Wolfpoint by Lisa Howells: An Excerpt
PROLOGUE
Angela Stone pulled her cardigan tight, shutting out the cold hunting for a way into her bones. Outside the Comfort Inn, the wind was whipping the snow into a whiteout. The real storms weren’t far off now. The thought made her shiver, as though something unseen had just passed by. Maybe it had. It was almost the Endless Night, after all.
Who knew what might be waiting out there in the dark?
The radio was on low, a heartbreak country song mingling with the creaks of the building as it protested the wildness of the weather. Across the parking lot, the neon vacancies sign stuttered, making it impossible to know if there were rooms or not. Not that it mattered now. Snowbird Day—when all the summer workers packed up and cleared out—had come and gone a week since.
Only those with nowhere else to go stayed in Wolf Point for winter. Because here, winter wasn’t just another season. It was another world entirely.
In summer, tourists arrived by the boatload to watch whales breach, eagles soar, and bears fish. But when the seasons turned so did the weather, bringing storms so brutal the town was cut off until the first thaw of spring.
Winter was when Wolf Point showed her teeth and claws.
Angela jumped as a violent gust rattled the windows. Damn, she needed to get a hold of herself tonight, but it was creeping her out to be so alone. Just her and Carl’s three taxidermied Kodiaks, their glassy eyes watching her every move.
Yet maybe she was right to feel uneasy. She could’ve sworn she heard something else just now, tucked between the wheeze of the building and the groan of the storm.
A hiss. Like frustrated air escaping through clenched teeth. But that didn’t make any sense. It was just the cannery men left now, and they were all in bed sleeping off the night’s drinking. The only noises Angela should be hearing at two in the morning were the radio and the wind. Anything else was a sound that didn’t belong.
And yet . . .
She wrapped her cardigan tighter.
It wasn’t like her to let her imagination run wild, but soon the sun would set and not rise again for months. The Endless Night they called it—a time when shadows flickered at the edges of vision, whispers wove through the howl of the wind. She’d already seen the women out in the forest smearing black ash on their doors.
“Keeps ’em out,” they murmured. “Once they get in, they don’t want to leave.”
When the Endless Night fell, their dead came. And they always wanted a reckoning.
Something stirred at the corner of Angela’s eye and she whipped her head around. She could see nothing in the dim glow of the lamp, yet she felt a subtle shift in the air. Still as a held breath.
Her mathematical mind told her there would be a logical explanation. Probabilities, not phantoms.
But the Wolf Point part, the one that still believed in mon-sters, whispered a warning.
Get out. While you still can.
The phone rang, shrill in the silence. Angela snatched it up. “Comfort Inn?”
“Well, now. I can think of a whole lotta places more com-fortin’ than that one.”
Angela’s pulse eased at the sound of her best friend’s wry drawl. “Hey, Case.”
Casey Benson worked the nights Angela didn’t, something that raised a few eyebrows, given that her momma was the quiet queen of this town. But privilege didn’t buy Casey a free ride. Not even close. Working at the motel was the only way either of them would earn enough to finally put this town in their rearview mirrors. Really start living at last.
“How is it there tonight?” Casey asked, gum snapping down the line.
“Dead as Carl’s mangy old Kodiaks,” Angela said. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Not much,” Casey said. “Stayed home while Mom went to one of her meetings.”
Angela didn’t ask. Miriam Benson was always out taking care of the family business rather than taking care of family.
“You do those equations?” Angela was tutoring Casey for a little extra cash, but teaching that girl math sometimes felt like trying to explain it to one of the stuffed bears.
“Uh, I been a little busy,” Casey said.
Angela heard a man’s low chuckle followed by Casey’s muffled shush.
“Oh, I get it. Larry been keeping you warm, huh?” Angela grinned. “Why hasn’t your momma raised hell and kicked him out by now?”
“ ’Cause she didn’t even check I was still alive when she got home,” Casey said and sighed. “I could’ve been snatched right outta here and she wouldn’t notice before breakfast.”
“Least she gives you some privacy,” Angela said. “Mine’s always gotta know where I’m at.”
