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Craig Nybo

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around her neck. She also wore my jacket. I lettered in football, track, and wrestling, you know. Her name was Marilyn Moore, but I just called her Mare. She was beautiful, with silk hair and pale skin, just like a satin doll. We were going to be married after I graduated.”

Harmon drew a deep breath and glanced away from Kurt at the wall. “We planned to go to prom. I was a senior and it would be my last dance. But two weeks prior, Mare went missing. We searched for her, but she wasn’t the first to disappear in those days. Folks were thinned out, tired of looking for lost children. I knew bad things were afoot, but I was young and naive. In those days I thought that nothing could ever happen to me or to the people I loved. I was wrong.

“They found her, Mare I mean.” Harmon swallowed a developing lump. “And do you know where they found her?”

Kurt stayed silent and let the old man speak.

“They found her at the Slade ranch. They found her torn to pieces. Much of her had been eaten, as if scavengers had gotten to her. She was still wearing my jacket. She was still wearing my ring.” Harmon paused, striving to keep his composure—he succeeded. “Now I ask you again; you are the chief of police; just what are you going to do about it?”

Kurt took a moment to consider very carefully what to say next. “Harmon, I’m sorry for your loss—I really am. But at this stage my hands are tied. If it makes you feel better, I am looking into it. We sent a few of the slain sheep down to Butte—to the college. We’ll hear from them soon. I know about Danny Slade. I’ve read his file. But nothing has happened other than a wolf attack on Buren’s ranch.”

“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone you love? Do you know what it’s like to lose that someone prematurely, to have her torn from your life like half of a photograph?”

Kurt’s eyes darkened. “Yes, I know what that feels like.”

“Then you must understand that something has to be done. It has to be stopped. It always starts with the animals. But it will crave more; and it takes what it craves. I am here to beg for your help; don’t let them, the young ones, experience