Wolf Read online

  WOLFF:

  Kids have rights. Kids have very special rights….I’m Jack Wolff. I’m on vacation…getting away from my law practice.

  NARRATOR:

  Jack knows enough about law, from being around his father, to fake it.

  He knows women don’t like to hear you’re unemployed, even when you are well-fixed. “Lawyer” says money to a woman. Even to a girl like this….

  ANNA:

  My name’s Anna Mullins…but my friends call me Annie.

  WOLFF:

  (warmly) Hello, Annie.

  ANNA:

  (eager) You wouldn’t…? No. Sorry.

  I shouldn’t ask.

  WOLFF:

  Ask away.

  ANNA:

  Would you ever…take on somebody my age for a client?

  WOLFF:

  Well, certainly. Why not?

  ANNA:

  Then….could we go somewhere for a moment? Somewhere we can talk without fear of my parents coming out of the dining room and making a scene?

  WOLFF:

  Of course.

  NARRATOR:

  They sit under a tree on a bench from a carved log, a hedgerow on made four sides, making a private out-of-doors chamber for them. A breeze shimmers through the leaves, the sun dapples through shade trees, forming a lovely pattern on Anna’s creamy complexion. He does not sit close. Not yet.

  ANNA:

  My father, Mr. Wolff, is…he’s not a nice man.

  WOLFF:

  How so, Anna?

  ANNA:

  Make it Annie. Please. I want us to be friends.

  WOLFF:

  So do I.

  ANNA:

  The trouble is, I…I think maybe I’m not so nice, either.

  WOLFF:

  Why’s that, Annie?

  ANNA:

  I…I think maybe I deserve it, when he punishes me. Daddy found out that I…I…that my boyfriend and I, we…you know. Did it.

  NARRATOR:

  Well, this is good news and bad news, isn’t it, Jack? You hoped she’d be a virgin, but then those are so rare – such precious blood to spill….But an ashamed, abused child is perfect for your game. Damaged goods, Jack – particularly damaged goods that know they are damaged – makes for easier prey.

  WOLFF:

  Is it just verbal abuse, Anna? Or does he…hit you?

  ANNA:

  It started out with just yelling…he threatened my boy friend, and Andy just…just ran off. Really scared the you-know-what out of him.

  WOLFF:

  You want to get back with Andy?

  ANNA:

  No. No, that’s over. He didn’t stand up to Daddy.

  WOLFF:

  Anna…does he hit you?

  ANNA:

  …No one can see us, right?

  WOLFF:

  No one can see us here.

  NARRATOR:

  So little Anna pulls down her halter top, not all the way, just enough to show Jack the bruise on her shoulder…then pulls the top back up.

  WOLFF:

  Bastard.

  ANNA:

  It wasn’t just that once, either. If I get home late, or lately when I sneak out…because that’s the only way I can get out…he’s waiting with a belt. On my…my bottom. I…I can’t show you that. Too embarrassed….

  WOLFF:

  Does your mother know about this?

  ANNA:

  (bitter, near tears) She gets all motherly with soothing cloths and the words to go with it…but she supports him. Calls it “tough love.” She’s as bad as he is.

  WOLFF:

  I’m afraid such enabling is all too typical. It’s even possible he’s physically abused her, as well, and on some sick level, she’s pleased his violence has turned elsewhere.

  ANNA:

  That’s awful.

  WOLFF:

  It’s very common. And very human. The situation you’re both in is too terrible for her to contemplate.

  ANNA:

  But I’m afraid it’s my fault, too. Andy…he’s not the only boy, Mr. Wolff. I like being with boys. Does that make me bad?

  WOLFF:

  (comforting) No. No, no, Annie, you’re just a normal young girl blossoming into a beautiful woman.

  Your father wants to keep you a child. Life doesn’t work that way.

  ANNA:

  I need help, Mr. Wolff.

  WOLFF:

  What sort of help, specifically?

  ANNA:

  I have to get away from them. From my parents.

  WOLFF:

  Being a runaway is no answer, Annie.

  NARRATOR:

  She is clutching him now, sobbing into his chest, her sorrow palpable – though what Jack notices most is her pert ripe breasts pushing against him.

  ANNA:

  I won’t run away. I’ll go with you. You can take me someplace safe, and then we’ll sue that lousy…

  lousy…

  WOLFF:

  (gently) Even after he’s hurt you, you still love your father, don’t you?

  ANNA:

  Yes. Yes, but I can’t go on this way.

  Oh, please, Mr. Wolff – you have to help me!

  WOLFF:

  Of course I’ll help you, Annie. There are legal remedies.

  ANNA:

  I don’t want to get Daddy in trouble!

  WOLFF:

  Fine, but we won’t let him know that.

  We can sue for divorce. You can be your own free person.

  ANNA:

  But I’m under eighteen!

