by Paul Sating
But he wasn't.
Even as he closed in on the person who emailed the mysterious Sasquatch whistle file Peter had shared with him. One of the rangers had to know something about it, even why it was sent from a small business' email account. He had a feeling that was a cover. Someone was protecting themselves, nothing more. And there was damn good reason to be protective; that recording was amazing and there was likely more to the story behind the small sample he heard. Even though this should have excited him, coming out here, being so close to Whiskey Bend and Hurricane Ridge, leaving Maria behind was the last thing he wanted to do at this point.
But to put this entire thing to rest, for the rest of his life, he had to follow his intuition. Coming back out here was the right thing to do because this was where the Sasquatch was. What he didn't tell Maria, what he couldn't tell her, was that he wasn't coming back out of the mountains until he did.
He couldn't break her heart like that.
*****
The Elwha Ranger Station was a tiny building located at the front of the property bordering the Olympic Hot Springs Road. At first, Jared doubted he had the right location. He'd driven by this spot a number of times over the years, even during his recent trips with Lucas and his own trip to Hurricane Ridge, and never noticed the building. It was that irrelevant.
But if it led to more information on who submitted that recording it would end up being the most important visit into irrelevance he'd ever made.
Jared walked up the steps and opened the door, part of him still unsure he wasn't walking into someone's house. There was a small desk inside which looked older than the woman sitting behind it. She was on the good side of thirty, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. She offered a warm smile to accompany her surprised expression. "Hi," Jared said, failing to close the door like a respectful human, wincing when it slammed. "Sorry about that. I hope I'm in the right spot."
The ranger smiled, unoffended by his action, and came around the side of the desk, her uniform betraying the fact that she was in excellent shape. Jared hadn't seen a uniform that well maintained and cared for in a long time. This woman took her appearance seriously. "You might be," she still smiled. "How can I help you?"
Jared scratched his head. "This is going to sound strange," he started, "but I'm looking for someone."
"Here?" She couldn't hide her surprise.
Her name tag read McCoy. "Yes, Officer McCoy, I think the person I need to find might be here."
She looked around the small office and then held her hands out to her sides. "As you can see, I'm it, so I hope I can help you or you're in trouble."
Jared laughed when he realized she was being playful. "Trust me, trouble is my closest companion."
"Well," McCoy pointed a finger at him, "leave it out in your vehicle. I've got a walkie-talkie somewhere and I know how to use it."
"They teach you that in ranger school?" Jared teased.
"Yep," she stuck her chest out a little further, "We don't pass unless we can make at least three dangerous weapons out of it." She laughed. It was a light, almost flirtatious, laugh. "But I'm not sure what I can do for you. We don't get many people stopping by here and those who do are usually interested in how much longer they have to go until they get to where they're going. I’ve got travel times down to a science."
"Well, in that, you have no worries. I know exactly where I'm going, just not sure who I need to speak with before I get there." When she didn't say anything he continued, "A colleague of mine—" with no idea who this woman was or who she was connected with, he wasn't going to name Peter as a friend. No more trusting anyone outside of his small circle "—received something interesting in an email and I'm trying to track down the sender."
That composed, friendly expression flickered but then was gone as soon as it appeared. "Okay, still not a whole lot to go on."
"This is going to sound weird."
"Try me," McCoy crossed her arms before untucking one and indicating the small room with a lateral sweeping gesture. "In case you didn't pick up on it, we don't usually have a lot going on around here."
Jared laughed. "My fr—my colleague received a recording of something the sender claimed came from out here, near Hurricane Ridge." No changes in her expression, not even subtle ones.
"Mister?"
"Jared, please."
"Well, Jared, we're surrounded by national forest. There's all kinds of weird sounds, all the time."
"Yes," he laughed, "I guess that would be true. These sounds, they were from a species I'm investigating."
"Investigating, huh?" she raised her eyebrows and returned to her desk. "Have a seat, Jared. Would you like anything to drink?"
"No thanks," he said, sitting.
"You don't mind if I do, do you?" McCoy was grabbing her thermos even as she was asking for his opinion. "So entertain me. I'm bored and this sounds interesting. What is it you're investigating?"
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me." Still polite, but there was a hint to her response that told him she was only going to entertain this conversation for so long.
"Bigfoot," he said, almost apologetically.
McCoy flinched, quickly covering it. "Bigfoot?" she said, very slowly, like she was trying to be careful to annunciate each syllable.
"Yes," he kept his tone light, "Sasquatch. Bigfoot. Ape Man. Yeti. Whatever the name, I investigate it."
Jared noticed McCoy wasn't actually pouring her coffee; instead, she spun the thermos, examining him. "What did you say your name was?" she asked.
"Jared Strong."
"And you're investigating Bigfoot?" a hint of playful skepticism stippled her tone. "Like, the monster on that TV show? Oh hey, are you from that show? Is this for TV?"
It was always the least impressive investigators in any field, whether you were talking about cryptozoology or the paranormal, who got on television. The least qualified, yet they were the investigators everyone knew. They were the standard bearers. So frustrating. "No, sorry, I'm not. I'm an independent investigator. One of the little guys. Thus the lack of a camera crew."
