Brynlee’s thoughts churned as she processed everything she’d just learned while talking to Luke. Not just those facts, she supposed. She was thinking about everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
“You said your dad was sheriff before Luke, didn’t you?” she asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
“That’s right. He loved his job.”
She hesitated just a moment before continuing. “So was he in charge of the investigation when . . .”
Boone frowned and slowed his steps. “When Katherine died? He was. He had to remain objective and keep things on the up and up or he knew the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation would take over. It was . . . uncomfortable, to say the least.”
“It was all based on hearsay, though, right? I mean, there was no proof as to what went wrong. The only person who knew what really happened was your wife.”
Boone paused there on the corner. The past seemed to consume his expression as he frowned and disappeared into another time. “Yes but . . . to be upfront, Kat and I took out life insurance policies on each other before we got married.”
“Okay . . .” Brynlee waited for him to explain because she knew he had more to say.
“It wasn’t my idea, but Kat insisted on it. Her family came from money, so she had a sizable nest egg, thanks to a trust fund set up for her.”
“And, once she died, you were able to get that money . . .” Details clicked into place in her mind.
“I didn’t want it. Like I said, I don’t care about money.”
She tugged her toboggan cap down lower as the breeze whispered down the street. “What happened to it then?”
“I gave it back to her family.”
She resisted the urge to place her hand on his arm, to try and offer comfort. It wasn’t her place . . . but she wanted it to be.
Maybe.
“Certainly, she would understand,” she said instead.
“Maybe she would. But no one else. And she’s not around anymore.” He frowned and let out a long breath. “Look, I’m not trying to get terse with you. But it’s a sore subject.”
“I understand.” But Brynlee didn’t. She couldn’t even begin to imagine finding the love of her life, only to lose him on their honeymoon. It would be devastating.
Boone started walking back toward his truck again, but his steps seemed heavier. “I think we should get over to Abe’s place. I need to rent some of his equipment for our trip tomorrow. Sound okay?”
“Sounds fine.” But a bad feeling still lingered in her gut.
Brynlee supposed it didn’t matter how idyllic some people’s lives might seem. Beneath the surface, everyone had their problems and struggles.
Even her.
* * *
Brynlee watched as Boone leaned against the rough wooden counter of his friend’s store. He looked at ease here, at home. For a moment, she watched him in his element.
She found herself wishing earlier that Boone could see her in her natural state. She knew in her everyday life she was more bubbly and happy. She loved to laugh and smile. But, coming here, she felt all out of sorts—not like herself at all.
Abe’s Outfitters was a shack-like kiosk located right on the edge of town, near the lake. Boone had explained the business to her on the way there. People rented kayaks, paddleboards, and other gear. Abe also offered excursions on occasion, and, apparently, Boone helped him when he could.
The building itself was only a little bigger than a shed, and it had a window that opened during business hours. Outside, kayaks and paddleboards were lined up against a wooden rail, just begging people to use them.
Boone had said his friend made a decent living for himself here, and that this job was perfect for him. Abe apparently lived for stuff like this, and it was just one of the reasons he and Boone had bonded.
Abe’s sidekick, Fowler, was also here. At the moment, he was cleaning the kayaks near the shore. If Brynlee had the chance, she wanted to talk with him.
“So, what’s the word from the trail volunteers?” Boone asked, leaning into the window.
Abe shrugged as he double-checked the life vests hanging inside the shop. “They haven’t seen anything. There are some people who’ve gone out there just for the thrill of knowing there could be a wild animal ravaging the area. Some people are just too stubborn to cancel their plans. But I fully expect the park service to issue some warnings here soon. I’m kind of surprised they haven’t already.”
“It won’t matter.” Boone absently played with a jar full of pens that stood by a stack of clipboards. “They can’t shut down Dead Man’s Bluff.”
“Why’s that?” Brynlee asked, curious as to why they couldn’t.
Abe glanced over at her, as if the question surprised him. “Because that land is privately owned. No one is supposed to be on it, but the owner apparently doesn’t care.”
The owner . . . Brynlee pressed her lips together for a moment before asking, “How is the owner supposed to keep people off? Aren’t there signs up?”
“That’s basically a liability thing.” Abe adjusted the last of the life vest straps and nodded as Fowler strode toward them. “The land is right on the edge of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Naturally, people are going to veer off the trail, especially after one of those hiking blogs picked up an article on the area several years back. It’s known as one of the best views in the Appalachian Mountains. People come from all over to test out their skills.”
She shrugged, trying not to show anything. “Seems like it should be illegal.”
“It is, but people want the views and the challenge of it.” Abe moved to the paddles and began straightening them as Fowler listened in on the conversation. “You’re going to find out soon just what this hike is about.”
Brynlee frowned. “I did my research.”
“Research doesn’t show you zilch,” Boone said, still at the counter watching everything with that simmering look in his eyes. “When you’re on that trail, and you’re looking at a two hundred-foot drop-off on either side of you as you hike the ridge, you’ll see how dangerous it is. I hope you don’t mind heights.”
