In the darkening daylight of evening a cool mist fell. We stood on the top of a rocky hill, the rolling landscape fading from view under the gentle veil of rain. The subtle rises of the wooded knolls peeked through the white fog, and the evergreens stood like the dark shadows of giants; the chill of the breeze touched my face, and the soft drone of the rain played its sweet and dreamy din.
We faced each other. I could see the steam rising off him. His dark eyes were locked on me, their intense expression betraying his fear. His damp bangs sent a trickle down his face. I opened my shotgun and pulled out my spent cartridges.
“The hardest part,” I said reloading, “was believing. I put all the pieces together, added it up again and again, and do you know what that jigsaw revealed?” He stood there silently, his fists balling up. “I didn’t want it to be you.” Still, he didn’t answer. I sighed. “You’ve no alibi, not for the first killing, not for the second, and not for the third. That’s a piece. Motive? No one could find any. Some still think it’s not a man, what with the claw marks. The claw marks. I found your shirt all torn up, thrown out. Figured teen angst until I saw the similarity. You throw out that shirt of that band you were always on about, and its got the same claw marks that the victims have. Weird, and another piece. You were always into playing evil, playing. What with the metal bands and your obsession with horror. It hit me one day: This was all very much like the movies you love. What did that one headline say, ‘The Miscatony Werewolf’? A small piece, a meaningless piece, but it kept fitting. Other things too. You were connected with the victims. I mean, it is a small town, and everybody’s connected to everybody, but as I went over it again and again, I saw your school counselor, that bully Larkins you fought with, and Loran. Why Loran? She was sweet on you. Had a crush on you for years. So many things started pointing at you.”
Tale Told 