by B J Bourg
As I picked my way meticulously through the campsite, I located dozens of shoe patterns. Some looked like sneakers and others like boots, but I didn’t locate a single bare foot—large or otherwise. I was most interested in the red tent, so it was in that direction that I worked my way, taking pictures of the ground with my phone as I walked.
After a time, I reached the tent. I hadn’t found a single viable footprint, but that was to be expected. Sarah, Leroy, and Elton had been trampling up the area for more than a day since the disappearance, and they would have destroyed any prints left behind by whatever it was that had taken Kaitlin—if, indeed, she had been taken by this supposed creature. If Elton was responsible for her disappearance, then it would make sense to not find the mysterious prints.
Squatting in front of the tent and resting the shotgun on the ground beside me, I began inspecting the zipper first, hoping something had been snagged on it. It didn’t take long for me to find something of interest. At the very top of the tent opening, caught between the teeth of the zipper’s track, was a long reddish-colored hair. They’d described Kaitlin as having red hair, so I figured it belonged to her. I shined my light down the length of hair and was pleased to find that the bulb was in place.
I continued inspecting the zipper’s track, but that single hair was all I could find. I had a pair of latex gloves in my back pocket, so I took one and pulled it over my left hand. I then carefully recovered the hair, gripped it in the palm of my gloved hand, and then pulled the glove off. I tied a knot in the glove to secure the hair inside. After placing it in my pocket, I leaned into the tent and began visually examining the interior. It was disturbing to see what I suspected was Kaitlin’s purse in the tent, along with some clothes, because that told me she didn’t leave of her own volition. What woman would leave a place such as this and not take her purse with her?
I scowled as I backed my head and shoulders out of the tent and studied the ground near the opening. I would have the tent brought to the lab and have a forensics team go over it, but I’d have to find whatever evidence was present on the outside, because we couldn’t bring a mobile lab out here in the swamps.
I was studying the ground around the outer edges of the tent when an idea suddenly occurred to me. If someone or something had gone into the tent to get Kaitlin, then they must’ve stepped inside the tent. If they did, then they would’ve left a footprint in the soft mud under the tent. If I found Elton’s boot print under the tent, that would be his ass—and the end of the Big Foot hoax.
My heart beating with anticipation, I pulled my last glove over my left hand and began removing the pegs from the ground and stacking them to the side. I then went to work on the bendy poles, removing them one at a time while being careful not to allow the front flap and zipper track to become cross-contaminated. Once the poles had been removed and the tent folded down on itself, I used my gloved hand to lift the front left corner upward and lay it across the top of the tent. I then lifted the right corner and did the same. I continued doing this, a little at a time, until I had exposed about five feet of the bare ground beneath.
Next, I flipped the switch on the spotlight and aimed it at the soft mud. My heart leapt in my throat and I stared in disbelief. There were no boot prints but there was something concealed underneath the canvas floor of the tent, and it looked vaguely familiar. Where had I seen such a thing before? I wondered, testing the outer limits of my memory. That strong sense of déjà vu returned, but I couldn’t figure out why or from whence it had come.
With a hand that shook—more from disbelief than anything else—I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket. I was about to take a picture when a branch snapped from somewhere behind me and to the left.
I whirled around and reached for the shotgun, dropping my phone and the spotlight in the process. I brought the shotgun to bear, aiming it in the direction of the sound. Another branch snapped and I stood slowly, cautiously to my feet. The fire had died down somewhat and the dancing flames cast ghostly shadows around the clearing. In the dim light, I couldn’t tell what was real and what was imaginary. I wanted to reach for the spotlight, but that movement would leave me vulnerable.
I stood poised for a long minute, waiting for whatever it was that would come next. I didn’t hear another sound. Everything was quiet—too quiet.
Was my mind playing tricks on me? I shook my head to clear it, trying to tell myself to get a grip. It was probably nothing—maybe just a deer or a raccoon. Of course, it did sound bigger than a small rodent. I was about to lower the shotgun when I heard something rustling in the opposite direction. I turned toward that sound. Was I surrounded? Were there more of these creatures?
Shut up, Clint, I said silently. You’re being paranoid.
Although I was able to calm my beating heart with a few deep breaths, the palms of my hands were still sweaty as I bent to retrieve my phone and the spotlight. I shoved my phone in my front pant pocket and held the spotlight away from my body as I swept the darkness that surrounded me. The trees were so dense that the light merely reflected off of the many trunks and ruined my night vision. It did little to penetrate the shadows of the openings between the trees.
As I stood frozen, I thought I heard the sound of rustling leaves coming from where I’d heard the first branch snap. I quickly shut off the light and used my left wrist to steady the forearm of the shotgun. Something was out there, and by the sound of it, it was heavy.
“Police department,” I called out, flexing my trigger finger. “Whoever’s out there, you’d better announce your presence and state your intentions or I’m going to fire this shotgun.”
Nothing.
