Damn. Her coffee was cold now. She stood up to go into the cabin and heard the sound of tires on the rough road leading to her cabin. It was him, she was sure of it.
His truck slid along the road and ground to a halt in front of her porch. He jumped out with a disgustingly chipper smile on his face. No one should be that energetic in the morning. Time to tell him. She’d just inform him she wasn’t going, promise or no promise. Money or no money.
“How did you sleep?” He asked her while he took a cautious step towards the porch. He acted like she was a doe and he was afraid he’d startle her. It irritated her. She glared at him.
“How do you think?” She hated how her voice sounded husky and cleared her throat. “What do you want?” Though the words came out in a harsh tone, he was unfazed. Doubly irritating.
“Come with me to buy supplies.” His voice was deep and low. He didn’t get it.
She wasn’t going to be convinced by sweet, low tones to go traipsing around the mountains looking for a myth. She opened her mouth. I’m not going. Find another fool. I don’t care about your money. “Okay.”
What was wrong with her? She didn’t want to do this. If she went with him, she’d open old wounds. And she didn’t want to. He’d hypnotized her. He must have. Why else would she agree to be anywhere near a man like him? Okay so, part of her wanted to get it over with like lancing a boil. Just go with him, prove to everyone there was nothing out there and move on with her life.
He crossed to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door. “Hop in.”
“I can’t go like this.” She headed up the porch steps and nodded toward the door. “I’ll change.”
His long legs ate up the distance between them in a heartbeat. “You look fine to me.” The way he stared at her caused a flutter in her pulse. She ignored it.
“I’ll change.” She pursed her lips together and opened the door to the cabin.
His face fell. “Too bad. I like the flannel.”
He followed her into the cabin and she left him in the living room. She shook her head. The man was crazy. But when she turned away, she smiled a little, amused that he liked her favorite flannel shirt. She did a quick change in her bedroom. Jeans, a t-shirt, and her boots didn’t exactly make her a fashionista, but she was comfortable.
When she came out of her bedroom, she found him staring at the picture over the fireplace mantle. Her abstract self-portrait. The face of the female figure was shadowed but one clear green eye showed through a thick curtain of black hair. In the background were dark, twisted trees bare of leaves and a dark, grey sky. The woman lay on a mirror glimpsed beneath a black shroud that encased her in darkness.
It exuded pain and bitterness. A fitting depiction of her soul.
Without removing his gaze from the painting, he asked what it was called.
“Betrayal.”
She didn’t say another word but strode through her front door and left him to follow.
She hopped into the passenger side of his truck and folded her hands in her lap. “Where are we going for supplies?”
“A place I know.” He answered.
She glared at him. “Can I have a few details, please?”
“Certainly. I’m thirty-four, single, and have two sisters.” His smile was brilliant and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Fine.” She snapped. “Are you the youngest or the oldest?”
“Neither. I was in the middle. It’s been speculated that my fascination with ghosts and legends stems from being ignored as a child. What do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy.” She said through gritted teeth.
He nodded quickly. “That’s my mother’s opinion. She is a firm disbeliever in my work.”
Kiera frowned. “But you definitely showed that some paranormal disturbances do exist.”
He smirked. “I knew you’d read my books.”
She blinked rapidly. Not only had she read his books, she’d reread them. And enjoyed them. It wouldn’t do to let him know it. She snorted. “Don’t read too much into it, no pun intended.”
“Oh, I won’t. My mother claims that my evidence is based on the faulty assumption that human beings can be trusted eyewitnesses.”
“So your mother doesn’t believe in what you do?” Kiera stared at him. He seemed so confident, so sure of himself. Yet, his mother rejected his choices. “What about the rest of your family?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “My father thinks I’m wasting my life. My two sisters are skeptical, but not as disapproving as my parents are.” He sighed. “Let’s just say they aren’t convinced.”
“But at the house in Maine—“ she stopped, crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Reluctantly, she sympathized, even empathized with him. His books were best sellers, well written and carefully researched. Why weren’t his parents proud of that?
“I proved only that energy readings existed. A skeptic would be able to find a million solutions for that.” He shot a quick glance at her. “A healthy skeptic always keeps options open. Closed minds often lead to foolish conclusions.”
The comment seemed to be aimed at her. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh? How about, ‘Those who begin with the false premise that something mythical exists often postulate foolish conclusions.’?”
“Someone who begins with a preconceived notion is just as closed minded as the person who will not believe the evidence of their own eyes.”
She sneered at him. “Like the photograph my father took? That kind of evidence?” Bitter dregs lay on her tongue.
“No. The kind you experience in person.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “You’re telling me that in all those years Bigfoot hunting with your father, you never had an experience you couldn’t explain?”
She froze. There was no way she was going to add to his collection of Bigfoot accounts. She bit her lip. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I see that you did. I don’t need to know what you saw or heard. It’s interesting to know that you did.”
Her nails bit into her palms and tears stung her eyes. Damn him. He’d got under her skin again. “I never said I did. These new sightings are just like the old ones and they’ll pass.”
