Seeing Red 1

He paused at the crime scene tape. He had seen enough of it to know something bad had happened. Bad things were often why he was called.

He wondered how bad this one was.

"I'm glad to see you, Red." Inspector McGuinness appeared at the door. He shook his balding, round head. "Come in."

He stooped under the tape and stepped inside the house. The smell of blood and waste covered everything. He paused. He didn't see anything in the outer room.

Where was the body?

He gave the room another closer look before moving on. He didn't see anything to warrant the smell.

He wondered how bad it could be to fill the apartment and not be seen.

He decided to look over the rest of the place. He knew the body had to be bad if the police had decided to call him in this early in the case.

He winced when he finally did find the body. The collar of his red coat hid the bottom part of his face and the small amount of surprise that escaped his usual stolidness. He knew it was going to be bad, just not that bad.

The corpse remained mostly in the tub of the wide bathroom. Parts were on the floor. Some had dropped in the sink from across the room.

"What do you think?" McGuinness stood by the door. He had seen the scene already so the effect was lessened by familiarity.

"I have never seen anything like as far as I can recall." He raised a gloved hand to his masked face as he looked around. "Even the animal attacks I have found didn't look like this."

"That bad, eh?" The inspector stepped out of the door.

"Worse when you consider what we're seeing here." He adjusted his hat before stepping closer. He didn't want to get blood on it while he looked at the body. "Parts are missing, heavy chewing, bite marks everywhere, claw marks in what's left of the arms and legs. The coroner will rule for some kind of animal attack unless you tell him the victim was shut inside his apartment."

"How did the animal get out of the apartment without leaving a trace?" McGuinness wasn't much of a tracker, but he could see all the damage seemed to be in the bathroom.

"That's an interesting question with an easy answer." He pointed one gloved finger at the floor, then the door. "It walked out."

"You're kidding." The detective frowned at scratches on the doorknob. "Needs a manicure."

"Let's see if we can find more traces of it." He stepped out of the bathroom. "It might have been smart enough to cover its tracks once it got outside."

"That's all we need." McGuinness followed at a distance. This was why he had called an expert in the first place.

You didn't get more of an expert than the Redcoat.

He walked down the hall, head down. He paused when reached the street door. Claw marks on the handle said the thing went outside.

He stepped outside and looked around. He walked down the edge of the sidewalk. He stopped in front of one spot.

He looked up and down the lot for more signs. He admitted he would have problems at this point.

"Something wrong?" McGuinness didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He supposed that was the point.

"Your wild dog drove away." Redcoat pointed at the parking space. "That's a recent oil drip."

"So the alleged animal attacked its victim in his own apartment, killed and ate part of him, and then drove away." The inspector shook his head. "Pull the other one."

"I can only tell you what I see." He knelt by the droplets. "The look of it is consistent with what appeared to be the time of death."

"You wouldn't happen to know what kind of auto left the oil?" McGuinness didn't bother to kneel. He wasn't a forensics expert. He did mark the position in his notebook. A tech could get a sample and run it by the lab later.

"No." The masked man stood. "Let's see how far we can follow it."

The two men started walking. McGuinness gave up after thirty minutes, with the direction of the drops pointing north. He decided to turn back and get a car so they could continue without having to walk the rest of the way.

By the time he got back, the Redcoat had vanished on the highway heading north.

How did he do that when he didn't have a car?

The inspector decided to follow in the hopes of seeing the man on the road. He drove for minutes before seeing the red coat billowing on an exit ramp. He pulled off, light blinking on the roof.

"I lost the trail." Redcoat shook his head. "There's too many stains from too many cars here."

"I can give you a ride back into town." The detective looked at the traffic. "I have a feeling this is going to get worse the longer it takes for us to catch this thing."

"I have to talk to some people." He nodded his head. "I'll call you tomorrow."

He jumped on a long hauler, landing between the trailer and the cab. He leaped again and again until he was riding on a truck heading south into the city. He held his hat down as he sat on top of the trailer.

McGuinness watched him go. Then he shook his head. How did he do stuff like that? He had to get back to his crime scene and make sure the techs secured the evidence.

Then he would have to check on any missing werewolves.

Redcoat jumped from the truck when he reached his exit. He grabbed the rail for a bridge the rig was passing under and pulled himself on the road above. He needed to find his source and talk to the man before anyone else died.

He also needed to get rid of his guise now that he didn't need it. He didn't need the problems being famous could cause while he was looking around.

He told his red disguise to fade away as he walked down the bridge. He straightened his denim jacket, and flannel shirt underneath. He looked liked someone from up north, but he was okay with that.

The idea was to move around in the underbelly of the city without letting anyone know he was there. The underworld would not relish his presence and clam up if they knew he was prowling around.

He wondered how an animal got the smarts to drive around a car. That was something he needed to look into when he got the chance.

The explanation was probably simpler than a werewolf, or a wendigo. It was probably a loon out for a walk.

He wondered how many loons were out there eating people because they had received a command from voices from beyond. Then he hoped he only had the one he was chasing living in Canada.

The cannibal driving away gave him, or her, a lot of motor controls one didn't quite associate with people who had lost their minds. He would have expected the driver to crash in the first mile.

So either his cannibal had enough control to drive on his own, or he had a partner. Both were bad things to his way of thinking.

A smart cannibal meant he would continue to kill and move around until caught. He would pick out his victim like a born predator. He could blend in, act normal, until he made his move.

It could be years before they caught him depending on his feeding cycle.

A dumb cannibal/smart animal with a partner could help their chances because such a thing started becoming a logistical nightmare for the partner.

He decided to concentrate on the smart cannibal. He hadn't seen a trace of the partner, and until he did, he had no proof of such a theory.

He wondered what had brought such a creature into the city.

The inspector would send out reports across Canada, and points south, to see if there was attacks anywhere else. Maybe he could find a link that way.

The Redcoat would have to do whatever he could to spread the word through his contacts, and hope for a break. He could do unusual things, but he couldn't work miracles.

The news would stir the pot when the word got out of the unusual nature of the crime. He was sure of that.

It might help. It might cause more problems to deal with by the police.

He checked the service of his phone. He started going through his list as he headed into the city.

His friends would let him know if they saw something that he needed to investigate. That was the best he could do at the moment.

He hated waiting for another killing.

2

"Hello, Bobby." Keiron Wayne smiled. "How's things with you?"

"I'm on the trail of something." Bobby smiled. "I need some professional advice."

"Tell me what you need." Wayne concentrated on his visitor, unlined face becoming like stone as he waited for whatever story he was about to hear.

The visitor told him about the dead man in the bathroom. He laid out the trail as far as he followed it. The medicine man nodded at the details.

"Sounds like a smart wendigo, Bobby." Wayne pulled out a journal from a drawer behind his counter. It was plain and brown. That made it stand out in the curiosities that the medicine man traded in. "You don't see many of them around."

"Is there any way to track it down to its lair?" Bobby looked at several dreamcatchers hanging from the wooden rafters overhead.

"Wendigos are cursed. Usually they are as smart as an average bear, and always hungry for human flesh." Wayne opened the journal, flipping to the pages he wanted with a fingertip. "A smart one can control that hunger. It will only eat when it's ready to, and not a moment before."

"So the only way to get them in is some kind of bait." Bobby rubbed his chin.

"They're still in control of their hunger. You'll need something beyond reproach before they will close up to take a look." He showed Bobby drawings of wendigos that he had made.

The creature looked like an ape mixed with a bear with long talons at the end of its long arms. Triangular teeth decorated its maw. Hair covered its body from what he could tell.

"How does this get close enough to a man to eat him without causing a panic?" He didn't remember any fear in the scene he had seen.

"They can make themselves look like their old selves if they are smart enough." Wayne closed his journal and put it up. "Their victims would see something ordinary."

"So what I need to look for is someone who could lure a man to his death without suspicion." Bobby rubbed his chin as he thought. "It could pretend to be anyone if no one knew what to look for when they saw it."

"Someone who takes on the curse of the wendigo willingly is a dangerous person." The medicine man indicated a totem pole he had carved to help his meditations. "It means he hates humanity."

"I don't understand." The pole had a set of animals carved in it, but he couldn't remember any significance. Wayne used a lot of traditions from all over the world. A random pole meant nothing to his visitor.

"A wendigo is cursed because he ate human flesh. It turns him into a monster that wanders the woods looking for other things to eat." Wayne indicated a face in the middle that looked like a bear. "Someone who deliberately took on the curse for the innate power granted is inherently more dangerous, and has a deep-seated hate for humans." His hand slapped a face that resembled a wolf. "No one volunteers for something that will make them another species unless they have a reason for it."

"Maybe they like to eat people." Bobby smiled at his grim joke. "So if this is his first victim, we can stop him before he eats someone else."

"He has probably eaten others." Wayne shook his head. "You just haven't seen the bodies yet."

"I'll let McGuinness know to be on the lookout." Bobby nodded as he turned to leave. "Thanks for the expertise."

"Be careful, Bobby." Wayne tapped his countertop with a fingertip. "That bloody coat of yours doesn't make you invincible."

