the toads and owls, the distant shaking of grass, the ground breathing. Only a minute or so had passed since he left the house yet it had seemed to him as if there was no time. Each second could have been a millenia. He hadn't felt dread since the war, now it crawled on the underside of his skull and plunged white hot irons into his adrenal glands. Blood shone in the night like black jelly. He continued to hunt, gun pointing forward, his eyes turning big resembling that of the jungle cat. Somewhere in the night he heard breathing. Then footsteps began to slap against the ground, pat pat pat pat. He raised the gun and fired blindly, the muzzle flash illuminating the forest for a moment as the bullet zipped onwards and smashed into a tree. The footsteps continued, faster now. They were going from the sheriff's right to his left, the sheriff fired off another shot that zipped away through the leaves. It missed. The sheriff began to run after the murderer, sticks hitting at his shins and his feet finding their way perfectly across the dead leaves and dry mud. The moon was low on the horizon and shone weakly through the branches, giving the man glimpses of the thing he was chasing.
"Stop!" the sheriff shouted. Each breath burned his lungs, the blood and sweat wet his back cool. He came to a dead stop, took his gun up and fired. There was a scream. The sheriff ran into the darkness, looking for the one he’d been hunting. He could hear heavy breathing in the bushes around him. If only it wasn’t the night. The sheriff decided that it was silly to be chasing the suspect like this. He had no backup, no more bullets and it was pitch black. He turned around, walked back to his car, drove home, made himself a cup of coffee and sat in bed reading comics and jacking off.