[OLD - HAS BEEN REWRITTEN] Howl You Home

Chapter 2: Interrogation

With one corpse found and at least fourteen burrs clogging his socks, Marco Castillo was beginning to regret becoming a park ranger. Moments ago he'd been in the forest, staring at a ranger's corpse. Then he blinked and found himself in a musty interrogation room.

Tall beige walls rose around him, plain and emotionless. Chips of its paint flecked had been away by years of abuse by bored fingernails; something that should have been tipped him off on just how long he'd be stuck waiting. Even the metal table that was already scratched to all hell had been carved on.

Marco looked closer. Just to the left of his hand was a jagged unmistakable carving of a dick. Any other day he might have enjoyed the intricacy of such a crudely drawn penis; but after finding a corpse, almost watching Ezra die, then being stuck in an interrogation room hours ago? He was feeling anything but patient.

Marco's finger thrummed impatiently on the table next to his set-aside ranger's hat. For the sake of something to do he moved it to cover the dick. Then back off. Then, finally, back on.

It was almost six o'clock by the time the door finally opened, filling the room with the smell of heavy cigarettes. At least it felt like six, given the absence of clocks in the room. The sheriff dusted down his uniform as he came in. It was impossible to be a stranger in such a small town, but Sheriff Dudley somehow managed to toe the line.

Marco's nose twisted at the stench.

"Castillo," the bald man greeted. Despite his clear exhaustion, the sheriff's eyes were alight. It almost made Marco laugh bitterly as he realized that this was probably the most interesting thing to happen in their town in years.

Marco wondered briefly if the musty cigarette hadn't been a celebratory cigar instead. The sheriff's grin glowed almost as much as his smokey halo as Dudley stuck out his free hand for a shake. "Mari-"

"Marco," Marco ground out in response. Still, he gave a single solid shake and watched as the sheriff sat down across from him. Deep lines formed around Dudley's eyes and mouth, and the bones in his cheeks were prominent. It was probably for the best that he'd gone bald, if his eyebrows were any indication. The sheriff rubbed a hand over a scraggly beard as he scratched at his jaw.

The motion reminded Marco of a flea bitten dog.

"Right, right. Old habits," Dudley said as he waved it off. Marco had trouble believing that. He hadn't been known by that name since he was ten.

The sheriff nodded unbothered by his tone before lifting his other hand. It was only then that Marco realized Dudley had brought coffee with him. A peace offering. The mug was a soft blue and partially chipped. Marco took it without hesitation. With the very first sip the ranger could almost feel his bitter attitude being replaced by hazelnut creamer and a fair bit of sugar.

It was almost worth the however-many-hour wait.

"I was at Bella's when we got the call," Dudley answered before Marco could even ask. "I'd ordered for me and my deputy, and somehow wound up taking these with me."

Bella's was the only real diner the small town had. Ran by a woman sharing the same name it was also the only place that served half decent coffee.

Marco found himself grinning despite the horrible memory of the corpse and the snapping sound of Ezra's leg. He fully blamed the creamer. "Isn't that theft?"

The sheriff shrugged. His sheepish smile was hidden away quickly, but not quick enough to hide the flash of fear. Everyone knew better than to mess with Bella or her restaurant. "I'll make sure to bring them back next time I go. Bella's a dear, she won't mind."

Chances were she wouldn't, but Marco didn't feel bothered to agree.

As if on cue the deputy came in, pressing a folder into the sheriff's hand before leaving as quick as he came. Sheriff Dudley wasted no time opening the folder - and quickly snapped it shut. The man looked away before clearing his throat, followed by coughing into his hand. Despite his years on the force, it looked as if not even Dudley had a strong stomach.

Marco couldn't blame him.

"Pictures?" Marco guessed. Any other day he might have laughed at the sight - but a corpse was no laughing matter. Especially when it wore not only the uniform of his fellow ranger - but of his dad.

Dudley gave a grunt of agreement as he slid the folder onto the table. "So far we haven't decided the cause of death - but we know for sure that it was a man. Probably late fifties."

Just like his Dad.

"What makes you say that?" To be honest Marco didn't care who it was, as long as the person hadn't been one of their rangers. Sure none of them had gone missing, and it sure wasn't his dad who he'd seen just that morning, but the conformation soothed the worry he hadn't noticed building up.

