“Oh, I didn’t see you in there.” Gail sounded surprised.
Angelica turned her chair and looked out the large window. “I just got into the office a short while ago. Saw my doctor this morning.” Angelica moved her head in a circular motion to loosen the stiffness as she firmly rubbed the back of her neck.
“Are you still having those dreams?” Gail asked sincerely.
“Yes, and they are getting worse,” Angelica said in a deep breath.
“I’m sorry… I hate to hear that. Well, wanted to run something by you. Carl has come across an interesting story. Just recently there was a cattle mutilation over in Montana. Apparently, he’s been following the incidents over there.”
Angelica interrupted Gail, “I’m sorry… did you just say ‘cattle mutilation’?”
“Yes, I know… but hear me out… Carl is calling it ‘The Bovine Mutilations: Mystery on the Cattle Ranch’. We should keep the title, it’s good… That is, if you are okay with us covering the story. It happened next to an Air Force base. I’m sure you’ve heard the outlandish theories around these mutilations. I think it’ll be a fascinating story for the magazine.”
After a long moment of silence, Gail sounded frustrated. “Are you still there?”
Angelica sensed Gail’s impatience. “Yes, I just…”
“Oh, thought I lost you,” Gail interrupted.
“Can you email the file to me?” Angelica murmured.
“Yes, I’ll send it over now…”
“Okay.” Angelica leaned back in her chair and glanced over at the last story she covered while at the Washington Post a few years prior, involving the Republican Senator Jay Hollins. Angelica kept the file as a reminder of the price she’d paid covering such a high-profile story. She reached over and removed the newspaper clipping from the paperclip on the front of the file. Senator Hollins was a seedy, yeasty man, and Angelica was out to prove it from the moment she received the call from her anonymous source. After she was able to verify the story with another source, it went to print.
Angelica placed the newspaper clipping on her desk and turned her attention back to her laptop. She then opened the email on the cattle mutilation and read through the documents.
There was a knock at her door. Angelica looked up to see Gail standing there.
“I emailed you the file. Here’s more,” Gail stepped over and placed a file on Angelica’s desk. “What’s that?” Gail asked inquisitively as she pointed to the clipping.
“The Hollins story,” Angelica said flatly.
“Oh yes, the Senator who had a preference for seventeen-year-old Asian call girls. He was quite kinky,” Gail snickered. “According to the photographs you obtained from your source, it appeared he enjoyed black leather attire and spankings more than his usual business casual.” Gail laughed. “I’m sorry but they were amusing.” Angelica smiled and nodded, however she still looked weary. She swallowed hard, her throat felt dry.
Gail continued… “That seems like a lifetime ago… If I remember correctly, shortly after your article hit the newsstands, Hollins was found guilty of the sex scandal and sentenced to serve time for statutory rape. His wife retreated back to Tennessee, didn’t she? Poor thing.”
“Yes, and the Republican Party certainly didn’t need a Senator like Hollins to taint their ‘God and apple pie’ image… That story cost me a lot,” Angelica frowned.
“Yes, but you gained a lot as well. The Liberator may not have ever happened if… well, you know,” Gail noticed Angelica bite down on her bottom lip as she continued to stare at the file.
Angelica reflected on the backlash that followed. Angelica didn’t earn herself any new friends in D.C., thanks to her relentless pursuit to expose Senator Hollins. She was fired and snubbed in many circles around D.C. No one would hire her. It was a low point in her life that almost destroyed her.
A year after losing her job at the Washington Post, Angelica founded the Liberator Magazine and brought Gail and Carl, the Post’s best two editors with her.
Playing in the world of politics, and in the capital of the U.S., was a challenge and she had the battle scars to prove it, she thought. Angelica had worked hard to be taken seriously as a journalist, although it took her longer to earn respect than she had hoped. She was grateful she had made it as a successful and well-respected journalist, and founder of the Liberator Magazine at the age of thirty-two, and all done while keeping her skirt on. Of course, jealousy was fierce amongst her colleagues. She had heard the rumors while at the Post that she had won it on her back.