"Say hello to Naomi for me." Bobby waved as he stepped out on the street. He hoped his friend was wrong about his coat.

He had a feeling that invincibility was something he wanted in a case like this.

He headed down the street. He pulled out his phone as he went. He should put the inspector to looking for other cases. If the killer had struck before this murder, maybe there was a pattern they could take apart.

He hoped so because a smart monster was something he didn't want to let run loose.

"Inspector?" He kept an eye on traffic as he stood on the sidewalk. "Did you find anything?"

The inspector admitted he had found several similar murders across the continent. He was weeding them out as much as possible to keep on track.

"Can I come in and look at the files?" He knew that some detectives liked to keep their records top secret and away from the eyes of private citizens like him.

The inspector told him to come ahead. The more help he got, the happier he would be.

Bobby checked his messages to see if any of his informants had noted anything. The phone was empty. Whatever the inspector had uncovered might be their only lead.

He headed down the street. He still needed to get across the city, and he was on foot. He needed to invest in a car.

He said his mantra as he jogged along. His long red coat buckled around him as he moved. He started moving fast toward his destination by cutting through places in a straight line.

At one point, he ran along the roofs of cars stalled in traffic before crossing a public park to get to the streets beyond.

He smiled under his mask as he saw the familiar facade of the police station. He headed for the side of the building and started up the wall to get to the upper stories where the detective squadrooms took up space. He climbed in through one of the windows when he saw no one was in a conference room away from the main operating bullpen.

He liked to avoid the main desk where possible. It kept questions to a minimum in his opinion.

He found McGuiness in another conference room turned into an operations command. He had rolled up his sleeves and hung his tie on a coat hook on the wall as he had gone through the reports.

"We have murders from all over the provinces." McGuinness indicated the separate piles. "The RCMP should have seen this already."

"What makes you think this is the same murderer?" Bobby pushed back the red hat that came with the giant red coat.

The inspector pulled out crime scene photos from each of the piles. They were remarkably clean except for the mess in the center of the picture. He made a voila gesture.

"Point for you." Bobby pointed at a stack of paper on a chair. It sat off to one side forlornly. "Those?"

"Rejects." McGuiness frowned. "Those are murders all right, but nothing like what we're dealing with here."

"I have some bad news to add on." Bobby looked over the files as he sought for any direction to search. "Our murderer won't stop until we stop it."

"It?" McGuiness covered his face with his hands. "What kind of it are we talking about here?"

"A wendigo." Bobby ignored the look on the detective's face. "They live to eat, and eat to live."

"That's happy news." The inspector looked at the files. "How do we stop it?"

"I don't know yet."

"That's bloody marvelous."

3

Redcoat sat down with the files. The pictures were carefully kept out of sight as he read the documents. He needed to think. The actual crime was just a distraction to him as he went over the details pulled in by the various province police departments.

He was a bit surprised that the Mounted had not noticed the pattern crossing the country. It was unlike them.

He saw nothing in the lives of the men killed. They had no connection to each other as far as he could tell. He knew McGuinness would make sure with some questions for the other local forces. He just didn't see more than one, or two, knowing each other.

The locations weren't anything special either. The men went out on the town. They came back with an escort. They died. The only connection he could see with that was they frequented the local night spots.

He noted the irony that women hunters had been hunted by a woman and moved on with his search.

The times of death were no help either. Some of the bodies had decayed beyond recognition before they were found. Best guess from coroners on those were weeks before the corpses had been found.

The wendigo had done everything it could to cover its tracks except bury the bodies.

McGuinness seemed as frustrated as he felt. He needed to give the inspector something to do. He looked over the files. He had an idea. He knew the detective wouldn't like it, but it could give them something. And it would keep the man busy.

"The files say that some of the victims liked to go to the same bars to pick up women." He smiled behind the collar of his great coat when the inspector looked up. "Do these places have cameras?"

"I don't know." The inspector reached for the phone. "That's a good idea. Why didn't I think of it?"

He had hoped McGuinness would go down in person to collect any film, but he supposed he had to settle for what he could get.

He searched the files for anything else he could turn to his advantage. There had to be something.

He wondered if the times had something to do with the killings.

Maybe that's why some of the bodies had been left out in the middle of the local wildernesses.

Maybe that was more than trying to confuse the police. Maybe the wendigo was on a time table. She, he thought of the killer as a woman since none of the victims were known to be gay, could be killing to satisfy some inner clock.

That meant two things to him. They had a certain amount of time before she struck again. That gave them however long between attacks to try and narrow the field. That wasn't much help as far as he was concerned.

The other thing was that she would keep killing on her clock. She had taken on an inhuman appetite. She could bottle it up for a while, but it would force her to eat someone eventually.

That didn't help either. Canada had more than a few women roaming the provinces from Nova Scotia to British Columbia.

That didn't include Americans coming over the border from their northern States for the weekend either.

How could he narrow the field down into something that wouldn't take him a thousand years to search?

Maybe there was a pattern where the killings were done. It could be part of a job, or hobby, to travel. That would explain the different killing grounds.

So it was something that required traveling. What required that much traveling since the bodies had been discovered everywhere. The first idea in his mind was a transport driver. Not many women did that for a living.

What else?

Everything he thought of revolved around some kind of transport industry like shipping, or airline employees. That was still a big list to whittle down.

He needed something to whittle it down to the right job before he could attempt to ask the inspector to question all these women about their whereabouts. He needed an indication of a direction.

He needed an idea of where she was hunting before he could start hunting her.

He wondered if a profile could be made of the places where the bodies had been found. How could he get one of those? It might demonstrate a stomping ground on a map.

It wouldn't be exact, but it could turn up something.

He made a note to get a profile for the dump sites, and any local bar. Video footage of the victim might turn up any companions.

That was something for the police to do. He didn't have the massive manpower a police force could bring to bear on a case like this. He would need to let them do the legwork until the net narrowed into something that could use his training.

McGuinness put down the phone. He rubbed his red face with a hand. Apparently he had to explain why he needed the footage to the underling he was sending out.

"Could I have one more favor, McGuinness?" He stood, listening to his bones creak as he moved.

"Go ahead." The inspector sighed.

"I think we should try and put all the times and places on a chart to see if there is some kind of pattern." Redcoat waved his hands at the stacks of files. "I know that's a lot of work, but there might be something in the timing."

The inspector sighed again. He stared at the stacks of papers. He knew he was looking at a big job. He needed more hands.

He started smiling. He had an idea. He just needed permission to carry it off.

"I think I can get this done faster than we think if I can get an authorization." He reached for the phone again. "This might take a bit."

Redcoat listened with sudden understanding of McGuinness's idea. He smiled behind the collar and mask over his face.

The cadets would have a hard lesson in police work if the inspector's favor was granted. He hoped they could stomach the boring research that they were going to do for the detective and vigilante.

And it was the only way it would get done without putting a budget strain on the department, as well as a strain on the policemen already doing what they could on their own cases.

McGuinness hung up the phone with a faint smile.

"The cadets will be here tomorrow to help us on our project." The inspector stood up. "We'll need to set up computers for them to load everything in, as well as the necessary software. I'll have to call around for that in a moment. Now I need to get some more coffee and see if the tapes from the club have arrived."

"She won't stop eating." Redcoat went to the window and looked out over the city. "Why did she turn to becoming a monster in the first place? What did she gain besides the appetite?"

"The satisfaction of being able to eat kilos of meat in one seating?" McGuinness shook his head. "We can figure out the motive later. We have to stop her first."

The inspector went to get his fresh cup of coffee as the masked man remained by the window.

A monster roamed his country. It planned to eat until there was no one else to eat. He had to stop it before it decided it liked the taste of flesh more than it liked to restrain itself. He needed a trail to follow.

He needed some kind of sign.

He looked at the stacks of paper. That was his trail. He shook his head. He had better work on it until something else presented itself.

The wendigo wasn't going to turn herself in.

4

Inspector McGuinness sipped his coffee and smiled. It had taken some work, a little begging, and hours of typing. At the end of that, he had a map of Canada marked with colored dots like pictures of storms on news broadcasts.

The high density of red dots told him those places were where his wendigo was feasting the most.

How could he narrow the search even more?

The only consolation in this bleak mess was his city wasn't the only hunting ground for the monster.

The Mounted must love that.

At least they hadn't arrived to demand his casefiles for themselves. He would be off the investigation, and they would get the credit for any arrest.

He wanted to catch this thing. It had killed too many already in his city. That was his concern. It was an affront that such a murderer got away with it for so long before anyone noticed.

If they hadn't found that one body, they might still be ignorant of the killer's existence.

He needed to check on Redcoat. The man had been going over the video from the bars in the city. He was like a machine.

The footage had been easier to gather than making the map. Warrants for the tapes, and patrolmen executing them, had been easier to get than the cadets needed to type in the data for the map they had created. Everyone wanted you to do your job with the least resources that you could.

"What do you think, Red?" The masked man sat in his chair, great coat wrapped around him. His hat was tipped back.

