Missing Ch. 11-20

"Anyone here at the hospital," I asked over the Pack link.

"I'm with you," Lisa said. "The Alphas are on their way to Bangor."

"Our parents?"

Luna Pamela responded this time. "They are at home. There's nothing they can do right now."

"I need to get out of here and join the hunt. I'm your best tracker."

"You're in the human system and can't leave until your doctor releases you," Alpha Anthony sent. "We've got every Pack and Law Enforcement Agent in Maine looking for Sean's killers."

Further talks were interrupted by people coming into the room. One wore scrubs and a lab coat, the other a priest's collar. "Bonnie, I'm Doctor Randle McMurphy, and this is our Hospital Chaplain, Father Bromden. I understand you had quite a shock tonight."

I just stared at him. He was human and was wearing a wedding ring; he'd understand losing a spouse. Sean and I had been together for almost twenty-seven years. We were as close as any long-married couple could be, in love and looking forward to retiring together. They had no freaking CLUE about how tight the mate bond between our wolves was. His voice in my head had always been there. We shared emotions directly, and our souls were intertwined like two plants sharing the same pot.

I choked back the emotions and looked up. I just wanted to get out of here. "My husband died in the line of duty, Doctor."

"I heard, and you have my sympathy. Right now, my concern is your health. You passed out once and started hyperventilating in the ambulance. I need to run a few tests to rule out any other potential causes."

"There is nothing that needs doing that the Sheriff is not already doing," the Padre told me. "Let the man check you out so you can get out of here."

"Fine," I replied. 'A few tests' ended up including an EKG, an MRI, and speaking to a psychologist. He finally discharged me at two in the afternoon with a clean bill of health and a small bottle of Xanax. I'd been up for thirty-six hours, and I needed to sleep.

Lisa had brought my uniform from the station, minus my duty belt with my pistol. "The Sheriff had that locked up, and I'll get it for you later."

I raised my eyebrow at her as I got dressed. "Why don't you admit the Sheriff doesn't want me to have a loaded gun right now?"

The look on her face showed me I was right. She pulled me into a hug. "We're trying to keep you safe. I can't imagine what you are going through, but we are all here for you. You are NOT alone."

"I'm forty-six, widowed, and about to hit retirement age. My options suck." I buttoned up my uniform before she handed me the black band out of her pocket. I put the elastic over my badge and checked myself in the mirror. Every officer in the State of Maine would be wearing one until after Sean's funeral.

When we got to the waiting room, Sheriff Ty Rabb was waiting in the center of a large group of Law Enforcement officers. No one from the Pack was here, since Lisa had filled them in on everything. Things were too public with a police shooting; they would help once I got home. The officers surrounded me, lending me their sympathies and their hugs, but they didn't have the news I wanted. The meth cook was still at large. "We've got checkpoints going, but we're pretty sure they are in the wind," the Sheriff said softly. "Every officer in the state is out looking for them, and we've got the FBI and DEA pitching in too. We WILL bring them to justice."

"I know you will," I lied. I was hoping a Pack would capture them. I wanted to look into their eyes after I ripped their throats out, and watch them die at my hands. My need for justice could only be met with blood. "What is next?"

"The autopsy will complete soon, then Sean can be moved to a funeral home. Do you know what his wishes were?"

This was more for the humans in the group. Werewolf Packs used to burn their dead in pyres and bury the ashes; now we let a funeral home cremate the remains for us. "He wanted to be cremated."

"You can make the arrangements on the way to the St. Joseph's Hospital. I'll drive."

There were a dozen vehicles with flashing lights in our convoy as we drove southeast to Bangor. More cars waited in the hospital parking lot, and my Alphas and in-laws were waiting for me inside. It took an hour to finish the paperwork before an honor guard moved the flag-covered casket with Sean's remains into the funeral home's hearse. The funeral home was less than a mile away, a straight shot down Central Avenue.

It took half an hour to get there.

A dozen motorcycle cops led the way, stopping traffic for the procession. A dozen squad cars were behind them, then our car, the Alpha's SUV with his parents, and the hearse. Thousands of townspeople turned out along the route, waving flags and paying their respects as he passed. Fire trucks suspended huge American flags over the road as we passed under. I used half a box of Kleenex before we arrived at the funeral home. The officers formed up on either side of the walkway as the honor guard carried him inside as a bagpiper played. It took every bit of energy I had to hold the salute until the doors closed.

