Prologue
Sylvia
It’s a hot, humid southern summer today. I should be sweating and flushed, but I’m shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm as I walk in through the front door of the local sheriff’s station. There’s no mystery why I’m there and the sheriff and his deputies give me looks of pity mixed with unabashed curiosity. My family is a well-known oddity in the local community. We lived in a little house backed up against the thick forests that surround the town. Everybody is curious about us and why we lived in isolation. Someone finally figured it out and we had to pay the price.
The sheriff approaches me, a heavy-set man with the top of his head shining in the florescent lighting, the keys and different equipment on his belt clinking as he walks. A thick moustache twitches beneath his nose and he offers a hand for me to shake.
“Good afternoon, I’m Sheriff Howards. You must be Miss Chapman?”
I lightly take his hand in mine. “Yes, sir, that’s me.”
“If you’ll follow me, I just have a few questions before you head down to the medical examiner’s office in the basement,” Sheriff Howards tells me, leading me towards his office.
The walls are all wood slated, stained a rich brown. The old floors creak with every step of his heavy boots and the deputies’ eyes follow me as I enter the sheriff’s office. I know what they must think of me. Despite my want to be upset by their stares, I can’t muster up anything in the hollow cavern of my chest. Feeling anything the past couple days beyond numbness has been difficult.
“Have a seat, Miss Chapman.” The sheriff gestures to the uncomfortable looking wooden chairs sitting in front of his desk. All I want is to run as far as I can from everything that I’m being confronted with today.
Instead, I gently lower myself into the chair, crossing my legs at the ankles just like Mama taught me. “Thank you, Sheriff Howards.”
The man dawns a small pair of reading glasses and pulls out a small file folder. As he peers down at it and flips through a couple of papers, I can feel phantom hands slowly wrapping around my throat. I really don’t want to be here. What I want is to be back home, to smell Mama baking some kind of treat, to hear my brothers bickering upstairs, and see Daddy sitting in his usual rocking chair as he scolds them to be quiet. It’s a tragedy I’ll never get it.
“First things first, let me say how sorry I am for your loss. We here are going to do everything in our power to find the person responsible and see to it that justice is brought to any guilty parties,” Sheriff Howards tells me and that word, loss, makes the constricting feeling around my windpipe tighten. “We don’t have much to go on beyond some tire impressions. There are no traffic cameras on that stretch of road and there were no witnesses. Do you know if anyone had a grudge against your family?”
Yes, I think. Problem is, if I tell the sheriff that, I’ll have to explain why. He probably won’t believe that my entire family can transform into wolves, but it’ll open a can of worms I’ll never be able to close again. The police won’t be able to help me, and while Mama taught me never to lie, just this once can’t hurt any.
“Not that I know of. We kept to ourselves.”
Sheriff Howards peers at me over his glasses and I can feel my heart fluttering nervously beneath my breast, but I keep my gaze steady with his. This needs to go as smoothly as possible. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can go.
“From the tire impressions, we narrowed down the vehicle in question to a 2008 Dodge Ram. Do you know anyone who owns a vehicle that matches that description?”
Yes.
“No, sir, I don’t really know many people.”
It’s impossible to tell if Sheriff Howards believes a word coming out of my mouth, which only further increases my anxiety about the situation. My pulse is hammering in my throat and tears start burning in my eyes. All I want to do is forget for a little while and these questions are doing just the opposite.
“Alright. If we find anything else, we’ll let you know. Deputy Cobb will show you down to the medical examiner’s office.”
I thank the sheriff again and make my way from the office to see a young-looking deputy waiting just outside. Blond hair is cropped close to his scalp and the tan uniform seems a size too big around his shoulders and chest. He looks every bit a sheriff’s underqualified deputy.
“Right this way, Miss Chapman,” the deputy tells me.
Being lead again, I follow Deputy Cobb down a short hallway and through a door that reveals a short staircase down into a brightly lit, sterile white room. My chest is tight as we descend, a voice in my head begging me to turn around and go back. What I find down there is going to ruin me, of that I’m sure, but I have to do it. For my family.
A middle-aged woman with her hands tucked into the pockets of her long white coat is waiting for us as we reach the bottom of the stairs. Two pairs of eyes watch me as I take in the four figures lying on cold slabs, draped in stark white sheets. I know what lies beneath them, but I want to deny it to myself. It just can’t be.
“Hello, Miss Chapman, my name is Dr. Price. I’m terribly sorry for your loss, and I know this is difficult, but having a formal identification is required in cases like this. The sooner we do it, the sooner we can get started on the autopsies and we can get this investigation closed.”
Words are impossible to force past the growing lump in my throat, so I simply nod for her to continue.
“Alright, just confirm who it is. That’s all we need, okay?” Dr. Price says, gripping my shoulder with a steady hand and giving me a sympathetic smile.
After I give my acknowledgment, we move over to one of the sheet covered figures. She pulls down the white sheet just enough for me to see Emmett, my eldest brother. His skin is stark white, bruises covering his face and shoulders. There’s a long cut along his temple and I can barely see the mole beside his left eye before I have to look away. Emmett was always so strong, so reliable.
“That’s Emmett,” I whisper through shaky breaths. My fingers are quivering from how tightly I’m squeezing my skirt in my fists.
Dr. Price nods and we move on to the next figure. When she pulls back the sheet, I see my other older brother, Bobby. He’s in much the same condition as Emmett, bruised, battered, and pale. I want to think he’s sleeping, but it’s too obvious that his body is an empty shell, the soul long gone.
“Bobby,” I choke out.
We move on quickly to the next slab and under the sheet lies my father. He was always so strong, the epitome of durability. As a child, it seemed like he was unbeatable, so firmly planted in the world that he was never going anywhere. Now he lay lifeless on a cold table, no strength left in the arms that used to hold me when I was scared.
“Daddy,” I breathe, bracing my stomach with one hand as I begin to lose the ability to fill my lungs.
It goes in a flash at the next table. I can’t contain the small wail that crawls up my throat. Mama. A large bruise covers almost the entire right side of her ghost white face. I can picture her smile, the love shining in her warm grey eyes as she watched us play from the back porch. All of that’s gone now, the weight of grief slamming into me.
The tears I’ve managed to hold back since I stepped into this building finally break free and cascade down my cheeks. I apologize quickly and scurry up the stairs, making it halfway before my legs give out. My knees curl up against my chest and I try to regain control of myself. This needs to be finished if I want my family to be buried properly. They deserve to rest in peace after the chaos of the past couple months.
Finally, after a few deep breaths, I manage to haul myself to my feet. I smooth out my skirt and lightly walk back down to where Deputy Cobb and Dr. Price stand beside a large metal desk. On top are a couple pieces of paper. One, I’m told, is a release form so they can perform the autopsies. The other is simply for the formal identification of their bodies. I quickly sign on the dotted lines and allow Deputy Cobb to show me back upstairs.
I climb into my parent’s car and slowly drive to my empty home, filled with the scents of people long gone. My mind is so preoccupied trying not to think of the last forty-five minutes, I don't notice the charcoal gray Dodge Ram following just behind me.
