Cry Wolf

By Cheryl Warren-Cooley

The lives of lifelong friends and co-workers, Sheriff Rhett Taylor and Deputy Carson Wilder, become intertwined with two mysterious, intriguing women, Then, danger and destruction descend on their small American town.  One of the women may help them save the town.  The other may destroy it.  But which is which, and who can they trust?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Warren-Cooley
• Release date: Aug 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393829348

Cheryl Warren-Cooley

Cheryl Warren-Cooley is the author of "Cry Wolf, the Bummer Lambs."  she is retired from the Federal Aviation Administration in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, and has a Bachelor's Degree in Business.  She lives with her family in Yukon, Oklahoma.

Book preview

Thanks

TO MY HUSBAND, RON Cooley, and my daughter, Christi Garner, for your loving support (and help with endless edits).  Ron, I could never have made it without your computer support and patience.  Without the two of you, this book would never have been finalized.  Thanks for your love and for believing in me.

Susan Yoselow McCarthy, thank you for the life coaching and mentoring.  You kept me on track, asking key questions that kept me moving forward, encouraged goal setting, and deadlines that kept me accountable.

In Memory Of

MY 7TH GRADE ENGLISH teacher and librarian, Mrs Joilet Lewellen, who first encouraged me to read the classics.  Then, inspired me to write - beginning with one creative thought, every day, one index card at a time.

CRY WOLF

Chapter 1  L.B.

L.B. RAN THROUGH THE woods, effortlessly, easily twenty yards ahead of Whitney.  She was running top speed, and he wasn't even breathing hard.  He looked back over his right shoulder and grinned slightly.  L.B. lived for these crisp, early morning runs through the thick lush, green woods, and she knew it.

He loved how natural she looked before she piled her hair on top of her head and made her face up for the corporate world.  Before he lost her for the day to people who ran their mouths for pride and profit. Beautiful Whitney.  How he loved her spirit.  He saw the determination in her lovely face.  Such a fierce competitor.  So enchanting and loyal.  L.B. knew he would do anything to protect that face, that brilliant mind.  Even twenty yards ahead he could hear her breathing.  Slightly labored now, it was still like music to his ears.  He got caught up in the rhythm of it.  He caught a slight whiff of her, fresh and familiar. His mind drifted to brighter, more harmonious days.  Days when they had gotten along better.

Lately, they had been arguing over the future.  Extremely stubborn, described both of them.  The tension between them was over who should be the leader in their relationship.  He was deep in thought and troubled as he ran. He was born to lead. She should know that better than anyone else.

As he ran, he got a runner's high, and became perfectly in sync, mind, body, and spirit.  He almost felt like he was floating along the ground as he ran. Then, L.B. did something totally foreign to his nature, his instincts, and his training; he lost focus.

L.B. smelled it immediately after he heard the sound of the bullet whiz past his left ear.  He smelled blood.  Fresh blood. Animal blood in the air.  He sped up instead of slowing down. Instinct kicked in.  L.B. hit his highest gear, and he was a blur.  Gone, out of sight, disappeared.  Whitney would be fine.  She knew exactly what to do.

Whitney was highly educated and trained.  Trained not only in the ways of man, but in the ways of nature. They would meet later at the appointed time and place.  When things were safe, calm and quiet again.  When the danger had passed.  Meanwhile he pitied the poor, unfortunate fool who would have to deal with Whitney now.  He grinned again, wickedly this time as he ran at a fast, but steady pace away from Whitney and the hunter.

Cold fury coursed through Whitney's body as she realized L.B. had almost been shot.  She quickly analyzed with cold annoyance, but yet great relief, the bullet had barely missed him.  Thirty yards to her right lay an 8 point buck bleeding profusely. It convulsed once and died.

Whitney never broke stride.  She tackled the huge hunter from the back.  The hunter had stepped directly into her path as he stared in amazement towards the spot where L.B. had already disappeared without a trace.

Whitney was nearly six feet tall, slim, lithe but strong and athletic.  Her shiny, straight, black hair hung in a pony tail halfway to her waist.  As she hit the hunter's broad back, careful to knock the gun away as she hit him, she realized he was a giant himself.  He was easily 6'4" and maybe 250 pounds.