I was exhausted, and everyone knew it. We made arrangements for the cremation tomorrow, after I'd had twelve hours of sleep. The funeral service would be in two days; Luna Pamela volunteered to help coordinate arrangements with the Police Benevolent Association. I'd have to settle a few details, but I was fine with the 'standard' police funeral. They were good at it.

I barely ate dinner, and was in the shower by seven and in bed shortly after. Lisa, Adrienne, Pamela, and other friends puppy-piled me, while Pack Warriors took turns as my bodyguard.

I was too tired to kill myself now, and it was too early. I needed to be there for Sean's funeral, and I wanted to see his killers die.

After that?

I needed a reason to live, and right now I couldn't think of any.

Ch. 18

Bonnie Woods' POV

Cross Insurance Center, Bangor, Maine

October 17, 2019

"All we need are the bagpipes," Lisa told me.

Now THAT is a sentence I never expected to hear.

I sat in the limousine, parked outside the side entrance to the arena where Sean's memorial service was about to start. Lisa had taken over as the Department Liaison, helping me through all the funeral planning and now the actual ceremony. I looked out to the left where the officers stood at attention in ranks four-deep. There were hundreds of them. At the center of the formation were about a hundred Maine State Police officers in their light blue and black dress uniforms with gloves. On either side stood the members of the Penobscot County Sheriff's Department in their tan shirts with dark brown pants and the Bangor Police Department in their dark blue uniforms. Volunteers from other departments were filling in so these men and women could be here for Sean's sendoff. The procession that brought us here included over a hundred police and fire vehicles and dozens of motorcycles.

It wasn't just them. Every County Sheriff and Police force in the state sent at least one representative, as did State Police and law enforcement from a dozen states in the Northeast. I saw representatives from Customs and Border Protection, the Department of Fish and Game, fire departments, and several dozen Royal Canadian Mounted Police in their distinctive bright-red serge uniforms. A few dozen active and retired soldiers, including Green Berets who had served with Sean two decades ago, were at the far end.

Three dozen agents from the FBI, DEA, and Homeland Security were here too, all agencies Sean had worked with on task forces. All the Federal agents were wearing dark suits and sunglasses with white shirts. Badges with mourning bands hung from their jacket pockets. I knew some of them, including those who shared our charter flight back from West Virginia last night. Adrienne had arranged a charter flight for the fifty-some Maine officers and mourners attending. I found it hard to sit through Vince Argenta's funeral, knowing what would happen today, but I needed to be there. I was one of the last people to see him alive, and he died with my husband.

I sat in my dress Sheriff's uniform with white gloves. They held Sean's sealed remains close to my chest. My index finger nervously tapped on the American flag painted on one side, a Thin Blue Line version on the other.

I heard the bagpipes and drums start playing. A few seconds later, the band of twenty marched into view at the top of the hill. There was a loud smack of heels as the officers snapped to attention. The band marched to the opposite end of the line before turning back and stopping by the limo. The Color Guard was waiting for a few feet away.

A State Police captain opened the door and held it. "We're ready, ma'am."

We didn't have pallbearers, but we had something better. Sean's honor guard moved to the limo's door with their cargo.

The order for 'hand salute' echoed down the street, and hundreds of white-gloved hands touched the corners of their covers.

First out of the limousine was Sean's replacement as the Troop E Lieutenant. He carried the folded American flag that had covered Sean's casket until his body went into the oven.

Next was Command Master Sergeant Lucas Brown, US Army (Retired), carrying a thirty-by-thirty-six-inch frame in front of him. Behind the glass was Sean's dress Army uniform with his medals and Green Beret, surrounded by photos of his Army time.

Sheriff Ty Rabb took the urn from my hands. He would carry it for me.

Last in the procession was the Troop E senior Sergeant, carrying a frame with Sean's Maine State Police dress uniform, surrounded by photos and awards.