Angelica turned and looked at the file Gail had placed on her desk. “Wow, that’s thick! Carl’s been working hard on this,” she appeared surprised as she lifted it and looked up at Gail.
“Sweetie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Lately, you seem distracted and kind of down.” Gail sat in the white leather chair in front of Angelica’s desk. “You really just aren’t yourself.” Her voice was soft and concerned.
“Yes,” Angelica said as she dropped her shoulders and put the file down. “I’m not sleeping well, and I saw my doctor again this morning. The sessions are just so draining.” Angelica shook her head and glanced down. “Those damn dreams…” Angelica looked back up and forced an awkward smile. “I’m fine, really, I am.”
Gail nodded and narrowed her eyes, “Yeah… So, did the session go well?” Gail frowned sympathetically.
Angelica turned to her laptop and clicked open the “the bovine mutilation” file folder again. “Yes, it went well,” she murmured as she turned her attention to the documents. “So, it’s happened just recently over in Montana, huh?” Angelica took a deep breath as she continued to read the document. “Gail… I think I’m going to cover this one.”
“You are?” Gail sounded shocked. “Seriously? Why?” Gail stared in disbelief.
Angelica leaned back softly in her chair and glanced back over at the newspaper clipping from the “Hollins” file. She pursed her lips. “Tell Carl I’ll take it from here. Judging by the size of this file, I’m sure he’d rather I cover it than a less experienced journalist. Don’t ya think?” Angelica said sarcastically, as she swept aside one loose strand of hair and smiled.
Gail’s eyes widened, “Yes, of course… I think he’ll be quite pleased after the initial shock wears off.” Gail looked at Angelica speculatively. “Are you sure you really want to take this on? You already have so much on your plate running the magazine. And Angelica, this really isn’t your type of story.” Gail said flatly.
Angelica dropped her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Yes, I’m sure… I want to get back out there. Get out from behind this desk. I’d like to leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Okay.” Gail stiffened, her face blank.
“I need to get out of D.C. It’ll be good for me.” Angelica picked up the file and thumbed through the reports made by ranchers, the local veterinarian, police officers, and UFO investigators.
Angelica began to assimilate her thoughts as Gail reached over and picked up one of the documents.
At the bottom of the pile, Angelica noticed the words “Cattle Mutilation”… also known as “Bovine Excision” scribbled in red ink and in Carl’s handwriting across the top. Angelica looked soberly at Gail. “So tell me what you think about the mutilations.”
Gail lowered the document she was holding and peered up at Angelica… “Well, I’m not sure what to think. It is a very strange phenomenon. Apparently the killing and mutilation of the cattle are caused by unusual or nefarious means, from what I’ve read.” Gail tapped the file folder with an index finger. “It’s the surgical natural by which the animals are mutilated that has people baffled. All the blood is drained and organs are removed. Then you have the fact that the reproductive systems are precisely removed. Quite disturbing. Oh, and the anal area is cored out.”
Angelica’s eyes were wide. “Cored out?!” Her expression shifted to disgust.
Gail swa
llowed hard, nodded and continued. “Anyway, the animals appear to have been dumped, and there are never any tracks or markings around the carcass, even when found in mud. Very odd. Carl was saying that the surgical instrument used on the animals appeared to be some sort of laser cauterizing device. It’s all in the file.”
Angelica lifted up a black and white sheet of paper with a photo on it of a dead cow. “Appears someone is removing the skin and flesh from the cow’s skull as well. Ew, look!” Angelica flipped the sheet of paper around.
Gail appeared disgusted. “Yes, and doing it with perfect precision,” she said. “That is why people find it hard to believe a predator such as the coyote could be responsible for the kills being reported like in this Montana case.”
Angelica put the sheet of paper down. “This is very fascinating. I have a lot of work to do before my flight.”
“Okay.” Gail stood up… “I’ll tell Carl.”
