“Hey,” he says, his voice indignant. “I don’t sound like that. Besides, nobody has tried to murder us.”
“Yet,” I say, glowering at him. “But the day’s still young.”
“Will you two shut up?” Jess hisses. “They’re coming.”
She’s right. I snap my mouth shut as Sheriff Sinclair hurries over to us.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, the western drawl in his voice telling me he’s lived here a long time, maybe his entire life. “Atopka really is just a small little town. We don’t have things like this happen around these parts. How’d you say you found this gear again?”
“We didn’t.” In fact, the only thing we’d done was call 911 and talked to someone who sounded like she’s older than my aunt. We told her we found camping gear with some blood on it and described our location. The dispatcher had said she’d send a unit out asap, and fifteen minutes later, here we are.
The sheriff scratches the back of his neck. “What brings you here to Atopka, anyway?”
“Like I said, we’re paranormal investigators looking into the disappearances and Bigfoot sightings.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said, but why here? A whole helluva lotta people go missing in this country.” Then his eyes narrow as a flash of understanding crosses his gaze. “Did Ceri put you up to this? She’s always talking about this mumbo jumbo crap.”
Russ, Jess, and I share a look.
The sheriff swears under his breath. “Goddamn it. I told her to stay out of this case.” He shakes his head before returning his focus to us. “You’re lucky you didn’t get lost. That’s all this is, you know. Missing hikers. There’s no Bigfoot. There’s no conspiracy. There’s no serial killer running around. Or if there is, you’re not going to find any evidence here. All this is, is a few circumstantial accidents that some conspiracy nuts think are connected. There’s nothing going on.”
I wave toward the crime scene. “Then how do you explain the bloody camping gear? We were out here searching the area where one of the most recent disappearances happened, and then we found it. It’s got to be related to one of the missing hikers. And don’t you think it’s strange that it was found this close to where one of the other people disappeared?”
“Coincidence.”
I’m beginning to hate that word. I open my mouth to refute him, but he continues.
“I don’t know where you all are from, but we have a lot of wild animals around here. Bear, cougars, coyotes, and more. Any of them could have found this gear, thought there was food in it, and dragged it here.”
I arch my eyebrows skeptically. What a load of shit. No, whatever did this has two legs. That, I’m sure of. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
He purses his lips, the stubborn glint in his eyes so similar to his daughter’s that I almost laugh. “Until we know all the facts, and who this gear belongs to, our official statement is that it was an animal attack. And unless the lab in Tulsa can extract any DNA, we don’t even know if it’s human blood.”
“That’s BS!” I wave my arm toward the crime scene intact as he exits the canyon with a box, presumably of evidence. “You saw all of that, the same way we did, and there’s no way you can say it isn’t human.”
Sheriff Sinclair shakes his head. “That’s just it. Until we’re able to process the scene, we don’t know just what it is.” He pauses, and his gaze falls on my sister. “What’s going on here? A bunch of kids don’t just travel the country looking for monsters. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Russ says, his voice flat. He crosses his arms over his chest and matches the sheriff’s steely gaze with his own. This wouldn’t be the first time our ages have been brought up by the police, and I’m pretty sure we’re all sick of it. Russ usually don’t speak up, though. For the most part, he likes to let me do the talking with law enforcement. I’m less threatening, he says, and he’s right. A twenty-one-year-old white girl isn’t much of a danger, at least not in our society.
“We’re good,” I say before this gets even more out of control. I don’t want to tell him about my parents and my aunt and everything else that’s happened. It definitely wouldn’t help our case.
“Huh,” is all he says. “Where are you staying?”
That’s a good question. I’m not about to head back to the bait-and-tackle shop to rent out some more camping gear, but I’m also not ready to leave just yet. There’s too much going on that I want to figure out. Maybe what happened in Georgia whetted my appetite for mystery, or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. Either way, I’m not ready to leave Atopka just yet.