“I wonder why now?” He mused, almost to himself. His forehead furrowed. “I mean, even if it is a hoax, why the sudden increase? What do you think?”
She’d asked herself the same question again and again since she’d rescued Nanette. Why now? “Maybe some Bigfoot hunter got frustrated and decided to move things along. It wouldn’t be the first time.” She bit her tongue. She’d said too much.
Again, Ben hit her with a too observant sidelong glance. “You’ve seen this before?” His eyebrows rose. She took a deep breath and released it. “Several times. Every time there’s a rash of sightings, someone comes looking for me.”
“Even when you lived in Santa Cruz?” His eyes never left the road.
She frowned. “How did you know I lived there?”
“I know everything about you that’s public record and a few things that aren’t.” He informed her. “I know you left home at eighteen and stayed away for ten years. You attended Santa Rosa Junior College for two years and transferred to Sonoma State University as an art major.” His voice sounded monotone, like a computer spitting out information. “You took out loans to pay for school because you refused to take a penny from your father and it took you five years to pay them back. You got a job with the State of California right out of university and worked for the park service around Santa Cruz.” His dark, brown eyes shot a glance at her. “How you got a job with the state with a degree in Mixed Media Art I don’t know, but you did well with them. You started making maps and creating brochures for the park service until two years ago when your Dad died and you came here. Since then, you still do work for them, but it’s freelance.”
She licked her lips, which were suddenly dry, and stared out the window. It was weird to have her life spread out like that, with all the emotion and turm
oil stripped from it. What had she really done with her life so far? But he wasn’t finished.
“You don’t date, but when you do, it’s strictly for fun and no strings attached.” His gaze slid to her face and back to the window. “Did you know you left a string of broken hearts behind you?”
“No, I didn’t. I never hurt anyone.”
“Not intentionally. There were a few though. They made the mistake of falling in love with you.”
Hot words sprang to her lips, but died there. She wanted to deny it, defend herself. But she couldn’t. It was easier to stay distant, stay safe. There were men who wanted more, but she’d always ended it quickly. And she thought painlessly. She pursed her lips and said nothing.
“Your mom became ill just before your father died but there’s no record of doctor visits or treatments while he was alive. Did she hide it from him?”
It felt like she had sawdust in her mouth. “Yes.”
He nodded. “She didn’t tell you either, did she? But you came to the rescue after your dad died and left a will that cut you off if you didn’t do Bigfoot research.”
Her lips tightened. “Why do you care? You’ve gotten what you want. If my mother hadn’t gotten sick, I never would have been forced to take over her finances and my father wouldn’t have been able to manipulate me into this trip.”
His eyebrows rose. “I do care. I’ll tell you a secret. When I studied Bigfoot, I came across a photograph of you. I’ve always wondered what happened to you.” One side of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. “I thought we might have something in common. My childhood wasn’t all peonies and roses.” He shot her another glance. “Tell me. Why in the world would your father force you to find evidence of Bigfoot?”
Bitter bile coated her throat. “Because he believed a person would do anything for money.” A familiar roll turned her stomach. “After all, he did.”
“Is that what he did, Kiera? Did he do something for money that you can’t forgive him for?” He pressed.
“I watched my father chase publicity all his life. He drank and pissed away his life and eventually my mother’s life.” She glared at Ben. “Not once, in all those years, did he show regret or remorse for his actions. He didn’t want forgiveness.”
“What did he want?” Ben inquired.
She pressed the side of her head against the window. The coolness of the glass bled off some of the heat, some of her anger. The lingering disgust was manageable. “He wanted his monument up on Willow Creek’s main street. He wanted people to talk about Doc McConnel the way they talk about Patterson.” She stopped. For so long, she’d ignored this stuff, pushed it down, only allowing the anger to surface when Bigfoot hunters came to her door. Now, they flooded over her and she didn’t like it. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” She sighed. Something in this man got under her guard.
“Maybe he just wanted to find Bigfoot.” Ben said.
She shook her head, a sad twinge twisted her heart. She couldn’t deny reality, even if she wanted to. “If all he wanted was for Bigfoot to be discovered, he would have left the money to research. He didn’t. He left the money with the demand that I go with you. He doesn’t want anyone but a McConnel to find Bigfoot
“The letter does leave the money to research,” he pointed out.
She winced. “Only because he hopes to force my hand.”
“He wants you to carry on his legacy.” Ben frowned.
“That’s one thing I will not do.” Kiera’s lips tightened. Carry on his legacy? She wouldn’t continue his lies and deceit. It brought nothing but misery and bitterness to her, cancer to her mother and death to her father. What kind of a legacy was that?
Ben sighed. “Unfortunately, he’s not giving you a choice.” Ben pulled onto Highway 299 and headed west towards Eureka.
She turned in her seat and glared at Ben. “Let’s get something straight here and now. I’m going with you. If you find anything, any conclusive evidence that proves there’s a Bigfoot, I’ll give you the approval you want. Mention my name or make my family name part of the circus, and I’ll sue your ass within an inch of your life.” She sat back and stared out the window, oblivious to the beautiful scenery that whizzed past her eyes. “The McConnel family is done with Bigfoot.”
