“Bears and mountain lions are very strong, formidable predators. Their strength can be easy to underestimate. It is very possible that the rock ended up in the trail by accident, knocked over as the animal went by.”
“But it wasn’t a bear or mountain lion,” Jessica protested. “I saw it.”
More papers shuffling. She was really starting to hate that sound. “In your statement you said you saw a bear-sized creature, no fur, with a protruding spinal column. Is that correct?”
“Yes . . .”
“And what you saw was heavily covered in shadows?”
“It was in the shadows, but I could still see it. And I know it wasn’t a bear or a mountain lion. It was something else.”
“There are certain skin conditions animals can get. Mange is one that comes to mind. We once had to remove a rabid coyote from a resident’s back yard. Awful thing, I almost felt sorry for it. It had this skin disease called mange, something having to do with mites or some other parasite on the skin. Anyway, it made all its fur fall off. And the skin was red and blotchy underneath.” He paused. “Horrible disease. And then with the rabies, too . . . we had to put the poor thing down, of course.”
Mange? I got chased by a sick animal with mange? If it’s sick how could it move that rock? How could it chase me all that way? And how could it do that to that guy? She said nothing.
“And as for the protruding spine,” Moser went on, “if this animal is ill with mange—or another condition that caused its hair to fall out—it might also be too sick to hunt and kill its normal prey. If malnourished from disease or starvation, its spine might appear more prominent, and even more so due to the lack of fur. Its poor health was probably why it went after a human being in the first place. Much easier prey,” he concluded, having explained everything that required an explanation.
☼ ☼ ☼
Detective Carl Moser leaned back in his sizable chair in the precinct office. Now all he needed was an ID on the victim and he could put this unsettling case in the closed pile and be done with it. Kilburn could draw up all the paperwork and notify the next of kin. Grubby little guy, Moser never quite cared for him. Let him deal with the rest of this mess.
Moser enjoyed his job to the fullest, and for the most part considered himself a pretty decent cop. He had a knack for answering the tough questions and getting the job done. This animal mauling, though—now that he did not care for. Gory encounters such as this belonged in horror movies and those Stephen King books, not in his jurisdiction. He never cared for bloody carnage in the past, and he didn’t care for it now. Seeing that gentleman disemboweled and disgraced in such a way—he wanted nothing to do with it. Which was why it was such a relief that he had solved the case and could now put it behind him.
The girl still hadn’t spoken. He was beginning to wonder if the line had been broken when she finally asked, “So that’s it?”
“For now, yes. We will need to identify the victim and notify the family.”
“I told the other guy it might be Cameron—”
“Jasper. Yes, I saw that. But you’re not sure it was him.”
“He carried walking poles . . .” Jessica trailed off.
“Well, a lot of hikers around here have walking poles,” Moser said.
“He’s also the only other person I’ve ever seen out there.”
“We will have to wait for a positive ID on the—”
“Have you been able to get a hold of Mr. Jasper?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, we have not. But we cannot make any assumptions,” Moser said. “Anyway, we will be getting Fish and Game out there ASAP to find and terminate the animal responsible. Shouldn’t be too hard to find, it might be getting pretty weak from disease and starvation by this point. Didn’t look like it ended up consuming much of the victim.”
“And you don’t find that odd?” Jessica asked.
“Find what odd?”
“That it killed that guy, mutilated him, chased me away to keep its food source safe, and then didn’t even bother to eat it?”
“It’s hard to say. Perhaps it was exhausted by the amount of energy it expelled during the attack, and then the subsequent chase when you came along. It might have gone to rest once you left, feeling its food source was finally safe. And then we came along before it got a chance to . . . uh, a chance to . . .” he paused, searching for and failing to find a word that was less upsetting. “A chance to feed,” he finished.
“So it did all that and then decided to take a nap?”
“I’m afraid we will never have a concrete answer for why it behaved the way that it did. All I can say is that it is sick, and that we will probably be doing it a favor when we find it and euthanize it.”