"We found a few possibles." He pointed to a stack of pictures. "We're trying to narrow the field."

"Narrow the field?" The inspector went through the pictures. There were a number of scantily clad women in them.

"We are trying to find any of these women at the other bars in the city." Redcoat moved the tape forward.

"Any luck?" McGuinness saw the point. If a woman was in more than one bar associated with the victims, then she was a prime suspect.

"I think so." The masked man pointed at a woman on the screen. "She has been with three of the victims so far."

"How do you know?" McGuinness thought she was pretty enough, but she looked like hundreds of girls he had seen.

"She has a distinctive mark on her arm." Red pressed the image forward until the woman's arm turned in front of the security camera. A dual line of triangles faced each other with points first. It looked like a strange type of bite mark.

"Weird tattoo." The inspector rubbed his chin. "We can hit the tattoo parlors and show her face around."

"I don't think it's ink." The masked man froze the frame. "It looks like scars to me."

"She cut her own arm?" McGuinness didn't like that. Things just got worse and worse with this case.

"Maybe." Red leaned closer. "Someone might have done it to her. It's distinctive enough we can use it to ask around the clubs now that we have a suspect."

"We can issue a bulletin." The inspector made a note on his pad. "It's not enough to hold her that she was seen in the same clubs as our victims."

"As soon as we finishing searching the footage, we'll know if we can tie her to the other victims." Constable Grant looked up.

"We can't tie her to anything, Grant." McGuinness shook his head at his patrolman. "We can only show that she frequents the same places as our victims. That's nothing."

"If we can show that she was at the same places as victims in the other cities, we can show an extraordinary pattern of coincidences." Redcoat sat back in his chair. "We need to hook her to a scene to build a legal case."

"I'll send the bulletin to the other cities."McGuinness shook his head. "The Mounted will have to be involved in this. It's getting too big for us."

"Tell them not to approach, Inspector." The masked man looked up. "This isn't an ordinary criminal. She could very well kill a normal man before they can stop her."

"I have no doubt of that." He rubbed his chin again. "Let me know when you two have finished with the footage."

"Yes, sir." Grant almost snapped to attention in his seat.

Redcoat gave him a backhanded wave.

McGuinness headed for his office two floors above his command center. He needed to make calls up the chain of command, and to brother officers across the country. He knew he was about to ask for help to start the biggest manhunt he had ever seen.

He wanted this for himself, but his department couldn't reach across provinces to chase this woman. They didn't have the manpower, or budget, for such a hunt. No local police force did.

That was why he would have to request help from the Mounted. They were able manhunters who could chase someone around the world if they had to do that. That was better than what he could do.

The commissioner would hate it. He liked keeping jurisdiction and the credit for successes. If he could, he would have his picture taken at the arrest like some big game hunter.

McGuinness imagined the heads of criminals alongside the pictures on his glory wall. He shook his head. He was being silly.

The commissioner would put the heads on pikes in front of headquarters.

He decided to call the officers he had requested the case files from in the first place. They could have made him jump through a vast array of hoops for the paperwork. They hadn't, so he owed them the privilege of deciding what they wanted to do about asking for help, or not.

Then he would have to call the commissioner's office to report his findings.

He decided to put out the bulletin first. Then he would call the commissioner's office. His superior officer, Superintendent George Quay, would also have to be informed in case some kind of blame started.

He could already see a line of people getting ready to tell him he needed to find this woman. It stretched from Grant in the other room all the way up to the Prime Minister. It wasn't like he was going to sit on his hands and hope she turned herself in.

The volume of cases uncovered said that wasn't going to happen no matter how easy it would make it for him.

He started making calls. He hoped Red and Grant would have something for him to use by the time he got done.

The commissioner would have his head on the wall if he didn't show something.

McGuinness finished giving his various briefings hours later. He leaned back in his chair. What was his next move? What could he do? Was there something he had overlooked?

Maybe there was something in the location profile he could use. He should reinspect everything. Maybe he had missed something.

"I'm heading out, Inspector." Redcoat appeared at his door. "Grant is finishing with the footage, and is writing up his report for you."

"I have spread the word." The detective leaned back in his chair. "Patrol is being issued a picture from the footage and told to be on the lookout."

"Make sure that they know she might be bulletproof." The masked man looked down the hall at something. "She might be able to kill them if she discovers they are following her."

"They know." McGuinness shrugged. "Hopefully, they will call me before they do anything stupid."

"I'll call if anything turns up." Redcoat headed down the hall.

"Where are you going?" The inspector got up and went to his door. His ally had already vanished somehow.

"I should have seen that coming." McGuinness headed for the command center. Grant would know what was going on.

He found his constable going over his notes in front of the dark monitor. The patrolman put pictures of their suspect on one side, alternates in another pile.

"Did you find anything, Grant?" The inspector wished he had a cigarette.

"I don't think so." The constable shrugged. "I didn't see anything."

5

Bobby walked the streets. He had a picture from the videos he had sat through. He had a list of clubs. He started with the ones near the police center and worked his way outwards.

The police would be following the same trail soon enough. They had more manpower, more time, more resources. All he had was his eyes and feet.

If he could cut a trail fast enough, he could keep ahead of whatever McGuinness would be granted by his superiors.

He doubted the police department was ready to handle a wendigo.

He wasn't sure he would be able to handle the thing, even with his red coat.

He found his trail at the tenth place he tried. The bartender remembered the woman. He even remembered what kind of drink she preferred when she did come in. The problem was she only visited every once in a while, and she had already hit the night before.

He didn't expect her back in for another two weeks.

Bobby took the information calmly on the outside. He just told the bartender to let the police know the next time he saw her.

Inwardly he cursed his luck. He had hit a trail. It was too bad it was cold as winter time.

Maybe it wasn't as cold as he thought at first.

Bobby stepped out of the bar. He knew she was traveling. He knew that she hit the same places over and over. Maybe she stayed in town in the same places also.

He doubted she lived out of her car.

He started with the closest hotels and motels to the bar. Maybe he would get lucky and pick up her trail before she left town. He might even get a name and an address so he didn't have to wear out any more of his shoe leather unless he wanted to do that.

He finally found a clerk that remembered his woman. He gave her a story about tracking her down from the bar where there had been an accident. He asked the clerk to call the police for him.

He was told she had checked out that morning.

He rubbed his eyes. He should have seen that coming. He asked the clerk to call the police anyway and ask for the Inspector. Maybe she had left a clue behind to point to where she had gone.

He didn't ask for the room number. He couldn't break in without the Inspector being there. It would turn his real face into a criminal while he was chasing criminals in his coat.

That would be too ironic.

He decided to step outside and look around the clerk. He might have been mistaken about the woman checking out.

Slippery customers moved to an empty room instead of paying for one.

Bobby called up his coat when he saw the inspector arriving with officers in tow. He smiled at the number of men. McGuinness wasn't taking any chances of his quarry escaping the hotel if she still was there.

The inspector went into the lobby of the place. A talk and a warrant got him a room number and a key. He gestured for men to cover the exits while a squad went to the stairs and elevators.

Redcoat looked up. This hotel didn't have balconies for upper floors. It also wasn't tall enough for an outside fire escape.

He would have to climb up and get through a window if he wanted to look in the room that belonged to the wendigo.

He found a drainpipe that didn't look sturdy enough to take his weight. He scurried up it with pulls from his hands being augmented by running up the wall. He hopped to a window ledge before the whole thing gave way under him.

He tested the window and found it locked. He shook his head. He would have to find one that wasn't locked before he attracted too much attention.

He hopped from window to window until he found one that opened up. He got in the room beyond and headed for the door. He heard someone running the shower but didn't pause. He stepped out in the hall before something happened that he couldn't explain to the policemen in the building.

He joined McGuinness at the door of one of the rooms at the end of the hall. Men stood on either side of the door.

"I think I should go in first, Inspector." He held out his hand for the card to open the locks. "This could get nasty."

McGuinness handed over the card before stepping out of the way. He drew his pistol. His constables stood against the walls.

He wanted to take his suspect alive. He also wanted to live through any trouble.

Redcoat ran the card. He pushed open the door. He stepped inside the room. Silence greeted his inspection.

The clerk had said his quarry had checked out. It was hard to believe that she had been there at all. The room was cleaner than he expected from the rest of the building.

Even the trashcan was empty.

He checked the bathroom and closet before he let the detective and his men inside. They seemed untouched to a casual inspection.

It was devoid of traces as far as he could see. It was like the rest of the crime scenes away from the bodies left behind.

"Experienced cleaner." McGuinness put his pistol away as he looked the room over. "I'll still get techs to run powder over everything and see if we can get something."

"I have never seen a monster this careful." Redcoat turned a complete circle. "This room looks completely sanitized to me."

"I know." The inspector pulled out his phone. "If we find anything, it will be a miracle."

"Maybe she used another room as her living space." The masked man went to the window. "This might be her killing room if she couldn't get them to take her to their homes."

"We'll start searching the rest of the hotel." McGuinness gave instructions to someone on the other end before hanging up. "We'll have to clear everyone to make sure she isn't still here anyway."

