The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 41 - Jawbone

The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Uncle Bob was the killer—his strange hours, the fact that he had only one real friend. He used to invite me to go out with him, but he never did anymore. Not that I would, but still.

I remembered my uncle raising his voice to me when I mentioned the first murder. I'd heard about it from old Mrs. Binkley. My uncle's reaction surprised me. I thought he knew more than he was saying, but I was too preoccupied to follow up.

Then there was the morning he came home with blood on him. He threw his shirt away casually, like it happened all the time. There were scratches on his neck. Catfight, he said. I should have realized.

What should I do now?

I paced the room, wringing my hands. I could turn him in, but all my proof was circumstantial. People liked him. They'd believe him before they believed me. But I couldn't stay in the house with a serial killer.

The thought stopped me cold. My uncle was a serial killer. How could he do this to me? I thought he was a good guy. I liked him.

This was the evil from my Tarot card reading. The grandmaster had warned me—not what, but whom. But if she knew who it was all along, why didn't she tell me?

Maybe she meant someone else. Maybe I was wrong.

Frantically, I searched the living room—stacking newspapers, looking under the recliner. The jawbone wasn't there.

The killer would mount the jaw on an axe handle, the sheriff stated in the article. Either an axe handle or...

I sank to the floor. A baseball bat. My uncle kept a bat in the cab of his truck. He was evil. A murderer.

How could I prove it? I needed to act normal and try to catch him doing something weird, something I could take to the sheriff. It was dangerous, but I would prevail. The grandmaster told me so.

That night I tossed and turned, listening for my uncle to come in. He never did. Eventually, I drifted to sleep.

***

When I woke the next morning, I checked my computer for news of another murder. No reports. I felt relieved, but not entirely convinced. Halfway to the kitchen, I smelled my uncle's coffee. I hesitated, then forced myself to enter the room.

"Morning." I avoided his eyes. "Have a nice night?"

"Great. An old friend was in town." Uncle Bob stared at me. "You mad because I didn't call in?"

I shrugged. "It's your house."

"No, no. It's what I would expect of you. I should do the same. It won't happen again."

Silence fell between us. I gazed outside. The sky was bright blue, and the breeze was cold and dry.

"Whatever happened to the jawbone that kept the newspapers from blowing around?" I asked.

He chuckled and slurped his coffee. "That old thing? I'm surprised you ask."

"I thought it was cool. I went to show Brittany, but it was gone."

He sobered. "I heard her come over yesterday. You okay?"

"Fine," I said, not sure what he meant. He couldn't know my little secret.

"I hope you don't have anything planned for today. I could sure use your help with a project."

"No problem. What are we doing?"

He drank again and smacked his lips. "Going to paint the front porch."

"But you rent."

"Part of how I keep the rent down is by doing repairs myself. I've been planning to paint for a while, waiting for cooler weather." He rinsed his cup and set it in the sink. "I'll start scraping. You finish breakfast and come on out."

I watched him leave. I was uncomfortable spending time with him, but it had to be done. Maybe he'd let something slip during conversation. Besides, I had to act normal. If he suspected I knew something, I might be his next victim.

I wolfed down a bowl of cereal and half a loaf of toast, changed out of my favorite T-shirt, and joined him on the porch. The paint he bought was pale blue. I slapped it on the railing.

There wasn't as much conversation as I hoped. Painting is hard work, and despite the coolness of the day, I was sweating. My thoughts drifted to Brittany. Her quick acceptance of my wolfish nature made her even more perfect. I pictured her with lips the color of the paint I slathered on the stairs. I wished she were with me.

Tires crackled and popped on the driveway, breaking into my thoughts. I so expected it to be her that at first I didn't recognize Sheriff Brad in his green and white car.

Uncle Bob climbed off his ladder. He'd been painting the overhang. "Hello, Brad. Can I help you with something?"

The sheriff slammed the car door. "I suppose you heard we found two more bodies."

"No, I hadn't. Were they in the same area?"

"One was a runaway from Jacksonville. Some kids found her in the woods. There were beer bottles around. It appears she knew the perp before he turned on her. Maybe met him somewhere local where teens gather. The older woman was from the Sunspot. Married. Here on vacation with her husband. She was jogging just before dawn."

"That makes four."

"Yep. It's a shame. This used to be a sleepy little town."

Uncle Bob's shoulders stiffened. "Maybe you should be out looking for the killer."

"I'm making the rounds, asking people if they'd seen anything out of the ordinary, asking where they were the past few nights."

"You plan to talk to every single person in town?"

"Eventually. I'm starting with those with a history of having a quick temper." He looked at me. "What about you, boy? You have anything to report?"

Was he giving me an opening? Did he suspect my uncle, too? I glanced at Uncle Bob. "Not me."

"You go to Jana's party?"

"No sir. I don't really know Jana that well."

"Well, you missed quite a wingding. I expect you'll hear all about it tomorrow at school."

"Yes, sir."

He gave a curt nod. As he walked back to his car, he said, "Don't be surprised if you see me again. I plan to be everywhere at once."

Uncle Bob stood next to me, watching the sheriff drive away. Anger radiated off him.

"I get the impression you two don't like each other much," I said.

"We have a history." Uncle Bob scowled. I thought he would leave it with that cryptic remark, but he surprised me by continuing. "Shortly after I moved here, there was a rash of gas station robberies. Brad suspected me because I was the new guy on the block. He made my life miserable."

"Did they catch the robber?"

"It turned out to be some high school kid who'd lived here all his life. I don't think Brad ever forgave me for being an honest man." He slapped my shoulder. "How about I go out and get us a bucket of chicken? You hungry?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Keep working. I'll be back in a jiff."

Thirty minutes later, we were sitting in lawn chairs and throwing chicken bones into the woods. If I didn't know better, I'd say my uncle was a great guy.