Chapter Two
Angelica turned off the light and closed her office door. As she turned, she caught sight of Andrew walking toward her. She was exhausted and had hoped to sneak out of the building unnoticed.
“Do you want to grab dinner tonight at the Bistro?” Andrew whispered.
He then stepped in closer and narrowed his eyes as he observed Angelica, recalling her unusual mood earlier.
“I can’t tonight, I have to work,” Angelica said softly as she lowered her satchel to the floor and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “Sorry I was edgy earlier… I’ve been having bad dreams lately… I didn’t get much sleep, and then the therapy session with my doctor this morning. Anyway, I need to pack for my flight to Montana tomorrow.”
Andrew frowned, curious and maybe a little miffed… “What’s in Montana?”
“A cattle mutilation…” Angelica began, and then fell silent.
“What… You gotta be kidding? Why are you covering it?” he asked, tilting his head and staring directly into her tired eyes.
Angelica looked away from Andrew with a curious, yet reflective expression as she pursed her lips. “Don’t know,” she mumbled. Angelica looked back at Andrew. “It’ll do me some good to get away. Do you mind if we catch up later?” Angelica smiled sincerely, and then walked away briskly leaving Andrew still standing there confused.
Chapter Three
After an exhausting commute home, Angelica pulled her 528i white BMW up alongside the curb and parked. The old historic streetlights were flickering against the twilight sky, emitting a soft golden glow. She walked up the moss-covered brick steps surrounded by flawlessly hedged boxwood shrubs and unlocked and opened the front door, heavily painted black from a century of redo’s.
Her modernly renovated two story colonial townhome in the quiet Waterfront neighborhood of D.C. was close to the Capitol and the Smithsonian.
Angelica walked into the dark den and dropped her satchel at the desk. She gradually made her way through the kitchen, lit up by the streetlight from outside, to the butler pantry to pour a Macallan 18 year old single malt Scotch. She didn’t see any reason behind diluting a perfectly good Scotch with water.
The ice cracked as she dropped one cube into the golden liquid to let it breathe. After learning from the talkative man at the liquor store that the whiskey was aged in old sherry barrels, it immediately became her nightly sleep aid.
Angelica walked over and turned on the light in the kitchen. The walls were painted Sage Blue… a soft, modern color she had seen at the Restoration Hardware store. The kitchen was bare, free of clutter, with only a Keurig coffee maker, a set of knives in a wooden block and a large bamboo cutting board.
The white granite with specks of grey and brown countertops was pared stylishly with white cabinets standing out against the dark walnut stained hardwood floor. It was simplistic and elegant, the way Angelica liked things.
Continuing her nightly routine, Angelica opened the stainless steel refrigerator. With carrot juice, imported cheese, olives, Pinot Grigio and a takeout container being the only options, she opted for the two-day-old take-out container of Greek pasta salad.
After opening and smelling it, she took the risk. Grabbing a fork along with her Scotch, she pushed the refrigerator door shut with her elbow while turning and walking back into the den, kicking her nude heels off behind her.
At her turn-of-the-century St. James style black desk, she turned on the clear glass lamp and took a bite of her cold dinner, dripping oil down her chin. Angelica quickly wiped below her bottom lip with the side of her palm. She then picked up the glass of single malt and took a sip, feeling the liquid run down her throat and warm her chest. Angelica pulled her ponytail loose, letting her hair fall around her face.
She had an unsettling feeling she was being watched. Noting the silence in the house, she glanced around to look into the dark spaces barely illuminated by the glow of the kitchen light. Angelica took a deep breath and turned back around.
Feeling exhausted, she wanted to go on to bed, but she leaned over and rustled through the papers trying to locate her laptop from her satchel. The squeak of her chair resonated through the silence as she rose back up and placed it on her desk. Angelica Google searched the words, “Elberton, Montana.”
Several sites appeared of cattle ranches for sale and rustic lodges for weekend getaways. At the top of the screen was a strip of photos: one of a town square right out of the Old West. Other photos were of a whitewater river running along pine woodlands, and scenic scenes of endless flat land against the snow-tipped Rocky Mountains.