Lisa helped me step out, then walked slightly behind me. Sean's parents, George and Sally, were right behind me. We followed the procession into the large arena and ended up in a large room just off the main hall. We set our burdens down for now. "We wait here until everyone is seated," Lisa told me. "Can I get you anything?"

"Water," I said. My mouth was dry, and I could barely talk.

A television in the room showed the news channel carrying the funeral live. The reporter estimated that three thousand people were on hand to pay their respects today. It was going to take a while to get everyone seated. The entire arena's floor filled with uniformed law enforcement sitting in folding chairs. The only exceptions were the close friends and family sitting behind us.

When it was time for the ceremony to start, we gathered by the door again with our burdens. The bagpipes and drums led our procession into the main auditorium area and down the center aisle towards the stage.

Sean's State Police cruiser sat at the right-hand corner of the stage. A wide black ribbon wrapped its length. Flags from all the states and provinces represented lined the back. VIP seating was in the middle of the stage behind the single lectern. Along the front stood about two dozen flower arrangements. Two easels held the frames on either side of the small table draped in blue displayed the urn and the American flag. One Trooper and one Green Beret guarded the remains as I took my seat.

We hadn't deviated much from a traditional service. Alpha Anthony gave the opening prayer; like many Alphas, he'd gotten ministerial credentials from the State of Maine. The papers allowed him to perform Pack weddings and sign the state paperwork. He spoke about how Sean exemplified a life of service to others, how good a man he was, and how much we would miss him.

The Governor, the Colonel in charge of the State Police, and the Commanding General of the Maine National Guard all spoke before I did. I managed to thank everyone for coming before I broke down; Lisa helped me back to my seat as the cameras broadcast it all live.

I was barely able to walk by the time the ceremony finished. We somehow ended up back in the limousine, waiting for the rest of the motorcade to be ready. Finally, the motorcycle cops led us out of town on the Interstate. Hundreds of people I'd never meet stopped by the side of the road or stood on the overpasses as we headed south to Augusta and the Maine Veteran's Memorial Ceremony.

The cemetery had a circular memorial wall for cremated remains, and that is where we headed. Alpha Anthony said a few words, the honor guard fired three times, and Taps played as I placed the urn in its resting place. I saluted him until the last notes sounded, then kissed my fingers and touched the brass plate with his name, rank, and dates.

I insisted on personally thanking each of the officers who stuck around after the service. Many didn't know Sean but came anyway. It took almost an hour of shaking hands and accepting words of sympathy before we returned to the limo. Those men and women would return to their homes tonight and hug their spouses and children, praying this would never happen to them. I would bury my nose in one of his old shirts as my Pack members watched over me.

The drive back was only with Pack members. We had one more ceremony left.

When Sean's cremation finished, I had the funeral home place some of his ashes in the urn we just interred at the Veteran's Cemetery. The rest went to a Pack-designed vessel that would be placed in the Pack cemetery tonight. When we first met, Sean used to joke that "my heart belongs to you, but my ass belongs to the Army." Sean wanted to rest with his Pack family and his fellow soldiers, thus the division of ashes.

We arrived at the Baxter Pack Cemetery well after dark. I put the small urn in its place in the Pack columbarium under the light of the moon. When I died, I'd be cremated and placed here with him.

"Ready," Anthony asked?

I nodded. Anthony gave the signal to shift, and the three-hundred-some werewolves gathered removed their clothing and shook out their fur. He looked up at the moon and howled, joined by Pamela, then I and his parents. On the next howl, the visiting Alphas joined in after us; on the third, every assembled wolf let the Moon hear our heartache.

Anthony and Pamela led the Pack Run in Sean's honor. His parents and I ran in the middle of a group behind them. Many wolves moved up during the ten-mile circuit, rubbing against us or licking at our faces in support. There was a feast waiting for us when we returned, but I wasn't hungry.

Adrienne saw me looking around for a way out and gave it to me. She and my guards thanked everyone over the bond and followed me to my home, where my wolf buried herself under the covers. It had been a long-ass day, and I slept until morning for the first time since I lost him.

