Bigfoot Beach

by Kristopher Rufty

  “No. Upset is so not the word for what I was. Furious. Enraged. Those are words for what I was. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It's like you said, you didn't know anything about it. How could you have? You don't seem like the kind of person who'd gladly move into a house knowing how it was acquired.”

  Maybe a couple years ago he would have been, back when he was smug and expected people to throw their coats over puddles so he could cross. The sad reality of the old Paul was one he wanted to forget. “No. And that was why Howie didn't tell me. But please understand, I doubt he had any devious motives for buying the house. I think he really just felt sorry for me and wanted to help.”

  There was a pregnant pause from the other end. A sigh followed. “You're probably right. It's hard for me not to blame him, though.”

  “I bet it is.”

  “So how about you let me make it up to you?”

  “Make what up to me?”

  Becky groaned. “Can't I ask you to dinner without you making me spell it out?”

  “I'm not sure I understand.”

  Becky laughed, heavily distorting the cheap phone. “Forget I asked.”

  “Wait, I'm not saying no.”

  “Are you sure? It sure sounds like it.”

  “Wow, I really suck at being clever.”

  “I told you that you did.”

  Paul's heart drummed. He could feel sweat forming under his arms. “When would you like to schedule this dinner arrangement?”

  “What are you doing now?”

  “You mean right now?”

  “No, later now.”

  Paul could sense her smile through the earpiece. “Nothing, but—”

  “Great, it's settled. I'll come pick you up. Be ready in twenty minutes.”

  “But…”

  “See you then.”

  He heard a click, and the phone went silent as if it died. Frowning, he walked back to the wall, the stretched cord winding back up. He hung the phone on the base. A quick glimpse of the clock told him it was nearing eight. Where on earth would they be going to eat this late? Besides, he wasn't even hungry. He'd tried to mention he'd already eaten. He should call her back and arrange something for tomorrow night.

  Snatching the phone from the cradle, he raised his finger to the pad. Then he realized he had no idea what her number was.

  Call information and get it like she did mine?

  No. If he canceled or rearranged the plan, she might think he was trying to back out. And he did not want her to get the wrong impression.

  He needed a shower. Fast. But before he did that, a quick stop in Gunner’s room was in order. He needed to let his son know he would be babysitting tonight.

  17

  Gunner basically had the house to himself again. Natalie was in the bathroom brushing her teeth and would be going to bed in a few minutes. All he had to do was read her a story. She'd probably be asleep before he was halfway through the book. After she was asleep, he could do whatever he wanted for a couple hours.

  Plopping down on the couch, he remembered there was nothing to do. Today had dragged by and he’d found himself ready for his dad and sister to come home. Megan was working a stretch at Quigley’s and had been texting him when she could. She’d be too tired to do anything when she got off work, so he wasn’t going to bother inviting her over.

  Dad wouldn’t let her come over without him here anyway.

  He might, since Natalie was here. If Gunner did anything out of line, she’d be quick to nark him out.

  Don’t try it. Give it some time. He might be more easygoing after we’ve been here for a few days.

  It was hard to tell for sure, but Gunner thought his dad hated it here. Though he’d never come out and acted in such a way, he knew his father and knew what his behaviors represented. Since they’d only been here two days, he was certain Dad would grow to love it.

  “All clean!” a squeaky voice announced from behind him.

  Gunner jumped with a short gasp. Turning around, he gazed over the top of the couch. Natalie stood a few feet away in her gown and shorts. Her curly hair hung in bouncy waves past her shoulders. Smiling, he draped an arm over the couch. She really was cute, though she got on his nerves most of the time.

  “Did you decide on what story yet?” he asked.

  “Um…” Lowering her head, she put her hands behind her back, nudging at the floor with a toe. “I was thinking…”

  “Yeah?” He had an idea where this was going. With The Rule Enforcer away from home, she was going to see what she could get away with.

  “Can I watch TV instead?” Gunner was about to respond, but Natalie quickly added, “Just for a little while!”