"Tell them to be careful." Redcoat could see a massacre happening if the wendigo decided it liked the odds of escaping better than going to prison.

McGuinness nodded as he started giving orders to his men. All of the patrons were to be moved to the parking lot and guarded until the hotel was clear.

He told them to put it on a possible gas leak. Panic should be kept under control. It might be nothing.

Women were to be checked for the distinctive scarring on the arm as they were moved out.

He expected some protests. His men were not to let anyone go until the techs had gone over every inch of the building. He didn't care how many of the customers were bosses sleeping with their assistants. He had a job to do.

"Anything on the registration papers." Redcoat listened as the rest of the floor was slowly emptied out by the constables. Some of the people protested loudly at the inconvenience.

"Nothing useful." McGuinness handed over the paperwork. "I doubt she put her real name down."

"There might be something if we know what to look for." The masked man scanned the sheets of paper line by line. "Can you trace the license number?"

"Yes." McGuinness checked his watch. "I can call Grant back at the center and have him do it right now."

"See if he can link it with a vehicle." Redcoat looked for anything else he could use to follow back to his quarry. "It might be a dead end, but it never hurts to make sure."

Angry people in various stages of dress began to appear under the Redcoat's window. He stepped back so they couldn't see him. None of them tried to run from the lot.

The wendigo wouldn't run unless they got too close. He felt that more than anything. She would keep things cool and look for an opening. That went with the care he had observed so far in her actions.

He wondered how she would take a confrontation with the police force. He doubted that she would go along quietly if they got too close. His experience with monsters suggested the opposite.

What did she get out of eating people?

6

Redcoat and McGuinness looked at the tiny building. Of course, their wendigo rented her car when she was in town. That should have been a foregone conclusion.

"I think you will get more if you ask, Inspector." Redcoat smiled behind the collar of his coat. "I'll see if I can find the car. I doubt she left us anything concrete but you never know."

"It would be splendid if you could turn up an address." The detective headed for the front door as a couple exited the place with keys in hand.

Redcoat walked around the brick building to the back lot.

His eyes frowned at the various spills on the ground. It would be impossible to find the one he wanted among the patches on the asphalt. Maybe the car would stand out.

He shook his head at what he found.

The rental agency had one type of auto with one type of color. Each car was just the same as the other, barring individual nicks and scratches. The only way to find the car would be blind luck as far as he could tell.

He shook his head. He had the license number of the rental, if it was the same vehicle noted at the hotel.

He walked along the rows of cars, checking the holders on the bumpers. He frowned when he didn't find that plate.

Had she kept the car?

Had it been the real plate number in the first place?

How did they go forward if the number was false?

He hoped the inspector was having better luck than he was at the moment.

He walked around to the front of the red and white square. The company sign decorated the front window. He noted a long scratch in the sidewalk next to the door.

McGuinness came out of the place. A frown drew his round face down to the bottom of his chin. He looked at his notepad.

"Anything?" The masked man didn't have to state he hadn't found the car.

"The car we're looking for was stolen about five years ago." The inspector looked back at the building. "It was lost in transit with three other cars."

"They stole three cars that looked alike?" Redcoat found that a little coincidental.

"I'll have Grant pull the report." McGuinness put his notebook away. "I think I'll have someone watch this place for the next little bit."

"What do you think really happened?" Redcoat watched some of the vehicle maintenance people watching them talk.

"I think they rented the car off the books and don't want anyone to know." McGuinness pulled out his phone. "It's extra income that's not reported to the company."

"And murder would wreck that side business." The masked man could see why they would cover up anything that looked bad in the face of a more serious charge.

How could they get the rental agents to talk?

"So we're back to waiting." Redcoat hunched in his great coat.

"I'm open to suggestions." The inspector gave instructions to Grant over his phone. Every policeman in the city would have their eyes out for those three cars. Anyone caught with them would be detained.

That might give them some kind of leverage on the rental agency.

He doubted they were working with the wendigo. They seemed to be ordinary men working in an ordinary job. They might be embezzling from their company, but he doubted they had the stomach to eat someone after luring them with the promise of a casual encounter.

What would they do now that the police were investigating them?

What would he do if he knew the police were looking into things?

He might act like nothing was wrong while planning to flee if the police looked like they were getting close.

"Is there any way our girl is connected with this place somehow?" He concentrated on the scratch he had noted.

"What do you mean?" The inspector told Grant to hold on.

"Could she be an employee, or a frequent customer?" Redcoat didn't see a camera system. That made it easier to operate off the books. "Could we get a look at their books?"

"We don't have enough cause for a warrant." McGuinness smiled. "We can ask if anyone has seen our girl."

The inspector informed Grant to get cadets from the academy and arm them with pictures from the club footage. They should convene at the rental agency as soon as possible. He wanted them to search the neighborhood for anyone who would come forward and report that they had seen their fugitive at the rental agency.

That should make it look like they were busy until they could think up their next move. It would the various parties watching things happy with some kind of progress.

It would also turn things up for the rental people. If they came forward, it would save time in the long run. If they didn't, a link to a murderer might be enough to break one of them and get the truth out of them.

The manpower expense was justified in the inspector's mind in either case.

He had to get to the bottom of things and bring in his murderer. That was more important than the money spent to do that.

It was more important to him to close the case than worrying about explaining where the money went.

The problem was time. How much time did they have before someone else was eaten? How much time did they have before the girl knew she was being sought and hid out? How much time could he devote to this before the Mounted took over? How much time did he have before someone noticed what he was doing and wanted him to sweep things under the rug before there was a panic?

Time was a two-edge sword to him.

Redcoat slouched away, head down. He seemed to have lost interest in the rental agency.

McGuinness let him go. The masked man probably had some idea he didn't want to share yet. When he was ready, he would call the police in.

The inspector knew his ally hadn't just given up. It wasn't in his nature. He could be dodged and fooled, but not stopped.

Redcoat walked out of sight. He seemed to cast about as he went. Maybe he had struck some trail that the detective missed. It wouldn't be the first time.

McGuinness waited beside his car. He wanted to keep his eye on the rental place until his recruits arrived. He hoped Grant didn't run into problems while getting things together.

The constable was a steady man to a fault, but had a hard time with conflicting orders from superior officers.

The agency people kept walking to the window. They knew it was a matter of time now. Whatever they were hiding was about to go the way of the Fitzgerald.

He wondered what else they had hidden.

He wondered if things were more serious than insurance fraud.

It would explain the looks he was getting.

He checked his watch for the hundredth time, and then heard the sound of an approaching bus. He smiled as the silver thing rolled to a stop behind his car. The Toronto seal and announcement of police on the side meant his help had finally arrived.

Constable Grant stepped out first. He directed the cadets on the sidewalk before joining the inspector.

"I got as many bodies as I could, sir." Grant gestured at the cadets standing at attention. "The commandant felt this was good training for the students."

"Let's get them started." McGuinness nodded to himself as he straightened.

"Ladies and gentlemen." He recognized some of the recruits from the computer programming. "I want you to take a look at the picture we have given you. This woman is a dangerous felon, and I suspect a mass murderer. Do not approach her. We are trying to locate anyone who has seen her in the neighborhood. You will partner up and start knocking on doors in the hopes of finding someone who has seen her. We only have so many hours so I need you to move with speed and efficiency."

He nodded at Grant, who got the boots moving.

7

Redcoat walked along the sidewalk. His head turned back and forth. What made the scratches in the concrete?

He had the idea that it was toenails.

He didn't like the image that produced.

He followed the scratches to a lot a kilometer from the rental agency. He smiled behind the collar of his great coat. There was his car in the middle of things.

He gave the lot a better look as he stood at its edge. The other two stolen cars had their own slots too. Apparently the rental agency had a case of insurance fraud to get out of now.

He looked around but didn't see any hairy monsters, or attractive women with a distinctive scar on her arm. Why did she leave the car?

He was afraid his maneater had moved to another part of the country.

He needed a trail to follow. If he had to wait for another murder in another province, he would still be steps behind.

How many more men would she eat by the time he caught up with her?

He walked around the car. It looked as clean as the hotel room. He couldn't find anything that could point him in a new direction.

He couldn't find a fingerprint smudge.

How did she get everything so clean except for the one place where she ate her victim?

What were they missing? He felt that was the key to everything. She had to have some other way to get around than the rental.

Maybe that was the key to everything. If she had another car, that might be the way to get to her real identity.

He looked around the lot. Cameras covered the corners. They might give him a picture of the car if he had the time to search through the hours of tape.

He decided this was a job for the police department. McGuinness and his helpers could find the car after a few hours of looking.

He shook his head. He would tell the inspector he had found the car. He would not let the constables and detectives search for the woman on their own.

He had already put too much time into this hunt to stand by and wait for the police to catch the wendigo. He wasn't sure they could catch her.

Wendigos were notorious for passing their curse on to the unwary. He expected this one to be the same, even if she was smarter than the average monster.

He went to the little guardhouse next to the entrance to the lot. The man inside gave him a look before opening the window. He supposed a man in a big coat and hat would be something curious to see.