  WOLFF:

  That’s not a factor. And your father won’t fight it, either – not when he knows very well what he’s done to you. And that he could face incarceration.

  ANNA:

  (getting it) He’d be ruined.

  WOLFF:

  Yes. This kind of physical abuse, assault and battery…it’s a prison sentence on top of disgrace.

  ANNA:

  But I told you – I’m not a good girl.

  Andy isn’t the only one – I’ve been with other boys, too. And I…like it….

  NARRATOR:

  Her hand is on his thigh now. Her lips glisten.

  WOLFF:

  Anna…Annie…you can depend on me.

  ANNA:

  But I’m just a kid! How could I ever repay you?

  WOLFF:

  We’ll…think of something.

  MUSIC:

  Up.

  ANNOUNCER:

  We’ll return to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories – after these words.

  ANNOUNCER:

  And now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories and “Wolf.”

  SOUND:

  Outdoor swimming pool noises again.

  Some breeze in there.

  NARRATOR:

  That afternoon, Jack keeps an eye on Annie. She and her family go to the swimming pool, and so does he. In his deck chair beneath an umbrella, he sits nearby and watches them, eyes behind shades as he pretends to read the new Stephen King…instead he eavesdrops.

  ANNA’S MOM:

  (slightly off-mic) I’m sorry if we embarrassed you, sweetheart.

  ANNA:

  (slightly off-mic) I’m not a child. You don’t have to treat me like one.

  ANNA’S MOM:

  (slightly off-mic) It’s only for your own good.

  ANNA’S DAD:

  (slightly off-mic) Can I get you a lemonade, hon?

  ANNA:

  (slightly off-mic) No thank you.

  ANNA’S DAD:

  (slightly off-mic) You need another towel?

  ANNA:

  (slightly off-mic) No thank you!

  NARRATOR:

  The parents keep cozying up to the pretty pouty teenager, and she stops speaking to them. This seems to hurt her father.

  WOLFF:

  (mutters to himself) Sick son of a bitch…brutally beating his own daughter….On the other hand, bless his nasty, wicked heart…paving the way for
me. Got my own demons to satisfy….

  HERRIN:

  (loud but off-mic) Mr. Wolff?

  WOLFF:

  (a little thrown) Yes?

  HERRIN:

  Mr. Wolff, excuse us for bothering you on your vacation. But we could use a word.

  NARRATOR:

  He’s a balding, beefy-looking guy with a round, red-blotchy face, throwing his shadow over Jack. His suit is rumpled, his tie blue and egg-stained, sunglasses his only concession to the summer day. At his side is a uniformed state patrol officer.

  HERRIN:

  Don’t get up….

  WOLFF:

  Can I help you, gentlemen?

  HERRIN:

  Sam Herrin. Lieutenant. This is Officer Jones.

  SOUND:

  Wallet removed.

  WOLFF:

  State Crime Bureau? What would you gentleman want with me?

  SOUND:

  Wallet put back. Deck chair scrape.

  HERRIN:

  Don’t mind if I join you?

  NARRATOR:

  The uniformed cop doesn’t sit – he stands behind his superior, apparently not paying attention, other than to cast his smile onto the pool where teenage girls like Anna are swimming, their young limbs flashing whitely above blue-green water.

  HERRIN:

  (seemingly friendly, a little folksy)

  Beautiful day. Nice breeze. Some real pretty young girls around this funky old place. Will ya look at how high they cut those suits above the hip-bone these days! Wooo-weee.

  WOLFF:

  Somehow that doesn’t sound like police business.

  HERRIN:

  (cold) Had a murder here last week.

  WOLFF:

  I’m aware of that.

  HERRIN:

  You are, huh?

  WOLFF:

  Lot of talk about it around the lodge.

  HERRIN:

  ’Spect there would be. But you shoulda heard more than just talk, Mr. Wolff.

  WOLFF:

  What do you mean?

  HERRIN:

  Well, the victim was killed – slaughtered’s more like it…just outside your cabin.

  WOLFF:

  My understanding is that the murder took place in the woods behind my cabin, a good distance away.

  HERRIN:

  Closer to your cabin than any other.

  WOLFF:

  Lieutenant, uh…what was it?

  HERRIN:

  Herrin.

  WOLFF:

  Lt. Herrin, this happened the first night I checked in. Why didn’t anybody talk to me about this then?

  HERRIN:

  According to our paperwork, they did.

  WOLFF:

  Somebody took my name. That’s all.

  HERRIN:

  Yeah, well, and after that we ran a check….You got yourself an interestin’ background, Mr. Wolff.

  WOLFF:

  Really?

  HERRIN:

  Travel quite a bit, don’t you, Mr. Wolff?

  WOLFF:

  I’m kind of a man of leisure, yes, Lieutenant.

  HERRIN:

  (chuckles) ’Man of leisure.’ Don’t hear that phrase every day, do you, Officer?