  Gunner sighed. The cable was working when they woke up this morning, even though it wasn’t supposed to be turned on until next week. All evening, Natalie’s face had been plastered to the TV. “Yeah, go ‘head.”

  “Great! My favorite show’s on!”

  “Okay, but when it's over, TV's off.”

  “Awww, but there's two episodes in a row tonight!”

  Gunner's lips tightened. “Okay. But no more after that. I don't care if it's an all-night marathon.”

  “Yay! I promise!” She spun around and bolted for her bedroom.

  Gunner stared at the empty spot where she'd been standing and a felt a pang of sadness. He wasn't sure where the sudden woefulness had come from. Maybe he was grasping that she was getting older. Watching the Disney channel now, but before he knew it she'd be rushing off to gawp some kind of drama about relationships and teen pregnancies.

  Ugh…I hope not.

  Gunner turned around, propping his feet on the coffee table. He looked at his phone again. Nothing to do but wait for Megan to text him again.

  His phone chimed. When he checked the screen, he saw his wait over.

  ****

  Paul persuaded Becky to substitute dinner for ice cream, and she'd obliged. They'd gone to a place called Quigley's, where a sign hanging above the entrance guaranteed the best hot dogs in the state. He'd ordered a vanilla cone in a butterscotch shell, and for Becky, instead of butterscotch, she'd chosen chocolate.

  Now, they walked along the beach. The sun was down and a mild breeze flittered along the shore, making Paul wish he'd brought a jacket. Becky seemed a little cool from the wind, but she didn't look as if she struggled to keep her teeth from chattering. He supposed she was used to the weather, even with ice cream. As Paul finished eating his cone he wished he had some coffee.

  She'd asked him about working for his brother and he'd told her he would be one of the deputies. It was nothing major but Becky had reacted as if he'd told her he would be personal security for a king. He could tell she was just being overly supportive, but it still felt great hearing congratulatory praises, even if they were exaggerated.

  “And if you don't mind my asking,” he said, “what got you into writing for the paper?”

  “Please. The Seashell Gazette is hardly what anyone would consider a viable source of news.”

  “Local news, though, right?”

  “Barely. The extent of my journalistic skills is used for advertising. That's all I really do, if I want to be honest with myself. The paper is only a two-page spread, just a single front and back splash during the off season. And all I'm usually writing about are holidays, sales, or specials. Sometimes I'll review someone's local recipe for chili or something else utterly pointless. During our active months, I get six pages, and even then I'm just trying to sell our town to the tourists.”

  “Why do you keep doing it?”

  “Building up the practice. It looks good on a resume. Someday I might be able to get a good job writing for a real paper.” She shook her head. “Paper. Like those will even still be around then.”

  “Sounds like you’re giving up.”

  “No. I’m too stubborn for that. But it wasn’t until last summer that I actually got to write what I consider a real article for the Gazette.”

&n
bsp; “About Bigfoot?”

  Smirking, Becky bit into the nub of her cone. From where Paul walked beside her, it looked as if she'd excavated the ice cream. “Yeah. Our Bigfoot.” Her tone was like someone speaking about a scandal. “Big whoop.”

  Paul stuffed his hands into his jeans’ pockets. He wondered if he should ask more about the Bigfoot stuff. She wasn't hollering at him, or abandoning him some foreign place, but he was afraid prying might bring her wrath upon him. But he was interested to know more about it. How could such a mythological creature even be considered real—and at the beach—was something he wanted to learn.

  “How'd it start?” he asked.

  “Depends on who you ask. And since you're asking me, I can say it actually started spring before last, with the boat crash.”

  “A boat crash? Interesting.”

  “Yeah. Pieces of a mysterious boat washed up on shore. It looked as if it had been blown apart. The wood was charred beyond recognition. Your brother sent out a search party and they scoured the ocean around the clock. But all they found were more strange boat fragments. At the end of the search was when they found the cage.”

  Paul resisted a shiver. “A cage?”