“We just got here, so we haven’t found a hotel yet,” I say, figuring honesty—well, partial honesty—would be easiest.
The sheriff studies each of us for a few seconds. His gaze lingers on Jess, but it’s more of a law-enforcement eagle eye—he’s probably wondering why a teen girl would be here without her parents. I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, if he doesn’t find out for himself first.
He asks us a few more questions about how we got here and what happened after we found the gear. When I tell him about Bear’s intrepid marking, he winces. I apologize, and he shakes his head.
“Try to keep him on a leash from here on out, okay?”
It’s a good thing I’d handed the dog to my sister, or his growling would be sure to attract the wrong kind of attention from our boys in khaki. “Yes, sir.”
“I guess that’s it for now,” he says, scratching his hair under the brim of his hat. “Make sure you give your phone numbers and license information to my deputy, and give us a call when you find a place to stay so we know where you’re at, just in case we have any further questions.”
Or he wants to check up on us. But one glance at my sister shows her shifting from side to side, antsy, so I agree just to get him off of our backs. One of the crime scene techs calls him over, and he tips his hat before he leaves. I nod, and a sinking feeling that I’ll be seeing him around pulls me down. At least he’s nicer than the asshole detective we dealt with in Oak Cliff. So far.
MY PHONE RINGS AS SOON as I get back to the van. It’s Ceri.
Her voice bursts through the speaker. “Oh my God, you found something,” she says, excitedly rushing through her words.
My mind replays the bloody clothing we found in the canyon. “I guess you could say that, but your dad isn’t sure what it is yet.”
“It’s got to be from one of the missing people,” she says. “Someone heard it on the scanner, and now it’s all over the Internet. Oh my God, Snapchat is just blowing up right now.”
“Already?” I slide into the driver’s seat. Russ gives me a questioning look from the passenger seat, but I shake my head. I’ll tell him what’s going on after I’m done talking to Ceri.
“This is a small town. What do you expect?”
Not that it would get out this quickly, which could either help us or hurt us. We might get more people willing to talk. “Hey, Ceri, could you post on Snapchat that we’re here, and we’re willing to talk if anyone has any evidence of the creature’s existence? Not about the disappearances though, just Bigfoot.” I want to separate us from the missing people, just in case they’re not related to the unknown creature. After Oak Cliff, I don’t really want to step hip deep in another murder investigation. The last one almost got us killed.
“Um, yeah, sure.” She sounds confused, so I rush to clarify.
“We might get more witnesses, since it’s already the talk of the town.”
“Oh, right, good idea. Yeah, I’ll do that right after we hang up.” She pauses. “Do you want me to give them your phone number if I think they’re legit?”
Good question. “That’s probably the best bet. I don’t want you to get bombarded with calls. We’ll find a hotel after we leave here.”
“Okay. I’ll text you if I hear anything.”
“Same here,” I say. “And I’ll let you know where we end up.”
&nb
sp; “Yeah, sorry about that.”
She sounds so earnest that I can’t be mad at her. Besides, she might be our in with the sheriff if this all goes to shit, so I want to stay on her friendly side. “Don’t worry about it. It happens.”
“What did you ask Ceri to do?” Jess asks after we say our goodbyes.
“Just post on Snapchat that we’re here and looking for people to interview.” Hopefully that wasn’t a mistake. I’m not well-versed in social media, so maybe that was a mistake.
Jess releases a deep breath, puffing out the hair hanging in front of her face. “I guess that’s not a bad idea. Why, though? We’ve never told anyone where we are before.”
I shrug. “I figured we didn’t have much to lose at this point. And I told Ceri to have them call me if she thinks they’re telling the truth.”
“Good idea,” my sister says. “I don’t want a bunch of nut jobs with mullets calling me.”
I sigh. “I’ll field the phone calls. You take care of the website.”
“Fine by me.” She turns to Russ. “Did you upload the footage yet?”
