Expecting to Die

by Lisa Jackson

  This wasn’t her first time defending her children or watching them be grilled by another detective. In high school, Jeremy had walked a thin line with the law, which made his current interest in law enforcement as a career all the more ironic. Pescoli had tried to talk him out of it to no avail. Even when she brought up his father, her first husband, Joe Strand, who had been killed in the line of duty. The thought that Jeremy, who looked so much like Joe, was following in his father’s footsteps chilled her to the bone. She was a cop herself, knew the pitfalls and the dangers. Currently Jeremy was enrolled at the local community college while volunteering at the sheriff’s department. If he didn’t change his mind in the next couple of years, he’d become an officer of the law, like both his father and mother.

  What goes around, comes around.

  “I know you’ve been through all of this before,” Alvarez was saying to Bianca, “but let’s go over it again. Start with how you ended up at Reservoir Point and how you found the body.”

  Bianca took a deep breath, then launched once more into the tale: how she’d made plans with Maddie, been ditched in the guys’ game of hide-and-seek, been chased by an incredibly huge beast from the top of the ridge down to the creek, where she’d literally stumbled on the dead body of Destiny Rose Montclaire. She wrapped up with, “Of course I didn’t know who she was then, just that she was dead and rotting. . . .” Her voice lowered. “It was awful,” she admitted on a shudder, then told Alvarez about running into Rod Devlin, their argument, how she’d snatched the phone from him to call 911 and then had run back to the main area, where kids had been madly scrambling around, trying to take off as the cops arrived. “You know the rest,” she said, rubbing her arms as if suddenly cold when the temperature in the house was over seventy-five degrees and Pescoli was still sweating. But then maybe the perspiration was, at least in part, due to her case of nerves. She listened as Alvarez asked her daughter the same questions she had earlier: How do you know Destiny Montclaire? Who were the kids at the party? Who was connected to Destiny? Did she have any enemies?

  Finally, Alvarez asked, “Did you know that Destiny was pregnant?”

  Bianca’s jaw dropped. “Pregnant?” she repeated. “No. I mean, I hadn’t heard that.” She glanced up at her mother. “Really?”

  Pescoli nodded.

  “So there was no talk about it?”

  “None!” Bianca said. “Well, at least I hadn’t heard anything. I wasn’t friends with Destiny, but she dated Donny Justison and even though he’s a year older, he runs around with my crowd, so . . . I think I would have heard something.”

  “Did she date anyone else?”

  “I don’t know,” Bianca said, shocked. “That’s kinda sad.”

  “All of it is,” her mother agreed.

  “So you didn’t hear any rumors from any of your friends, or from people who knew her?” Alvarez asked.

  “No.” She shook her head, and after a few more questions about Destiny, Pescoli’s partner seemed satisfied. Only then did she ask about Bianca’s reference to being chased down the mountainside by a hairy monster.

  “You don’t know who was behind you?” she asked.

  “No. It . . . didn’t seem human.”

  “Not one of the other kids?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know. It was huge and hairy, and I know it sounds crazy, but I didn’t think it was a person.”

  “An animal?”

  “Or . . . maybe a Big Foot?” she said tentatively.

  Pescoli forced herself not to make a disbelieving snort.

  Alvarez didn’t so much as react, but Luke did. He crushed his beer can and was on his feet, heading to the table. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here,” he announced.

  Perfect.

  “Carlton Jeffe, you know him,” he said to Regan animatedly. She reluctantly nodded. Jeffe had worked at a sporting goods store in town for the last decade or so. A Montana mountain man, his family had farmed outside of Grizzly Falls for over a century. While his brothers ran the wheat farm, Carlton had worked his way up to become manager of the hunting and fishing area of the store and was an expert on firearms, ammo, bows, and any other kind of weaponry a hunter would want. He was also in charge of the Big Foot Believers, a local group here in town that met once a week to play poker, discuss Sasquatch sightings, and shoot the bull. “The BFBs put together a group every year to go hunting for one, y’know—”

  “And every year have returned empty-handed,” Pescoli cut in.

  “Well, maybe that’ll change now. Because of Bianca.”

  Pescoli didn’t like the sound of this.

