Chapter Three

Jasper

“Where's Asher?” he asks. “I said I wanted to speak directly to him. Not you two – flunkies.”

Sheriff Dean Richards sat at his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him as he stared at the two of us. I look to Luca and see him looking back at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“No offense, Sheriff,” Luca said, turning back to Richards. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn't,” he snaps. “Where's Asher? I want to speak to the man in charge. Not Larry and Curly.”

“Actually,” I say. “I like to think I'm more like Shemp. An underappreciated genius, but kind of the glue that holds it all together.”

Luca turns to me and nods. “Yeah, I can see that actually,” he says. “That's good.”

Richards slams his fist down on the desk, rattling the pens in his cup. “I want to talk to Asher Greenwood,” he roars. “Do I need to get a warrant and drag his ass in here?”

“You can try to get a warrant, sure,” Luca says, giving the Sherriff a shrug, his tone still pleasant. “Without any probable cause or evidence though, I bet you'd have a real hard time getting a judge to sign off on one. But, hey, good luck to you.”

Richards sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Where's Asher.”

“Asher has better things to do today,” Luca says simply. “But, I'm here for all of your scapegoating needs, Sheriff.”

“Better things to do than answer questions about a murder?” Richards asks, arching an eyebrow at me. “That boy's got some balls on him, I'll tell –”

“He had better things to do than deal with yet another baseless accusation based on nothing that resembles actual evidence,” Luca says. “I drew the short straw and he sent me in his place. Lucky me, huh?”

Richards looks at Luca for a long minute, doing his best Dirty Harry impersonation, trying to intimidate him with his steely gaze. Then, his gaze turns to me with an expression that conveys his utter contempt and disdain for our kind. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth as I stare back at him. There is nothing about the man with the tin star on his chest that intimidates me.

“And who's this?” Richards asks, gesturing at me. “Your bodyguard or something?”

Richards smirks, leaning back in his seat looking like he thinks he just scored a point or something. I shake my head and actually have to suppress a sigh. What an idiot.

“Golly. I can see why they made you Sheriff,” I said. “Nothing gets by you, does it? I am his bodyguard actually.”

“And why would he need a bodyguard?” Richard's eyes narrow as he stares at me for a moment before he turns back to Luca. “Tryin' to have a posse like all the cool kids, Luca?”

“Yeah, that must be it,” he says. “I'm trying to get my rap career off the ground and having bodyguards gives me street cred, Sheriff.”

Richards leans forward, a look of genuine anger on his face. “Or maybe, people in town are just getting real sick of people turning up dead because of your kind,” he hisses. “And you're getting threats from the good people of Black Salmon Falls.”

“Because of our kind?” Luca asks.

“Yeah, your kind,” he sneers. “You know what I'm talking about.”

Luca leans forward, resting his arms on the Sheriff's desk, making Richards glare at him even harder.

“Actually, my dad does a lot of reading and is growing very concerned about the sharp increase in police brutality around the country,” Luca says. “And you know my father – he's always worried about me. Always wants to make sure I'm safe and all.”

Richards scoffs and let out a snort of derision. But Luca, his expression serious, presses on.

“So, yes, Sheriff,” Luca says. “This is Jasper. My bodyguard. He's here to keep me safe and sound.”

Richards shoots another glare at me and I'm becoming convinced that the man has no other expression. The Sheriff just snorts again and shakes his head.

“Hey,” I say, giving him a small wave. “I'm just here to make sure nothing untoward happens.”

“Yeah, I'm feeling like a case of police brutality might be coming on,” Luca mutters under his breath.

Richards is not amused, not in the least. Which only amuses me even more. He just shakes his head for about the thousandth time and scowls at me, his mouth turned down into a comical frown. Richards is almost a perfect caricature of the gruff, hard as nails lawman you'd see in most westerns. Of course, this isn't the Wild West. This is a pretty affluent community in a relatively staid part of the country.

“I'm glad you two are having a good time with this,” Richards said. “Just remember, while you two are sitting here playing grabass with me, people are being killed left and right around here. But, I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

“Honestly? Not a thing. Not this time, and not in the ten thousand other times you've accused us,” Luca said. “But, does it really matter if we sit here and play grabass with you or not? You're just going to blame it on us anyway.”

Richards pulls a couple of photographs out of a file folder and tosses them across the desk. I look over Luca's shoulder and let out a low whistle. I thought I'd seen a hell of a lot of disturbing things in my life, but what Richards puts on the table in front of us takes it up a few notches. Quite a few notches, actually.

“These two look familiar to you?” Richard demands.

