by Paul Sating
Just in case, he reminded himself. That's all it's there for.
Jared's eyes danced across the information in front of him, trying to think of anything he might have left out. He set the recorder down on the drafting table, satisfied that he'd captured everything he'd need Lucas to do, took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the board. He swiped through his contacts, finding Lucas' name, and sent the image with the message:
Just in case. Thanks, buddy.
Lucas would know what it was for. After last night, he understood.
Jared stood in front of the board for another few minutes, studying this plan to find Bigfoot or die trying. Then he sighed, his shoulders lifting and falling, almost mechanically. He would trade anything in the world, hand this information over to someone else and let them be the hero who made the discovery of the century if it meant he could have Maria back in his life.
He leaned down and retrieved the recorder, his thumb caressing the RECORD button, and walked out of the room, pausing at the doorway. The corkboard contained all his knowledge, notes and his destiny. He smiled to himself.
Alone.
In this empty house.
That was going to change, one way or another.
And it was time to change in the only way he knew how.
Now or never.
Jared switched off the light and pulled the door closed.
The sound of the deadbolt clicking into place echoed, floating down the empty hallway like the tormenting ghost of a bygone life.
*****
Maria.
Jared closed his eyes, for a second, because he was at a stoplight and could afford the visual break from the world. It could kiss his ass. Cutting off the world made it easier to remember her smell. Here, in the sightless depths of his mind, she became much clearer. Here he could remember the softness of her skin and the smell of her hair when he would nuzzle into her during one of their now-distant cuddling sessions. It was getting harder and harder to recall the little things, important things. Even with the investigation picking up, forcing them to remain involved with each other on some level, the times they did see each other were fewer and fewer. And since Molly, there'd been relatively nothing between them.
She was fading.
He needed her to want him again.
A horn blared. Jared snapped open his eyes. The light was green. He waved an apology to the impatient Olympian behind him and took off. There was still hope. All he needed right now was that, to know that she wasn't gone, that she hadn't closed off her world from him. Maria wasn't that type of person in general. She would let her worst enemy, if she had one; use her for and not bat an eye. Maria's willingness to forgive and forget had been a central point of their arguments over the years when Jared felt like she was being taken advantage of. Maria always told him it didn't matter, that she would give if someone was in need. That was the way she was. It was one of the simple, yet complex, things about her that he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. It was one of her attributes that frustrated and overjoyed him, sometimes at the same time. Maria was a giver and he was grateful for it because he was a failure of a husband. And if husbands like him needed anyone in their lives, it was a spouse who could forgive and a friend who would kick ass when the situation called for it. In Maria, he had both.
His thoughts raced back to the first note card he put on the corkboard after returning from the expedition with Lucas. He was going to make right with Maria, first and foremost. And the only way he could do that was by opening up to her about his father. He led off with an apology, but he'd already apologized a thousand times, and when you apologize that often they start losing their impact. They both knew that and he respected her too much to hope that a simple apology would make everything disappear. He had to do the heavy lifting. She needed to know that he had dealt with his past and she was right to make that demand. For years he'd made excuse after excuse about why he couldn't deal with his father's memory. He could write a book to instruct others on how to rationalize like a pro and not take responsibility for the damage their past could do on their future. He could teach thousands and make millions with his tactics on skirting issues and working in denial. He'd become too good at it; good enough to become numb to the true cost of letting his father's ghost linger.
Jared chuckled. Thinking about the unique feminine huskiness of her voice. The hint of a pleased tone when he admitted to her, over the phone, like a true coward, that he'd made his admission to the world. Even to himself. She'd sounded cautiously pleased to hear he'd recorded it for the podcast. It was a huge step and she knew that, to willingly admit his most vulnerable family secret to whoever bothered to listen to his podcast. But when he broke down and she waited for him to be able to go on, they turned a corner. Jared felt it. It was there in the silence and in her voice when she finally responded. She hurt because he hurt. This wasn't about manipulation, it was the wall finally coming down, crumbling from an adulthood of neglect and painting over cracks instead of patching them up. The wall of shame crumbled and the light of a future shone through when she thanked him for opening himself like that. Thanked him! After everything he'd put her through, she thanked him.
Even now, days later, Jared was stunned. Who was he to deserve her gratitude? Yet, she'd expressed it. Only with great reluctance did he accept it. But in that moment of exchange of vulnerability, unfettered understanding, and compassion, Jared learned what true love was. They made a conscious decision to put off having children. Work, careers, and monsters roaming the Pacific Northwest, consumed them. Kids weren't in the picture from the very beginning, not until they were ready. They wanted them, it just wasn't the time. It was never the time. People often said you don't know love until you become a parent, but Jared could argue he already knew it in Maria's display. It shook him.
A lover. A best friend. And, now, a teacher.
Maria was everything.
And he still had so much to learn.
The chance lingered in the forefront of his mind, encasing every thought. They had a date scheduled for that night. It wasn't to talk about the separation or the terms of the divorce. There was no agenda.
