and returned to the cruiser and its irate passenger.
Gervais. Lucinda and Mabel had talked about a Gervais. Is that a French name? Zoey could still hear the man in the backseat raving at full volume, even though all the car windows were closed. Saw the officer shaking his head as he drove away. âGlad Iâm not you,â she murmured and climbed into her truck. She sat for several long minutes, grateful beyond words to be off her feet and especially off her injured leg. What could the drunken old geezer possibly have against Connor Macleod? Was the guy a farmer, had Connor treated his livestock? Maybe he was upset about the bill. . . .
She heaved an irritated sigh as she found herself wanting to defend the tall veterinarian. All that walking, all that work, and here she was thinking about Connor all over again. Exasperated, she looked over at her office window and resolutely climbed out of the truck. Maybe it was time to check out those newspaper articles that Lucinda and Mabel had mentioned. Her psychic gift was silent but her reporterâs intuition was tingling, and she would bet money that the old drunk was involved in the wild story.
Â
The werewolf stories were surprisingly easy to find. Just over two years had passed since Barry Gordon, Bernard Gervais, and Jeb Luken had called the police and then the newspaper, claiming that a werewolf had chased them.
The men had left the Jersey Pub after last call and were winding their way on foot to Lukenâs house. âA great and enormous gray wolf came out of the shadows. It had green glowing eyes and was snarling like a pit bull,â Luken told the reporter. âStraight out of hell it was and no mistake it was going to attack us.â
Zoey sat down abruptly amid the piles of newspapers. Green glowing eyes. The wolf that attacked her also had strange eyes, demonic, as if lit from within. She still saw them in her dreams. Still heard that horrible throaty snarling. . . .
Cut that out, dammit! With an effort she shoved the memories away and focused on the article. Luken and Gordon had scrambled into a Dumpster, holding down the metal lid with all the strength they could muster. They didnât know where Gervais had gone, didnât hear anything but growling as the monstrous creature had sniffed around the Dumpster. âThe wolf jumped right on top of it, bold as brass,â Luken was quoted as saying. âWe could hear him walking back and forth, pawing and scratching at the lid. Damn, I donât mind saying I was some scared. Scared shitless, both of us.â
Gervais claimed he had hidden inside the covered bed of a parked pickup. âI got separated from my buddies when the wolf showed up. It was every man for himself. I just dove for cover like everyone else.â A photo of the trio confirmed what Zoey already knew, thanks to the officer. Bernard Gervais was the drunk who had pursued her down Main Street.
The Dunvegan Herald Weekly had published the report on one of the inside pages and below the crease, no doubt hoping to bury the story. It hadnât worked. A veritable flood of letters followed in subsequent issues, some of them complaining about the press the men were getting for such a wild tale, but others claiming to have seen similar creatures.
Zoey scanned the letters. Enormous wolves in every color had been sighted at various times in the area, but never in town. Some people had sighted very large wolves running as a pack near Elk Point. All of the stories could be chalked up to ordinary sightings of ordinary wolves. After all, her own research had shown that wolves could reach 175 pounds or more. With so much wilderness to roam in and an abundance of game, it stood to reason that this part of northern Canada simply produced big wolves.
Reason didnât have an answer for the diary entry however. Just as Mabel and Lucinda had said, a page had been photographed and printed. The caption said the journal had belonged
Gervais. Lucinda and Mabel had talked about a Gervais. Is that a French name? Zoey could still hear the man in the backseat raving at full volume, even though all the car windows were closed. Saw the officer shaking his head as he drove away. âGlad Iâm not you,â she murmured and climbed into her truck. She sat for several long minutes, grateful beyond words to be off her feet and especially off her injured leg. What could the drunken old geezer possibly have against Connor Macleod? Was the guy a farmer, had Connor treated his livestock? Maybe he was upset about the bill. . . .
She heaved an irritated sigh as she found herself wanting to defend the tall veterinarian. All that walking, all that work, and here she was thinking about Connor all over again. Exasperated, she looked over at her office window and resolutely climbed out of the truck. Maybe it was time to check out those newspaper articles that Lucinda and Mabel had mentioned. Her psychic gift was silent but her reporterâs intuition was tingling, and she would bet money that the old drunk was involved in the wild story.
Â
The werewolf stories were surprisingly easy to find. Just over two years had passed since Barry Gordon, Bernard Gervais, and Jeb Luken had called the police and then the newspaper, claiming that a werewolf had chased them.
The men had left the Jersey Pub after last call and were winding their way on foot to Lukenâs house. âA great and enormous gray wolf came out of the shadows. It had green glowing eyes and was snarling like a pit bull,â Luken told the reporter. âStraight out of hell it was and no mistake it was going to attack us.â
Zoey sat down abruptly amid the piles of newspapers. Green glowing eyes. The wolf that attacked her also had strange eyes, demonic, as if lit from within. She still saw them in her dreams. Still heard that horrible throaty snarling. . . .
Cut that out, dammit! With an effort she shoved the memories away and focused on the article. Luken and Gordon had scrambled into a Dumpster, holding down the metal lid with all the strength they could muster. They didnât know where Gervais had gone, didnât hear anything but growling as the monstrous creature had sniffed around the Dumpster. âThe wolf jumped right on top of it, bold as brass,â Luken was quoted as saying. âWe could hear him walking back and forth, pawing and scratching at the lid. Damn, I donât mind saying I was some scared. Scared shitless, both of us.â
Gervais claimed he had hidden inside the covered bed of a parked pickup. âI got separated from my buddies when the wolf showed up. It was every man for himself. I just dove for cover like everyone else.â A photo of the trio confirmed what Zoey already knew, thanks to the officer. Bernard Gervais was the drunk who had pursued her down Main Street.
The Dunvegan Herald Weekly had published the report on one of the inside pages and below the crease, no doubt hoping to bury the story. It hadnât worked. A veritable flood of letters followed in subsequent issues, some of them complaining about the press the men were getting for such a wild tale, but others claiming to have seen similar creatures.
Zoey scanned the letters. Enormous wolves in every color had been sighted at various times in the area, but never in town. Some people had sighted very large wolves running as a pack near Elk Point. All of the stories could be chalked up to ordinary sightings of ordinary wolves. After all, her own research had shown that wolves could reach 175 pounds or more. With so much wilderness to roam in and an abundance of game, it stood to reason that this part of northern Canada simply produced big wolves.
Reason didnât have an answer for the diary entry however. Just as Mabel and Lucinda had said, a page had been photographed and printed. The caption said the journal had belonged
Similar Books