“She doesn’t want you to be a sinner like me, honey,” Casey said, laughing. “You be a good girl now, like your momma says.” Angela felt a familiar prickle of irritation. She loved Casey like a sister, she did, but something had shifted between them lately.
They’d always been different. Casey was five feet of attitude, with bottle-blonde hair and winter-blue eyes, and the girl needed attention the way a fire needed air. All sharp angles, Angela’s appeal was the kind you noticed slower, if at all. Since Casey’s curves had come in, none of the boys gave Angela a first look, let alone a second, and Casey had started acting a little superior. But none of that really mattered. Not when he saw her.
Angela hugged that secret close.
“I need a cigarette,” Angela said. “Where’s Carl hiding them this week?”
“Second drawer down,” Casey said. “Key’s in the pen pot.” Angela found the pack of menthols and lit one, the mint cool and crisp on her tongue. She nudged the drawer shut, but it jammed, and she cursed as a splinter tore her skin. Setting the cigarette in the ashtray, she yanked the drawer again.
Something dropped at her feet with a thump. She bent to pick it up and her pulse skittered.
“Jesus. You are not gonna believe what I just fo—”
Angela stopped dead as a crash sounded from somewhere out back. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?” Casey’s voice crackled down the line.
“Hush a minute.” Angela held the phone from her ear and listened hard. The radio was playing some late-night talk show now, but there was nothing else.
She exhaled. She really did need to get ahold of herself tonight. Then came another sound. A deep thud, followed by a dragging scrape.
Angela’s heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a net. “What in the hell is that?”
“Carl did lock his office door, right?” Casey asked. “He’ll lose his mind if that’s flapping open in this damn weather.”
“Oh, I bet he forgot again.” Angela let out a shaky laugh. “I’d best lock up. Listen, you get on back to Larry now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Casey drew in a sharp breath. “Wait.” But the line was dead. Angela was gone.
In her room, Casey turned to her boyfriend. Larry always took up more than his share of space, sprawling across the bed as if it belonged to him. But those arms sure did make her feel safe. His brow creased beneath a flop of blond hair when he saw the look on her face.
“Is everything okay?” He propped himself up on his elbow. “What’s happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Casey’s glacial eyes flickered. “Angela thought she heard a noise out back.”
“It’ll be this weather. It’s starting to get rough out there.” Larry ran a hand over Casey’s thigh, brown eyes heating. “So, where were we?”
“Stop that a minute.” Casey batted away his hand. “I’m being serious.”
“C’mon, Case,” Larry groaned. “If it’s not the wind, it’ll be Carl. Jeannie’s probably tossed his drunken ass out again and he’s sleeping it off in the office. You know those two are always fighting, just so they can make up.”
“Maybe.” Casey bit her bottom lip, her gaze drifting to the swirling snow outside.
“Angela’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Larry’s voice turned to syrup. “Now, are we doing this or should I just head on home?”
Casey glanced down at the way his tee clung to his chest, the curve of his biceps. He looked like a storybook hero written just for her, and she sure didn’t want him to leave.
Besides, he was right. She was just being dumb. Nothing bad ever really happened here in Wolf Point.
Discover the Author
A newly promoted police officer is thrust into a race against time and the harsh Alaskan elements when a teenage girl disappears—just as a crushing storm descends—perfect for fans of True Detective and Mare of Easttown.
“A brutal, wild, and wonderful thriller.” —Chris Whitaker, bestselling author of All the Colors of the Dark
Wolf Point, Alaska.
When police officer Terril Black is appointed sergeant under brutal circumstances, she expects a quiet first night in charge. Instead, a teenage girl vanishes from a remote motel—and for Terril, turning her back is never an option.
With a department that doesn’t want a woman in charge, a hostile officer undermining her every move, and a rookie fresh from Miami as her only back-up, she is plunged into a desperate missing persons investigation, racing against time and the elements.
Here, it isn’t the first 48 hours that count—it’s the first four to eight. After that, even something innocent can end badly.
But unsettling clues point her towards something dark festering beneath the surface of this small town. And when a violent snowstorm cuts them off from the outside world, Terril isn’t just fighting to save the girl—she’s fighting to get out alive.