Ch. 19

Adrienne McInnis' POV

Bonnie's home

Bonnie's guard shook my wolf awake at six in the morning. I worked my way out of the puppy pile on her bed, giving her neck one last lick before I jumped off and shifted. "Thank Luna, she got some sleep," I said as I reached for one of the long T-shirts we kept near the door. Werewolves weren't embarrassed about nudity because of our shifting, but we had some modesty outside our bedrooms.

"First time since that night," Maggie agreed. She had guard duty until eight. My heart broke for Bonnie, but we had to protect her from herself. When my mate died, I had to stay alive until Anthony was of age to take over. That was hard enough, and my guards stopped me from harming myself a few times until they could pull me out of the depression. Bonnie didn't have children, and her only family was Sean's parents. She held it together for the funerals, and now the depression and black thoughts would arrive in force.

Her job wasn't any help; when she went back, there was no way to keep her from deadly situations and weapons. Sheriff Ty Rabb had to balance officer safety with appearances for now. Bonnie was a senior member of his department, and she appeared in full uniform at the funerals, including her sidearm. Nobody told her that we had removed the firing pin from her prized Ed Brown 1911 pistol. Alpha Anthony even had all the firing pins removed from the rifles and pistols in the gun safe. Bonnie went nowhere without an escort. All it would take would be one moment of distraction for her to grab a knife or dart in front of a bus, and Bonnie's suffering would end.

I left the shirt on the porch as I shifted into my red wolf. Bonnie's land was their own, not Pack land, but it adjoined it, and the boundaries were far enough away that I didn't worry about being spotted. It was my favorite time of year, with mornings near freezing and sunny days in the sixties, at least when it didn't rain. I stretched my legs for a hard twenty-minute run before I jumped onto the front porch of the Pack House and shifted.

Anthony tossed me a shirt and shorts from where he sat at a table, eating breakfast with Luna Pamela and his Betas. Beta Mark was in his uniform, while his mate Tiffany was wearing jeans and a white cable-knit wool sweater. "Heading back to work today?"

Mark nodded. "It's been a madhouse with the funeral, and I've got to make sure Bonnie's responsibilities are covered while she is out." Mark was the Patrol Lieutenant, working directly under Sheriff Ty with direct responsibility for patrol and investigation. Bonnie worked for him.

I noticed something missing. "You aren't wearing your mourning band on your badge," I said as I sat down. One of the Omegas brought me a cup of coffee with a plate filled with eggs, bacon, and toast.

"Protocol is that for an adjoining department, you wear it through the day of the funeral. The State Police will wear it for thirty days after Sean's death."

"Anything on the manhunt?"

Mark didn't look happy. "Nothing, but the State Police and DEA are getting all the help they can ask for. It would help if we knew who it was. Fingerprints came up with nothing, so our suspect hasn't been arrested and wasn't in the military. He didn't have any identification, and there was no vehicle. All we have is his photo from the scene."

"What about the shooters?"

"No prints on the shell casings and no witnesses. We think it was a light-colored, late-model Toyota minivan from the surveillance video we recovered, but it wasn't good enough to get a plate. The FBI computer people are doing their best, but we don't have enough to put out an APB. Hell, we can't tell if the shooters were male or female. They picked a good spot to ambush them." He finished his coffee and grabbed his hat off the back of the chair. "I'll let you all know if something changes." He kissed Tiffany as he got up.

"Thanks, Mark."

"Hopefully, Clyde has more success finding these people," he said before walking away.

I saw the worried look Tiffany had on her face as he left. "How is he holding up?"

"It's been hard on him," she admitted. "He's barely been home since that night. He wants to find these people but knows they're probably not in the County anymore."

"Most were-coyotes move around a lot. I'm sure they got as far away from Pack lands as they could that night." There was nothing else I could do. "How is the school going?"

Her face brightened up a little as she thought about our young. Tiffany's Beta duties included running the Pack daycare, school, and operation of the Pack House and maintenance services. "They are doing great! If you have time, I'd love to have you teach a class or two. They love you."

"I'll see what I can do. I have a daily teleconference at noon to prepare for." The Chairman put me in charge of organizing the response, and the phone call was part of it.

"Lucky you," Pamela said.

I stuck my tongue out at my daughter-in-law. "You're going to be on the call with me," I said.

She laughed at me. "Yeah, but I'm not the one on the phone all morning getting ready for it."