"Oh. Okay. Can I ask you a question?" McCoy actually sounded disappointed.
"Sure."
"Do you really do this as a job?" One eyebrow raised, McCoy was definitely interested in this conversation, though Jared wasn't sure if she was still trying to pass the time. "I don't mean to offend. I didn't know this was a real thing."
"It's okay. A lot of people ask me that," Jared laughed. "Yea, it can be a job. I'm not going to get rich, but that's not why I do it." Sometimes he swore his small personal circle of friends and Maria were the only people in the world who loved what they did. Everyone else seemed fixated on the money aspect of working instead of the fulfillment that comes from doing what you love every day.
Loved.
McCoy looked confused like Jared answered in another language. "Then why? Again, I don't want to be rude, but it's kind of weird for me."
That was it. Now he knew what she was after. He had a sneaking suspicion there was more behind her questions than mere curiosity. He didn't suspect anything malicious from McCoy, not at all, but boredom wasn't what drove this line of questioning. "A grown man, chasing monsters?"
She sat up straight in the chair, her expression wiped clear. She looked like he'd dropped a healthy dose of cuss words right in McCoy's grandma's lap. "I'm sorry. Maybe it's because I'm in these woods all the time. It's kind of strange to think Bigfoot exists. I mean, why haven't they caught one yet? Or even found bones? Or a body?"
Was she this interested in Bigfoot? He was getting a weird vibe from McCoy. Her interest in the topic betrayed her minimal familiarity with Sasquatch history. Every once in a while he came across people like this. They didn't know enough about the subject to have an in-depth conversation, but they also displayed more than a passing interest in the topic. They were like school children who were taking their first lesson in a subject that interested them, sparking their in
tellect for the first time. It was these people who weren't easily dismissed or engaged on a deeper level. Jared always struggled with not overwhelming the benignly curious.
Stay guarded, dumbass.
"Well, the acidity of the soil here isn't good for preservation," he started. "The deep forest doesn't help either. Plus, it's not unheard of to not find fossils or remains in forested areas. There are 2.3 million square kilometers of forest in the Congo, for example, and six archeological sites, none of which have produced a single chimpanzee fossil, though we know there are huge population centers of them all over that area, right? It's similar here with our forests. And Sasquatch, at best, probably only numbers in the dozens, not the hundreds or thousands."
She clapped her hands and pointed at him. "Needle in a haystack, then?"
"That's a good way to put it. I need to find that needle, even if it's only a Denisovan finger."
"A what?" her mouth twisted as if she'd eaten something repulsive.
"I'm being a wiseass," Jared apologized. "Denisovans are extinct but they existed alongside Homo sapiens, who interbred with them. They were classified after a finger bone segment was found in a cave in Siberia in 2008. Scientists were able to extract DNA thanks to the cave's low temperatures preserving it. That's how they discovered it was a separate species. We don't have that sort of fortune with Bigfoot. Makes it a little more difficult than some people would like to consider. Selective data and all that."
Her eyes grew wide. "Sorry?"
Knock it off, dummy. She doesn't need all this. Way to squash her budding interest in the topic.
"Nothing. I'm a bitter old man." Jared smiled, fidgeting in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Is it the chair or the fact that you have a sneaking suspicion something else is happening here and you can't figure a way to root it out?
"No worries," she replied. "So what can I do for you then, if I can't help you find this—"
"Denisovan finger?" he clarified. "Are there a lot of rangers working out of this station?"
"A few of us," McCoy replied. "But there's not usually more than one or two in here at a given time. We spend most of our shifts out in our vehicles, patrolling and stuff."
"Is there a way to get a question to everyone?"
She leaned on the desk. "Why all the weird questions?"
Jared held his hands up in apology. "Yeah, sorry, my interrogation skills suck." He paused, could he trust her? What other options did he have? There was no one else here and time wasn't on his side. He couldn't wait for luck. "I recently received a recording via email of some sounds of what I think might be a Sasquatch. The sender didn't provide any details about who they were but they mentioned being close to this station when they recorded it. I was hoping someone here would know more about that."
"I mean, I could post a note, but you know how people are about reading boards," she smirked and shrugged. "No one will ever bother with it, most likely."
"Are you all on an internal email system? Could someone send an email out to all the rangers here? Have them go through you to contact me if they know something?"
"I could do that."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate it," he said. "I'm going to be camping up here for a few days. There are a couple spots I'd like to check out. So I won't have any cell service, but if you wouldn't mind texting me at this number if anyone has any information, I'd be grateful."
"Sure thing," she said, taking the offered business card.
Jared stood and extended his hand, which she shook warmly. "Thanks. This is something that could be very important, so it would mean a lot if the person who sent that attachment is here and gets that message. Please let them know, anything, and I mean, anything, they want to remain private, stays private."
"I will," she nodded, one side of her jaw jutting out. Then she collected herself with a blink and said, "Well, good luck to you."