"I'm interested in slot 35-A." Redcoat pointed to the space. "Who was driving that car?"

"I don't know." The attendant looked at the clipboard next to the hooks for keys. He ran his finger down the list. "It says a M. P. Dunlop."

Redcoat picked up the earpiece for an old phone hanging inside the shack. He called the inspector's cell. It was time to get professionals on the job.

"McGuinness?" Redcoat looked around for an address. "I need you to bring a forensics team down to Albert's Longtime Parking. I have something for you."

McGuinness hung up on him. He put the phone down.

"I would step out of there if I were you." Redcoat stepped back from the gatehouse. "The police are on the way."

"What's going on?" The attendant didn't make a move for the door.

"We're looking for a fugitive who seems to have been using your lot as a place to store a vehicle used in crimes." Redcoat wondered why the man seemed shaky all of sudden. Sweat had broken out on his forehead.

"This woman is a fugitive?" The attendant leaned against the wall. "She seemed so nice."

"So you saw her?" Redcoat felt something was wrong. The man looked like he was having a heart attack. "Did you talk to her?"

"She said she was a teacher on a trip." The attendant straightened. "She was taking some time off to see the country."

"Did she say what school?" This might be the most crucial piece of evidence they could have.

"No." The attendant looked off in the distance. "I don't remember any name."

"That's fine." Redcoat beckoned him out of the shack. "The inspector will want to know everything you talked about with her."

"She's a regular customer." The attendant walked on the lot. "She drops her car off every couple of weeks."

"Does she have another vehicle?" He felt that was the key. If they could locate another car, that might give them another track.

"A cab drops her off when she comes to get her car." He pulled out a card for the Toronto Carrier Service. "She gave me this when she dropped her car off once."

"Keep it." The masked man knew the police could track down the individual drivers and interview them about where they picked up the killer. They had the manpower to get that done. He needed something specific to help him keep ahead.

He needed to know if the mention of a school was a possible clue.

McGuinness rolled up with Constable Grant a minute later. He came on the lot with a grim expression on his round face.

"How do you do it?" He glared at the masked man. "I have half of the academy beating the brush and here you are with something we can use. How do you do it?"

"Luck." Redcoat didn't want to explain about the scratches he had trailed to the lot. "Cameras might show our girl coming and going. I have to take some time to look into something if you could handle this."

"I'll do my best." McGuinness turned his eyes on the attendant. "Why don't you tell Constable Grant everything you know? You're not in any trouble."

"What do you think, Red?" He looked over the lot.

"The car looked clean." Redcoat shrugged. "She used a taxi service to get here. Maybe tracking down the drivers will get you something."

"I'll detail some detectives to handle that." The inspector shook his head. "We need a break."

"I'll check in with you in a few hours." Redcoat headed from the lot with a wave of his hand.

Redcoat couldn't tear his mind from the teacher remark. It might be his only real clue.

How could he take advantage of it? He needed a way to find out which school where she belonged.

There must be millions of schools in the country. How could he narrow it down to something he could use?

Maybe the library could help him.

8

Bobby signed up at the Internet station at the closest library. He didn't have a computer of his own, and this was the next best thing. It was information that he could search without having someone looking over his shoulder.

He decided the best thing he could do was search the images of teachers in the Canadian system. Then if he missed, he could try the States, then Mexico. His quarry might have migrated from countries beyond the hemisphere, but he doubted it.

He speculated that she was a teacher. He just had to find a picture of her somewhere.

He decided to search for teachers and see what happened. Millions of hits flooded the search engine. He needed to cut it down more. What could he use?

He decided to place in expert on forestry, and mythology. Maybe that would cut down the pictures to a manageable number.

He smiled as the responses fell to dozens of entries instead of the vast load that had been called forth.

He doubted it could be narrowed more than what he had done. Now came the tedious part. He would have to look at every picture until he found someone that matched the picture of their suspect from the bar.

He had hoped for something magical that would jump out of the computer and say 'Here she is.'

He could track people by what they left behind, but he was a poor detective otherwise. Perhaps he should have left this for the professionals. McGuinness probably had scores of eyes he could use to sift the pictures.

He looked through the pictures left over, and didn't see the woman in any of them. Maybe he had been wrong about her being a teacher.

He decided to see if there were any yearbooks on-line. He decided to pick the school farthest north of everything else. He decided to work his way south through the killing grounds until he had ruled the schools out.

He wondered how many schools were in north central Canada.

He got a listing and map coordinates before he started his search. He winced at the thousands on the list. He should have expected that. He decided to canvas at least two of the schools before begging McGuinness for help conducting his research. What he had was less than a thread left behind.

A casual remark to a stranger didn't mean anything unless he could prove there was a link.

He hoped he wasn't wasting time while his enemy escaped to where she could eat people as much as she wanted.

He started looking through the pictures posted for each of the two schools he had picked. He shook his head when he had found nothing. He marked them off the list. The two minute warning stopped him before he could start through the third school on his list. He signed off and signed on the waiting list to take another hour to look around after his last known search.

He used the waiting time to check when and where the first murders had been discovered. He assumed there were more that no one knew about before she started eating in the city.

If she had stayed in the forests until she had gotten control of her appetite, she must have fed on hikers and animals in the area.

He put that down to help narrow his search. Maybe a rash of missing persons would point him in the right direction.

It might help narrow down the list of schools he had to cross off.

He kicked himself for not seeing that before his review. It might have helped his teacher search immensely.

The sign up list beeped. His handle moved to indicate which computer he could use. He hoped this second hour was better than the first.

He signed on and started the machine looking for any mysterious disappearances in the north woods close to his first three schools. He expanded the search when he didn't find anything relevant. That netted him some stories about cattle mutilation and a missing cowhand. That might be what he was looking for.

He concentrated on the schools in the same province as the missing cowhand and worked his way to provinces next to that one. He found something of interest. He marked the page down before his computer shut down on him for the next patron in line.

He had found a lead he could follow. He would have to let the inspector know he was going out of the city to follow it. The policeman wouldn't like it, but it was necessary.

He needed to ask some questions and get a closer look at the start of darkness before he could involve the police in chasing his hunch.

He had to wait again before he could sign up at another terminal. He typed in the address he had written down. He nodded to himself. It looked like the same woman. She just didn't have the scar in that picture.

He wrote down everything he could think of before printing out the page. He signed off and went to the public phone. One call and he could head up into the northeast after the woman.

He doubted he would get a blessing to do that.

He dialed the operations center and got forwarded to the inspector's office. The assistant answered with a prim voice. Obviously the inspector used her to screen out anyone who wasn't working on a case with him.

He told her to let McGuinness know he had a lead and he was leaving town to chase it down. He would call if things panned out.

She told him to be careful before he hung up.

He waved at the librarians before he stepped through the book detectors and headed along the street. He needed a means of travel that could get him across country with minimal effort. He needed to hitch a ride on a train, and then find a truck heading north.

He decided to get some food before he went to the train station. He needed to have something before he stowed away on the train. He would grab something before he tried to get on the right truck.

He stopped at an Indian place and ordered enough to keep him full for a few hours. He took some bottled water when he left. He walked along the streets until he found the train station. He went in and looked at the reader board.

He would have to wait for a train going close to his destination. He decided to use the bathroom to clean up and get ready for some time where he wouldn't be able to use a public restroom for a while. He returned to the waiting room and sat down.

He reviewed his notes while he waited. If he was right, he might have a real identity to go with the countless pictures they had unearthed.

It could be enough to enlist agencies across the country to find this woman and take her down. They could certainly hound her until she gave up, or was taken.

He doubted she would allow herself to be taken, but it would force her to keep on the right side of the law to avoid suspicion.

The reader board called for his passenger train to arrive in the station. He got up and headed for the platform. He didn't have the money to buy a ticket. He would have to grab on the train and ride on the top.

He looked around for security. They would try to stop him once they saw what he was doing.

He called on his red coat as he waited for the train to roll out. Once it had started, he ran forward and jumped for the last car. He grabbed the rail and vaulted for the ladder that led to the roof of the car. He pulled himself on the roof and settled down.

He would have to wait for the train to pass by the nearest town to where he was going, then jump off. He hoped this delay wasn't giving his killer a chance to eat someone else.

How did a teacher become a ravening monster? That could be the key to everything.

He hoped he was right about the real name of his enemy. It would make his task easier.

9

He jumped from the truck to the roof of a restaurant. He dropped down to the ground at the back of the building. He left the disguise fade as he took a bearing.

He dug into his pockets as he walked around to the front of the place. He had enough for a small meal. He wondered if he should walk on.

His stomach disagreed with that.

He decided to humor it before it made him sick. He wasn't going to emulate his quarry's choice of diet.

"What can I do for you?" The counter lady seemed to be the only waitress too. She was older, looked worn down, and had an air of seen it all. She gave him a look that said she knew he wasn't going to tip.

He looked at the menu board over where the kitchen and the counter area was separated. He picked the cheapest thing he could get. He added in two dollars for a tip and handed it over when she rung the meal up.

