Naked Prey, Part Three

The night air was warm and the sky was cloud free, showing more stars than you’d ever see in the city. I walked around the swimming pool once and then headed toward the tennis courts, armed with only my towel. Couples and groups strolled around, some nodding to me, others ignoring me.

            The place had a different vibe after dark. More serious. More . . . sensual. People smiled, but not the same way they did when the sun was out and everyone was watching.

            A foursome finished playing tennis and hugged for a long, long time before heading off. I spotted a man and woman on a blanket beneath a tree, making out energetically, legs intertwined. Suspicious moans rose from behind a bush, but I didn’t check them out.

            At least nothing bit me. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

            I saw the curly-haired blond woman from the pool stretched out on a bench near the start of one of the hiking trails, smoking a joint and talking on her cell phone. She saw me, but kept talking. I stood on the path for a moment, but the trail wasn’t lit, and I wasn’t going stumbling there in just my sandals. Especially not if an invisible monster with a taste for flesh was running around.

            The woman hung up her call and sat up, crossing a leg over her knee. “Taking a walk?” She was about my age—40something—and a little plump, but her face was round and her blue eyes sparkled. I saw a ring on her finger.

            “My girlfriend’s asleep.” I wanted to establish that I wasn’t trying to hit on her—or anyone. I didn’t know the etiquette in situations where people were already naked.

            “Yeah, my husband’s playing online poker in the cabin. I’m just calling my sister.” She laughed. “She’d die if she knew I was here.”

            I noticed a bandage on her stomach, as big as the one on Rachel’s leg. “Do you mind if I ask what happened there?”

            “That?” She shook her head. “I was taking a nap down by the lake yesterday—it’s more of a pond, really—and something bit me. I didn’t see it, and neither did my husband. He was asleep too. It really took a bite.”

            “Seems to be a lot of that going around.”

            “I think Perry’s hiding something. That manager in the office.” She stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m going home tomorrow. I mean, we were here for the whole week, but we might find another place.” She held out a hand. “I’m Kate, by the way.”

            “Tom.” We shook hands. It felt weird—a casual conversation with a totally nude woman. Different than on a beach, where I usually had to fight to keep my eyes appropriately placed. If Kate cared at all that I was wearing just sandals, she didn’t show it.

            She smiled. “Well, I’d better go check on my husband. Nice meeting you.”

            Then we heard the screams.

           

My instinct is usually to run from screaming.  I’m not very brave. But I am too curious for my own good. So I headed toward the source of the screams, with Kate right behind me.

            The screaming stopped before we got there—a stretch of lawn behind a wing of cabins. Kate stumbled in her sandals as I slowed down.

            Something big and bloody lay on the ground, blood seeping on the grass. I held out an arm. “Stay back.”

            “Oh yeah.” She backed away. “What is that?”

            The body was bloody, mutilated, and obviously dead. Clothes shredded—a shirt and jeans tangled in a pool of blood. I reached for my phone. Until I remembered I didn’t have any pockets, because I was nude. Damn it.

            Standing six feet away, fighting the urge to throw up, I looked at the corpse. I felt Kate’s breath on my shoulder. “Who is it?”

            “I think I know him.” Vann. Dixon’s friend. His face wasn’t torn up—although it was twisted in agony, his eyes still open. “Go get Perry.”

            She put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

            I wanted Rachel. “I’m fine. Just go.”

            Kate turned away. Then she ran. I watched her go, then crouched down, keeping a safe distance from the crime scene—and glancing over both my shoulders, waiting for something to take a bite out of my skin.

            I crouched. Vann’s clothes had been ripped away from his body, and the flesh beneath looked like it had been hacked with butcher’s knives. What the hell? So far this thing, whatever it was, had only taken bites out of people—Perry, Gil, Kate, Rachel . . . who else?

            But now it had killed someone.

            “Hey.”

            I jumped up. “What the—oh. Hi.”

            It was Rachel. Stark naked, staggering across the grass in bare feet. “I had a bad dream. What the hell is this? Wait, is that—”

            “It’s Vann. Dixon’s friend.” I caught her shoulder, and felt for the bandage on her leg. “Are you all right?”

            “I’m fine.” She slugged my arm. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine.” She sank down onto the grass. “Give me a minute.”

            I stood over her, peering into the darkness. Rachel clutched my leg. “Hey, he’s not naked.”

            “Maybe that’s a clue.” I wished we’d never come.

            Kate ran up, Perry puffing behind her. “What? What?” He planted his hands on his knees, catching his breath, and then he saw the bloody body. “Oh hell.”

            “Yeah.” I blocked him from getting too close. “You’d better call the police.”

            “No! We can’t. I mean . . .” He stared at the body. “Who is that?”

            “His name’s Vann Meadows. He was meeting here with a member of yours named Walter Dixon.”

            Perry groaned. “Damn it.”

            I’m not very intimidating even when I’ve got my pants on, but I crossed my arms and gave him the hardest stare I could. “What’s going on?”

            He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

            Rachel, still sitting, snorted. “Try him.”

            “I’ve seen a lot of things most people wouldn’t believe.” And I wished I hadn’t. “Go on.”

            “I don’t know what it is. I call him Charley. He lives somewhere out in the woods.” He pointed toward the hiking trail. “I found him last fall, when I was shutting the place down for the winter. He took a bite out of me, but he didn’t do anything else. He, uh—he eats skin.”

            “Yuck.” Kate clutched the bandage on her leg. “You mean—”

            “Not very much! He only needs a bite or two. He’s never—” Perry forced himself to look at Vann’s corpse. “Killed anyone.”

