Lori Handeland - Blue Moon

I took a giant step back. Just because I was in a woodland clearing with a gorgeous, naked Indian man didn’t mean I had to swoon like the heroine of a historical romance novel. I wasn’t the type.

"I’m doing my job," I said, as much to answer him as remind myself. "A wolf bit a woman out on the highway. I need to find the thing."

Something flickered in his eyes and was gone so quickly I wasn’t sure if I’d seen anything beyond the shift of the moon through the trees.

"I doubt you’ll succeed." He turned away again, and this time my gaze caught on a nasty bruise along his hip.

"Ouch," I murmured.

"What?"

"I—uh—" I waved my hand vaguely at his ass. "What happened?"

He twisted, glanced down, frowned, then raised his eyes to mine. "I’m not sure. I must have been clumsy."

As he strolled toward the cabin, I watched him move. Funny, he didn’t appear clumsy at all.

He plucked a pair of cutoffs from the porch and yanked them on without benefit of underwear. Why I found that incredibly erotic, I have no idea. But there it was.

Not bothering with a shirt, either, he returned. I found myself entranced by his chest. Smooth, strong, no hair to mar the perfection, would he taste as good as he smelled?

I rubbed my eyes to make the image go away. I needed to get laid and fast. When my pulse leaped in response to the thought, my cheeks heated again.

Down, girl , I admonished my panting libido. You’re in the minors; he’s a major leaguer .

Still, I could dream, couldn’t I?

"Uh… Um. Could you help me pick up the trail?"

Nice, Jessie. Why don’t you stutter and drool while you’re at it?

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice my red face and awkward tongue.

"Me?" He ran his fingers through his short hair, frowned, and shook his head, almost as if the cut was new, unfamiliar. His earring danced in the moonlight.

"The blood disappears beyond that bush where you—" I frowned. "You’re sure you didn’t see him?"

He gave an impatient sigh. "I’m sure."

"Then maybe you could help me pick up the trail again?"

"Why would you think that I know how to track a wolf? Just because I‘ in Ojibwe?"

"You are?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Officer, you aren’t blind and you’ve been looking."

"You’ve been showing. I’m also not stupid."

His lips twitched. He nearly smiled before he caught himself. "Even if I knew jack about tracking in the dark, I wouldn’t help you find that wolf. You’ll kill him."

I shrugged. "He bit a woman. She’s going to need rabies shots if I don’t find him."

"You won’t find him."

Annoyance flashed through me. "You psychic or something?"

"Something."

Whatever that meant.

As it turned out, he was right. I didn’t find that wolf or any other.

The woods were strangely empty that night. I chalked it up to the brightness of the moon and my less than graceful manner of crashing through the underbrush. But later I wondered.

Hell, later I wondered a lot of things.

Like who was that unmasked man? He’d learned my name but never offered his. And I’d had little opportunity to ask.

I’d stepped from the clearing, searching once more for a trace of the trail, and when I glanced back he’d disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared. Logically I knew he had gone inside—rude as that was without a good-bye—still, I never heard the creak of a porch board or the click of the door.

I moved on, but when the sun came up and I was still empty-handed, I returned to the scene of, the accident. Someone had towed Miss Larson’s oversize vehicle away, leaving the glass, plastic, and blood behind. Peachy.

I rousted Zee on the radio.

"Damn, girl. Where have you been? I was gonna send out the cavalry pretty soon."

"I’m fine. Didn’t Brad tell you where I was?"

"Off in the woods, alone in the night. You nuts?"

"I had a big gun."

"Someday, Jessie, you are gonna meet someone smarter and meaner than you."

"Someday," I agreed.

"I take it you didn’t find what you were lookin‘ for."

The stranger’s face, and everything else, flashed through my mind. I’d found something better, but I wasn’t going to tell Zee that. As she informed anyone who would listen, she was old; she wasn’t dead. She’d want more details about the man than I could comfortably give.

"The wolf is gone," I answered. "Why wasn’t this scene secured like I asked?"

"Things got a little busy here. Domestic dispute, bar fight."

"The usual."

"Damn straight. I didn’t have anyone free to secure anything but their own ass. What difference does it make anyway? You don’t have a major crime scene being contaminated. It’s an accident plain and simple."

I’d learned early on that nothing was plain or simple. My gaze swept over the glass and skid marks. Not even this.

"Have you talked to Brad about the victim?" I asked.

"Yeah. He stayed with her until she left, but—"

"Left?"

"You don’t have to shout."

"How could she leave? She was bitten by a wild animal. She needs rabies shots."

"Only if she’ll take them. And she wouldn’t."

"Why not?"

"The clinic didn’t have the serum. They could get it from Clearwater, but it would have taken several hours. She refused."

"That makes no sense."

"Since when does anything make sense?"

Zee had a point. I tried to raise Brad on the radio and got no response. I dialed his cell phone, but he didn’t answer. A glance at my watch revealed the shift had changed ten minutes ago. Brad was nothing if not prompt. My opinions on that would have done Zee proud.

The sun was up; I was tired. Working third shift had made me a vampire of sorts, unable to sleep when everyone else did, unable to stay awake when the world was alive.

Despite my exhaustion, and the fact that overtime was a no-no, I vowed to hunt down Brad later and find out what he’d learned from Miss Larson. Right now I’d head to the clinic and talk to the doctor. See if I could find Miss Larson and have a word with her—if she wasn’t foaming at the mouth yet.

But first… I glanced from my squad car to the glass and plastic still on the pavement. First I got to clean up the mess.

I sketched the scene, measured the skid marks, then swept the remains of the accident into a transparent bag and carried my prize to the side of the road. Holding it up, I jiggled the sack. Something caught my eye.

I reached inside and withdrew a thin rawhide strip. I’d seen them used as necklaces, usually on men, sometimes teenage girls. If there’d been a jewel or a charm threaded onto this one, it could be anywhere.

I jiggled the bag again but saw nothing else unusual. So I walked the center line and found what I was searching for several feet ahead of where the SUV had skidded to a stop.

Leaning down, I picked up a carved onyx figure of a wolf, what the Ojibwe referred to as a totem. As I stared at it the image wavered and shifted. Cool air shot down my sweaty back, making me shiver. I shook my head. For a moment, the wolf’s face had appeared almost human. I definitely needed some sleep.

Had the totem been here last night? Or for weeks, perhaps months? What did it mean? To whom did the icon belong? Did it even matter?

I shrugged and dropped the evidence into the bag. I had enough questions to keep me busy most of the morning. Any more could wait for tonight.

My visit to the Miniwa Clinic was not very enlightening. The on-call doctor was young, earnest, and as exhausted as I was. He’d been on duty for forty-eight hours. I was glad I hadn’t been brought in bleeding at hour number forty-seven.

"I cleaned the wound, though the officer who brought the victim in had done a decent job of it."