  “That's right. The bars had been bent.” She put her fists together and slowly pulled them apart to show him. “I saw the cage myself. Of course, I wasn't allowed to take any pictures of it, but I did see it.”

  “Wow. Was it big enough to hold a Bigfoot?”

  “I suppose. It looked big enough to sustain an elephant, so a Bigfoot should have been no problem.”

  “But the bars suggested otherwise.”

  “That's right. But after a few weeks of finding no clues to where the boat came from or even how old it was, the case was put away and considered unsolved. They found nothing else. No bodies of crew members, nothing to indicate where the boat had come from. There were no logs or charters matching the boat's description. So I believe the authorities just wrote it off as a drug boat that sank during transport.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. So we were all okay with forgetting about it. Then along came the strange sightings on the beach. People on late night walks reported seeing someone big splashing around in the water. Whenever it would see people, it would run away. One person said he thought a gorilla was running around. Then there were some complaints about roaring that no one could label. The reports said it sounded almost human but not quite. And then there was the murder and disappearance.”

  “Whoa. Are you serious?”

  Becky finished her cone, nodding as she chewed. “Yeah. A young couple out for a late night walk. The boyfriend was found with his head twisted completely around on his body and the girl still hasn't been found. That was shortly after the Fourth of July last year.”

  “Do you they think the girl could’ve killed the guy and fled?”

  “No way in hell is that possible. I saw the body. It literally looked as if someone twisted his neck like unscrewing the cap on a bottle.”

  Paul's sphincter tightened. “Ouch.”

  “I still have bad dreams about it.”

  “Then what about the girl?”

  “Nobody knows. The investigation is still ongoing. Her parents have been squeezing the mayor for results, but so far, he's been able to keep them calm. I imagine like the boy’s family, they’re probably getting a nice cut of all the Bigfoot-inspired profits.”

  “How does all this lead people to suspect a Bigfoot is responsible? That's what you're about to tell me, isn't it? That the mayor and countless others are convinced a Bigfoot has taken refuge in this small beachfront town?”

  Becky smiled but it was without merit. “I honestly don't know if anyone believes there's really a Bigfoot, but it's sold a lot of merchandise and attracted a lot of tourism. There's even been talk of changing the name of the beach from Barefoot Beach to Bigfoot Beach.”

  “And the mayor doesn't think that'll bring the victim's parents out here demanding his head?”

  “At this point, I seriously doubt it.”

  “But that still doesn't explain why Bigfoot.”

  “The footprints at the crime scene. Next to the boy’s body were a pair of prints that the tide couldn't reach to wash away. And they looked almost human, except…”

  “Except they were really big?”

  “Right. And there were traces of hair on Ethan's skin that still hasn't been clarified what it belongs to. That was when the Bigfoot talk started, and it just sort of spread like wildfire. The people jumped on it.”

  Paul nodded. “I guess I can see it. Something so ridiculous it's almost harmless, you know? I mean, everyone knows a Bigfoot would not be in this environment, even if it was real. So it's a safe way to cash in on the tragedy of death and the missing girl without coming across as inconsiderate douchebags.”

  Becky laughed. “It's a way to cash in, but I think you have to be an inconsiderate douchebag to even try it.”

  “I see your point.”

  They walked in silence for the next couple minutes. Becky was the first to speak.

  “So, without trying to sound like I'm snooping, what brought you to our Bigfoot-obsessed town? I mean, other than taking a job for your brother.”

  Paul had known the question would be asked sooner or later, but he'd hoped for way later. “Just came here to start over.”

  Becky nodded. “I see.”

  “Which reminds me. I haven't seen a church anywhere around.”

  “There isn't one.”

  “No church?”

  Shaking her head, Becky said, “This is a small town, but it's still eminently built around tourism. And no one wants to go to church on vacation.”

  Hearing this depressed Paul. He'd hoped to start going back to church, hopefully in the process teaching his children there was more to life than the misery they'd been living with.

  “So, you're a Jesus freak?” she asked. There was nothing derisive about her tone. She'd asked as if curious what his favorite color was.