“So that’s it then?” she asked again.
Moser said that it was, agreed to keep in touch if they needed anything else from her, and ended the call. This animal attack stuff really irked him and he was more than eager to get it behind him. By tomorrow, after the victim was ID'd and the sick animal destroyed, it would all be over and done with. And then he could try like hell to erase the image of the dead man from his memory.
Chapter 24
Andrea insisted that Jessica spend the night in her old room. She was very concerned that Jessica was in no state—emotionally or physically—to be alone in her apartment after what happened. She might have nightmares, or she might wake up in the middle of the night in pain and not be able to make it to her pain medicine or to the bathroom. It would be much better if you stay here with me where I can help take care of you, at least for a little while, Andrea urged.
Jessica made a half-hearted attempt to get her mother to take her to her apartment, however she knew it was a losing battle, so she didn’t try very hard. Her ankle was starting to hurt like hell and the thought of hobbling out to the car and then up the stairs to her second-floor apartment sounded dreadful. Instead, she let her mother tidy her old room, help her inside, and tuck her under the pink flower-print bedspread that had been there since Jessica’s teenage years. Andrea had always refused to redecorate Jessica’s old room, insisting that someday she might need it again—and it turned out Andrea was right about that one. So Jessica willingly crawled under the pink covers in her childhood bedroom—a room that still had posters of The Beatles and Lady Gaga thumb-tacked onto its lilac-colored walls—and tried to get some sleep.
At first she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all that night. She expected to jolt awake every time she heard a board creak or the AC kick on, certain the creature was in her room or just outside her window. In the dark, it seemed perfectly logical that the creature had found out where she lived and was now creeping around outside, ready to finish what it had started. The more she thought she had gotten away, the more satisfying the kill would be. As soon as she drifted off to sleep it would use its claws to pull the window back, silently slink inside, and then inch closer and closer to her as she slept, relishing every moment before the final, horrific encounter. It would pounce on her, just as she stirred, pin her down, and clamp its jaws around her throat as she tried to scream for help. But no sound would come out because it had already severed her vocal chords. And then it could take its time, leaving her mutilated body at daybreak for her mother to discover.
Sleep eventually came, and when the darkness crept into the corners of her mind, this time she welcomed it. Anything to stop her from listening for the sounds of claws scraping along her bedroom window.
The phone rang a quarter after eight the following morning. Jessica wasn’t sure if it was the ringing that woke her, or if it was the dream itself. She was in Wasp Canyon, standing in the center of the trail with her walking boot on. She was watching as the sun descended toward the horizon—soon it would disappear from sight and leave her alone in the dark. Only she wasn’t alone, something was there with her, breathing heavily and smelling of rotting meat. Not alone! her mind screamed into the darkness, and then she jerked awake.
She was disorie
nted at first, not sure exactly where she had woken up. This wasn’t her apartment; the sunlight was coming from the wrong direction. And the pictures on the wall were all wrong. Her eyes focused on a poster of No Doubt, bathed in morning sunshine, without really seeing it. Jessica struggled through the fogginess that hung heavily in her mind, and was finally able to grasp the realization that she was in her childhood bedroom—and more importantly, that she was alone. Despite her return to reality, her dream voice continued to echo in her head: Not alone! Not alone! Not alone!
And something was making an awful buzzing noise. Wasps, she thought, a fresh wave of panic sweeping over her. She checked frantically around the room, convinced that thousands of wasps had invaded her bedroom while she slept. They would be crawling on the walls, their stingers pulsating as they writhed together like a living wallpaper. And then the wallpaper would explode—thousands of wasps taking flight and ready to land on her bare arms and screaming face. They’d crawl on her eyelids, enter her mouth, and she would choke on them as they crawled down her throat, cutting off her scream . . .