"It'll be up in a couple of minutes." She gave him a smile as she gestured him to a seat.

He took a seat where he could watch the truck stop while he waited. He wondered if his enemy was in town. He should have let McGuinness handle this.

He didn't have the resources of a police department to bring to bear against his enemies. He only had his experience hunting things, and the additional physical ability granted him by the coat.

It loaned him ten times the sharpness and strength he normally had.

His food arrived in a cloud of steam. He glanced at the waitress. She smiled.

"Thank you." He smiled back. He found it hard going for a moment. It was almost like he had forgotten how for second.

She nodded before leaving him alone with his food. He sipped his tea as he considered his next move.

He didn't have transportation. He would have to walk, or hitch into town. Either of those was good when he was wearing the red coat. Then he would have to look around until he found the school, and then the hard part would begin.

No one would want to give him information about an employee. It didn't matter which face he used.

A tramp, or a masked man, didn't quite command the same authority as the police.

He finished his lunch, sipped another glass of tea, thanked the waitress, and headed across the parking lot. He found the road leading into the town. He started walking along the shoulder as he thought.

He spoke the mantra that brought his coat and mask into being. He looked for any vehicle heading his way. He could use his ability to latch on to the outer skin of most vehicles without being noticed.

He spotted a truck heading in the same direction as he was. He stepped back to make it look like he didn't need a ride. When the truck passed, he leaped forward and pulled himself up the back to the roof of the back section. He sat behind the exhaust pipes and watched the miles pass.

Redcoat jumped from the back of the truck when it reached the teacher's hometown. He landed easily, red cloth flapping around him. He needed directions to the school.

He looked around as he let the coat fade away. He should look normal until he ran into the wendigo. Then he could resort to his other identity.

He hoped his presence didn't alert the cannibal and cause her to run.

He stopped at a local store. He asked for directions without asking about the school itself. The clerk was glad to point him along.

He walked along, looking at the street signs. He didn't think he would get to where he had to go before it got dark. He didn't know if that helped, or hindered, him.

He decided to try to turn it to his advantage if he could.

He found the right street. He noted the trees growing right up to the street. The houses were surrounded with various plants, and grass. Some of the owners had concealed fences with hedges.

He spotted the drive leading to a small lot around the school. A sign pointed him to where buses were supposed to park at the back. He looked up at the twilight. He would have to get in and look around without permission.

He hated breaking into the place. He weighed that against another man being eaten while he thought of a more civilized solution to his problem.

He called on his coat. His conscience would understand the necessity of the breach.

He headed down to the school in a gallop. His coat's color helped him blend into the deepening shadows. He noted the absence of light as he circled the building. No one was there to ask him why he was breaking and entering.

He paused next to a door that had been chained shut. He pulled on the lock until it snapped. He waited for an alarm to sound after opening the door. He used a metal pole of a breezeway to get on the roof of the school and waited for the local police to investigate.

No one came. Apparently they didn't have any alarms on the school. He gave it a few more minutes before dropping down to the ground and entering.

He followed the signs to the principal's office. That was where the files on the employees would be kept. That was where he would learn about his wendigo.

The office door was locked. Luckily, it only had a spring lock. A couple of seconds to revert to normal and use a pen knife on the bar got him in the office. He paused as he looked around to see where he needed to go.

An inner office door marked Principal A. Skinner beckoned him. He pried open the door and stepped inside. Another use of the pen knife opened the employee files for him to search.

Being a masked vigilante brought on the guilt for circumventing the law to uphold justice. Hunting through someone's work jacket was no exception.

He wondered if he should stop wearing the red coat if that feeling went away while he was hunting someone.

He decided to put aside the musings while he tried to round up the criminal he was looking to find.

Abigail Fries taught music and history in her room. She was divorced. She lived on a road marked as a route into the north. She had no next of kin.

He put everything back the way he had found it. Anyone with good eyes would see where he jimmied the locks on the cabinets and the office doors. He couldn't help that. He looked around. He had one more thing to do before he left.

He picked up the Principal's phone and called McGuinness's office to leave a message before he went up to the Fries house and talked with her if she was home.

"Hello." The inspector sounded sleepy on the phone. He must be pushing as hard as he could to find his suspect.

"I think I have found her, Inspector." He hadn't expected to find the man at his desk. He might as well pass his message along. "She's a teacher northeast of the city."

"How do you know that?" McGuinness sounded sharper as adrenalin dumped into his system.

"I can't tell you that." He wanted to face charges after the job was done, if ever. "Her name is Abigail Fries. That should be enough for a warrant."

"It will be enough to run the name." The detective knew that a tip was nothing. "We can get a copy of her license and compare it to the video, then we can move forward with a warrant."

"I'm going to see if she is home." Redcoat hung up the phone. He hoped he hadn't gave his only information to the police, only to have it not be enough for them to act on.

It might be enough for the inspector to look for him in the town if he didn't survive meeting Mrs. Fries.

As clean as she worked, there might be nothing left in any case.

He wrapped the chain around the door and put the broken lock back into place as much as possible. He headed away from the school.

He took the address and headed back toward town where a petrol station had advertised 24 hour service. He would need a map of the area to find the address, maybe directions.

If he was lucky, he might be able to catch up with her that night. He doubted that conclusion because he had never been lucky.

It might give him some pointer on where she was now. He needed to catch up to her before she ate someone else.

He found the station. He let the red coat fade so he would look normal, if a little rundown. He stepped inside. Cool air blew in his face as the door swung shut behind him.

"Can I help you?" The clerk gave him a onceover, but smiled.

"I would like a map." He went to the rack. "Maybe some directions."

"No problem." The clerk stepped back from the counter, watching his only customer.

The customer flipped through the maps until he found one that promised a view of the local area. He checked the road listing for the address for the teacher. He found it and it looked as if it headed into a section of woodlands north of the town.

He needed to get a car sometime.

"I would like to get this map." He grabbed two energy bars and a bottled water. "And this."

He exchanged the small amount of money he had for the items and walked out into the night.

He took a bearing and headed north.

10

His coat swirled around him as he made his way through the trees. He had decided to forego the road as much as possible. It curved and twisted too much. A straight line was better as far as he was concerned.

He paused when he reached a house sitting in the middle of trees. He had seen a few coming out this way. He had checked the number and moved on. If this was the right place, he was concerned that it was dark.

She was either in there in the dark, or out eating someone. He bet that she was out eating someone. Monsters were notorious gluttons.

He needed to make sure she wasn't home. Then he could try to figure out where she was so he could narrow the trail.

Hopefully there was a trail of paper to go with the physical one he needed.

How long did he have before McGuinness caught up with him? He expected maybe a day, or two, at the most. He had to use that time as wisely as he could.

He looked at the front of the house. He didn't see a number on the front of the place. He didn't see a sign in the yard. He walked down the long road to see if there was a mailbox. He needed to know he was at the right place before he broke in.

He didn't want to have trouble with some retired town person he woke up breaking into their place.

He still might if the teacher had sold her house to another person, or the address in her had been false.

He reached the end of the driveway. It took him a moment to find the box. It had the correct numbers on one side in sticky letters. He headed back to the dark house.

He decided to ring the bell before he broke in. It seemed to the best way to approach the problem.

He needed to know if she was home. Ringing the bell seemed the best way to find out.

He pressed the button with a thumb.

The house remained silent after the buzz. Nothing moved. He stepped back. No lights showed in the windows.

He walked back up on the porch and punched the decorative glass out of a strip window next to the door. He reached in and turned the lock. He pulled his hand out, and opened the door. He listened.

He stepped inside and looked around before starting his search.

The front of the house was open and one room. A set of stairs went to a second floor. A kitchen sat on the right, office space on the left. Pictures dominated the walls. A chair and a couch for visitors clustered around a coffee table in front of a television on a stand. Double doors and large windows were visible from where he stood.

He decided to check the office. He was afraid of what he might find in the refrigerator. He moved quietly across the wooden floor. He noted the lack of dust as he moved.

Someone was cleaning.

He sat in her chair and looked at the desk. Everything was in its place and not where he could casually inspect it. He decided that he needed bills from her traveling. If he could link her to the cities of the murders, that might be enough for a warrant to bring her in.

Her nature would be proof enough if she was isolated from her main food source for a few hours.

He used his knife to open the file cabinets to get at their contents. Receipts from all over the country sat in different folders with a major city written on the tabs. He noted Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal, Edmonton, before he stopped reading.

The next drawer had jewelry boxes. Each had a label on the top with a name on it. He picked one up at random and opened it. It had a ring in it. He closed the box and put it back on its stack.

The last drawer had small notebooks. The pads had pictures glued to the pages. The subjects seemed to be caught in the moment when they realized their date was more than she appeared.

That must have been some surprise from the looks of things.

He put the notebooks back. He didn't need to look through them all to see what he knew was there. He needed to find some way to track her now in real time.

He turned on the power for the computer. Some people protected their systems with passwords. He hoped she wouldn't have thought of that. If she did, he would have to call McGuinness to look things up for him.