Truth was, Brynlee had never loved heights. Not at all.
“I like challenges,” she said instead.
Boone grunted. “Well, you’re going to have a big one ahead of you.”
“Are you talking about the fact that I’m working with you?”
Abe and Fowler laughed and bemoaned how Brynlee was right.
Boone just gave her a look. “You’ll see. I promise you that. You’ll see.”
26
As Boone and Abe began working on gathering the rappelling gear, Brynlee walked over to Fowler. He stood behind the building sorting through various ropes and coiling them. She remembered hearing Ansley say that Fowler was an unofficial Skookum expert.
She wanted to know what he’d seen and why he believed this creature really existed. She wasn’t sure why she was so curious, but the questions pressed on her.
The man was in his early thirties, and he had dark hair, skin that had been tanned from hours of being outside, a thick beard, and a stocky build. He seemed unassuming and like a true, unapologetic mountain man. He spoke with a slow drawl and had a toothpick dangling from his mouth.
Brynlee paused beside him, checking to see if Boone and Abe were still occupied in their conversation. They were. “So, I hear you know a thing or two about Skookum.”
He paused from wrapping the ropes and observed her for a moment before continuing to work. “That’s right. No one believes me, but I know what I saw.”
“Can you tell me about your experiences? I’m really curious. No one believes me either when I tell them what I saw. That wasn’t a bear out there. But I’m not convinced it was a man either. I just . . . I don’t know.”
“You promise not to laugh at me?” he said. “I don’t like to talk about it anymore because all the guys rib me about it.”
“Yes,
I honestly want to know.”
Fowler let out a long breath and paused from his work. “My family has lived in this area for decades. My dad was a coalminer for his living and a bootlegger for fun. So the stories of these mountains go back for generations. There have always been rumors of Skookum in these woods.”
A trickle of both fear and curiosity dripped down her spine. “When was the first time you saw one?”
He smoothed his beard. “I actually remember riding in my dad’s old truck when we were coming back to the house after dropping off a ‘shipment’ to a buyer in town. It was at dusk, so the sun wasn’t completely gone. But it was getting dark outside. As we were headed up the side of the mountain road, this creature ran out in front of the truck. My dad had to throw on his brakes, and the truck swerved.”
“What was it?” Brynlee pulled her arms more tightly around her.
“That was the question. Both my dad and I sat there in the truck for several minutes, neither of us saying anything. And then my dad only said one word. Skookum. That’s when I knew what I’d seen.”
“Did it look like a bear?” Brynlee’s heart rate climbed as she listened to his story. She didn’t believe in mythical creatures—normally. But this whole experience had made her question everything.
“Maybe. I mean, it was furry like a bear. And it was big like a bear—like a bear standing on his hind legs.” As Fowler spoke, his hands began flying, and he illustrated each point with grand gestures. “But it didn’t quite move like a bear, if that makes sense. I mean, a bear walking on two legs will kind of lumber back and forth a little more. This creature moved more gracefully than that.”
Brynlee glanced at Boone and saw he was still distracted. She continued. “You said that was the first time you’d seen it. Does that mean there have been other times also?”
Fowler seemed to have warmed up quickly and to enjoy telling his stories. The ropes seemed all but forgotten. “Another time I was out on the trail. I’m one of the volunteers. Again, it was getting late. I heard something moving behind me, but I knew I was the only one out there. I froze and looked behind me. I didn’t see anything. But I had that feeling, you know? You can just sense when you’re being watched sometimes.”
“What happened?” Brynlee practically held her breath as she waited to hear the rest of the story. Another part of her hoped she wasn’t being taken for a ride.
“I would take a couple of steps, and then I would hear something again. It was like I was being followed. But I never saw anyone.”
Her chest deflated. She’d hoped for something more definitive. “So how are you sure it was the Skookum?”
“I wasn’t . . . until I reached a fork in the trail. I decided to head back. I started that way and, as I did, I turned and looked behind me.” He illustrated by looking over his shoulder. He lowered his voice as he continued. “When I did, I saw the Skookum crossing the path. It was like he’d given up on following me.”
“Did he know you saw him?”
“He looked at me. When he saw me watching, he took off in a run.”
She frowned. That didn’t match what she’d seen. “Doesn’t sound like a predator.”
“I think the Skookum are only predators when they feel threatened. And I think one of them killed my father. Park rangers said he got lost in the woods, died, and wild animals ate him. I don’t believe it.”
She sucked in a breath at the revelation. That sounded horrible.
“You’re not listening to the Skookum stories, are you?” Abe joined their conversation. “Because Fowler will tell you those stories all day.”
“That’s because they’re true, man.” Fowler didn’t look offended.
“They’re his claim to fame in the area. He’s our local expert. He even started doing something akin to ghost tours—only with Skookum—here in the summer.”
She glanced at Fowler, his story suddenly seeming less reliable. “Is that right?”
