Mercenary Wolf

Ch 8

I drove around for awhile... hell, I might as well admit it. I went past the all night liquor store at least three times... and turned away before I got there at least a dozen more. But I was good, I went back home. I sat in front of the kitchen sink and convinced myself not to open the cupboard.

I could picture the small, thin bottle of Jack. Small enough and thin enough to fit in a shirt pocket. Easily fitting in the palm of a hand. I could almost taste it, could imagine the burn as it went down. But I kept the door closed. Didn't even crack it open to peek at my little hidden treasure.

I felt guilty as hell. Of course I also felt proud as hell. I was staying dry. That's what I was telling myself as I dozed off still on the kitchen floor.

I woke to my phone going off. It was Derrick.

"Rick brought your friend home this morning," he said. He rushed through what he had to say. "I  think you can trust him Mac. Your friend...Rick was real upset about how he was acting. He told me he couldn't not help him. He...."

"Slow down ya young shit. Give me time to open my eyes. Start at the top. Tell me everything you saw, everything you heard.

I listened. Then I grilled him. Then I threatened him with his life if he mentioned it to anyone. I'm just a sweetheart that way.

I got up, thinking longingly of that little bottle before closing the door in my mind on it. I cleaned up, starting with me, then went through the house and made sure Derrick and that... Little Wolf, had cleaned up ok. I had regulars due in.

My mind kept returning to the kid. Why would Jimbo freak over the name Little Wolf... unless he knew a Big Wolf? I called Derrick around lunch time, told him bring his hacking tools with him tonight. I started making a list.

Anyone in Jimbo's contacts who used any variation of wolf. Gangs, cons, you name it, I listed it. I wanted a complete dossier on that kid. I wanted a list of the newest street drugs, just in case someone was leaning on him.

If felt good to do something, even if most of it was stuff we already did. The rest would just be expanding search parameters. The two of them had something in common and I wanted to know what.

Derrick sat on one of the couches with his laptop. He clicked and clacked. Someone made coffee and brought me in a cup. It was something to drink if not want I wanted. The motion of drinking something brought its own comfort.

I was starting to doze off when Derrick started laughing. Not just laughing, but the rolling on the floor kind; the laugh so hard you get tears coming outta your eyes kinda laugh.

He wasn't even intimidated a little bit when I growled at him, just turned his laptop around so I could see. What I was looking at didn't make sense.

"Hang on," Derrick said, "let me..."

It took a few minutes with me fuming before a voice came out of his computer. It was a woman's voice, gentle and holding a hint of humor reminiscent of...

"Little Wolf," the voice said, "written and illustrated by River Woman. And if you will indulge me, gentle soul, since you bought the audio version, I shall also read out loud for you. These are the adventures of my son, Little Wolf, portrayed through his namesake, a young wild wolf, as he enjoys and explores our mountain and forest home. They are the adventures of a young pup who learned the way of the wolf at his father's shoulder. But more than just learning of things of interest to a young wolf pup, he learned the way of the world from lessons and stories of the people who had called the mountains home long before the white man ever came to these lands. Come join us as the spirits guide us on this journey we call life. Book one..."

"That's where Rick got the name Little Wolf," Derrick laughed. "His mom wrote a series of kids books. Pretty popular too. His mom died a bit over a year ago. Rick told me about it, but I pulled public records as well. Cougar attacked them out in the woods. Mangled her. Local news report said his dad killed the cougar.

"His dad is harder to find stuff on. He's from Germany. No other records before he came to the U.S. He teaches languages at the local high school. All of them. He's listed as the wrestling coach. He talks online exclusively to other teachers, helps foreign teachers with English idioms and slang."

"Think he's a retired operative?" Asked Eddie.

"Maybe. Something big and foreign might explain some of this shit," I said thoughtfully. So far it's the only working theory that made sense.

"If he's retired, then he did it young," said Derrick. "He came over in his late teens."

"Anyone believe in that old tale of sleepers?" laughed Eddie.

I chuckled along with him but yeah, I think we all believed it. My mind was working possible angles.

"We got anyone out that way to get eyes on the dad," I asked hopefully.

"On a native reservation? Not likely," said Eddie.

"He's coming up next weekend," said Derrick. We all just stared at him. "What? It's Rick's twenty first birthday. His dad wants to come help him celebrate it. And even better, Rick's got a date that weekend too."

From the silly grin on Derrick's face, I was gonna have to spend the next few hours grilling the fool.