"There was still some hair. Grey. Looks like the hat helped preserve it for the most part - not that it did much else." the sheriff paused, grimacing in sympathy as Marco winced at the reminder. "...You certainly have a knack at wandering into crime scenes," Dudley added with a forced and awkward laugh. "Maybe we should hire you to work crimes. Get you a break from old Yogi."

Marco didn't bother to hide his glare. Dudley had recently been elected when that had happened - and he knew damned well that Marco avoided the topic when he could. Still, Marco almost smiled. Becoming a detective would send his poor dad batty. The family's boys were always rangers. It'd be fun to see his reaction, and the rest of the Rangers'.

The sheriff cleared his throat almost apologetically before carrying on. "The report says you found the body while apprehending a trespasser. We suspect the body's been there for at least a year, but we won't know until forensics gets back." The sheriff paused, probably wondering how long it would take. "So, what were they after?"

Marco shook his head, unable to imagine the body had been there for so long. How had no one seen it? Maybe the body had been dragged there by wildlife. Or maybe Sheriff Dudley was wrong, and the corpse was somewhat new. "Just like the report said -" Marco managed. "They claimed to be looking for their lost dog."

Dudley flipped through the file. Marco caught the slightest glimpse of Bea's name. She must have given her statement too. "Says here that they found a trail camera nearby, but someone had painted over it. Has that happened before?"

Marco huffed. "Happened before? Constantly. Usually on the main trails though."

Fucking poachers.

Dudley nodded, pencil jutting down a few hard notes. "Sounds like a lot of vandalism." The pencil paused as he looked up. Bushy brows framed his judging eyes as the wrinkles around them deepend. "Would have thought the station would have made a report at some point."

It was Marco's turn to wave as he leaned back. "Yeah well, we don't want to overwork you guys."

The response only seemed to amuse the sheriff. He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "So from what I'm hearing is that this camera has never been hit before?"

"Like I said, it's usually the main trails that get hit. Any cameras out there are pretty hard to go after." Marco paused. "And usually high up too."

The sheriff hummed as he wrote down a few more notes, turning the page for more room. His reflection echoed each movement in the dark, and rather dusty, finger smudged window beside them. Marco assumed that's where the deputy had gone, probably watching them from the next room.

"So," the Sheriff continued unaware. "How long would you guess it had been since the trail camera had been tempered with?"

Marco hummed, sparing a look down at his hand. Scratches covered his knuckles from forcing away the brambles during the chase. Not a year, that's for sure. "Sometime in the last couple months, maybe...? We don't head out that way often but I'm pretty sure we would have noticed it last time we patrolled out there. I mean neon pink is sorta hard to miss."

He didn't add the fact they'd been out there just months before. Bringing up the fact they'd been tracking down yet another injured wolf would just set Dudley into a questioning rant. Marco wasn't about to give the sheriff more ammo to use. With their luck he'd spin the story, making it sound like the wolves had eaten the man alive.

Marco forced himself not to frown. No, Dudley was sure to do just that. Marco continued. "The paint was pretty baked on and pretty much just peeled off-"

Marco's words fell short as the Sheriff seized his wrist. He tried to yank back, but Dudley held fast.

"We'll need to take pictures of that for evidence."

"It happened during the chase though."

"Doesn't matter."

Marco managed to hold back the urge to flip the sheriff off with the very same hand as pictures were taken. The hardest part, other than cursing the man, was trying not to move as the sheriff quickly scraped the flecks of paint out from under his nails and into a clear plastic bag.

Apparently on the roll down the hill they'd also rolled over the fallen painted trail camera, as Marco was soon told. Sadly that meant there was no way to get the information off of it. Not that there'd probably been much on it anyways. It was old, and worse, originally facing away from the body. At least that's what they'd gathered after looking at the map of all the station's trail cams.

After Dudley was satisfied digging for evidence like the dog he looked like, the questions resumed. The coffee was finished, the non existent clock ticked on, and Marco wondered if it would be possible to retire at thirty.