More blood than I've ever seen before saturates the ground beneath both victims. Honestly, looking at the two chewed up, meaty corpses, I can't tell if they were male or female. I can barely tell they're human. Their faces have been torn completely off and their bodies mutilated almost beyond belief.

Both of their abdomens were ripped open, the contents spilling out everywhere. Intestines and a number of other bloody, meaty-looking things I can't identify are hanging out of the bodies, strewn on the ground around the victims. It looks like somebody had torn them out by hand and just threw them around carelessly.

I notice that both bodies have large chunks of flesh missing and it almost likes like they were torn off by a feeding animal. What remains of the flesh of their torsos, faces, arms and legs were marked with long, narrow furrows. Probably claw marks.

Whatever had gotten to them, had gotten to them but good. Luca stares at the photos for a long time, scrutinizing the images, an expression of obvious concern on his face. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks back up at the Sheriff.

“No clue, Sheriff,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “What I can tell you though, is that the bite and claw marks you see on those bodies didn't come from a bear.”

“Unless I'm mistaken, you're not a doctor or a veterinarian,” Richards asks, disbelief coloring his voice. “So, how can you possibly know those aren't marks from a bear?”

“Other than the fact that we don't kill innocent people?” Luca asks.

Richards sighs again as if his patience with us is wearing thin. Not that he had much patience with us from the start.

“What makes you think those aren't bear marks,” Richards says.

Luca points at the section of abdomen with the clearest claw marks. “Those claw marks are too narrow to have been made by a bear,” he says. “I'm sure you've been around long enough to know the difference between the claw marks of a bear and the claw marks of say, a mountain lion?”

Richards gives him a long, even look. “So, you're telling me there's some rogue mountain lion running around killing people out here?”

Luca shakes his head. “That's not what I'm saying at all,” he replies. “All I'm telling you is that those claw marks are too narrow to be a bear's.”

I step forward and point at what looks like the bite marks in the person's flesh. “Not to mention the fact that those bite marks are too small for a bear. The bite radius is way too small for bear's mouth and the actual puncture wounds look more like, I don't know, fangs or something, if you ask me.”

“Fangs?” Richards scoffs. “So, now I suppose you're going to tell me we have vampires running around Black Salmon Falls? What a joke.”

“Sheriff,” Luca said, his tone deadly serious. “There are a lot of things in this world that defy normal, logical explanation. There are a lot of things out there that –”

“I'm not going to listen to this garbage,” Richards says as he stands up and stuffs the photographs back into the file on his desk.

“You know what we are, Sheriff,” I say. “Is it really that hard to believe that there are other supernatural beings in this world?”

Richards stares at me, clearly annoyed that I was there, let alone daring to speak.

“I thought bodyguards were there to be seen and not heard from,” Richards snaps.

Luca shrugs. “Because my cousin is a smart man, I value his input,” he says.

“Yeah, well, smart or not, I'm not taking your word for anything,” Richards sneers. “Once I have the lab reports back, I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again.”

“So, I assume, if you have no more questions and aren't actually charging us with a crime, that we're free to go?”

Despite the Sheriff's bluster, Luca remains completely unruffled. He never raises his voice and he never gets snippy. It's pretty impressive, actually. If I'd been in his seat, I probably would have lost it and went off on Richards. He's got much more self-control than I have. Which, is probably why he's going to make a terrific Clan Chief whenever his father decides to take the Walk.

“I still want to speak to Asher,” he grumbles. “If he can ever fit me into his social calendar.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Luca says.

“Until this is all cleared up,” Richards says, “I don't want any of you leaving town. You got me?”

“Not planning on it, Sheriff,” Luca says. “It's the holiday season, after all, and we've got guests coming into town. Lots of things to do.”

We stand up and Richards rolls his eyes and then stares at us. I know that if he had his way, he'd shoot us dead on the spot. Thankfully, he isn't going to get his way. I open the door and let Luca walk out before me and then fall into step beside him.

“Well, I think that went well,” Luca quips.

I grin. “I don't think Richards likes you all that much.”

“I'm not sure he likes anybody all that much.”

Not everybody is as hostile to us as Richards is though. In fact, there are quite a few within the police department who are friends of the clans. A fact that no doubt, rankles the good Sheriff. But, not everybody is as close-minded and bigoted as he is. Which gives me hope for humanity.

Although the bears and the clans are an open secret in Black Salmon Falls – and we're widely accepted – it's not that way in most of the world. In many places, shifters are forced to live in secret, denying who they are, under the ever-present threat of being killed.

My hope is that one day, that won't be the case. That one day, we'll be accepted for who we are. Until that day though, we simply trudge on and endure the best we can.