He was licking the last forkful clean when Chloe heard a rap on the front door. She figured Dalton must have been leading the way, because Nate never bothered knocking at all. “Are you ready?” she directed at Christian, whose eyes were like saucers in anticipation. A woman’s voice wafted through the entryway. Christian remained rooted to the floor, unable to move, until his mother rounded the corner and nearly tackled him in a tearful hug. Mr. West strode over to his wife and son, wrapping his arms around them both.
Chloe and EV exchanged glances; moved to join Nate and Dalton, who had retired to the living room in order to give the Wests some privacy. Before they could make it across the kitchen, Mrs. West stepped out of the embrace. “I don’t know how to thank you. I…we…you have no idea what we’ve been going through.” She trailed off, choked by emotion and gratitude.
The room erupted into a flurry of hugs, handshakes, and heartfelt thanks; Nate and Dalton, who had been eavesdropping from the living room, eased around the corner and into the kitchen to participate. Romantic issues would have to take a backseat; there were more important things happening right now.
Christian, his eyes bright red and shining, addressed the group with more poise and confidence than she had yet to see from him. “It’s me who needs to thank all of you. I hope I can find some way to repay you for your kindness.”
“You don’t owe us anything. That’s not how it works here in the Pines.” EV assured him. “Though, come to think of it, maybe there is a way you can help us.”
* * *
To the consternation of Mr. Zellner, who sputtered and fumed, but eventually agreed with the rest, no one would be pressing charges against Christian.
“I’m not in favor of kicking a man when he’s down, but shouldn’t he at least do some community service?” Zellner insisted. “He never gave me anything for payment when he stole the clothes right off my scarecrow’s back. And that wire never turned up again, either.”
Lottie stood to defend Christian. He had cleaned up a fine looking young man. Not old enough for her, to her everlasting regret. “You would have given him those items if he had asked.”
“Well, he didn’t. So we’ll never know, now will we?”
Before Lottie could argue her point, Christian rose, held a hand up to stop her, and then turned to offer, “Mr. Zellner, if there’s a bed for me somewhere here, I’d like to make it up to you by helping with whatever work you might have around your place.” He’d caught the Ponderosa Pines bug, and wanted to stay.
“I guess that would be okay.” Nonplussed, Zellner capitulated. He could use an able-bodied helper to finish buttoning up for the winter. “I have a spare room. You could probably stay there.” the old man muttered. “You don’t snore do you?”
A mile wide grin. “Not that I know of.”
With that settled, the next order of business was ridding the town of its current scourge: The Sasq-Watchers.
The method for dealing with them could have been handled in many different ways; chief among them, simply revealing Christian’s story to Dubicki and his nuisance of a crew. That would have been easy, safe, and effective. The downside was that it would have exposed Christian to the media. And it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.
Instead, residents of Ponderosa Pines turned to what they did best: getting creative.
“I have an idea,” EV stated with a wicked grin. And then, she laid out a simple, but brilliant, plan.
With the town on board, it took four days to get everything ready.
Everyone played a part except for Sabra Pruitt. Tied up with the hunters, she had yet to meet Christian, and was still obsessed with the Sasquatch theory. An unwitting beard, Sabra spent those four days on one fruitless search after another. It wasn’t difficult to deflect their efforts away from town. A little gossip dropped at the right time and place was enough to send Sabra scurrying back to their base camp with a tall tale about a possible sighting. EV felt no remorse whatsoever for using Sabra. This whole debacle was her fault, anyway.
Stage one, EV and Chloe volunteered for a trip to an outdoor chain store in Warren, where they planned to clean the place out of its stock of Ghillie suits. Meant to provide camouflage, the shaggy suits were made from some lightweight, stringy material that was supposed to resemble moss or dead grass. With a little color alteration—instant Sasquatch. Or, more precisely, instant army of Sasquatches.
“You think these eight will be enough?” Chloe began tossing Ghillie suits into the shopping cart.
“I think so. And the breakaway props?” The list in EV’s head distracted her. She repeated it over and over at the oddest times.
“I told you, Overnight shipping, they’ll be here tomorrow. Relax, we’re all set.” Her eyes widened as Chloe pointed to a mannequin dressed in a white Ghillie, “Look, it’s the latest in Yeti couture.”
“Zellner would love this. It’s the abominable snowman.”
“I’m buying one.” Chloe found a size small, and tossed it into the cart with the rest.
“You know I’m getting a picture of you wearing that for Nate, right?” EV snorted.
“What? Eww. Why did you have to put that in my head?”
“Just spreading the love. My work here is done.”
* * *
Three days later, EV paced back and forth in front of six other shaggy, Ghillie-clad figures. Her volunteer Sasquatch army. The eighth would be joining them later. “You all know the plan, right? It’s Foxes and Hounds with a twist. Be creative, have fun with it, but stay far enough ahead that they can only just catch you with their cameras. Be convincing and don’t forget we need to get them to Big Hook Point, so remember that pace is everything.”
“Most fun I’ve had in years.” EV couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was David Erickson who spoke.