  Lucky went on, “Carlton called me. The BFBs want Bianca to come to the next meeting and tell her story, what happened to her.”

  “You have to be kidding,” Pescoli said.

  “He called me, too,” Bianca said.

  “Oh, for the love of—no way. No effin’ way.” She looked from father to daughter and back again. “This is where I put my big parental foot down. Bianca is not talking to those nut jobs.”

  “They’re not all crazies,” Luke said. “I know there are some like Ivor Hicks and Frank Nesmith who have a few screws loose, but most of the members are okay.”

  “They are not okay if they believe in Big Foot and want Bianca to come and, what? Talk to them about being chased and terrorized by a mythical creature that anyone with a brain knows doesn’t exist?”

  Luke bristled. “I think that’s for Bianca to decide.”

  “I wasn’t going to but . . .” Bianca lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  “No. Forget it. You’re laid up.” To Luke: “She’s a minor. Remember? Isn’t that why you said you were here in the first place?”

  “She can speak for herself,” he said, then regarded his daughter with a coaxing smile. “Bianca, what do you say? You know that Sphinx is going to be there, right?”

  “Sphinx?” Regan repeated.

  “As in Barclay Sphinx, the TV producer.” Lucky gave her a pitying look, as if he could not believe how out of it she was. “Tell me you’ve heard of him.”

  In her peripheral vision, she saw Alvarez give a barely perceptible shake of her head. But Bianca was listening raptly, and Pescoli finally understood her daughter’s reasons for entertaining the idea of speaking to the group. Bianca had always had an interest in acting.

  “Sorry,” Pescoli said tightly. “What has he done?”

  “Most recently, reality shows. His most popular one is Big Foot Territory: Oregon!, filmed in the Cascade Mountains. He’s from Seattle, I think, but he’s got ties to Hollywood.” Luke was earnest. “Michelle is all over this—she’s a major fan.”

  “Of the Big Foot series? Seriously? Doesn’t sound like her kind of thing.”

  Luke ignored that. “Sphinx has done other things as well. Auction stuff, I think, and a reality show looking into the daily lives of celebrities once they lose some of their star-power, how they try to reinvent themselves. Tarnished Stars: Where Are They Now? She loves that one.”

  Bianca visibly brightened. “I do, too!”

  “Still not ringing any bells.” Pescoli shook her head.

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s coming to Grizzly Falls. This week. Or that’s what Carlton implied.” Lucky was on a roll now, more excited than she’d seen him since he’d hit a thousand-dollar jackpot in a casino when Bianca was a baby.

  “Implied?”

  “It’s not a ‘for sure’ thing, but if Bianca comes to the meeting, Sphinx told Carlton he’d try to make it.”

  “Really?” Bianca whispered.

  How had this become a thing? Alvarez thanked Bianca and made her escape, shooting Pescoli a look of commiseration on her way out. As soon as she was gone, Pescoli rounded on Luke. “And you think . . . what? That because some Hollywood type blows into town that it means . . . money? Fame?”

  He lifted his chin like a stubborn little boy. “Maybe.”

  So there it was; the
real reason Lucky was in her house, swilling her beer and being the attentive parent.

  “I’m afraid everyone, including Sphinx, is going to be disappointed. Bianca’s not going.”

  “You can’t just say that. Bianca can make up her own mind,” Luke shot back.

  Again, he gave his daughter an encouraging do-it-for-Daddy smile.

  Pescoli growled, “Stop it, Luke. We’re done here. Bianca’s recovering. It’s been a long day and—”

  “What would it hurt?” he demanded.

  “—we’ve got a murder investigation, so the answer is no,” she barreled on. Enough of this nonsense!

  Lucky was eye-to-eye with Bianca. “Carlton says you don’t have to get up and give a formal talk. Just go to the meeting, talk to some of the people, meet Mr. Sphinx. It could be fun and you know . . .” He winked at her. “You’ll be a celebrity. Think on it.”

  It broke Pescoli’s heart to see the light in her daughter’s eyes at her father’s show of tenderness. “I want to go, Daddy.”

  “Bianca,” Pescoli began.

  “Mom,” she angrily shot right back.