The corners of the bedroom were empty, and not a wasp was in sight. Jessica continued to search the room—nothing on the walls, nothing on the bed, nothing on her skin. But where was the buzzing coming from? Her mind finally caught up with her consciousness, and the panic receded as she realized the buzzing was coming from her cell phone.
She grabbed the phone off of the nightstand and looked at the caller ID: Claire Bear :-). She had left Claire a message the night before knowing she probably wouldn’t answer. Claire had told Jessica a couple days ago that she was going downtown to a dance club with her work friends last night. Jessica didn’t expect a call back until today, and not nearly as early as it was now.
“Hello?” Jessica croaked. The throbbing in her ankle was becoming harder to ignore as she lay in bed, her right hand clutching the cell phone. There was also a persistent throb in her bladder. She was going to need to make it to a bathroom and pronto. And double pronto on the pain pills.
“Jessica, what the hell?”
“Hi Claire,” Jessica said.
“Jessica! What the hell happened? I’ve been calling all night!”
“You have?” Jessica pulled the phone away and looked at the screen. Six missed calls. “God, I’m sorry Claire. I must not have heard it while I was sleeping.”
“Your message said you were in the hospital! That you were attacked? What the fuck is going on?” Claire sounded frantic.
“Yeah, during my run yesterday.” Jessica told Claire what happened, feeling her ankle and bladder throb in unison as she told her story. When she was done, she waited for Claire to respond.
“It was a what?” Claire asked finally.
“I have no freaking idea. The cops think I imagined it.”
“Do you think you imagined it?”
“I—I don’t know. I was pretty sure I saw what I saw, but . . . the detective’s explanation sounded so damn convincing. Maybe he’s right,” Jessica said, feeling defeated.
“Whether he is or not, are you ok? I can call out sick today. I’ll come right over—”
“No no no. I’m ok. I’m staying with my mom for now.”
“Well, can I come over after work then? I want to see you,” Claire insisted.
“Yes, of course. Please come over after work. But right now, “Jessica said, “I really have to go pee.”
“And I really have to go throw up the half bottle of tequila I drank last night. I will come over as soon as work is over, ok?” Claire said. “God, your message scared the shit out of me!”
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Jessica said. “Go. Vomit. I will see you this afternoon.”
“You sure will. And Jessica—” Claire paused.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too, girl,” Jessica said. She hung up the phone and stumbled out of bed, heading in the direction of the bathroom and the medicine cabinet.
Chapter 25
Tucson Daily Tribune
Investment CEO Found Dead on Hiking Trail
By Audrey Summers
August 3, 2018
Early Wednesday morning a gruesome discovery was made on a local hiking trail near Wasp Canyon Estates. Wasp Canyon is a well-known trail, frequented by visitors and residents alike, that cuts across northwest Tucson as it heads in the direction of the Santa Catalina Mountains. After four miles the trail enters Wasp Canyon, and it was a short distance inside where the remains of a man’s body were discovered.
Cameron Jasper, age fifty-six, appears to have been mauled and killed by a wild animal. Police have not identified the type of animal involved, nor have they released any details regarding the extent of Jasper’s injuries. Jasper’s body was discovered by a local hiker, although the hiker has yet to be identified.
The Northwest Police Department has deployed Arizona’s Fish and Game to track down and euthanize the animal involved in the attack. It is suspected that the animal in question was either a black bear or mountain lion, and that illness or disease had rendered it incapable of hunting its traditional food source. When asked how the search for the predator was going, Detective Carl Moser declined to comment.
Cameron Jasper, originally of Houston, Texas, was the founder and CEO of The Jasper Group, an investment management company based in Jasper’s hometown. Over the course of twenty-eight years, Jasper grew his company from the ground up. The Jasper Group has been included in the Fortune 500 for the past seven years. Jasper relocated to Tucson in 2006. He has been controlling his company via telecommunication since his move to Arizona.