After opening a few websites, she realized Elberton was an old mining town with a rich history. She learned that Montana had attracted a heavy tide of emigration in the late 1800’s after the discovery of gold and silver.
Angelica relaxed into her chair and sipped her Scotch as her mood lifted, researching the history of Elberton. The thought of getting out of the city she had become enclosed in was starting to sound more and more appealing.
After looking through several lodge websites and--not to her surprise-- she decided on the most expensive: Elk Lodge right outside of town along the Elk River. The lodge was situated at the portion of the river that turned into a creek, with knee-deep water, clear and swift. Well-known for its fly-fishing, it appeared to Angelica that there wasn’t a more perfect place to stay in or around Elberton, to suit her taste.
Looking through the website photos, Angelica began to envision herself there, relaxing in the mornings on her room’s balcony and admiring the exquisite pine-covered Rocky Mountains off in the distance.
After booking her room online, she wandered back into the kitchen and poured another Scotch. Her eyes were heavy. Angelica yawned as she turned out the light in the butler pantry and grabbed her glass.
Returning to her desk, she typed in the search engine “cattle mutilation reports in Elberton, Montana.”
Feeling a sharp pinch in the arch of her foot, she leaned down to work out a cramp beginning to form and causing her foot to curl up. As she continued to massage at the cramp, she came across an article concerning the military and UFO sightings. Angelica quickly pulled her hand up, lifted her glass, and took another sip as she leaned in curiously.
Monday, April 19, 2013; Matthew Tillman from the Elberton Tribune Reports, Military Connection to Strange Lights in Sky over Animal Mutilation Sites. “Although the government officials at the Newton Air Force Base have declined to comment, many witnesses have come forward with their stories. The same strange lights have been spotted over Newton Air Force Base near Elberton, Montana as seen in areas of animal mutilations on local ranches. According to UFO investigator, Paul Colbeck, the lights also appeared near the Newton Air Force Base on the very night the Keller ranch mutilation occurred. ‘I believe the military is involved and working with these other worldly visitors.’ Colbeck says.”
“Interesting,” Angelica thought aloud.
At the beginning of any investigation, Angelica always kept an open mind no matter what information she ga
thered. This was one of the traits that made her an accomplished investigative journalist. However, this article stretched her discipline. She contemplated whether there could be any validity to the researchers’ claims. Could it be possible that UFOs were behind these events? She quickly caught herself and laughed… It is entertaining and would make for a great story. But just not possible… There has to be another explanation, she thought. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she realized the Scotch had started to kick in.
Angelica leaned down and grabbed the file from her satchel. After opening it, she noticed a report from University of Colorado Head of Veterinary Bio-Medical Sciences, Dr. Walter Goolrick. She rested back in her chair and with the Scotch still in her palm she read…
“In the case of March 6, 2013 in Elberton, Montana, I do not believe scavengers or predators to be the cause of death due to the nature of the incisions and extraction of internal organs. There had been removal of extensive tissue along the head, neck, abdomen, and anus. There had also been extraction of ocular tissue from the eyes and careful removal of tissue from the ears. The tongue and several muscles were extracted. The types of cuts on the carcass were surgical in nature, and the incisions were done with precision. The lack of bleeding suggests the possible use of an instrument producing acute heat, thus cauterizing almost immediately the edge of the wounds. It is my opinion that these types of wounds are quite uncommon and not of natural causes.”
The doctor made it sound as if the culprit had a high level of intelligence and technology to go along with it. “Who the hell would show up on a cattle ranch in the middle of nowhere and mutilate a cow?” Angelica murmured and shook her head in disbelief. “Perhaps a sick individual with a medical background and supplies from a hardware store,” she concluded.
Her mind drifted back to her college days. Her favorite dissertation was on the legendary “Jack the Ripper” cases in London. Her mind went back to the gruesome pictures she uncovered while researching the case.
The Bovine Connection Page 2