“Everything until Meredith found the jacket. I cut it there because I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do.”
“That makes sense. Let’s hold on to that for now, so the sheriff doesn’t get really pissed at us. I’d rather not get run out of town or arrested,” I say.
“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Jess says.
Chapter 10
Jess gestures at the blankets on the seat next to her. “We go from camping, to sleeping in the van?”
“It’s just for tonight,” I say, trying to appease her. “I promise you that tomorrow we will stay in an actual hotel.”
“You know I love you, Jess,” Russ says, “but can you just shut up? Seriously, we’ve been running around all day, and none of us”— he gestures around at each of us—“have had even five minutes to look for a hotel, let alone make a reservation. And to top it off, we’ve been fielding phone calls from everybody in town, it seems like. Half of them sound drunk, and the other half seem like they just want their fifteen minutes of fame. It’s been a complete waste of time.”
“Hey, it seemed like a good idea, since it was already all over the internet.”
Russ runs a hand through his short black hair. “Yeah, I know. It’ll be fine,” he says. “But we gotta catch a break somewhere. Otherwise, I feel like we’re just spinning our wheels.”
Jess glares at us both and draws the blanket up over her head before scrunching down in the seat.
“I know.” I recline my seat as far back as it will go. Bear jumps on the blanket covering my lap and curls into a ball. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, I promise.”
Russ pushes his seat back and yawns. “But tonight, I do want to get some sleep without worrying about those rednecks coming after us.”
In my pocket, my phone vibrates and my X-Files ringtone starts playing. It takes me a few seconds of staring at the screen for the name to register.
“Graham?”
“Thank God you’re all right.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen. “We’re fine. Why are you calling me? Is everything all right?”
Russ raises his eyebrows. Yeah, I know. The last time I talked to Graham MacIver was in Georgia, a lifetime ago almost.
“Everything’s fine. I, uh, saw the livestream. When it cut out, and you didn’t post anything afterward, I was worried.” I can feel the embarrassment in his voice, as if he’s wishing he’d never called. “Shelley said you were fine, but I just wanted to make sure.”
“We’re good. Just another day at the office,” I say, trying to make light of it, but coming off as really awkward. Graham was worried about me. I don’t know exactly how I feel about that. I thought we left things on a friendly note, but not that we were anything more. I don’t have time for things like relationships in my life. Besides, even if I did, I never stay in the same place long enough to get attached anyway.
“We’re fine.” My mind races as I try to figure out what to tell him, so I decide to go with the party line. I might not like the sheriff’s plan, but it does make sense until we know more. “We found some missing camping equipment. That’s all. The sheriff says it looks like some animals got ahold of it and ripped it apart.”
Silence stretches over the line. “Do you believe that?”
Hell no. “I’m not sure. He said there are a bunch of animals out here, so I guess anything’s possible.” Jess snorts from the backseat, so I toss a piece of trash from the floorboard at her.
An unfamiliar number flashes across the screen, accompanied by a beep. I don’t recognize the number, so it’s probably one of the local kooks looking for fame. “Sorry, Graham, but I gotta go. Someone’s calling about a lead.” I hope that’s what it is, at least.
He pauses. “Oh yeah, sure. I’ll... I’ll talk to you later.”
“Definitely. Bye.” I switch lines before waiting for his response, only feeling a little bit guilty. It’s not that I don’t like relationships, it’s that they’re messy, and we move around so much that it’s tough to form long-term ties with people—or ties at all that last longer than an investigation. So I avoid them. I’ll have time enough later. Yeah, if you don’t get yourself killed first.
“Hello?”
The person on the other end clears their throat. “Are you Meredith Brady?” He says my name slowly, as if reading it off of a piece of paper.
“Yeah, can I help you with something?”
“My name’s George Smith. My niece saw something on the Internet about you and talked to the sheriff’s daughter. She said I should call you. Said you was looking for proof there’s Bigfoots around here.”