He frowned at the 'enter password' box. He leaned back in the chair. He couldn't hack anything.

He shut the power off. He hoped the police could pull something off of it. Maybe there was a three hundred page confession written in lavender prose waiting for someone to find.

It wouldn't be him.

He could do a lot of things in his red coat. Breaking electronic security wasn't one of them.

He decided to check the bedroom. It had to be upstairs. Maybe there was something there he could use to find her.

He walked upstairs and checked the rooms. He found a bedroom with a bathroom attached, a walk in closet full of clothes and shoes, and a room used for storage.

He inspected the clothes. Left hand side had suits and shoes for what he assumed was work. Right hand side was all party clothes from the look of them. They hung from the rods ready for use.

He checked the bed and bath. He found nothing that indicated a destination. A spot showed frequent rubbing for luggage.

He wished he was a detective so he could put things together better than what he had at the moment.

What was he missing?

He went back to her desk. He opened the drawer with the receipts. He pulled out the folders and flipped through them again. He found a set for checks received from a fund in Michigan. He found a list of properties. Some of them were across the border.

The inspector would have all of this with the right warrants and a pointer. How could he use the information to catch up? He couldn't check all these sites himself.

He would need to put McGuinness on it. The inspector could contact other police forces and expand the net in ways a lone vigilante couldn't touch.

It wasn't important who stopped the wendigo. The problem was she would continue to eat until she was killed. There was no telling how many she would kill before that happened.

He looked at the locations on the credit card charges. He frowned. He saw that there were more charges for a place further north than her house. He figured the distance and realized it was somewhere out in the snow.

He could maybe get to that in a day of walking if he started right then. He thought about it. A plane would be faster.

It was too bad that he didn't have one of those.

He looked around and saw an answering machine. He played the messages. Some were from the school, a caretaker telling her things were ready, and a relative who wanted to know if she was going to be at the next reunion.

He picked up the phone. He needed to leave word. Being able to focus manpower on this one subject would leave other threats out there, but there was only so much he could do by himself.

He dialed the station. He didn't expect McGuinness to still be there, but the front desk put him through without a pause.

"Red?" The inspector sounded harassed. "Where are you?"

"I found the wendigo's public house." He kept an eye on the windows. "She has souvenirs of her kills in a desk."

"We got cause to pick her up." The detective paused. "Is she home?"

"No." He thought about the messages. "She's on vacation. I am checking a place out north of here. I'm hoping she's there."

"Grant and I are heading to the airport." McGuinness said something off the line. "We're flying over. The Mounted and someone local are meeting us at the airport. I didn't tell them who the murderer was so they wouldn't spook her."

"I'm going to leave the phone off the hook." He looked around the empty room. "There's a computer here. You might be able to seize that to see if there's anything on it. I'll check in when I can."

He put the phone on the counter and walked to the door. He stepped outside and closed it. No one would be able to see the broken window from the road. He took a bearing and started north.

He kept on a straight line as much as possible, brushing through the trees easily. His coat gave him endurance to spare for the trek he was doing. The only thing he had to worry about was physical barriers in his way that he couldn't get around. He doubted there would be many of those.

And animals left him alone when he wanted them to do that.

He should have looked to see if there was something in the refrigerator to eat. He was going to be hungrier than a wolverine after this was over.

He paused when he saw the snow in the distance. The cold air bit at him, but he had endured worse. He didn't see any sign of a cabin out there.

The caretaker had said it was ready. Had he been wrong about which property she had decided to visit? He had no choice but to keep going until he couldn't go any further. Then he would have to turn around and head back to civilization.

Turning back meant giving up. He couldn't do that. He had spent too much time on the streets to give up on something like this.

He had chosen to bear the red coat. It had expectations. It didn't think you were worthy if you gave up at the first sign of trouble.

He tracked into the snow, alert for any sign of his quarry. He doubted he would reach the place before the sun came up. When that happened, he would be as visible as a bear against the snow cover.

He hoped McGuinness could put things together if he died. He didn't want to think that he had done all of that just to have the wendigo escape to another country.

The sun came up as he continued to walk across the countryside. Trees and ground cover thinned to nonexistence as he marched further north.

Why had she chosen a second home this far away from people? It couldn't be doing her any good. She would have to eat that much more when she returned home.

He saw a little puff of smoke in the distance. He checked the rest of the horizon. It looked like he was finally closing on the wendigo's lair.

He hoped that she was actually there for him to make a catch. He didn't relish waiting in her secret place for her to come back home.

If he missed, how would he pick up the trail again? If she stayed off the grid and grabbed people at random, there was no telling how many more she could eat.

A cabin grew from a smudge to a dot to something like a toy. The smoke drifted up from the chimney. Was that the right place? He hoped so.

He continued at his normal pace to preserve his strength. He didn't see anything moving in the waste with him. He hoped he looked like a shadow from a cloud than a red piece of cloth drifting along.

He decided to try the door. That seemed the best approach in his mind.

If he was wrong, he could move on to the next cabin out that way. If he was right, he could ask her to come along quietly.

He doubted she would take the second option.

11

He paused at the door. He was dealing with a dangerous cannibal. Did he want to charge in without someone at his back?

He knocked on the door. He might as well get this over with. He certainly wasn't walking back without something to tell McGuinness.

He waited. Something heavy moved on the other side of the door. He wondered what was going on. He hoped she wasn't transformed.

That would make things a little harder.

He waited. No one seemed to be coming to ask what he was doing knocking on the door. He knocked again.

Something heavy did move behind the door. He heard the shifting of wood in the floor. He waited patiently. He had time.

He debated kicking down the door. He wanted a quiet talk, a call to the inspector, and a gentle loading into a police van to end this case. He didn't want to start a battle with a supernatural monster.

He decided that he should use reason. It might save him some trouble.

"Miss Fries?" He stepped back from the door. "This is the Redcoat. I have some questions for you. Please open the door so we can talk."

He felt a drop in the temperature. He straightened his hat. Things weren't going to go as politely as he wanted. He could tell by the creaking boards beyond the door.

The door opened. Fur and teeth were his first impressions, then burning eyes, and claws like knives. It was an impressive collection to create fear. No wonder the victims had been screaming in the pictures.

He would have too if he had been surprised like that.

"I think you should come along quietly, Miss Fries." He shifted into his defensive mode, with hands raised to protect his masked face. "The police have a lot of questions for you."

"I doubt that will be a problem." She advanced on the porch. "Once you're gone, I can go home and tidy up. No one will be able to prove anything."

"I'm sorry." He stepped back. "The police already know everything. They have already seized your house by now."

"What do you mean?" The eyes glowed, causing the air to mist. "Seized my house?"

The wendigo loomed over him as she came forward. It was like looking at an ape and a bear fused together with none of the cuteness that made them lovable animals. Then someone had added in a mixture of hate and gluttony from a wolverine.

"It's over." He didn't like the way this was going. "Come along and I'm sure the courts will be lenient with someone with your condition."

"I think that will not do." Miss Fries stepped out on the snow. "The forests will be my home now."

"How do you plan to do that?" He gave ground. "I won't let you pass. There are things that you have to answer for doing."

"I don't think that is much of an issue." The wendigo's mouth widened. "You will be my last great meal before I head into the forests."

He knew this was coming. He looked around once more to judge the ground. He should be okay as long as he didn't lose his footing in the snow. If he went down, he would be clawed to death through his coat.

Miss Fries came on with claws extended from her fingers. She growled as the monster part came to the front of things. This is what wendigos did after all.

He ducked behind her and jumped on the porch. It kept him in a box, but cut the advantage of her greater reach.

She turned almost as fast he moved and ripped across the support boards for the roof. She missed tearing the whole thing down by centimeters. The roof of the porch leaned with the tearing of its props.

He decided he should take the fight inside. He dodged through the door, taking in the scene as he moved to the center of the house. He needed something to turn this to his advantage.

He decided he could get a weapon in the kitchen. It was the most dangerous place in the home.

He ran to the section of the one room house marked for the cooking area. He vaulted over a sink and counter as the front of the cabin flew into the room. He found an aerosol can of cooking spray and a long handled lighter. He grabbed them as Miss Fries entered the cabin.

She seemed to have a problem with the ceiling. Her head bumped on the cross beams holding the roof above the living area.

"Please surrender before I have to do something you will regret." He held the spray and lighter below her line of sight.

"I think you have already done things that you will regret." Miss Fries stomped forward toward the kitchen. "What do you think you can do to me?"

"Set you on fire." He brought up the can and pushed the plunger while holding the lit lighter in front of it. The resulting jet of flame struck her face with fury. She recoiled as her head caught fire.

He dropped the can when it ran out of fuel. He needed something else for a weapon. He grabbed a frying pan.

He jumped the counter. He swung the pan as hard as he could while she was still blinded. He didn't want to give her a chance to put the fire out and heal up. Then she would be a serious threat again.

At this point, she was just a danger as long as he avoided the claws.

He struck the wendigo on the head as hard as he could with the frying pan. The handle broke and the pan flew away on impact. He kicked her away as he looked around for another weapon he could use.