Jared regretfully shook her hand and walked out. His gut told him that the ranger knew more than she was leading on. He didn't like failing. But people were people; it was difficult getting information out of anyone who didn't want to play nice. But scared people? They were the most difficult. Every concern you addressed was replaced with something else. The secret was not prying until you found exactly how to make them feel safe. And sometimes you just had to wait.
He was closing the truck door when McCoy burst out of the tiny building. "Jared?"
Jared leaned out to talk through the window. "Yeah?"
McCoy didn't come down to him, preferring to stay up higher on the steps. She shifted her weight from side to side. "Um, this recording you said you had?"
"What about it?" he said in a measured tone, careful to hide his emerging excitement.
"I might know something about it." She rang her hands and then, as if she noticed what she was doing, stuffed them in her pockets.
"Oh?"
Then she dropped the bombshell he'd been waiting for. "I recorded it."
Jared smiled and stepped out of the truck when she indicated the ranger station with a nod, turning to head back inside. He followed her. She was holding the door for him and, when he stepped inside, she closed and locked it. Jared gave her a quizzical look and she shrugged, moving behind the desk and closing the door to the back office. "Prying ears," a youthful smile spread across her face.
"Aren't we alone?"
McCoy nodded. "We are and will be for hours, but ... I don't know ... I—"
"No, no, it's okay," he sat down, reaching into his pocket. "Before you say anything, are you okay with me recording this for my records and for the podcast project?"
"Record me?” she huffed. “Being heard by thousands of people?"
Jared shook his head. "Not if you don't want to. Plus, once I get better at it, I can disguise your voice so no one will be able to recognize you. So if that's what you'd like me to do ..." he let his question trail off, allowing her to lead him where she wanted the conversation to go.
"Yeah," she answered, almost regretfully, "that'd be nice but there aren't many of us here and I'm the only female ranger, so ..."
"Ah," he nodded. "I don't have to use it. Not publicly."
"Can I get back to you on this?"
"Yes," Jared nodded. "Let me know either way. But, you're okay with me recording now?"
She nodded in silent recollection.
"Want to tell me about it?" he prodded.
"It was last week. I was coming in late from a patrol and sort of taking my time." She paused, thinking about something and laughed nervously. "There's a guy who started working here a few weeks ago and ... and ..."
"He's hot?" Jared concluded.
"Yes," McCoy released a nervous laugh, "you could say that. I don't know. I get dumb around him and I said something embarrassing the day before and was trying to avoid him."
He smiled, remembering days all those years ago when he would act like that whenever Maria came around. In a small-yet-more-significant way, he still felt like that about her. "So you took your time coming back from patrol?"
"Stupid, I know. I need to grow up."
"Oh, I wasn't saying that," Jared stressed. "Plus, the last person you need to take relationship advice from is me. Trust me."
McCoy's tone turned more serious, as if resuming business talk would help them both avoid something they didn't want to explore. It was an awkward transition but it met the objective of swerving that danger. "Sorry to hear that. Yeah, so I was coming in late, the sun was already below the horizon but I'm really comfortable out there so it didn't bother me. I've been here for seven years already so I know those woods pretty well. I was walking back to my truck when I heard something. I had no idea what it was. I mean, I've heard stuff like that before, once in a while over the past few years, but it freaked me out this time."
Strange that she'd say it like that. "Why this time?"
She sighed, apprehension brief but evident. "You're going to think I'm crazy."
"I've seen and experienced a lot of stuff o
ther people would lock me up for if I told them. There's nothing you can say that would make me think you're crazy, well, except for telling me you think Bigfoot is a trans-dimensional creature. That is crazy."
McCoy laughed. "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just that, see, we're a small station. Not a lot of turnover and we all know each other pretty well. We talk. A lot. A few months ago we started recognizing each other's daily status reports had some common details," she continued. "Weird noises, like trees being hit or something. And deer mutilations. Lots of them. Bad smells without any obvious reasons. Stuff we're not used to seeing or hearing, so we'd jot down notes. Some of us started noticing the trends in each other's reports. We started reading them like they were the newspapers or something. Then there was weird stuff."
It was his turn to sit forward. "Like what?"
McCoy swallowed, hard. Noticeably. "Footprints. Lots of them. All over the mountain. I know, I know. I swear I'm not a psycho. I wouldn't have thought anything about any of this, but then the other stuff started happening."
It was maddening to try and get details from her. He tried to be patient because there was a lot to unpack there, a lot that was already validating his records and experiences. "You're going to force me to ask you each time, aren't you?"
Her chest swelled. "Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen," she exclaimed, then flopped back in the chair, rocking back and forth, looking up at the ceiling. She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry. I thought if I had a friend send that file then someone would do whatever Bigfoot people do and I'd be left alone. I didn't think one of you would show up here, at my work. I just want it to be taken care of."
The fear of the potential of Sasquatch was a very real thing. He'd dealt with bouts of it himself and he'd been doing this for long enough to forget what it was like to be new to this assault of the senses. "Listen, I can leave if you're uncomfortable but I'm trying to help. I don't mean to ask you to relive anything you don't want to."
