Last Stop at the Lone Wolf
A deal with the devil brings Sheriff Hart and Agent Alexander to their last chance for truth—and their first taste of betrayal.
Welcome back to The Devil’s Road, where vengeance runs as thick as blood through the veins of Sequoyah County. In Issue #22 Sheriff Hart and Agent Alexander enter the Lone Wolf, they’re hunting for answers, but each move risks exposing secrets neither is willing to reveal.
If you missed yesterday’s post, can catch up on the Issue #21 On the Edge of the Blade.
Now, settle in, my Faithful Ramblers, for Chapter 6, Issue 3 of The Devil’s Road.
In 2004 an Oklahoma Bureau of Investigations analyst discovered a crime pattern along the Interstate 40 corridor between Oklahoma and Mississippi. Subsequently, The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I.) started the Highway Serial Killings Initiative. They discovered over 500 bodies of women along the interstate highway system with more than 200 potential suspects, a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. The Devil’s Road is a serialized novel based on this horrific discovery.
Alarms and buzzers sound as Sheriff Samantha Hart and FBI Agent Moses Alexander weave through the slot machines on the Lone Wolf Casino & Hotel betting floor. This hour of the morning, most machines are empty, but a few die-hards are here, cashing in their social security checks and sucking down Pall Mall cigarettes.
At the far end of the casino floor is a small bar, aptly named The Sure Bet—the only place here where you get what you pay for, maybe even a little extra. Sam and Moses slide into a booth as a waitress approaches, her furry miniskirt swinging a wolf tail as she places a tall glass of booze with ice and an excess amount of lime wedges in front of Moses.
“Extra limes, just like you like it, sweetie,” the waitress says with a wink. She turns to Sam, her tone still syrupy. “What about you, darlin’? Need a little something to take the edge off?”
“Whiskey, neat,” Sam orders.
Moses watches the wolf tail wag its way back to the bar to fetch Sam’s drink.
“You two old friends?” Sam asks, catching his gaze.
Moses takes a pull from his drink, draining nearly half the glass. “Yeah, you could say I’ve been here a time or two.” He’s either an alcoholic, or damn thirsty.
Sam takes off her hat, looking around the room. The bar stools are busted and rusty, with yellowing foam poking out through torn vinyl, and dirty glasses line the counter. A neon sign behind a single beer tap displays “Last Stop.” It couldn’t be closer to the truth.
“Not sure how you can stand that stuff. Tastes like rubbing alcohol to me,” Sam says, trying to ease into the conversation.
Moses replies with a toothy chuckle. “Yeah, well, beauty of it is, you can’t smell it on my breath after a couple. That’s what the limes are for.” He drains the glass as the waitress returns with another tall one for him and Sam’s neat whiskey.
“You gonna drink that in uniform?” he asks, eyeing her glass.
Sam raises her drink, offering a toast. “I took my hat off, didn’t I?” Their glasses clink, and Sam puts hers back on the table. Not time to celebrate yet; she’s got something to ask.
“I need your help,” Sam says, leaning in. “I’ve strung together a series of cases that I think may be linked.”
“Yeah, your prostitutes, right?” Moses says, surprising her. “Cops talk, even county sheriffs. The federal badge makes local folks chatty. They think the Feds have some secret device or team of G-men ready to crack their cold cases.” He leans in, voice lowering. “Thing is, I actually agreed to come here to ask you a favor.”
“Okay, you first,” Sam offers.
“You’ve been watching that pro back at the Old 64? You happen to be there yesterday morning? I’m thinking that’s when the drop happened.” Moses needs to know if she’s seen him or if he can keep spinning his current twisted tale to stay out of trouble.
“Only at sunup. Had another body turn up off Highway 4490. The perp sliced off her face and sewed it back on with dental floss.” Sam watches his reaction to the gruesome detail.
Moses, mid-sip of his vodka-lime concoction, nearly chokes. “Jesus Christ. That’s some twisted shit. He do that to all of ‘em?”
“No. He’s progressing. It started with bites, now it’s full mutilation.” Sam runs her fingers around the rim of her glass, making it whine. She’s got him hooked. Time to go for the kill. “You give me a hand finding this guy, and I might know where to find that bag you’re looking for.”
Moses’s attention sharpens. He sets his glass down, and his face hardens. “I’m listening.”
Sam drops her voice to a whisper. “I’ve got every damn highway report from Arkansas to Texas, every truck stop sighting of every victim, everything we need to build a case.”
Moses holds her gaze, the weight of her words sinking in. “You really think this guy’s a full-blown serial killer? How many cases you got?”
“Yesterday’s makes fourteen,” she says, letting the number settle. “Tomorrow could be fifteen. If it’s not tomorrow, it’ll be soon. He’s picking up his pace.”
“And the bag?” Moses asks.
“This morning, a woman drove away from a trailer behind the Old 64. She was carrying a duffle bag and looked like she’d spent the night with that punching bag you were questioning when I found you.” Sam studies him, waiting for his response. This is it—she’s either made the sale or about to have the rug jerked out from under her. “Well?”
Moses, a close study of people himself, sees that Sam’s dead sure she’s onto something. If she can put that bag in his hand, it’s worth the risk. “Consider yourself liaised on the federal manhunt of a multi-state killer, then.”
“Just like that?” Sam’s grip tightens on her glass.
“Just like that,” Moses says, polishing off his second drink.
“Alright, let’s go get your bag,” Sam says, standing and placing her hat back on.
“You didn’t even touch your whiskey,” Moses observes, standing to join her.
“I don’t drink on duty. Just wanted to see if you did,” Sam replies, turning with a cool finality. She strides back across the casino floor, moving through the flashing lights and bleary-eyed patrons, her figure swallowed by the haze of neon and cigarette smoke. The bells and whistles of the machines echo faintly behind her.
Moses lets out a low chuckle, watching her go, the glint of amusement fading from his eyes. She got him with that one, no question about it. Smart, sharp, and full of conviction—Sam had that rare quality in law enforcement, something Moses hadn’t seen in years: a willingness to lose it all if it meant making things right. But conviction didn’t get you far in his world; survival did.
As he swirls the last of the melting ice in his glass, his mind shifts to the duffle bag she dangled as bait, a key piece in his own tangled mess of half-truths and dirty favors. Opening a federal case for Sam was the last thing he wanted, but there was no sense trying to shake her now—not with her teeth already sunk in. She was stubborn enough to drag him into the deep end of this cesspool whether he liked it or not.
The thought darkened his mood as he tossed back the dregs of his drink. Sam might think she’s got him cornered, but Moses knows the game she’s playing all too well. As soon as he’s got his hands on that bag, he’d be one step closer to dealing with a different son of a bitch—one far meaner than the lowlife stalking the highways. And if things went south, well, he’d have to remind Sam that even partners can turn on each other when the stakes are high enough.
With a final glance in the direction she’d gone, he slips a bill under his empty glass and walks out, disappearing into the dim light of the casino, his mind already turning over what came next.
If this week’s issue got your blood pumping, refer a fellow traveler to join the ride and unlock some devilishly good rewards!
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REFER 10 FRIENDS: Score 6 months free, along with a signed, mailed copy of The Devil’s Road pilot screenplay—your own piece of the story, right in your hands.With Halloween just around the corner, I couldn’t think of a better time to bring you, my Faithful Rambler, to the end of Part 1 of The Devil’s Road. Now six chapters in, I want to offer a refresher for any New Witnesses to the trail of bloodshed left behind by our enigmatic Driver. His identity remains a mystery—for now—but Part 2 may finally bring the truth to light.