Read Online The Wolf in Winter by John Connolly - Free Book Online Page B

they got to three feet, they were both too exhausted to go farther. The chief was a big, strong man, but Harry Dixon was no wilting flower either; if anything, he’d grown fitter over the previous year, now that he was required to be more active on his construction sites than he had been in decades. That was one of the few good things to come out of the financial mess in which he found himself. He had spent so long supervising, and ordering, and taking care of paperwork, that he had almost forgotten the pleasure of actual building, and the satisfaction that came with it—that, and the blisters.
    Morland went to the car and took a thermos of coffee from the back seat. He poured a cup for Harry, and drank his own directly from the neck. Together they watched the moon.
    “Back there, you were kidding about the wolf, right?” said Morland.
    Harry was wondering if he might have been mistaken. At one time, there had been wolves all over Maine—grays and easterns and reds—and the state had enacted wolf bounties until 1903. As far as he could recall, the last known wolf killing in the state was back in 1996. He remembered reading about it in the newspapers. The guy had killedit thinking it was a large coyote, but the animal weighed more than eighty pounds, twice the size of the average coyote, and had the markings of a wolf, or a wolf hybrid. There had been nothing since then, to his knowledge: sightings and rumors, maybe, but no proof.
    “It was a big animal, and it had a doglike head. That’s all I can say for sure.”
    Morland went to light another cigarette, but found that the pack was empty. He crushed it and put it carefully into his pocket.
    “I’ll ask around,” he said. “Wouldn’t be a wolf, but if there’s a coyote in the woods we’d best let folk know, tell them to keep a watch on their dogs. You done?”
    Harry finished the last of the coffee and handed the cup back to the chief. Morland screwed it back on and tossed the thermos to the floor of the car.
    “Come on, then,” said Morland. “Time to put her in the ground.”
    THE TRUNK LIGHT SHONE on the plastic, and the girl inside it. She was lying on her back, and her eyes were closed. That was a mercy, at least. The exit wound in her chest was massive, but there was less blood than Harry might have expected. The chief seemed to follow the direction of his thoughts.
    “She bled out on the snow of Ben’s yard,” he said. “We had to shovel it up and spread some more around to hide what we’d done. Take her legs. I’ll lift from the head.”
    It was difficult to get her out of the trunk. She hadn’t been a big girl, which was why they’d decided to fatten her up first, but for the first time Harry understood what was meant by “dead weight.” The heavy-duty plastic was slippery, and Morland struggled to get a grip. Once she was out of the car, he had to drop her on the ground, put his foot under her to raise her upper body, and then wrap his arms around her chest to carry her, holding her to him like a sleeping lover. They stoodto the right of the grave, and on the count of three tossed her in. She landed awkwardly, in a semi-seated position.
    “You’d best get down there and straighten her,” Morland told Harry. “If the hole was deeper I’d be inclined to let it go, but it’s shallow as it is. We don’t want the ground to sink and have her head peeping up like a gopher’s.”
    Harry didn’t want to get into the grave, but it didn’t seem as though he had much choice. He eased himself down, then squatted to grip the ends of the plastic. As he did so, he looked at the girl. Her head was slightly lower than his, so that she seemed to be staring up at him. Her eyes were open. He must have been mistaken when he first saw her lying in the trunk. Perhaps it had been the reflection of the internal light, or his own tiredness, but he could have sworn . . .
    “What’s the problem?” said Morland.
    “Her eyes,” said Harry. “Do you