“Everyone has to do what they can to make a buck, right? There’s no shame in that. Plus, my stories are true. People need to know what these Skookum are capable of.”
“I can’t argue.” Abe turned to her. “Anyway, Boone sent me to come get you. He needs to get your gear fitted.”
A rush of nerves fluttered through Brynlee. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.”
* * *
After they left Abe’s place, it was already past lunch time. The morning hours had flown by.
Boone and Brynlee walked back toward the town square where most of the festivities were happening and closer to where Boone had parked his truck. He’d had a good talk with Abe and, for a moment, everything had felt normal. Boone had even listened to Brynlee’s conversation with Fowler, though he’d tried to pretend like he wasn’t paying attention. Fowler had certainly enjoyed sharing his stories and having a captive audience.
He glanced around as he walked—partly to keep an eye out for trouble, and partly just to check out what was going on. More people had turned out as First Friday went into full swing. A local band, Rosie and the Men Who Stole Our Land, played on a nearby stage. He could smell the tantalizing scent of greasy treats cooking from the nearby food trucks.
As he inhaled the aromas, his stomach grumbled. “Please say you want something to eat?”
Brynlee glanced up at him and smiled. “I’d love some food.”
“Perfect. Let’s go check out what everyone is offering.” They headed toward food truck alley. Those storm clouds were supposed to roll in later. Right now, the air felt brisk but invigorating.
He called hello to several people as they browsed their options. Finally, he settled on some Carolina-style barbecue, and Brynlee grabbed a vegetable wrap with hummus and chips. They sat on a nearby park bench that overlooked Fog Lake to eat.
“So, the people behind me in line were talking about the men who died,” Brynlee said as she unwrapped her food and studied it for a minute.
“It’s the talk of the town.” Boone plucked off a piece of his tangy coleslaw. “People love those trails. They don’t want to think about them being dangerous.”
“I can see where something like this could shake things up in the area.” She took a bite of her wrap, but even that motion didn’t conceal her frown.
“You can say that again. Even the trail volunteers don’t want to report into work today. I can’t say I blame them.”
Brynlee leaned back, her wrap still in hand. “Boone, let’s say there is a person behind this . . .”
“You mean, someone other than Big Ben?”
“Yes, someone other than Big Ben. Who else might have the motive to do this?”
“Someone crazy.” He shrugged and bit into his sandwich. This barbecue was good. Really good.
“But even if it is a crazy person, most likely he will still have a motive or some kind of incident in his background that would lend itself to him doing this, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.” He looked away from the conversation for a moment to wave at someone from church who walked past. He turned somber again as he turned back to Brynlee. “One thing I’ve learned in life is that there isn’t always a reason for things. We want to believe there is. But that isn’t always the case.”
“Like with Kat?”
He nodded stiffly as memories tried to pummel him. “Yes, like with Kat. I don’t care what anyone says. Her death was senseless.”
“I’m sorry, Boone.” Brynlee’s voice sounded soft with compassion.
“No, it’s okay. I usually don’t talk about her so much. You’re bringing out a different side of me, I suppose.” He sighed and glanced at Brynlee. “Who do you think might be behind this?”
She shrugged. “You mentioned that Todd man.”
“While I don’t trust him and I think he has motive, I’m not sure this is the method he would choose for retaliation. Luke is probably right.”
“But we know this person is probably familiar with this area, correct?”
He wiped
his mouth, still holding his sandwich in his other hand. “Correct.”
“He has some kind of connection with wildlife. He at least understands wildlife enough to know how they operate. He knows the trails. He knows the history of the area. The legends.”
Boone squinted, trying to follow her train of thought—unsuccessfully. “Okay . . . I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”
“I’m just trying to put together a mental picture of who this guy might be, if not Big Ben. What could his motive be? Why would he come after me?”
“You haven’t been in town for long enough to make any enemies . . . have you?”
“Not that I know of.” Her cheeks heated, and she looked away. “I mean, other than that creature in the woods.”
“Like I said, maybe this is just a crazy person. Someone without a reason.” Boone studied her. “But you can’t handle that, can you?”
“I just want things to make sense.”
“So what happens when they don’t?”
She frowned before quietly saying, “I don’t know.”
Someone stopped in front of them. Boone looked up and spotted Witherford, the head of the Planning Council. The man had slight features, small glasses, and thinning hair. He took his job very seriously.
“Boone.”
Boone nodded. “Witherford.”
“I’m glad I ran into you. I thought you should know that we’ve planned a meeting on Monday to talk about the application for the permit to build on Dead Man’s Bluff.”
Boone bristled. “Sounds good. I look forward to hashing that out with everyone.”
“We can’t let this happen, Boone.” Witherford stared at Boone, his beady little eyes boring holes into him.
“I don’t intend to.”
Witherford nodded curtly. “Good. That’s what I thought you’d say. I intend to rally support from the other council members to ensure this doesn’t happen.”
Margin of Error: Fog Lake Suspense, Book 2 Page 12