            “So why him?” I let my arms drop. “Rachel?”

            She stood up, looking more steady on her legs. She gazed at the body, grimacing. Like I said, she’s kind of psychic.

            Her nose wrinkled. “Something smells putrid. Like one of those cigars from that place a few weeks ago.”

            I didn’t want to get too close to the body to look for a cigar. Both because I didn’t want to disturb the scene—cops frown on that—and because I didn’t really want a close look at what—Charley?—had done to Vann’s body.

            Perry sighed. “I guess I’d better go call the police.”

            “I’m going back to my cabin and locking the door.” Kate looked nauseous. “Nice meeting you, Tom.”

            Rachel was feeling well enough to elbow my ribs as Kate walked away. “Who’s that?”

            “Her name’s Kate. She’s married. We were talking. That’s it.” For a long time, Rachel would deny being my girlfriend unless another woman paid me any attention. That didn’t happen so much anymore, but the fact that Kate was naked probably put her possessive instincts into overdrive.

            She peered at Kate as she made her way toward the cabins. “Cute.”

            “Let’s go.” I took her hand. “I have to call my client.”

Fifteen minutes later Walter Dixon was pounding on the cabin door. “What the hell is this about Vann? Who are you?”

            “Better take a seat.” I’d called Amelia Dixon, told her what had happened, and she told me she’d call her husband. I wanted to talk to him before the cops showed up.

            He sat at the table, checked Rachel out, and glared at both of us. “You’re a P.I.?” He didn’t believe it.

            “Yeah.” I had my business card in my pants somewhere, but I didn’t want to fish it out right now. “Your wife wanted to know what you were doing on your weekends.”

I perched on the edge of the bed. “So what’s the deal with you and Vann Meadows?”

            “He’s my business partner.” Dixon scowled. “We come down here to talk in private. And so we both know nobody’s wearing any wires.” He glanced at Rachel again, then looked away. “And to check out . . .  you know. What happened to Vann?”

            If they were worried about wires, they were into illegal or at least semilegal shenanigans. Which fit with the few clips of conversation I’d picked up. For the rest of it—if he looked at Rachel one more time I was going to slug him.

            I’d been a reporter before becoming a detective, so I told him the truth—it was my primal instinct. “Vann was attacked by a skin-eating creature out behind the cabins. The police are coming.”

            “Police?” Dixon stood. “I can’t—”

            “Leaving now will only look suspicious. I found the body, I’ll have to explain what I’m doing here. Which will lead to you.”

            “But I can’t . . .” He sat down again. “Oh god, this is a nightmare.”

            Think how it feels for Vann, I thought. But I didn’t say it. “Can you think of any reason why he was walking around at night, with his clothes on? In a nudist camp?”

            Dixon looked irritated. “Maybe to make a call. Or smoke a cigar. You can’t smoke in any of these cabins.”

            Rachel nodded. “The cigar. That’s what I smelled.” 

            “So what?” Dixon pounded the table with a fist. “He gets killed by some monster for smoking a cigar? What kind of crap is this?”

            “And he was dressed.” Rachel closed her eyes as if reliving her dream. The one that had woken her up and brought her looking for me. “The thing—Charley—usually only takes little bites out of people, right?”

            I nodded. “But if he was hungry, or angry . . .” A nudist camp was the perfect place for the thing to hunt, as long as Charley’s appetite for skin didn’t grow out of control.

            Someone knocked on the cabin door. Dixon jumped. He looked like he wanted to run and climb out the bathroom window. I opened the door.

            Two cops. One male, one female. After half a day spent around nude people of all shapes and sizes, I had to remember that most people actually wore clothes all the time. The fully-dressed officers looked . . . out of place.

            The female looked me up and down. “Tom Jurgen?”

            “That’s me. I’ve got my ID here somewhere . . .” Where had I left my pants?

            “You want to show us where you found the body?” That came from the male cop, who looked like he could have come straight from an NFL training camp, broad shoulders and all.

            “Uh, sure. Is there a problem?”

            “Just show us.” The woman pointed out the door.

            Rachel stood up. “I was there too. I’m Rachel. Rachel Dunn.”

            “Fine.” She looked at Dixon. “And you are?”

            “Walter Dixon.” He was the only one who seemed embarrassed at having no clothes. “I’m in real estate.” He glanced at me. “All right, I know—I knew Vann.”

            “All right. Come on.” She seemed impatient.

            The female cop’s name was Kulick; the male was Trentman. Other than that, they said nothing as I led them behind the cabins to where Vann’s body was—

            Or where it used to be.

            Three more cops flared flashlights on the ground. Perry stood behind them. We could see the blood, and scraps of fabric. But the corpse was gone.

            What the hell?

            “It was here.” I pointed. “Right here. Rachel saw, the manager here saw it, there was a woman named Kate—”

            “There was obviously something here.” One of the cops swung his flashlight over the bloodstained grass. “But it’s gone. And it wasn’t dragged away.”

            He was right. The body would have left a trail of blood. So what . . .

            I looked over at Perry. “How big is Charley?”

            He shrugged. “Pretty big. I’ve only seen him once or twice. Usually he’s invisible—”

            “Who’s Charley?” Kulick put her hands on her hips. She looked even tougher than Trentman.

            Perry looked at me, helpless. “What do I say?”

            “The truth usually works best. Especially with the police.” I took a deep breath. “This is going to sound . . . unbelievable.”