Her phone beeped, and she fumbled her way through the strands of her costume to find it. A text from lookout Priscilla Lewellyn.
The game is afoot.
“Okay, it’s on.” She set the phone on vibrate, as planned, and slipped on her night-vision goggles. “It’ll be about five minutes before they’re in range. Can everyone see me?”
A chorus of yeses.
“Okay! Take your positions, and good luck, everyone.” She moved to take her own.
* * *
The loud crack of a branch stopped the hunters in their tracks.
“Hear that? You see anything yet?”
They were aiming for a quiet passage, but when seven or eight people wearing heavy boots and carrying a bunch of camera equipment bungle their way through the woods, they make some noise.
“Use the night-vision glasses; they work better than the cams.”
A pause. A rustle.
“Nothing. Keep going.”
Ten feet away, dressed entirely in black, Horis snapped two more branches in rapid succession. When he heard the noise level rise among the hunters for a second time, he pitched his voice too low for them to hear and whispered, “Go for two.” into the two-way radio headset he and his group of forest ninjas were using.
As planned, Sabra was not among the hunters. Deployed by EV, Talia and Lottie had fluttered into the midst of the hunter’s camp, where Sabra was ensconced in a canvas chair drawn up to the fire. On cue, they started one of their famous arguments.
“You shouldn’t be bothering them with that stupid picture, Lottie; it’s nothing but a shadow.”
“It is not. Look,” Lottie gestured with her phone; the image on it had been staged by EV not half an hour before. “See, that’s his head, and look—there’s his arm. It’s the Midnight Marauder.”
“You’re delusional.” Talia sneaked a look out of the corner of her eye. The hunter she could see from where she was standing was on full alert. Time to push it home. “It’s him. Shadows don’t grunt. And I heard him breathing. I’m telling you, I think he’s headed toward Big Hook Point.”
“Why wouldn’t he just take the trail, then?”
“Don�
�t ask me, I’m not the expert. Here,” she handed her phone to the scruffy, unwashed man sitting nearest her. He studied the photo for a few seconds.
“We got a live one.”
“Can you show us where?” Dubicki spoke up.
“Sure. See. I told you they’d be interested.” Lottie turned to Talia, away from where the hunters could see, waggled her eyebrows, and grinned.
Now for phase two.
Talia took the lead, setting the hunters on the right trail. When Sabra began to follow, Talia pulled her back. “Sabra, you have to come help me. I bought new curtains and the colors don’t match. Can you help me?”
“But…”
“No, really. You have to come. They’ll be fine without you. Please.”
Before Sabra could pull away, the hunters were beyond hearing, and she was in Lottie’s car, well on her way to Talia’s house.
* * *
Since Foxes and Hounds was EV’s game, she took the first leg of laying the trail. Slipping into an easy jog, she timed her passage through the trees perfectly, so the hunters could see flashes of her in the shaggy costume. Navigating through even light brush was difficult; nearly impossible. The Ghillie suit snagged too easily to let her stray from the main path.
This was why Horis and his team of black-clad forest ninjas were there: to provide ambiance. As EV passed, one of them rustled some bushes.
It was enough to keep the hunters engaged in the pursuit until they triggered the next phase.
EV put on speed, once she gained enough distance; she dodged left down a side trail while one of Horis’ counterparts provided sound effects to cover her detour. She froze while another of her Sasquatch army, taking over for the next leg, drew the hunters out of hearing range.
Even with the night vision goggles, she didn’t see Horis until he stepped up beside her. She stripped off the Ghillie suit and stuffed it out of sight. Underneath, she was dressed all in black. She would spend the rest of the evening slipping through the woods unseen.
“We good?” She took the headset and two-way radio he handed her.
“On schedule. Talia checked in. Sabra took the bait. Nate and Dalton are en route to the rendezvous point. I’m headed that way myself.”
“Okay then. Time to ramp this thing up. I’ll give the go ahead.”
“Meet you in fifteen.” Horis melted into the darkness without another sound—he moved like a cat through the woods.
EV keyed on the radio, “Go for phase three,” she deployed three members of her Sasquatch army to double-team the hunters before slipping into the night, her long legs eating up the distance to the next rendezvous point.
Horis set a course adjacent to the hunter’s path; directed his team; pitched in where needed. EV circled around to get in front of the action, while the group in costume led the hunters in circles.
* * *
“Omigod, there’s two of them. You seeing what I’m seeing?” A hunter whispered in the darkness.
“What if it’s a family? There might be babies. No one’s ever caught footage of little ones.”
“Shut up, they’ll hear you.”
“This is un-freaking-believable.”
* * *
Fifteen townspeople, plus Christian, followed Nate and Dalton down the main path toward Big Hook Point. EV would meet them any minute to guide Christian on ahead to where the final showdown would take place.
Whispered conversation covered up any sound she made, so when EV materialized in front of him, even though he expected her, Dalton jumped out of his skin.
“Here,” she handed Dalton the headset she’d picked up from—well, she wasn’t sure exactly who it was—but he or she had been at the rendezvous point, had handed EV the gear, and then dodged away toward the Point to complete final preparations. “Ten minutes, max. So step it up. On my mark, you all start making a big commotion. We need them to hear you before they see you.” He doubted anyone else noticed the way her eyes avoided his, or the frosty edge to her tone.