It actually hurt when she made contact with him.  He was solid muscle. Whitney felt like she'd toppled a tree.  This man did not spend his days and nights drinking beer and eating pizza with the guys.  Her sharply honed skills told her he spent time close to nature or physically worked out a lot.  Something else came off him in waves too.  Was it pain or anger? She wasn't sure.

The hunter rolled over quickly and wrestled her, pinning her to the ground.

What the h—-?  he screamed, his blue eyes held more surprise than fear, as he held her to the ground.  What are you doing?  he roared in a deep, bass, authoritative voice.

Used to being in charge, Whitney thought. 

You nearly killed my friend! Whitney screamed at him before she thought.  Had she really said those words? The intensity of his blue eyes had completely disarmed her.  It was not like her to slip and volunteer information.  What was happening today?

The hunter stared at her dumbfounded.  His anger was suddenly replaced by a combination of confusion, awe, and something else he couldn't quite identify.  He'd never seen anything quite like the woman on the ground.  Pale smooth skin, that looked like it had never seen the sun.  Straight black hair, violet eyes, ringed with blue around the irises.  But it was the pupils he stared at.  This beauty had keyhole-shaped pupils.  Right now, those pupils were dilated, and very large.  He blinked hard to make sure he was seeing right.

His mother had worked for an optometrist, and he remembered reading once in the doctor's office medical magazines about this extremely rare condition.  COLOBOMA - key-hole shaped pupils.  Occurs in 1 in 10,000 people.  Persons often have fairly good vision, but may have some light sensitivity or photophobia.  No cure for the condition.

It was easily the most mesmerizing thing he'd ever seen.  He'd been the Sheriff of Blaine County for 10 years, and he'd seen a lot of different things from a lot of different types of people. People at their best, and definitely at their worst.

Stop staring and let me up, you idiot, Whitney huffed.  Suddenly uncharacteristically self-conscious.  She was not wearing the protective wear that normally hid her unusual eye condition.

The hunter hesitated.  He felt like he was looking at a picture of an Egyptian Princess he'd seen once years ago in a high school history book.  Only this one was wearing a black North Face jacket and squirming like an angry child.  How had she had the strength to knock a man his size off his feet, and why?

Let YOU up? Lady, you attacked me.  I should arrest you.  You can't go around hitting people from behind.  That's assault.  Especially hitting strangers carrying loaded weapons!  the hunter shot back with firm authority in his voice.

Oh, come on.  Your weapon didn't go off.  I knew exactly how to hit you.  You're not hurt big boy, and neither is your precious weapon.  Can't say the same for that 8 point buck bleeding in the grass over there. Whitney said sarcastically, jerking her head towards the deer.

The hunter had forgotten the buck momentarily.  He jumped off of her and ran over to examine his kill.  Yes, he'd gotten it alright.  Right through the forehead.  Perfect shot.  Wow!  Despite the white blur as he'd squeezed the trigger, he'd still gotten the shot off.  Sometimes, he amazed himself.  He smiled in spite of himself for a few moments as he inspected his kill.  Then, he turned back to face the woman.

But his Egyptian Princess had disappeared without a trace.  He ran back to the path and looked both ways.  No trace of her.  As suddenly as she'd burst into him, she was gone.  How had she known for sure it was an 8 point buck from that distance?  Especially if the Coloboma had any effect at all on her vision.

What a strange morning......The off-duty Sheriff blinked hard.  Dawn was breaking.  He'd have to move fast now to collect his kill, get changed and get to the station in time for his shift.  If not for his aching back, and the dead deer, he'd have trouble believing everything that had just happened was real.

Chapter 2  The Hunter

RHETT TAYLOR SAT SHIVERING in the back of the car.  Red lights circled again and again on top of the county police vehicle, and he knew he would never be warm again.  Not just physically, but deep down in his emotional core.

His uncle, Walter Taylor, turned and silently offered him another blanket and a cup of black coffee.

After tonight kid, you drink it black, Walter Taylor said sadly, and