A long arm smashed into his body and sent him flying. He twisted in the air so he could land on his feet. His arm felt disconnected from the rest of him. He supposed it was broken inside the sleeve of his coat.

"You have caused me enough trouble." The wendigo's head was lumpy and the burns flaked skin in the air as ash as she turned to face the red coat and hat. "Do you have anything to say before I have dinner."

"Killing me won't help you." He backed toward the lit fireplace. "You will be brought in. Prolonging the struggle won't gain you anything."

"I like my freedom." Miss Fries flexed her long fingers. "I like eating."

He waited. His arm didn't answer his command to move. What could he use as a weapon with one hand? He needed something serious to stop her.

Miss Fries came on, arm extended. He ducked and grabbed with his good hand. He turned and sent her into the fireplace.

"What is it with you and fire?" She struggled to right herself and back out of the fireplace at the same time.

"I like televisions too." He brought the flat screen down with an explosion of glass and plastic.

Miss Fries kicked the wood out of the fireplace as she rolled over the hearth. Flames ate at her fur as the remains of the destroyed television dropped to the floor. She beat at the fires as she got to her feet.

A blanket dropped over her head. She reached up to rip it away. Then she flew through the air with the blanket acting as a lever. She crashed into the couch.

She ripped the blanket away with one long swipe of her clawed hand. She looked around. Where had her foe gone while she was blind?

The stove hit her as she tried to get back to her feet. She tossed it aside with a shrug of her arms.

He couldn't use that for more than a bludgeoning tool. Her stove ran on propane that she had to get from down below. There was no gas, or electrical wiring, to use against her.

She spotted the propane tank spitting gas into the air a moment later. Then she saw the open flame next to it. Then everything went white for a moment.

He kicked the door to the refrigerator open from the inside. That had been a piece of luck that it had fallen outside of the cabin with the door in a direction that would open. He pulled himself out of the box with his one good hand.

He looked around. The cabin was a wreck and fallen down. He didn't see movement. He headed for the collapsed house.

He had to make sure that Miss Fries was still inside. Her healing factor would make it possible for her to get up and run away if he let her.

He pulled the debris out of the way carefully. He didn't want her to give him any more trouble when all he had was an empty refrigerator to put her down.

He found the body after a few minutes of searching. She had caught a piece of wood through her face in the blast. He didn't pull it out. She still might heal from it.

It was best if the stake was pulled out somewhere secure.

He sat down and looked out over the dirty snow. He still had to walk down and get help.

Epilogue

They used a helicopter to airlift the body to a military base to the east. He rode with it to make sure no one pulled out the stake. The thing wasn't healing while the piece of wood was in place. He wanted to make sure that it didn't.

The last thing he needed was an escaped fugitive eating her way across Canada.

He carried the body into a vault with a viewing window. It was the only weak link. Someone strong enough could punch through the glass with enough time. He let them close the door. He pulled the stake out.

The wendigo collapsed in a heap of ash. Something burned in the center of it. He scooped the spark up with his hat and transferred it to a bottle. He capped the bottle. He cleaned off his hat before he put it back on his head. He put the bottle in a pocket in his great coat.

He waited for a few seconds in silence. He nodded when nothing happened.

They opened the vault for him. McGuinness looked at the pile of ash on the floor.

"It's over." He didn't give them the spark. He kept his hands in his pockets. The last thing he wanted was another smart wendigo on the loose.

"It's over for you." The inspector shook his head. "I still have a ton of reports to file."

"If you need any more help, Inspector." He tipped his hat at the assembled men and headed down the hall.

An escort fell in to keep him from seeing things he wasn't supposed to see. He thought that was prudent. He might escape their clutches and vanish into the night.

He waited until he was outside, slouching along in his coat. He caught a passing truck and used that to jump the fence. He vanished into the trees before the alarm could go out to stop him. He spotted a highway in the distance.

He nodded. That was exactly what he needed at present.

He covered the distance in few minutes of running. He went up an embankment. Then he boarded a fast moving bus by jumping on the back bumper. He hoisted himself on top of the bus and lay down.

He still had miles to go before he reached Toronto.

He closed his eyes and listened to the wind. He would start checking signs in a few hours. He had one more thing to do before he could call it quits.

He dozed quietly as he rode along. He had used up a lot of resources in the last few days. He would have to refuel once he was on his own ground again.

He should look into getting a car for these long trips. Maybe a motorcycle would be better given his lifestyle.

He should look into it once he was done with what he had in his pocket.

He hoped McGuinness didn't ask for it when he finally reached the city. He planned to be rid of the thing in the most permanent way he knew of when he got to his destination. No one would be able to do anything with it.

He opened his eyes and pulled himself together. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he could see signs of Toronto in the distance. He nodded at the sight of his home. He waited patiently for the bus to cross a street where he could get off and continue on foot.

He found a lightpole to bounce off and landed gently on the sidewalk. He turned and headed into the city.

He picked a route that ran in a straight line to the medicine man's shop. He arrived a couple of hours. It took a lot of crossing through people's yards, cutting through parks, and some roof jumping.

He put the bottle down and let his coat fade away. He brushed off his old shirt. He looked all right he supposed. He picked up the bottle. The spark inside of it hissed at him.

"Shut up." He walked over to the shop. "You got what you wanted."

"Back so soon, Bobby?" Keiron Wayne smiled at his visitor.

"I need a cleansing ritual, Keiron." He put the bottle on the counter. The medicine man peered at the spark floating in the bottle.

"I have just the thing." Wayne walked among his shelves for a moment. He came back with three bottles and a stick of chalk. He drew a diagram around the bottle and took several samples from the bottles and put them in a Harry Potter coffee cup for holding. He chanted with his eyes closed and his hands put together. He scratched a match to life and dropped it into the cup of materials. A green flame jetted from the porcelain.

The spark in the bottle ripped apart into tiny bits bursting like fireworks. Then that too died as the flame extinguished itself with a small charring around the lip of the cup.

"That should take care of things for you, Bobby." Wayne washed the cup out and placed it upside down on a sink behind his counter. He placed the bottles and chalk back on the shelves. He cleaned the counter with a rag and spray bottle.

"Thanks, Kieron." He waved as he headed for the door. "I'll see you around."

"Come by when you aren't chasing monsters, Bobby." The medicine man waved. "I'll throw something on the barbie."

"Sounds good." He headed into the street. He needed to get another bottle to put in his coat. He could hold on that until he began chasing some other monster.

He walked down the street. He needed to get something to eat. He counted the change in his pockets. He had just enough for the Indian buffet. He needed a lot to recover what he had given the coat.

He crossed the city in his usual slouch. Aziz's came into view as he turned into the block. He walked in, smiling at the dark haired woman behind the register by the door.

"Scotty." She smiled when she saw him. "How are things?"

He smiled.

"I just need to fuel up if you don't mind, Sativa." He offered the money to her.

"Your money is no good here, Scotty." She held up her hand. "I still owe you."

"I don't want to be a sponge." He looked her in the eye. He put the money away.

"You are not a sponge." She gestured him to a table away from the door. "You are a hero. Eat here anytime. Your money is no good."

"Thank you." He went to the buffet table and placed a little of everything on a plate and poured spice on top of that. He sipped the complimentary water as he ate.

People on either side of him moved from the cloud of heat coming from his table. He smiled as he felt the fire boil his blood, washing away his tiredness. He got a second plate and went through that.

He sipped some more water as he looked around. He had to get a move on. He was a bum, living underground. He didn't belong in a restaurant with normal people.

"Thank you, Sativa." He nodded at the woman, and the girl who had come in the restaurant to stand beside her mother.

"Thank you more, Scotty." She smiled at him.

He walked out of the restaurant, turning his face to the sky. Everyone knew there were eight million stories in the naked city, few knew how many of them were really the same story. He smiled.

He should think about where he could stay for a couple of days. He didn't have enough money for a room.

He might camp out on a roof somewhere for a day, or two. He did that sometimes. It was like sleeping in the forests with birds as the only dangerous animals around.

He smiled at that.

He walked along as his meal boiled inside of him. He decided that using a public building as a rest stop would be a good thing for a couple of days.

He decided that he could sit down and watch the street. It might be nice to take it easy for a while.

He sat down and enjoyed the feeling of wellbeing floating through his system. He should get a job instead of being a bum. He looked at the people walking up and down the street. He wondered if any of them were happy.

He heard a cry. He jumped to his feet. He didn't see the source. He decided to go down the street and listen to see if it was repeated. Loud words attracted his attention. He said his mantra as he rushed forward.

His red coat billowed out around him as he ran. His attention centered on the owner of one of the loud voices. The man saw the red streak coming at him. That was the last thing he saw before the police arrived to take him away.

His partner tried to run. A hand yanked him down by his collar. Then a boot to the head finished the job.

He handed the pocketbook back to the elderly lady with a tip of his hat.

"Thank you." She gave him a hug. "That was wonderful."

"No problem." He smiled as he hogtied to the two to a bench with their belts. "Have a safe walk home."