  “When I was a teenager, yeah. As an adult I became a success freak. I figured since I've come to a new place to be a new person, maybe I could start going to church. Who knows if it would last, but I still thought it’d be a good idea to try.”

  “I'm sure you can find some around, but you'll have to drive a ways to get there.”

  Nodding, Paul figured as much.

  “Wow,” said Becky.

  “What?”

  “You totally changed the subject on me.”

  It hadn't been his original intention, but after he'd asked the question, he’d hoped it would steer them to a conversation where he didn't have to talk about his past. “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did. And I almost fell for it.”

  Paul snapped his fingers. “Dang. I should've tried harder.”

  “If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine.”

  “No, it's not that I don't want to talk about it. I just don't know where to begin.”

  “Give me the cliff notes,” she said.

  Laughing, Paul nodded. “Sure.”

  He hardly flinched when Becky held his hand. It felt good having her fingers slipped into the grooves between his. It helped him talk about memories he'd tried to block. He told her about his stint as a local hero. She'd reacted in a way that hinted she might have already known about it and he figured she probably did.

  “So,” said Becky. “It's just you and your kids out here?”

  “Yep. My son starts his senior year in a couple weeks and my daughter will be in the second grade. Technically, she should be in the third, but because her birthday misses the deadline, she didn't get to start when I think she should have.”

  “But no wife, correct?”

  Paul felt a sharp jab in his heart. “No. No…wife.”

  “I'm sorry, that sounded so awful. I didn't mean it like that.”

  “It's okay. Alisha suffered a damaging nervous breakdown last year and she was locke
d up permanently by her doctor. I signed the papers saying I agreed and now she hates me. She hates all of us, actually.”

  “I'm so sorry. How'd it happen?”

  Becky rubbed her other hand down his arm. It was the first physical act of affection he'd received from anyone, other than Natalie, in almost two years. It felt nearly as wonderful as a hug, though he imagined that would be just short of exorbitant.

  “It really began after Gunner was born. She suffered great bouts of depression throughout the years afterward. But she started to get better and her doctor suggested another child might just be what she really needed. So along comes Natalie and it did seem to help her a lot. After a couple years, we started fighting again. A lot. I think we were on the verge of divorce when she had her first real breakdown. She went away for a few weeks and when she came home, she was better.

  It didn't last, though. When the depression and anger came back, it was really bad. She resented me for most of our marriage, but she was starting to really hate me at this point. Then I came across that car and the mayor's daughter and suddenly I'm this big hero.”

  “Did she agree?”

  “I don't think so, but she had a good time with the illusion. When the spotlight on our family finally dimmed, I was so grateful. I wanted our normal life back, but Alisha was happy with the farce spectacle it had become. I stopped doing the appearances—not because they weren't asking me to, I was just tired of them. I only kept doing them for as long as I did to keep Alisha happy. So they eventually did stop asking me. Before long, everyone forgot about Paul Thompson, Hero Cop.”

  “Not your wife, though, right?”

  “Right. Now she had this other Paul to compare me to. And she did it whenever I messed up. Didn't matter if I was hanging a hook for a picture frame, she'd say something like: 'Wow, the mighty sure has fallen. Before you could save lives, now you can't even hang a picture.' And it only got worse. Soon she was saying things like that to the kids. It got to where I was scared of leaving them home alone with her.”

  “Did she abuse them?”

  “Physically, no. Mentally, you have no idea. I took an extended leave from the force to spend more time with the kids. Alisha had her fourth and final breakdown during that time and was locked up again. With her gone, I figured I could go back to work, but when I told the higher-ups I was ready to come back, they told me the budget for my salary was no longer there. Times were hard for everyone. So we go visit Alisha with her parents and I tell her that I'm looking for new work and that sets her off. She starts screaming at everyone, including her parents. The nurses had to sedate her just to calm her down. We all decided that the institution was the best place for her: her doctor, her parents, and me. We all decided. I talked to Gunner about it and he agreed, too. I'm sure Natalie would have had we asked her.”