The Bigfoot Blunder (A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Jack heaved a sigh as he settled on the ground next to the fire. “That’s the plotline of Friday the 13th.”

  “Seen that one, have you?”

  “Anyone who likes horror movies has seen it,” Jack replied, his tone weary.

  “Do you like horror movies?” I left my sleeping bag behind to put away later and sat on the ground next to him. I positioned myself so I was close, but not so close I might inadvertently touch him. We were alone in the woods, and I didn’t want to give him any ideas, after all. Now that Bay had mentioned she thought we might make a good match I was suddenly uncomfortable around Jack. I couldn’t explain the shift in my attitude.

  “I like some horror movies,” Jack replied. “I like older stuff, like The Shining, Halloween and The Exorcist.”

  “I like those too.”

  “I also like eighties slasher films like A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th. I’m not a big fan of the newer stuff.”

  “That’s because they’re not scary,” I offered. “Remakes are stupid, too.”

  “Remakes are definitely stupid,” Jack agreed, shifting his feet closer to the fire. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Are you suddenly turning into the question man or something?” I teased, amused.

  Jack’s lips quirked, but he shook his head. “Did you sign up for this job because you felt guilty about what I said to you earlier?”

  “I … no.” That wasn’t even remotely true. I felt completely guilty about what he’d told me earlier. “I do want to pull my own weight,” I said. “How bad can it be? We’re camping, for crying out loud. That can’t be considered work.”

  “You’ve never been camping before, have you?”

  I shook my head. “My parents were city people. They preferred subways and taxis. I like to think I was born for the country, though. I know that sounds weird, but … there it is.”

  “You just said your parents were city people,” Jack pointed out. “How could you be born for the country if you come from city folk?”

  I shrugged, unsure about how to answer. “I was adopted, so … .”

  “Oh.” Jack lowered his voice, understanding washing over his features. “How old were you when you were adopted?”

  “Four.”

  “Do you know … why?” Jack seemed curious, yet uncomfortable. I didn’t blame him. It’s not easy to know how far to push someone when it comes to talking about personal issues, especially when you barely know that person.

  “Do I know why my birth parents suddenly abandoned me when I was four? I have no idea.” I tried to adopt a breezy tone, but was pretty sure I failed miserably.

  “They abandoned you?” Jack tilted his head to the side. “How do you know they abandoned you?”

  “I don’t remember anything before that age,” I admitted, rubbing my cheek. The fire made a convenient focal point, so I kept my eyes there. It was easier than meeting Jack’s gaze and letting him see into my soul. “I was discovered in the parking lot of a fire department in Minnesota. There was no note … or other clothes … nothing other than a stuffed dog.”

  I heard Jack swallow, but refused to look at him. “That had to be rough. Do you think you blocked out your memories from before then?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve been through the police reports filed at the time. I had a bruise on my arm, but it wasn’t bad. The cops said it didn’t look as if I’d been abused. I was given a thorough examination and … um … there was no sexual abuse or anything.”

  “That’s a relief.” Jack shifted, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was uncomfortable due to the ground or the story. “Didn’t the cops ask you to describe your parents? I mean, I know it’s been a long time and you can’t be expected to remember something like that now, but back then it would’ve been fresh in your mind.”

  “They said I didn’t know anything except my name: Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte Rhodes?”

  I shook my head. “Just Charlotte. I have no idea what my last name was. Not even the hint of a memory.”

  Jack took me by surprise when he rested his hand on top of mine. It wasn’t a romantic gesture or a flirtation. It was merely meant as a form of solace. “What happened to you then?”

  “I was put in the system for a bit,” I replied, reciting the story from a clinical place instead of emotional. I didn’t know how else to deal with it. “It seemed like forever, but I think I was honestly lucky. I bonded with the first foster family I had – Kate and Caleb Rhodes – and they adopted me a year later.”

  “So a happy ending.” Jack looked almost relieved that I didn’t have a horrible tale to tack on the end. “Do you ever wonder about your birth parents?”

  Did I ever wonder about my birth parents? I got psychic flashes when I touched people and objects, and occasionally moved things with my mind. “All of the time,” I answered honestly. “My adoptive parents were wonderful people, and I loved them a great deal. They were both blond and fair – unlike me. I often wonder if I look like my birth mother or father, perhaps a mix of the two. I doubt I’ll ever know.”

  “Your adoptive parents were good people?” Jack cast me a sidelong look. “When did you lose them?”

  “I was eighteen. They were in a car accident on the way to my high school graduation.”

  “Oh, man.” Jack heaved out a shaky breath. “That couldn’t have been easy on you.”

  “Is death ever easy on anyone?”

  “I guess not. Still … how did you deal with it?”

  I shrugged, noncommittal. I wasn’t sure I’d ever really dealt with it. I still suffered from fugue dreams in which I was sure they remained alive, even talking to me at times, and when I woke I expected to find myself in my old bed. I was convinced that if I walked downstairs I’d find them in the kitchen, laughing and chatting as usual. That, of course, never happened.

