I tried to argue, but as soon as I opened my mouth, my story flooded out. I told him everything that I could remember about the attackers: the minute details of their appearance, their savage claws, unbelievable speed, and haunting crimson eyes. Eyes like his, but reddish orange, not honey gold…
; The thought sent a shudder through me, and my mind cleared for a second. Was I really telling him all this?
“Please continue, Ms. Caine.”
I clamped my mouth shut in resistance, but the man’s pupils dilated, and I again succumbed to his will. I told him how I’d escaped, fled down the road, and finally run over the tattooed monster of a man, again and again.
At last, the pressure in the air eased up, and horror filled me.
Oh, God. Had I just confessed to vehicular manslaughter? Had I just ranted on and on about people with claws for hands? I shook my head, as if waking from a dream, and knew I needed to backpedal. “You must think I’m crazy. I mean, it’s just a wolf here, lying in the middle of the road.”
The mysterious man crossed his arms. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you were attacked, just as you described.”
His eyes were a deep brown. Had I imagined the gold?
“What about…” I gestured to the bloody mess in the middle of the highway.
“It’s a dead wolf.”
“But…”
The man’s posture softened. “Sometimes, during traumatic events, our mind mixes up memories. You were attacked. You fled and ran over a wolf. The cocktail of chemicals in your brain jumbled the events—it’s called False Memory Syndrome. It’s quite common.”
I bit my lip and read his face. His smile was warm, confident, and inviting.
And he was lying. I could almost smell it. “But that’s not what happened, is it?”
His smile wavered.
I knew it.
My skin turned cold and clammy as doubt crept in.
I’d heard a car door shut moments ago. Had someone else been in his truck? Or had someone else gotten in? Maybe the woman with the barbed wire tattoo? Her body hadn’t been by the side of the road. And she’d had eyes kind of like the DNR man’s, just a different shade.
I started to back up. “Who are you, anyway? There’s no way you’re from DNR. Are you in league with those people who attacked me? Is this a coverup?”
“No.” His voice was so deep and guttural, it was close to a growl. My skin prickled. I could almost smell his sudden rage at the suggestion.
Truth.
The man’s eyes flooded with honey. “Savannah, many things about tonight will seem strange. Impossible. Even our conversation. It’s a byproduct of the attack and not real, do you understand?”
His presence surrounded me, soothing my doubts and fears.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“As to who I am…” He handed me a black card with Jaxson Laurent in bold white letters. I flipped it over. Just a black phone number on white. “I’m investigating the recent abductions, and I think you were targeted. Call me anytime, day or night, if you remember something more. Any detail, no matter how strange. The authorities aren’t taking this seriously, but we are.”
My head spun with what the man—whoever the heck he was—had confirmed. My attack was linked to the abductions.
“Who are you? A Fed?”
The man just smiled and looked down at the wolf. “I’m sure it’s been a long night, and you must be exhausted.” He turned and waved Sheriff Kepler over. “I think it’s time to get Ms. Caine home.”
“Wait,” I hissed, “can’t you tell me anything more? Why was I attacked? Why did they target me?”