Eventually the interrogation came to an end. Marco found himself led and dumped in the waiting room as the sheriff all but ran off - eager to continue the investigation. With nothing else to do, Marco finally escaped into the parking lot. The sun had already begun to set, painting the sky above the pines in a wash of reds and orange. It turned out that the three of them had all been questioned. Bea had been the first one questioned at the scene and also the first one to leave. She'd left both him and her ex behind. Not that Marco blamed her.

Bea was going to be just fine, Marco guessed. She was used to seeing corpses. Hell, she'd probably be working with this one anyways. Ezra however was facing a fine and was probably going to be in the hospital for a while.

Marco didn't have to wander the parking lot for long before a truck pulled up beside him. The man looked as tired as Marco felt and didn't bother hiding it. Chief Ranger Quinlin Paige, nicknamed Chief by those close to him, was a big man with calloused hands that gripped the faded leather steering wheel. He stood about six-four, muscled, with strong arms and shoulders so broad he had to turn sideways to pass through some of the Station's older, and smaller, doorways. His chest could easily be compared to a barrel. Unlike his adopted son Tobias, Chief kept his hair short. Grey lazily streaked through the sides.

"Busy day?" Chief asked, forcing a small grin.

Marco was tempted to flip him off - but for the sake of his job, and his life, he held his tongue. "What tipped you off?

"I could have just left you here," The chief reminded. Quinlin's voice echoed louder in the cab as Marco climbed into the passengers seat. Marco knew he wouldn't have.

"I'm guessing you've already been caught up, right?" Marco asked. It was strange, sitting in the passengers seat as his boss drove. It felt like he'd just been picked up by school by his dad after getting in trouble. Honestly the look on the Chief's face was eerily similar to that of when his dad was disappointed. "Dudley's probably told half the town about it already."

Quinlin nodded long and slow. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he pulled out of the old parking lot. "Wouldn't surprise me much. Either way, it sounds like they suspect that the corpse was the guy who kept stealing uniforms from last year," He finally spoke. "Back during the last big fire."

"And Marks' just, what, happened to fit?" Marco shook his head. He guessed it sort of made sense. He didn't remember much from back then, too busy choking on the smoke that had all but drowned their town. It had been the worst fire season they'd gone through.

Most of the county's water had been turned off from damage, leaving the rangers, and a fair bit of townsfolk, having to rely on the park's water supply instead. The pumped well water had done the trick, and had managed to make everyone's miserable lives at the time just a little easier. The rangers had been stuck having to rely on the park bathhouse, which had left their belongings easily nabbed. Marco vaguely remembered rangers complaining about missing uniforms.

Quinlin nodded. "Looks to be the case."

It didn't take long for Marco to remember what else had happened after the fires. The fire had pretty much ruined all semblance of tourist attraction. Not that he blamed them. Who wanted to explore a forest when half of it was charred black or straight up gone? The station had been forced to get creative in order to make up the lost profits, and had advertised a 'winters wonderland' camping package.

"I'm guessing he's probably the impersonator then," Marco sighed. He rubbed his face tiredly. There had been a break in at one of their 'winter wonderland' cabins. The suspect had pretended to be a ranger, and had even attacked the camper. It was one of the first rough cases Marco had personally helped investigate. She'd managed to get away unharmed, thankfully, but they were never able to track the man down. Funny enough she'd wound up deciding to stay, and had moved to town shortly after. Now that he thought more about it, hadn't she married one of the seasonal rangers?

Marco wondered how she was doing.

"Again, looks to be the case." The chief said as his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "If that's him then I hope the wolves got him."

Marco sighed. He agreed totally, but... "The registry won't like this," he pointed out.

"What do they like?" Quinlin had already looked tired from the questioning, but the mention of the registry only served to age him further as he sagged. "Doesn't matter. I'll handle that, you just handle getting some time off." Marco was about to argue, but Quinlin shot him a glare. "That's not up for debate. The cops are going to want to question you again, so you might as well make it easy and not have us stuck tracking you down when they do."

"How'd you know I'd sneak off?" Marco grinned. He wasn't going to hide, but the thought of a sudden camping trip sure was tempting.

"Because," Quinlin finally smiled. "You're just like your father."

Just like his father. Marco forced a smile. His very much alive, not rotting, father.