Well, I guess that solves my earlier question about how to refer to a bunch of the creatures. My pulse speeds up. “Yes, sir.” I motion for Russ to hand me a recorder. He does, and I turn on the speakerphone and hold the recorder up to the speaker on the phone. Even Jess pokes her head out of the blanket with interest.
He chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sounds like years of smoking and drinking. “I’m probably gonna regret this, but why don’t you meet me at the diner tomorrow, about nine? I got something to show you.”
I glance at Russ, and he nods emphatically. Maybe this Snapchat thing isn’t such a bad idea, if it’s going to drum up actual leads. And at least he’s not asking us to meet him in a dark alley somewhere. “Sounds great. See you then.”
Jess claps her hands. “I knew this would work. I told you so.” She smirks before snuggling back under the blanket.
I roll my eyes, and Russ chuckles. “I hope you’re right. Otherwise, this case might not even make it out of the gate. It’s not looking so good so far.”
Chapter 11
The next morning, we stumble into the diner. I scrub the sleep out of my eyes and crack my neck. That was a long night.
“Let’s not do that again,” Jess mutters, covering her mouth as she yawns.
“I second that,” Russ says. “My back is killing me.”
“You guys are babies,” I mutter. “We’ve slept in the van before. It’s not torture.”
“It is when there might be a monster out there attacking people.” Jess pulls her hair back into a ponytail.
“Whatever it is can’t get in the van, and even if it did, we could just, I don’t know, drive away. It’s like Fort Knox.” Okay, definite overstatement, but nothing’s going to get into the van while we’re sleeping that we won’t know about. Bear would see to that. His bark is loud enough to wake up anyone.
“Plus, the van stinks,” she says. “Like literally. I think your dog needs a bath, too. He reeks.”
This is probably also true, but I’m not about to admit defeat. “Yeah, well, you don’t smell so good yourself.”
Russ clears his throat and points to a booth near the back, right next to where we sat yesterday. The man sitting there could have been a double for Grizzly Adams. His broad, weathered fa
ce is creased with age, and his faded flannel shirt is torn and patched in places. He sits with a stained shoebox ceremoniously situated on the table in front of him. His thick hands rest on the box, and his deep-set brown eyes scan the room. This must be our man.
I shake off my sister’s petty immaturity and grab the voice recorder from my pocket. Pasting on a smile, I approach his booth and hold out my hand. “Are you George Smith?”
He grunts and levers himself to his feet. “Yup, that’s me. You the pair-e-normal investigators?” He enunciates paranormal carefully, like it’s unfamiliar to him.
“Yes, sir.”
His hand, calloused from hard work, encloses mine. “Sit, please.” He gestures at the booth.
Jess and I sit across from him, and Russ pulls up a chair and gets out a GoPro.
“Is it all right if we record and film this conversation?” I set the voice recorder on the table. “It’s so we don’t miss anything.”
I pause, waiting for his answer. This part always gets to me. If they refuse, we can’t broadcast anything, and it makes for a terrible show.
He waves my question away. “Shit, I don’t care.”
“Awesome.” Relief floods through me. I take the release forms from my bag, and he signs them without reading them. Then I turn on the recorder while Russ flicks on the GoPro. He pans the camera from Jess and me to George Smith then back again, getting the introductory footage that we can pull stills from later. I don’t have to ask if he’s live streaming this, because he won’t be. This way, we can cut out any useless bits or people who walk past and don’t give permission to be on video.
I start out the conversation by introducing who we are and what we’re doing here. Before I can ask George to do the same, he waves at me to stop.
“Let’s cut to the chase here, Ms. Brady,” he says, his voice gruff. “I’ve been living here all my life. My parents lived here before me, and their parents before them and so on and so forth. I’ve seen some things, crazy things, and if you’re who you say you are, then I got all the proof you need.” He pats the box, but his eyes narrow speculatively on us.
When Nature Calls Page 6