  “Do you ever feel split between two worlds, Jack?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “All of the time.” Jack offered an odd smile. “My father died when I was thirteen. He was a career Marine. I wanted to make him proud so I joined the Marines right out of high school. It took me a long time to realize that I was living that life for him, not me.”

  “So you finished your tour and joined the Legacy Foundation?” I pressed. “Is this where you want to be?”

  “I have no idea,” Jack answered. “Right now I want to make a good living and think about what I want. I’m twenty-seven years old. I spent seven years in the Corps and I’ve been hopping between jobs ever since. I think the need to feel as if you … belong … somewhere … is a natural one.”

  “So you don’t know where you belong either,” I mused, rubbing the palms of my hands over my knees. “Do you think you’ll ever figure it out?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie.” Jack kept his voice even as he joined me in staring at the fire. “I think that everyone finds answers on their own terms. I’m still looking for mine. You’re still looking for yours. I think people like Chris and Laura are still looking for theirs.

  “On the flip side, I think people like Bernard, Millie and Hannah have it all figured out,” he continued. “There are people like Tillie Winchester, who know everything and still want to question everyone. There are people like Landon, who seeks answers but is willing to refrain from asking questions he knows might upset him. It would be a pretty boring world if everyone was alike, wouldn’t it?”

  “Now that was kind of profound,” I teased, poking his side to alleviate the tension. “You’re right about Landon, though. I see it in his eyes. He has a lot of questions, but he’s wise enough to know that sometimes he doesn’t want the answers. I’m not that wise. I want all of the answers – even if they’ll make me unhappy when I finally get them.”

  Jack rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip as he considered the statement. “I worry that your quest for answers will get you in trouble. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

  “You’re not the only one,�
�� I said, patting his knee as I leaned forward. “I worry about that too. But I can’t change who I am. I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to try. I’m going to turn in. Wake me if Bigfoot comes around to eat us.”

  Jack snorted as he watched me grab my sleeping bag and head for my tent. “I might let him take you to the woods and do terrible things to you if you’re not careful.”

  I stilled near the tent opening. “Did you know there’s an entire section of erotica dedicated to things like that? It’s called monster porn.”

  Jack’s eyes lit up, the firelight flickering in the dark depths and making them appear almost black. “I did not know that. May I ask how you know that?”

  “I happen to be a fountain of useless information,” I replied. “Goodnight, Jack. Wake me if you need me.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Jack called back. “I’ll put out the fire and turn in myself in a bit. I want to relax and enjoy the night.”

  “Don’t let Bigfoot get you.”

  “Don’t let bad memories get you, Charlie.”

  I THOUGHT I would be too emotionally keyed up to sleep, but I slipped under the moment I climbed inside the sleeping bag. My dreams were a tangled web of the past and present, my adoptive parents asking about my day as I walked into my old house and Jack sitting on the couch drinking soda and smiling as I tried to answer them to the best of my ability.

  It wasn’t a nightmare – not by a long shot. I had nightmares quite often and I know the difference. Still, I tore myself from the dream and bolted to a sitting position, my heart pounding as I tried to get my bearings.

  It was dark, unnaturally so. The fire outside the tent was long since burned out and the only light came from the bright moon overhead. I’d left the small window flap down so I could see the stars, and when I shifted now I caught the hint of movement on the other side of the tent.

  My breath caught in my throat as I tried to control my breathing, focusing on the movement. It was hard to make out, but whatever walked behind my tent was tall – at least six feet, probably more – and boasted broad shoulders. I couldn’t make out any other features, human or otherwise, and my terror was so overwhelming that I didn’t know what else to do.

  “Jack.” I barely managed to croak out his name. I couldn’t help but hope the shadow belonged to him, that he was relieving himself in the woods and my fear was overwrought and ridiculous. I would yell at him for purposely scaring me during breakfast tomorrow morning. But the figure didn’t move like Jack. I was certain of that. Something else was in the campsite. Suddenly I wanted Jack for a different reason. His tent was only a few feet away, but I couldn’t make my voice work to call him.

  The dark figure walking close to the trees continued to poke its head here and there as it searched for something only it could see. Occasionally I heard a snuffling – as if someone or something was sniffing the area for food or a mate – and my heart hammered as I attempted to remain calm.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “Jack.” My voice was a little louder this time, but still a terrified whisper.

  I gripped my hands into tight fists, my fingernails digging in, and opened my mouth a third time. This time only a strangled sob emerged.

  I jerked my head to the window, but the creature – it seemed too tall and misshapen to be anything other than an animal now that my imagination was in overdrive – remained focused on its search. I needed it to stay near the woods so I could make it to Jack’s tent without garnering attention. There was only one way to do that.

  I sucked in a calming breath, pressed my eyes shut and searched for the magic that only seemed to come when I least wanted it. I felt a whisper of power press against the corners of my mind. I prodded it, cajoled it a bit, and then I pushed it out in the direction of the trees.

  The magic ripped free, grabbing a high branch on one of the pines and severing it from the trunk. The branch made a decent amount of noise as it fell, causing the creature to stare in that direction before dropping to a stealthy crouch to check it out. I had a chance. I couldn’t waste it.