  Pescoli clamped her teeth together. She knew better than to get between father and daughter, but it was nearly impossible to hold her tongue.

  Luke bent down and placed a kiss on Bianca’s head, then started for the door.

  “Jer’s here,” Bianca said at the sound of an engine fast approaching. Pescoli glanced out the window to catch a flash of metal, followed by dust kicking up from behind the tires of Jeremy’s truck. He parked next to the Corvette, threw himself out of the cab, and was up the path to the house as the truck’s door slammed behind him. Inside, he nearly ran into Luke, who was on his way out. At six-foot-two, he had a couple of inches on his once-upon-a-time stepfather.

  “Hey!” Jeremy said and gave Luke a high five as the dogs, barking and wagging their back ends, greeted him enthusiastically. Cisco acted as if he hadn’t seen Jeremy in years rather than hours.

  “Back atcha,” Luke said after the slap. “So, your mom’s got you working for the sheriff’s department now?”

  “Nope. All my idea.” Jeremy shot Regan a quick smile, took time to pat each dog on the head, and then beelined for the refrigerator. “Hey, Mom,” he said as a greeting, then to his sister, “How ya doing, brat?”

  “Not great,” Bianca muttered with a glare at her mother.

  “When are you ever?” He opened the refrigerator door and hung between the door and the body of the appliance as he studied the shelves.

  Bianca threw him a look. “Very funny.”

  He wasn’t cowed in the least. “So, you can’t walk or drive for the next six months?” He grabbed a pizza box, pulled it out, and examined the contents.

  “You’re such a douche,” she muttered. “I can drive. The splint is just kind of a reminder to take it easy or something. I’m fine.”

  Grabbing three slices of the cold pie, he took the time to dump two into the microwave, hit the button, and while the slices warmed, ate the third in two bites. Then, without missing a beat, he opened the pantry door and retrieved a full pack of Oreos.

  “Those are poison, you know,” Bianca warned. Her healthy diet was on-again, off-again, but currently, it seemed, back on.

  “Really?” he mumbled around the sausage and pepperoni pizza while ripping the bag open. “Somebody should let the FDA know because there’s no warning on the package.”

  “Read the damned contents.”

  He ignored her suggestion as the microwave dinged, and he retrieved the rest of his snack, placing the cheesy slices on a napkin. “What’s going on?” he asked, holding a pizza slice and two cookies in his hands.

  “I just had to talk to Mom’s partner about Big Foot.”

  “She’s speaking to the BFBs this week.” Luke rushed in, bringing Jeremy up to date and couldn’t help but mention the possibility of a reality show and dropping Barclay Sphinx’s name.

  Jeremy gaped. “Are you kidding me?” he said, awe in his voice. “Barclay Sphinx is a genius.”

  “The reality show producer?” Regan asked in disbelief.

  “Oh, he’s a lot more than that, Mom. He worked on some other TV stuff. Zombies Among Us and Ghosts of the West. Docu-drama/reality or non-reality shows, whatever you want to call them, but they’re all high intensity.” He was impressed. “You have to meet him,” he told his sister, and he was so intent he momentarily forgot about the pizza and Oreos. “I mean, the man’s a genius,” he said again. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

  “Oh, he’s apparently here,” Regan said.

  “I’m gonna go to the meeting,” Bianca declared. “Mom can’t stop me!”

  Jeremy looked at Regan. “You’re trying to stop her?”

  Luke put in smoothly, “Your mom’s got a lot of things to think about, and I remember what she was like at this stage when she was pregnant with Bianca. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Thanks for that, Lucky,” she said through her teeth.

  But there was no fighting all of them. Jeremy and Bianca were starstruck and Luke, well, she’d known him long enough to see that he was smelling easy money. There was no talking to him when he caught that scent. “Fine,” she said, and then walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER 13

  Hurry, hurry, hurry!

  Bianca was running, faster and faster, though her legs felt like lead. Her heart was racing, fear driving her forward, the feeling of impending doom surrounding her. The forest was dark. She couldn’t see where she was going, but she kept running, slogging through thickets and weeds, brushing the spider webs from her face, knowing she was about to die.