“We’ll be there.” His tone neutral.
She turned to Nate, “Have you and Christian practiced your parts?” Chloe was in charge of the end game, and had given EV no more than a general idea of her plan.
“We’re ready. It’s going to be epic.”
“Okay, see you all at the Point. Christian, let’s go.”
And she was gone again.
* * *
In hushed but reverent tones, the cameraman spoke fervently, “That’s a family of four. Look at the two little ones. I think we’ve stumbled into a colony here. By my count, we’ve seen six, maybe seven altogether.”
“You think they know we’re following them? That last one was as big as a bear. What if they catch us? Maybe the reason no one ever gets this close is because when they do, they don’t come back.”
“I think we should call it a night. Can’t we head back to camp now? We’ve taken enough footage already to score big. Let’s go back.” There was an edge of desperation to the words. The plan was working.
“Any of you think to grab the GPS? It feels like we’ve gone in circles. Unless we come out somewhere I recognize soon, I’m not even sure how to get back to camp.” This from Dubicki who, despite his been-there-done-that attitude, had become a believer over the past couple hours.
“No, we’re still in this. I need ten more minutes of footage.” The one EV had dubbed ‘Larry’ brooked no refusal.
As the hunters moved off in the direction they’d last seen activity, they passed right by Horis and two of his cohorts. Horis used the noise of their passing as cover to relay, in a whisper, “Go for checkpoint five.”
Sneaking through the wood in autumn would have been a much noisier prospect if they had not had the foresight to time this foray right after a good, soaking rain. Pine spills and wet leaves made for quieter movement.
Once the hunters passed out of hearing distance, Horis offered, “Our work here is done; you can head on home, or you can do what I’m doing and join the mob.”
“No way I’m missing the show. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.”
“Let’s go.”
The three of them double-timed it to intercept the group of villagers before they made it to the Point.
Over the two-way com unit, Horis heard the countdown begin as hunters passed the final checkpoint.
* * *
From where she now sat, fifteen feet up in a tall pine tree, EV peered through a set of night-vision binoculars to locate the hunters. She didn’t need the enhancement to see the torches carried by Nate and his group; those were visible to the naked eye. The two groups were about equal distance apart, and set to converge in the clearing below.
Christian stood, out of sight behind the same tree, waiting to join rest of the Ghillie-suited group. It wouldn’t be long now.
When she judged they were close enough together, she gave the command to let Nate know it was time to make some noise. It all hinged on whether the hunters would run toward the sound, or away. If the former—it was game on, if the latter—all this work had been for nothing.
There was one moment where she held her breath as the hunters paused, but when they started moving forward again, she spoke the final command, “Radio silence in 3—2—1.” She switched off her radio, shoved the headset into her pack, and scrambled back down from her perch.
When the hunters, the Sasquatch army, and the angry mob converged at the Point, EV was already in place.
She saw that Horis and his team, stripped of their unrelieved black, were now mingled in with Nate’s group. It was time for the show.
“There they are. Get them.” Someone from the torch-lit group shouted, when the flickering flames revealed the shaggy figures. Quickly, the townspeople surrounded the erstwhile group of Sasquatches—the light from their torches adding drama to the staged setting.
Chloe had worked a miracle. Her subtle makeup effects—shadowing around the eyes and cheeks—made the angry mob look even more formid
able. More stunning, though, was what she had done with the Sasquatch family. She’d cut the hoods off the Ghillie suits so their faces showed, and then, skillfully, applied facial hair and makeup to complete the transformation. EV had expected to see her there among the crowd, but so far, Chloe was not in evidence.
EV had organized the lead-up, but this final show—well, this was all Chloe.
“No. Stop.” A Yeti hunter, one of the females, called out with an impassioned plea, “They’re a gentle people. Don’t hurt them.”
“They’re thieves, and they deserve what’s coming to them.” Dalton growled. “They’ve terrorized our town and now they have to pay.” A general roar of agreement rose from the angry mob, who brandished their torches and pitchforks.
EV bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the looks of consternation on the hunter’s faces, which were clearly picked out by the light of the torches.
Christian shuffled forward, grunting and raising his arms as though trying to communicate with the armed villagers. His posture could be mistaken either for aggression, or an attempt at forming a truce.
A chant arose from the crowd, “Get him! Get him!”
Nate brandished the pitchfork at Christian, who redoubled his efforts, and before the hunters could intervene, a ring of townspeople hemmed them in so they could do nothing but watch, horrified, as Nate took another swipe with the weapon.
The villagers continued to chant; Nate squared off against Christian, feinting and thrusting with the fork until they had maneuvered themselves into exactly the right position. With a barely perceptible nod, Nate lunged. The fork pierced Christian through the chest, and then withdrew, covered with blood.
It looked real enough that EV shuddered, even though she knew the pitchfork’s tines had retracted into a cavity filled with fake blood, before popping back out to drip realistically.
Crafting Disorder (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Page 16