By the time they'd reached home, Marco was about ready to fall asleep. It was already getting dark. He hadn't had time to clock out, but at the same time he didn't care. The day was over as far as he was concerned. Despite his exhaustion, Marco found himself suddenly awake. The chief pulled into the cracked parking lot, where Marco's RTV suddenly came into view. Johnson smiled sheepishly from behind the wheel as he parked beside them.

Johnson, who hated his first name and instead only went by his last name, was a tall man, well built with thick arms and a wide chest. A mop of blond hair covered his thick brows, and always managed to stick out awkwardly from underneath his ranger hat.

"Johnson, buddy," Marco grinned as he hopped out and quickly walked over. "You have no idea how happy I am to see the both of you"

"Mostly the RTV," the Chief said plainly from behind them.

Johnson ignored him. His blond brows furrowed as he looked Marco over. He hesitated, almost like he wanted to hug him, but had just enough decency not to. Something Marco appreciated.

'Take Johnson with you.' Marco lost count of how many times either Mark or the Chief had said that. At first it felt like being assigned a babysitter, even though Johnson was a close friend. And it took a few years for Marco to realize that was exactly the case; just not in the way he'd thought. It wasn't that Johnson was supposed to keep an eye on him, but the other way around. Marco was supposed to watch Johnson.

The man, though an excellent ranger, had a habit of finding trouble.

Still, that very habit had saved his life once. Marco shook his head, refusing to think further on the bitter memory. Also to shoo away the idea that it should have been Johnson instead. Not him. It was such a Johnson thing to happen.

"You good?" Johnson finally asked after a moment.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Marco shrugged. "Not my first body."

Sadly people died sometimes while visiting the Park. Usually for some reasons in their tents, or heart attacks on a hike. No ranger was lucky enough to retire without seeing at least one. His own first body had been tame. It had been an old man who'd fallen asleep on a park bench and never woke up.

Nothing like what he'd seen today.

"What about you," Marco asked in return. "You holding up ok? Sheriff pea-body sure took his time. I heard you had to guard the place as he bagged the body up." He winced, drawing out his words as he shook his head again. "Nooot a pretty sight."

Johnson looked away.

The large man almost appeared to shrink as the weight of the day settled fully onto his shoulders. The uniform that was worn so proudly was now wrinkled. Even his hat, that he usually used to cover the now tangled blonde mop of hair, was hanging loosely in his grip.

Despite his own exhaustion, Marco tiredly jutted his head towards his own cabin. Johnson nodded and turned to leave for his own - only to feel Marco's hand nab his arm. The rangers looked at each other as a long pause fell between them.

The Chief turned and walked away.

"C'mon," Marco tried to smile. He was still holding on. "What do you say, shitty movie night at my place?"

Why he was asking he didn't know. Maybe he just really needed a break - or maybe he knew Johnson needed a break.

After a pause, Johnson finally turned and followed. Today was shot, and the night was sure to suck too, but they could at least watch the normalcy of their lives burn together. By tomorrow morning most of the town would probably know what happened, which would mean paperwork, counseling worried towns folk, and the sad fact they'd probably have to defend their wolves.

Marco just hoped no wannabe hunter would try to jump the fence.

As if his best friend had read his mind, they found Tobias waiting outside of Marco's cabin. The smell of popcorn and cheap beer wafted through the open door behind him. "Long day?" Tobias tried to tease. Just like his own father had. Even Tobias looked exhausted.

"And a longer tomorrow," Marco added.

Johnson could only nod.

"Yeah well....yeah." Tobias paused. He gave up with a sigh, holding the door open for them. "... So, stupid movie night?"

"Stupid movie night," Marco all but begged with a sigh.

The trio went inside without another word. Marco wound up crowded on the old worn out couch between his fellow rangers. He didn't mind. They hadn't even bothered to change out of their uniforms. For a moment it was as if they had gone ten years in the past, where they had just gotten through training. Back when everything was fine. Back to a time without corpses.

Even as the movie came on, revealing some old horror in staticy black and white, Marco couldn't even find it in himself to jokingly complain. The trio drank together, unknowingly celebrating the last normal night of their careers.

Marco fell asleep between his fellow rangers as distant sirens joined the lullaby of howling wolves.