Jared smiled as he took the exit off the highway, feeling the surge of energy coursing through his chest. His heart rate quickened. He was coming to the end of something big, he could feel it, and he had a chance. He still had a chance. The most wonderful woman in the world told him she wasn't going anywhere and that their physical separation wasn't an emotional one. She hadn't even asked about him signing the papers!
He dared not look in the rearview mirror lest he see the goofy man nearing middle age smiling like a teenage boy with his first real love.
Instead, Jared figured he could get some work done. He grabbed the recorder, wanting to capture his thoughts because anything could happen. Peter had left a message about needing to see him. Supposedly he had important news. Jared listened to the message three times. There was something in Peter's voice, something his friend wasn't saying. It was something big.
Jared drove to Peter’s reflecting on all he'd put so many people through. Was this what it was like for all those successful people? Did they get there on the backs of hidden figures who sacrificed so much but didn't enjoy any of the rewards that came along with accomplishment, except for the knowledge that they were associated with the person in the limelight? Jared didn't think he'd ever get that kind of status and didn't even want it. The world didn't care that much about an undiscovered primate. But there would be attention if his hunch was right. Talk television appearances. Even a book. And he didn't want any of that if it meant the people he cared about most were hurt, unintentionally or otherwise.
Before he could knock on Peter's door a second time it was yanked open. Jared jumped, stepping back out of instinct and trying to laugh off his fright. "Little excited?"
"Come in, Jared," Peter said. "Hurry."
He stepped in cautiously, half-expecting there to be an intervention on the othe
r side of the door. Hi Jared, we're all your friends and we love you, but this Bigfoot stuff has gotten out of hand and it's starting to affect us. We care about you so we wanted to ...
"What's up, man? The message?"
"Huh," Peter moved stacks of paper, searching for something.
"Peter," Jared barked. When his friend looked up, he asked, "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, why?" Peter moved folders, loose papers, searching.
"Jesus, Peter, stop," Jared ordered, surprised by the shock on Peter's face when he turned around, holding a twelve-inch stack of loose papers that threatened to crumble out of his hands.
Peter blinked, once. Slowly. He carefully set the untidy stack on the table he had just pulled it from. "No, everything is fine. Good, in fact."
"So it's been quiet?
"I don't know what happened, but I haven't heard a peep since I asked you to stop the investigation."
That was strange. Unsettling. "Weird," he swallowed back the lurking worry.
"Doesn't mean I'm still not asking you to stop, though. I hope you haven’t forgotten that.” Before Jared could respond, Peter was on to his next question. “By the way, how are things with Maria?"
Peter was all over the place, as usual. But Jared expected this. Peter wouldn't let it go until Jared gave him what he wanted. He'd have to wait a lifetime and a half for that to happen. "I'll let you know in a few days. We're getting together tonight to talk. I don't want to fill in any blanks when it comes to us."
"Can you blame her?" Peter responded, that evidence-based, scientific mind was always such a counterbalance to Jared’s visceral perspective on life. "It's not like this is normal or easy. Hell, your dog was killed right in front of her. How does anyone process something like that?" He finally sat down, pulling the empty chair next to him a little closer. "I get where she's at. I've only recently started to feel okay again. Getting confronted by those thugs rattled me; I can only imagine how scary it was for her. Someone doesn't want you carrying on your work and, sorry, but it's dangerous to be associated with you right now."
Ouch.
"Then why am I here?" He couldn't hide the hurt but regretted it as soon as it was expressed. The local brewery's coaster sitting in front of him became a focal point. He shifted it around with a finger, sliding it this way and that. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that. I'm a little stressed."
Or am I overwhelmed?
The tease was there again. Cut yourself free. Let go of all this, of everything. Start fresh, Jared; start fresh. Now or never.
Peter reached across the table and grabbed Jared's wrist. It was uncharacteristically intimate. "Jared, we're friends. We go way back. I don't give up on friends, even if I have to keep them at a distance from time to time."
He wanted to pull away but thought better of it. For Peter to touch him was a big risk. Peter didn't ever show that level of intimacy with anyone, explaining his bachelor status well into his early forties. Jared didn't want to jar him and send the wrong signals that Peter's warmth was something repulsive. He was rooting for Peter, after all; at some point, the man had to slow down on the science and enjoy the pleasures of having a woman in his life, right? "I know. It's appreciated."
The tender moment didn't last. Peter drew his hand away and stood, slapping his thigh as he did. "Well, I've got something that might excite you. An email. Came in from an organizational box. Some small company out of Port Angeles." He brought his laptop over to the table, spinning it around so Jared could see the screen. Peter opened his email and Jared wasn't shocked to see the inbox filled with unread messages – one thousand one hundred and eighty-three, to be exact. Peter scanned with his finger to help him move through the list. A few days of organization—a few weeks—would do wonders for Peter's schedule if he'd allow someone to take care of the administrative parts of his life. "Looks like they have about fifty employees so there's no telling who sent it without doing some digging ... and that's out of my lane."
"Plus it puts people at unnecessary risk." It wasn't meant to be passive aggressive, he wanted Peter to know that he was cognizant of all the trouble he’d caused. "What did it say?"