Jasper owned a home in the highly sought-after Wasp Canyon Estates, located off of Ontario Road and set against the Santa Catalina mountain range. These multi-million dollar estates offer grand floor plans, substantial acreage, and privacy for their residents. They also happen to be located within walking distance of the Wasp Canyon Trailhead.
Other residents were shocked and horrified when they heard the news of Jasper’s attack. Ava Cuthbertson, of Wasp Canyon Estates, said, “I can’t believe such a horrible thing could happen to such a good person. Cameron was always kind to me, always willing to lend a helping hand when I needed assistance with something around the house. He was never too good or too busy to help an old woman in need.”
Cuthbertson was one of Wasp Canyon Estate’s earliest residents. When asked about her safety in Wasp Canyon, Cuthbertson said this: “I have always felt perfectly safe in my home. I think that what happened to Mr. Jasper is horrible news, but I do not feel threatened for my own safety.”
A service for Cameron Jasper will be held . . .
Chapter 26
Carl Moser detested animal attacks. He always switched stations when a story about an animal mauling came on the news. He flat-out refused to watch any of the Animal Planet shows that depicted animals attacking people, or even attacking other animals for that matter. And he put as much distance between himself and any case that came along which involved snake bites, dog fighting rings, or family pets that went berserk on one of the neighbors. Moser desperately wanted this case behind him, but things had just gotten a lot more complicated. Why couldn’t a construction worker or an out-of-work actor been attacked out there, instead? Why did it have to be a millionaire? Why did it have to be Cameron fucking Jasper? One of the most well-known—and richest—guys in town.
Moser tossed the newspaper onto his desk. How the hell do they already know about the victim’s ID? Somebody must have leaked it. This is going to be a PR nightmare, Moser thought miserably. Those damn reporters weren’t going to let this thing go after just one article. He could see the headlines now, appearing day after day and monopolizing the front page—LOCAL BUSINESS TYCOON TORN IN TWO IN NORTHWEST TUCSON. ANIMAL STILL ON THE LOOSE. POLICE HAVE NO LEADS. And the headlines would be correct. Fish and Game had not found one trace of the sick bear so far. All the damn rain had washed away any evidence there might have been. They were luck
y to have even gotten out there and found Jasper’s body before that godforsaken downpour started—let alone collect any evidence. All they had was the body itself, and a few hairs that didn’t appear to belong to the victim. The hairs were sent to the lab for analysis, where they were going through whatever steps necessary to identify them.
What type of hair it was wouldn’t have mattered nearly as much if it had been some drifter or minimum-wage hiker that went down out there. No one would really have cared, not really. There would only be one article, and in the middle of the paper—a blurb really—that mentioned that a local man was attacked while hiking. It would urge readers to be careful, keep an eye on their pets, blah blah blah.
But not anymore, this was way past a blurb now. The richest man in town just got filleted by some canyon beast—God, he could see those newspaper freaks giving it a name like that—The Beast of Wasp Canyon. And it was going to be front page and center—above the fold. Day after day after day. Just had to be animal attacks, he thought. I’d take a double homicide over this any day.
Moser rested his arm on his desk and started massaging his right temple. There was no way he was going to be putting this mess behind him anytime soon. All he had to go on was a mutilated millionaire, a twenty-something girl, and a few animal hairs found on the body. This is going to be a fucking nightmare, he thought again.
Moser grabbed a couple of aspirin from his desk drawer. It was going to be a busy day, and he couldn’t afford a headache. He washed the aspirin down with the cold coffee that remained in his U of A mug, grimacing as the pills clunked their way down his throat. Moser set the mug down and stared at the college logo embossed on the side, trying to figure out where to begin.
He needed to get a leg up on this thing, and he was pretty sure he knew where to start: the hairs on the body. If he could get the comparison results at least he would be able to tell the press something when they asked again about what attacked Tucson’s wealthiest bachelor. That was one small grace, though, he thought in passing. At least we don’t have a grieving widow on our hands. Thank God for small favors.
Wasp Canyon Page 10
