The Pack

Copyright 2012 © by Donna Flynn

Cover art by Kimberly Wagner

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author
, except where permitted by law

All characters in this book are fictional and any resemblance to any person living or deceased is coincidence.

To my children P.J.,
Micheala
, and Chris who encouraged me to write the stories I talk so much about.
To m
y mother who read and reread every word
I
wrote and
my
father who put up with my constant interruptions when I knew he would rather be watching a western. Last, but not least
,
I thank
my husband
who
tol
erated all the long nights when
I sat in my kitchen writing instead of spending time with him.
I love you all
very much
!

    
The child
sat
on the fron
t porch swing
silently
watching
the flurry of paramedics and
police officers come and go through
the f
ront door
of
her family’s home.
Aside from an occasional look of pity,
no one had
acknowledged
her
presence
since
they had pried her from her mother’s
lifeless
body
,
and sat her there out of the way
.

    
“Wha
t
s
hould we do about the girl?”
a
ha
rried
paramedic asked the
Police offic
er
who was
in charge
of the crime scene
.
            

    
They turned to
the
child, whose tiny blood soaked hands lay folded
on her lap as she rocked on an old swing that hung
in the corner of the porch.
She made an eerie sight with the
front of her white cotton sundress soaked with
wet splotches of crimson and one
cheek smeared with dried blood fro
m where she had laid
against her mother’s
body.
Despite their close proximity, she gave no inclination she heard their convers
ation. She just
continued to hum, pushing her tiny bare feet off the weathered floorbo
ards
, leaving bold red footprints on the stark white painted boards under her.

     “Hell
your guess is as good as mine,
”
t
he
portly officer answered
,
unused to dealing with children
,
much l
ess one who had witnessed such an atrocity
.

     “D
oes she have family nearby
?” t
he paramedic questioned
.

    
The officer shook his head negatively
.
“
Linda and Greg
kept to themselves
.
I never saw anyone come to visit
them up here
, so
I
assume they had no close family
or
friends
.
I will
do some digging, maybe
we can locate someone who might take her
in
until
the state decides what happens to her
.”

    
He
frowned as she
abruptly
hal
ted her swinging
,
rising
to her feet
as the fir
st stretcher came through the front door
.

 
  
“Momma,”
s
he whispered her face paler
than should have been possible
. H
er slender body tr
embling
a
s she gazed upon the stretcher
with
despair
.

   
She ran
to
the body
, laying
her
shaking
hand on the
bag
that covered it
, her eyes swimming
with tears
as she spoke once again
,
her voice low and heartbroken
. “I’m
sorry momma,
” s
he whispered
.
“I couldn’t save you.”

    Grown men hardened by the
horrendous
things they had seen in
their
careers wiped
their
eyes
at the sound of
her
agonized apology
. A
ll activity ceased
and the area grew quiet
as everyone turned to stare at
the
grief stricken
child
who had
just lost both
parents
.

     “Sweetheart no on
e blames you,
”
t
he officer said placing
his hand
on her arm,
unprepared for the
scream
of terror
that came from low in her throat to fill the air
.

     “No…No…No!
” s
he bellowed,
backing
away until she was
against the wall
of the house
,
her eyes
open
wide in fear
.

    
He reached for her again, but
she let out a mo
urnful
,
inhuman howl
that had him backi
ng away afraid she had been pushed
over the edge of sanity
.

    
S
he slid to the ground her bo
dy ra
c
ked with grief
,
her
pitiful
sobs filling the air.

     T
he loud baying of wolves came from deep in the forest
as if
joining in her cries of distress
and everyone
restless
.
Officers
grabbed
their guns, all turning
to face the wood line
where the ear piercing how
ls
grew
louder and
closer
to their loc
ation.

     “I think we have our
killer’s b
oys!
”
the officer in charge yelled
,
his own gun trained on the forest before them
.
“Shot on sight,” he bellowed.

     
The howls
ceased
abruptly
,
but
t
hey kept vigil waiting for the
wolves to come back to the scene of the crime
.

     
E
verything was
silent and still
when
a
lone voice broke the void
.
“Excuse me.”

    
E
veryone
turned
at once,
weapons drawn on the
young male
who appeared behind the officer.
Dressed in an expensive suit, wearing dark black sungl
asses that would have paid most
of their salaries for the year
,
he was an imposin
g figure, but still no one dropped their guns
.

     “Do you mind?” H
e
lif
ted his eyebrow and
frowned
at the drawn weapon
s
with disdain
.

     T
he officer
in charge
dropped his weapon to his side
looking chagrinned
,
signaling
to the
others to follow suit.
The man in front of him exuded
money and power. Every
instinct told him
he didn’t want to be
on his bad side
,
so he forced an apologetic smile to his lips
.
“
I’m sorry
we had an incident with wolves,” h
e
explained tucking
his gun
into
the
holster
on his hip
.

     “
I am sure
you meant
no harm,” t
he man
replied
smoothly. 

     A
nothe
r
man
dressed
in
torn
jeans and a black t-shir
t
bearing
a Harley Davidson logo
strode
past them
arrogant
ly. His demeanor was harder, more unforgiving
,
and his disdai
n for them all obvious by
his scowl
. The officers began to raise their weapons again, but h
e dismis
sed them all
, walking to the child
,
kneeling next to her
and speaking to her in hushed tones.

     “My brother,” t
h
e new comer said
anticipating the officer’s objections
to his brother’s somewhat disheveled appearance
. 

     “What can we do for you?” the officer asked as
paramedics brought out the n
ext stretcher.

    
The child
let out another cry
of distress,
t
he man next to her
laid a
reassuring
hand on her arm
, but
did not pull
away or flinch as she had done with the officer
.
Instead
,
she
launched
herself into his arms
sobbing
, as he held her,
offering
the
comfort
she so badly needed
.

     “I am Lucan that
is my brot
her Cade.
” H
e pointed to the man who
gathered the child in his arms and was in the process of rocking her
in his lap
.
“
We were o
n our way here to visit
Linda when we heard about the attack.”