Now Peter was sitting up straight, scrolling through the email and attempting to open an attachment. He kept missing the file in his hurry to open it. "That's the thing. It had an attachment, an mp3. Let me play it. You'll like it."
Jared laughed when Peter misclicked another three times before finally launching his computer's media player, punching the VOLUME UP button repeatedly, even though the computer already showed that it was at one-hundred percent. The file began to play and Jared leaned closer. There were natural sounds, crickets forming the sound bed. A slight wind. Jared closed his eyes. Cutting off visual senses helped him concentrate on the auditory. An owl hooted a few times. More wind. The file stopped. When he heard nothing more he opened his eyes and looked at Peter, who was sitting up straight, his eyes wide and a broad smile announcing his thoughts.
"I don't get it. Night sounds?" he said. "Did I miss something?"
Peter winked at him. He actually winked at him. "Let me play the second version for you. I had a friend take the one you just heard and isolate the sound I want you to hear." He closed the email and opened his files window, searched for what seemed like an eternity, and then quadruple-clicked the file.
This time, though, the sound was muted, which Jared didn't understand. It was actually harder to hear whatever it was that Peter wanted him to hear. If this was supposed to be easier, Peter missed the mark. If it was the same exact file it sounded like someone was playing it under water. The audio was horrible. What was he missing?
"Listen here," Peter was smiling." You'll pick it out, no problem."
Jared doubted that. This file was—
Then he heard it. His breath caught and he scooted forward in his chair. Jesus.
A Sasquatch whistle. Not a howl. A nice, clean whistle. Crystal clear. Whoever the friend was who cleaned the file up, they were a master. Somehow all the background sounds were muted, isolating what he hadn't been able to hear before. The whistle of the Sasquatch popped out as clear as if they were standing right there, a few hundred yards from it.
"That's remarkable! Authentic?"
"Yep," Peter nodded. "I trust this guy and he said he has no idea what made that sound, but whatever it is, the file is legit. The signals, pitch, all outside the human scale. It isn't one of us."
Jared already knew that but figured Peter was fascinated by that fact, which made sense with the uber-skeptical view of the world Peter operated under. He didn't want to be a barrier to Peter exploring the possibilities but, he also wasn't going to give Peter room to avoid the obvious. "You and I both know what that was." It was time for Peter to buy in; the evidence was there. Peter had seen it, heard it, and touched it. Jared wasn't asking for him to name the creature, he wanted him to finally admit that there was something out in the Olympics that wasn't on the anthropologic record. "Did this anonymous emailer happen to mention where they recorded it?"
"Near the Elwha Ranger Station on Olympic Hot Springs Road," Peter answered.
"A ranger?"
Peter grimaced, not out of anger but confusion, and closed the file, turning the computer away and closing the lid. "I doubt it," he answered. "It came from some sales office in a small business. Wouldn't be a ranger, unless they work there part-time or a friend is covering."
"That makes sense," Jared said. Then it hit him. "Wait a second. The Olympic Hot Springs Road? The emailer claimed it came from near there?"
"Yes. Why?"
Another piece of the puzzle! "That's not even five miles from Whiskey Bend. That's where I was with Lucas the other night!" One more conclusive piece of information that was pointing to the pot of gold at the big, hairy end of the primate rainbow! This was where Sasquatch was and Jared was the only one in the world who had so much evidence pointing at the same conclusion! The only one.
Now or never, right?
"
I need to get going."
He was up, grabbing his keys and heading to the door, before Peter could finish his sentence, "Wait, Jared! I thought you were going to—"
Jared waved over his shoulder as the door clicked closed.
21
The house was stuffy after being closed up for so long. Jared’s fault. That didn't change the fact that it stunk and he was going to have to freshen it up soon. Maria’s attachment to the house was strong and he didn't want to give her any thoughts that he was deliberately, or otherwise, neglecting it like he had their relationship.
Jared grabbed a few towels out of the hall closet, laying one on the sill and the other on the carpet underneath the window before cracking it open. It wasn't much, but it would help air out the house without coming home to thousands of dollars of water damage.
The half-packed bag sat on the bed, demanding his attention. The packing was slow going because he tried to record in between trips to the drawers and closet. Jared laughed at his own ridiculousness, before hastily selecting the rest of what he needed and zipping up the suitcase. It needed to be done, he needed to go. The next step needed to come.
The sun was bright and promising. The air was clear of the typical muskiness this part of the world blanketed its inhabitants with. Jared drew a deep breath. He opened the car, the slight warmth drifting out onto his bare arms. Jared threw the bag in the passenger seat. "It's a beautiful day for a drive though. That'll take my mind off sitting through slow—"
He never saw the attack coming. He never noticed the car parked at the edge of his property; the car that didn't belong in this neighborhood. It was too expensive—a black Bentley Continental, with blackened windows. No one in this neighborhood drove something like that. One minute he was throwing his bag into the passenger seat and the next his face was pressed against the warm metal car roof, a forceful hand wrapped in his hair while something small, circular, pressed against the small of his back.