  I pushed myself to my knees, fumbling with the zipper on the side of the tent farthest from the shadow. I managed to navigate it high enough to slip through and then crawled to Jack’s tent, all the while thinking the creature would attack from behind and rip me apart. I didn’t risk a glance. I couldn’t. All I could do was push forward in the hope I would make it.

  I considered knocking – which seemed ridiculous considering the circumstances – but I wasn’t sure about proper tent etiquette. Finally I found the zipper embedded at the bottom of Jack’s tent and opened it.

  I crawled inside, feeling instantly better when I was close enough to hear Jack breathe.

  He slept on his back, his chest rising and falling in even increments. He seemed peaceful as he dreamed. Now that I was in his I felt foolish and reticent about waking him. No force on Earth, however, was strong enough to get me to crawl back out without alerting him to what I saw.

  “Um … Jack?”

  Jack bolted to a sitting position, instantly alert. His eyes were full of concern when they fell on me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I … um … saw something.”

  “Where?”

  I pointed toward the tent flap. “Behind my tent. I … Jack … um … it looked like Bigfoot.”

  Jack stared at me a moment, dumbfounded. Finally he rubbed his fingers against his eyes and rolled out of his sleeping bag. “Stay here.”

  That sounded like a terrible idea. “What if it gets you?”

  “It won’t.” Jack didn’t hesitate as he crawled through the opening. I sat on the floor of his tent, my heart pounding as I rested my head against the knees I drew to my chest. After what seemed like forever – far too long for Jack to have survived the creature’s wrath, that’s for sure – the tent flaps moved again. I instinctively slapped out with my hands.

  “It’s me,” Jack said, grumpy. He poked his head through the flap and scorched me with a dark look. “Were you going to slap Bigfoot to death?”

  “I … um … .”

  Jack’s expression softened and he took me by surprise when he tossed a sleeping bag to me. I recognized it as the one from my tent. “It’s okay. I didn’t see anything out there. But I didn’t want to traipse all over everything and ruin any prints we might find in the morning.”

  “Oh, well, that’s a good idea.” I said the words, but I wasn’t sure I meant them. “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “Get in it and sleep,” Jack replied, reclaiming his sleeping bag. “If you’re not going to sleep in your own tent, the only way I’ll get any rest is if you sleep in here.”

  “But … what about the monster?”

  “Monster?” Jack challenged. “There was nothing out there. I looked. I think you let your imagination – maybe even some dreams – get the better of you.”

  “I didn’t dream about monsters,” I argued. “I dreamed … about something else.”

  Jack’s eyes filled with pity – which was somehow worse – and he gripped my shoulder. “It’s okay. I kind of saw it coming after we talked around the fire. The second the sun rises I’ll look for prints. Until then, this tent is big enough for both of us.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “What if we’re attacked?”

  “I’ll be the closest to the door.” Jack pointed toward an empty space on the other side of the tent. “Put your sleeping bag there and sleep. It’s okay, Charlie. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  “But … .”

  “Sleep.” It was an order.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, spreading out my sleeping bag. “If Bigfoot attacks, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I would never say anything of the sort. Now sleep. You’ve managed to work yourself up for no reason. I promise everything will be okay in the morning.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I knew what I saw. It was no dream.

  19

  Nineteen

&nbs
p; I woke feeling unusually warm and comfortable, almost as if basking in the sun’s full warmth.

  It generally takes me several minutes to gather my faculties upon regaining consciousness. This morning was no different. I stretched before scratching my cheek, frowning when my fingers brushed against something solid.

  I forced my eyes open, my brain finally realizing that I wasn’t in a bed. The first thing I saw when my vision cleared was Jack’s stubbled chin. It was pressed against my forehead. I was halfway out of my sleeping bag; he was halfway out of his. During the night we must have met in the middle and wrapped ourselves around one another.

  My mouth dropped open as I realized my predicament, my face pressed in the hollow between Jack’s shoulder and chest, his arm wrapped around my back. He slept hard, his breathing regular as small snores escaped his mouth. He clearly had no idea that we were entangled. The only thing I could be truly happy about was the fact that nobody’s hands looked to have wandered anywhere inappropriate.

  I was gentle when I tried to shift away from Jack. Even in sleep he recognized the loss of warmth, though. He tugged me closer, making a small murmuring noise as my temple landed next to his mouth. That’s when I felt it. His body moved and tension replaced relaxation as his senses went into overdrive and he woke.

  I pressed my lips together and widened my eyes, watching his profile as realization washed over him.

  “What the … ?”

  “So … um … was it good for you?” I had no idea why I asked the question. I was going for levity in an effort to pretend I wasn’t bothered by the sleeping arrangements. I thought if we could play it off as a joke things would be okay.

  Jack clearly felt differently.

  “We didn’t … did we?” His voice rose to an unnatural level and I couldn’t help but be a tad offended.

  “I’m pretty sure I would remember if we did,” I said dryly. He hadn’t pushed me away from him yet and I remained trapped in his grip. “Unless … are you a minute man? Maybe we did it and I didn’t even notice.”