  She felt the breath of the beast upon her. It snarled and snapped, growling and thundering through the woods. Was it a bear? A cougar? A massive wolf, or a rabid Sasquatch?

  Or a monster? The stuff of horror movies.

  She didn’t wait to find out, just kept racing through the night-shrouded timberland, over rocks and stumps, avoiding the edge of the cliff that fell sharply to the creek below.

  Run! Don’t stop!

  Heart in her throat, she tried to make her legs respond.

  The thing behind her was getting closer, its giant strides sweeping over the rough terrain, its booming voice echoing through the canyon.

  Where were the others?

  Where was Mom?

  She felt a huge claw brush her shoulder and she screamed, but no sound came out of her mouth.

  Again, the thing took a swipe at her and she shied away, her ankle twisting painfully, her arms flailing wildly as she pitched headfirst over the lip of the ridge and fell into the yawning dark abyss.

  Help! she tried to scream. Please, someone help me . . .

  She landed. Not on the hard pan of the canyon floor, but in a lake, the water breaking her fall as she slipped beneath the surface, where a light glowed brightly. For the briefest of seconds, she thought she would be safe, until she saw it: the grotesquely distorted and rotting body of a girl that twirled in the current, her dress and hair swirling around the moldering flesh.

  Destiny Rose Montclaire, the pretty little mouse who had been in her class at school.

  Bianca screamed, air bubbles rising as the light dimmed, the water darkening, her voice gurgling, her words indistinct. Help me, please! Help! Struggling for air, she kicked upward, toward the surface, trying to get away, desperate to escape, but her legs again were useless. As she gave a final kick, she felt a hand on her ankle, bony fingers clenching hard, dragging her down.

  No, no, oh, God, noooo!

  Another hand grabbed her thigh, and the thing that had captured her climbed up her body, rising with her toward the far distant surface. Another hand on her arm. Another on her shoulder, pulling her downward, scaling her torso.

  Let go of me, she tried to scream, attempting to kick the thing off of her.

  Destiny stared at her through the black pits in her skull where her eyes had been.

  “Help me,” she cried, echo
ing Bianca’s own desperate pleas. “Help me, Bianca.”

  No. Oh, God, no. This can’t be happening. It can’t.

  Bianca pushed and pushed, desperate to get the girl’s remains off her. The bones fell apart, floating downward, being carried by the current, the ghastly skull following after but staring ever upward directly at Bianca and whispering, “Please, please . . . help me . . .”

  Bianca woke with a start.

  Her heart hammering, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, she clutched the covers. Oh, God, she was safe. At home. In her bed. She let out a relieved sigh and saw that her bedsheet was twisted around her legs, the coverlet having slid off. Her ankle ached, and if she let herself, she could still feel the steely grip of the bony fingers encircling the spot where her foot joined her calf.

  She shoved her hair from her face with fingers that still shook. She glanced at the clock. The digital readout told her it was one-seventeen in the morning. Not exactly the witching hour, but close enough.

  Forcing herself to a sitting position, she tried to shake off the dream, but it clung to her, embedded in her mind. She knew she was safe here. Her mother, a cop, and Santana, as tough a cowboy as you’d ever want to meet, were both in the room down the hall. Jeremy, probably, was in his own room over the garage, and three dogs would sound an alarm if anyone or anything they didn’t recognize should wander too close to the house. So, okay, Cisco was pretty much useless as a guard dog, but he could sure make a racket if he wanted to.

  So she and the rest of her family were secure.

  Still . . . she looked around her darkened room, zeroing in on spots where any kind of monster could lurk.

  All in your head, Bianca. You’re just letting your subconscious take over.

  “Not on purpose,” she said, as if the voice in her head could hear her. Geez, what was wrong with her?

  Nothing. You’re fine. You just had a horrifying experience. That’s all. You used to think there were monsters under the bed or in your closet. This is no different.

  But the horrifying images of the nightmare persisted, and as she reached to the floor for the comforter, she couldn’t convince herself that this house, her home, was as safe as she’d always thought. Wrapping the coverlet around her, she walked to the window and peered into the night, black as pitch, only a few stars winking between the film of clouds.