Chapter Three
The rest of the trip to Eureka was relatively quiet. Ben attempted small talk and Kiera kept her answers short. But he wasn’t discouraged.
It had gone better than he’d anticipated. Hell, he hadn’t thought it would be easy. He hadn’t thought she’d be gorgeous either. Blonde hair, green eyes, nice curves; a dangerous combination for him. For some reason, the thought he might be attracted to her never occurred to him. He wished it didn’t now. That kind of thinking led to other thoughts that led to getting his ass shot. He shot a quick glance at her profile.
The pictures he’d studied were when she was young, innocent, not bitter and unhappy like she was now. He understood the attitude toward the paranormal, but not the vulnerability. When he’d mentioned her parents, particularly her father, he heard the pain in her voice. What kind of father would force his only child into doing something she’d already vehemently rejected? He didn’t like being a part of it.
What did he really know about her? She’d traveled with her father into the wilderness and searched for Bigfoot for years until she was about thirteen. Then, her name and her pictures were nowhere to be found. The last one, taken fifteen years earlier, made an impression on him. He had it memorized.
Doc McConnel beamed from the picture with his arm around a thin, blonde little girl with very troubled eyes, the same ones that glared at him today. Whatever that discovery did for Conner “Doc” McConnel, it made his daughter miserable.
He was intimately acquainted with the misery on her face. That childhood angst affected his life too, which gave him a connection, an empathy for the girl in the photo. He’d seen that picture in the San Francisco Chronicle and something in her eyes called to him, haunted him as surely as a ghost. His interest in the paranormal had created turmoil in his life. What had it done to hers?
“Tough as nails” said one of the men she’d kicked off her land. The reporter who lost his satellite dish had called her a “loose cannon”.
All he could see was that intense pain crying out from her eyes. Maybe he just saw a reflection of his own pain. He wasn’t sure. But it messed with him, made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. It wasn’t that he pitied her. He wanted to relieve the hurt he saw there. Mr. Fix it, swooping in to save the day.
Everything he knew about her said she was honorable. Ben had an idea that the anger and resentment Kiera portrayed stemmed from the photograph. Which brought him back to Doc.
The man had been an alcoholic and a publicity hound. There was no way to sugar coat it. When McConnel released the photograph to the newspapers, no one knew the man existed. By the time a year had passed, everyone knew Doc McConnel, the man who photographed Bigfoot. Over the next fifteen years, many experts had debunked and defended the picture. None was louder than Doc himself. No debunking went unchallenged.
Even Ben wasn’t sure whether the photograph was a hoax or not. He shot a sidelong glance at his companion. She was the key to that question. It was difficult not to segue into thoughts about Kiera McConnel. The firm chin, set jaw, and pursed lips didn’t rob her face of its beauty. Classic high cheekbones and bright green eyes were worth a second and even third look. But something in her expression kept him, and probably most people, at a distance. Her demeanor was so aggressive he thought most men wouldn’t approach her.
A small smile crossed his face as his thoughts turned to the shotgun in his face. She’d greet most men with that kind of welcome.
“What’s so funny?” She glared at him.
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“You were smiling. Why?”
“I was thinking about how you greeted me at your door.” He grinned. “Most men would fin
d that a cold welcome. I think it was charming.”
Her mouth dropped open and she looked appalled. “Are you out of your mind? Charming?” Her eyes narrowed. “I was not trying to be charming.” She said through gritted teeth.
“I know. That made it even more charming.” He was poking the tiger. Why he wanted to make her mad was beyond him, but he did. Her green eyes sparkled and her muscles tensed. It was a pretty picture.
“I was trying to get you off my land.” Her hands were clenched.
He grinned wider. “I love it when you get mad. Maybe I have a death wish.” If looks could kill, he’d be a corpse.
She opened her mouth and shut it with a snap. He kept grinning as she crossed her arms and clamped her lips closed. He found he wanted to kiss those lips until they softened and opened for him. That thought made the smile drop from his face. It was a complication he didn’t want. He cleared his throat.
“What do you think we’ll need for the trip in?” He tried to keep his tone casual.
For a few minutes, he wondered if she would answer him. Finally, she took a deep breath. “How long will we be going for?”
“That depends on you.”
“Me?” Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“You’re the guide. Where’s the best place to search for Bigfoot evidence?”
“You’ve got to know where all the new sightings are better than I do.” Her gaze narrowed on his face.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to go where all the sightings have been. I want to go where you think Bigfoot evidence may be.”
“There is no Bigfoot,” she stated, her lips a thin line.
As if she hadn’t spoken, he smiled and kept talking. “I have a theory. See what you think of it. I think Bigfoot hunts for food in the places where he’s seen. I want to know where he lives. My idea is you know the places where they might.”
The absolute stillness of her body and the fear that streaked across her face mystified him. She knew something. And it was something that frightened her.
Legend Hunter Page 3
