Legacy of the Wolf

22 Acacia Avenue

Sam was in her parked cruiser, just down the block from a house that was under suspicion of drug activity. She watched the comings and goings of various people, some on foot, some in vehicles, and kept a record of what she observed. Her hope was to catch a glimpse of Raggedy Man. There were plenty of vagrants, but so far no luck spotting the killer.

Aside from the house's visitors, the night outside was quiet; peaceful. Everything around—the trees, houses, the street—was painted in a blue ambient light.

Inside the cruiser, Kathy's voice drifted from the cell phone on the passenger seat.

"Weeeeell?" Sam's foster mom said, "come on, is he dreamy or what?"

She was referring, of course, to the mechanic, Elias. For a split second Sam wondered if Kathy had hit on Elias herself, then decided it was best not to think about it.

"Mom, you're ridiculous. Are you drunk?"

"Come on! Don't be such a stick in the mud!"

Outside, the nearly full moon broke free of its cloud cover, turning the world from blue to silver.

"Okay," Sam said. "He was kinda dreamy."

"Ha! Can I pick 'em or what?"

At that moment a call from dispatch broke over her radio: "All units, Code 2, repeat, Code 2. Officer needs assistance at 16 Acacia Avenue."

"Gotta go, Mom," Sam said. She hit the end call button on the phone and immediately thumbed the talk button on her mic. "Blackrock Echo Six, responding."

Sam flicked on the cruiser's light bar and floored the gas.

Acacia Avenue was just a few miles from Sam's assigned area. She was two blocks away when she heard the crack of gunfire. Three shots. Seconds later, another voice on the radio:

"Code 3, code 3! Shots fired. Now at 22 Acacia Avenue. Pursuing suspects. Two males, camouflage jackets, black masks, jeans..."

It was officer Jackson, and he sounded frantic. A code 3 was the most urgent call an officer could make. Sam blared the siren, blew through two stoplights and skidded to a stop outside the designated address less than a minute later. "Echo Six on scene," Sam said. Next instant she was out of the vehicle and running, flashlight and gun both drawn.

Acacia Avenue was a haven for prostitutes, drug addicts and street vermin. 22 was one of many known flop houses, a single-story blight on the landscape with boarded windows. The ramshackle structure's front door was open. Sam dashed through the doorway, fanning the Glock and flashlight beam in front of her. The closed-in space smelled of urine, vomit and blood. Sam approached an open doorway on her right, where her mag light revealed three prone homeless men. One of them she recognized from when she chased Raggedy Man a few nights ago— it was the old man with the lazy eye and the growth on his head, the one who had talked about "the beast..." He was lying on the floor, legs splayed; his left eye was staring blankly at Sam. His back and head lay against the foot of a shredded couch. There was a bullet hole through the center of the smiley face on his green sweater.

Two other vagrants lay on either side. Sam quickly checked each for a pulse but found none. "Blackrock Echo Six, request homicide at 22 Acacia," she radioed in. Just after, an out of breath officer Jackson came through: "Blackrock Echo Five, foot pursuit... backyards, heading... south..."

Sam was up and running, speeding through the main hall of the dilapidated house and out the back door. Sirens sounded a block or so away, getting closer. There was a gap in the wooden fence that enclosed the weed-choked backyard. Sam ran through the hole into another yard. She heard Jackson yell "stop!" and sprinted toward the sound of his voice, fighting for breath as she climbed a second fence and sped through another backyard, crashing through azaleas, struggling over yet another fence, landing and spotting an open back door to a small, dark home...