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definitely an animal of some sort, because no way could a human do this without leaving something.”
    “I agree.” Denby sighed. “I’ve done my damnedest to keep a lid on the Chupacabra gossip. Scares the shit out of people and drives them to do stupid things.”
    “From what I’ve dug up, this animal supposedly appeared first in Puerto Rico,” Jonah told him. “But I’ve got other reports from all over the place. South America. Here. Other states. It’s either real or it’s a legend grown beyond all proportions.
    “What do you think, Sheriff?”
    “I think I wish it would all go the hell away. But that’s not gonna happen. So I’ll say okay, it’s some kind of animal. But what?” He spread his hands out. “Is it some strange species we don’t know about yet that’s found in more than one place? Is it a common animal like the coyote that’s grown into something else because of the stories and superstitions? I wish to hell I knew.”
    “Who found the hunters?”
    “Man who owns the hunting preserve. One of his men was riding a four-wheeler checking on the blinds. He had about a dozen hunters out there.”
    “But these were the only two attacked.”
    Denby rose, poured coffee from the pot on the sideboard into a mug, refilled Jonah’s and sat down again.
    “I don’t know if you’ve found this in the cases you’ve studied, but from what I know about the Chupacabra, it zeroes in on its kill, satisfies itself and leaves. There’s no mass slaughter or anything like that.” He sipped at his coffee. “Which leads me to believe it’s not a pack but a single animal. Maybe two at the most.”
    “Nothing I’ve read or learned indicates there’s more than one of these,” Jonah told him. “And the original legends only refer to one animal.”
    Denby shook his head. “I know, I know. That’s one of the reasons I’ve tried to keep a lid on this whole thing. It’s a lot easier to let people think a pack of coyotes went on the attack than to give credence to this stupid goat sucker story and have everyone frightened to death there might be more of them. This whole county would be in chaos.”
    “I have to agree on that. But you and I both know this wasn’t the work of coyotes. Not the hunters or the deer or the dogs.”
    Jonah spent about fifteen minutes giving the sheriff the bare bones outline of what his research had turned up so far, then gathered his things up from the table. He wasn’t ready yet to tell Denby about the triple killings in each place. All that would do was stir up a pot he wasn’t ready to mix yet. “Think you could arrange for me to talk to the man who owns that hunting preserve?”
    “Sure. Give me your cell number and I’ll let you know when it’s set up.” The sheriff sighed. “Only because I figured out you aren’t from one of those sensational rags and won’t be doing scare stories about this.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Jonah actually carried a satellite phone, cell reception being spotty in many areas where he went, but he rattled off the number.
    “If you go poking around in the area you’d better watch out if you run into that woman out there, though,” Denby warned.
    Jonah tensed. “Woman?”
    “Crazy female who lives in a cabin next to one of the preserves. Dakota Furcal. People around here buy her herbs and potions but otherwise give her a wide berth.”
    Crazy? Great. Just what he needed. A lunatic who made his balls ache.
    “What makes her crazy?”
    Denby spread his hands. “Just…everything. She’s a loner. Her mother was from the Kickapoo reservation and rumor has it she was crazy, too. Chanted spells and stuff like that. Maybe she got that way because Dakota’s father was a drunk who was eventually killed in a knife fight.”
    “Sounds like the town turned its back on her,” Jonah commented.
    “More like she turned her back on us. Anyway, we give her a wide berth.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jonah stuffed everything into