Hell Bent

Chapter 1

Detective Wesley Brickfield's car broke down somewhere between Port Angeles and Sequim. It was dark on the 101 and Washington's Olympic National Park loomed around him in provocative silence.

He had done all he could to keep the thing going. He pleaded and demanded and bargained but still the heaping pile of rusting Volvo had crawled to a stop, letting out one long death rattle before completely surrendering to its fate.

Wesley sat, hands still on the wheel, and listened to the tired metal settle around him.

The cell phone he'd placed in his single cupholder began to vibrate harshly, jostling Wesley into action. He checked the screen and answered it.

"Detective Brickfield." He answered, rubbing his fingers deep into his eye sockets with his free hand.

"This is Chief Trevoy, we spoke this morning?" Wesley nodded to himself and leaned his head back to watch the ceiling.

"What can I do you for?" He asked, careful to keep shortness out of his tone.

"Well, I know you don't start officially until tomorrow," Wesley waited for the inevitable 'but' that was sure to follow the Chiefs drawling words.

"That's right." Wesley prompted when the chief remained silent.

"We lost another girl tonight."

Wesley reached over to the glove compartment and grabbed out a pad of paper and pen. He clicked the pen nub and cleared his throat.

"Name?"

"Patricia Hale." The chiefs voice was tired and had taken on a slight rasp since the last time he and Wesley spoke.

"Found her in the same forest as the others." Wesley nodded as he scribbled down a short handed version of everything the chief said. "Nineteen, nice girl. Her parents are identifying the body now, I'd know her face anywhere."

"Cause of death?"

"Suicide. Cut right down her arms."

"Alright, I'm having some car trouble right now but I'll get there as soon as I can." Wesley tossed the pad and pen into his passenger seat and rubbed at his eyes again.

"Where are ya? I'll send our tow guy for ya."

"About six miles out of Port Angeles."

"Shit, stranded yourself way out there? Well, Willy won't mind, I'll go wake him up."

"Thanks Chief." Wesley was tempted to decline the offer, say that he'd just get a tow into Sequim and a room for the night. Then he remembered he was shit out of luck- and money.

~*~

Willy arrived just as the horizon took on a rosey blush. Wesley, hunkered down in his windbreaker with the seat back as far as it would go, was awoken by three sharp raps against his window. His neck twinged as he sat up out of his crumpled slumber. He spun the squeaky window crank to see a short, skinny old man who seemed to be mostly mustache.

"Ya Detective?" The old man asked.

Wesley nodded and stepped out of his car, stifling a yawn.

"Surprised you made it this far," he kicked one of Wesley's tires and spat out the side of his mouth. He smelled like grease and stale coffee. "This is a real piece of shit."

Wesley nodded in agreement and reached in to grab his duffel bag from the back seat.

"Willy." The old man offered his age spotted hand and Wesley gave it a firm shake.