  JONES:

  (slightly off-mic) No, sir. But it sounds expensive.

  HERRIN:

  Yes it does….Mr. Wolff, how can you afford the lifestyle of a man of leisure, in this economy?

  WOLFF:

  The good old-fashioned American way, Lieutenant – I inherited money.

  HERRIN:

  (laughs) Well, you’re up front about it, anyway. As I understand, you got your fortune from your late father, that right?

  WOLFF:

  It wasn’t left me by a total stranger, Lieutenant.

  HERRIN:

  Had some interesting connections, didn’t he? Your late father.

  WOLFF:

  (dry) Oh. Is that what this is about?

  HERRIN:

  He represented some violent people.

  That’s right, isn’t it, Officer Jones?

  JONES:

  (slightly off-mic) Yes, Lieutenant. Organized crime figures among them.

  WOLFF:

  And that leads you to think I may have had something to do with some woman’s murder? Some woman I never even met?

  HERRIN:

  Did I say that?

  WOLFF:

  (defensive) Well, you sure as hell implied –

  HERRIN:

  This young woman, Amy Walters, she was torn apart…did you know that, Mr. Wolff? Her throat ripped out, blood everywhere, some of her vital organs missing.

  JONES:

  (on-mic now) Her body was dragged off from the kill site and the perpetrator essentially…feasted on the flesh of the victim.

  WOLFF:

  Really.

  HERRIN:

  Now, you don’t sound particularly impressed, Mr. Wolff. What would you say if I told you we found partially eaten human tissue in the bushes, not a stone’s throw from your cabin?

  WOLFF:

  I’d say I’m glad I locked my cabin door that night.

  HERRIN:

  Really? That’s all you have to say?

  WOLFF:

  I’d also say you’re barking up the wrong tree…if that helps.

  SOUND:

  Deck chair scrapes on cement, indicating Herrin getting up out of chair.

  HERRIN:

  Somebody’s barking somewhere, Mr. Wolff. Anyway. You just stay here and enjoy your vacation…by which I mean, stay put. We’re running a complete background check on you.

  WOLFF:

  Really? And what do you expect to turn up?

  HERRIN:

  Nothing in particular. Something, maybe. You see, the FBI’s Behavioral Unit has already told us about seven other murders this summer – round and about the vacation sites of this lovely country of ours – and all of ’em fit this same sick M.O. If…man of leisure that you are….you just happened to be in those places in the course of your wanderings…well. You get the picture.

  WOLFF:

  You’re looking in the wrong place, Lieutenant. Do I look like a monster to you?

  HERRIN:

  (a beat, then a laugh) Not really.

  You look like a ladies’ man who’s drunk from the plastic surgery well a few too many times.

  SOUND:

  Footsteps on cement.

  HERRIN:

  (off-mic and trailing off) But hey – that’s just my opinion….Jones, get your eyes off that jailbait!

  Fifteen’ll get ya twenty, ya know….

  WOLFF:

  (couple beats; then muttered)

  Bastard.

  NARRATOR:

  You don’t like having the cops around, do you, Jack? There’s nothing keeping you here. After tonight…one last prowl, and you’ll be ready to move on.

  Just stretch, and yawn, and watch sweet young Anna as she stretches and yawns. Such a lovely mouth. Such pert, perky breasts….Hell with that cop. You can howl tonight, no problem.

  SOUND:

  Restaurant sounds again. Lonnie sliding into Wolff’s booth.

  LONNIE:

  Hey, Mr. Wolff! You musta taken a lease out on this booth.

  WOLFF:

  (tiring of the mentor bit) Lonnie.

  Thought you were working tonight?

  LONNIE:

  I was, but it’s a little slow and turned out I was able to get the whole evening off.

  WOLFF:

  And yet you’re hanging around work?

  LONNIE:

  Sure. See that little waitress over there? The redhead? She gets off at nine.

  WOLFF:

  (amused) And you get off at…?

  LONNIE:

  (upbeat) Well, we’ll see. I’ve got new confidence now, with all the tricks of the trade you shared with me.

  WOLFF:

  (unenthusiastic) Glad to be of help.

  LONNIE:

  Wond
er where that little blonde is?

  That’s her parents over there. They don’t seem to be enjoying themselves. Mommy seems upset with Daddy.

  WOLFF:

  I wonder why.

  LONNIE:

  What?

  WOLFF:

  Nothing. Maybe you better go spruce up for your big date.

  LONNIE:

  Oh, no, Mr. Wolff. I’m ready right now. Showered and everything. Little Tina doesn’t stand a chance tonight….Say, are you just eating soup again? With all the rare roast beef on the buffet? Not like you.

  What happened to protein?

  WOLFF:

  I don’t like to over-indulge when I’m, uh…going out.

  LONNIE:

  Ah! You got a victim lined up, too!

  You old dog.