“I won’t say it again,” I warned. “You’d better—”
The night suddenly exploded in noise and chaos. Whatever was happening seemed to be taking place a few dozen yards beyond the edge of the firelight, and from at least three sides. One of the cardinal rules of firearms safety is to never shoot what you can’t identify, and I knew I simply couldn’t pull the trigger, but—right at that moment—I sure as hell wanted to. I didn’t know what, or who, was coming for me, but a strong sense of dread enveloped my every fiber.
I shot a glance around the ever-darkening clearing, searching for the slightest bit of cover. There was none. A tornado of noise was heading straight for me, and it was approaching from three different angles—directly in front of me, slightly to my left, and behind me to the left.
Thinking quickly, I stepped around the red tent toward my right and planted my back against a large cypress. I checked my left and right flanks to be sure the tree was wide enough to offer some cover. If they were going to fight me, they would have to come at me head-on. I wasn’t getting caught from behind, and I wasn’t going down easy.
With a deep breath, I flipped the switch on the spotlight and slipped my left hand through the carry handle so I could maintain my grip on the forearm of the shotgun while shining the bright light wherever the muzzle pointed.
The crashing sounds grew nearer and I finally caught movement through the trees. In the bright beam that shot from my hand, there was a blurry flash of dark fur—and it was coming straight for me. In that moment, I didn’t know what the hell it was, but I knew it wanted to kill me, so I pulled the trigger on my shotgun.
CHAPTER 14
Melvin Saltzman hated babysitting duty, but he’d promised to watch over the civilians while Clint checked out the campsite where Kaitlin Shelton had gone missing. He had been standing on the bow of the boat ever since he’d lost sight of Clint thirty minutes ago. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of the last spot where he’d seen his friend and former boss disappear into the swampy wilderness.
As Melvin stood there—cradling an AR-15 in the crook of his left arm—watching and waiting in case Clint needed help, he kept an ear on the group behind him. He had warned Gary to keep his emotions under control when Leroy came onboard, and the older man had nodded sadly. When he had come face-to-face with his son, he had apologize
d and wrapped him in a bear hug.
“I’m so sorry for losing my temper, Leroy,” he said in a shaky voice. “I…I had no right to do what I did.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Leroy had said, equally choked up. “We’re all scared.”
Leroy, Elton, and Sarah talked almost continuously about their two days in the swamps, and they wondered aloud at the fate of Kaitlin.
“God, I just hope she’s okay,” Leroy said at one point. “I can’t believe Big Foot is real and I can’t believe he took my sister.”
Melvin cocked his head to the side as he listened to Leroy speak about the mythical creature. The boy named Elton admitted to never believing in such things, but he claimed to now be a firm believer since he’d seen the creature himself.
“I saw him with my own two eyes,” he said. “And no one can take that away from me.”
Melvin wasn’t buying the Big Foot routine. He wondered if Kaitlin had rejected Elton’s advances and he had made her pay for it. Rejection was as time-worn a motive for murder as greed, and it was certainly more plausible than a Big Foot kidnapping. He sighed, realizing he had already written the girl off as dead. He sure hoped that wasn’t the case. Their small town had been quiet for several good months now, and he had hoped it would stay that way.
“Nothing ever stays the same,” he muttered, shifting his feet and leaning forward just a little when he saw the flames of the campfire grow brighter through the trees. Clint must have thrown more logs on the fire to aid in his inspection of the scene. Melvin’s fingers twitched as he stroked the AR-15. He wanted to be with Clint. It was never good to process a scene alone, without someone there to watch your back. If Kaitlin had really been kidnapped, then the kidnapper was still at large and Clint could be in real danger.
“Hey, Elton,” Sarah said when Leroy and Elton had stopped talking for a while. “Was Kaitlin in her tent when you unzipped the flap?”
His curiosity aroused, Melvin turned to look at Elton. The young man was stretched out on the floor of the boat and his arms were covering his eyes. He had remained engaged in the conversation with Leroy and Sarah, but he hadn’t looked up when he spoke. Well, he did this time.
“What are you talking about?” His expression appeared to be one of genuine confusion. “I never touched the zipper on the red tent.”
“I…I thought I heard you unzipping the flap. I thought you were going to sleep with Kaitlin—”
“Was it you?” Gary bellowed, jumping to his feet. “Did you do something to my daughter?”
Melvin turned around and stepped forward, placing a hand on Gary’s chest. “Look, sir, I warned you once, and I’m not going to warn you again. If you get out of line I’m going to handcuff you to the back railing of the boat. Got it?”
Gary grumbled, but nodded.
Elton returned his arms to his face and mumbled, “I like Kaitlin—why would I want to do anything bad to her?”
Melvin studied him. What if he was responsible for Kaitlin’s disappearance? For one thing, that would mean Clint wasn’t in danger, because the suspect was right here in front of Melvin. For another thing, that meant other people might be in danger.
Leroy spoke up next, his voice suspicious. “Elton, are you sure you didn’t get up to check on Kaitlin? It doesn’t make sense that you didn’t hear anything. I mean, you were right there next to her tent. If Big Foot was walking around, you should’ve heard him.”
Elton grunted and pulled himself to a seated position, turned to lean his back against the side of the boat. “What are you saying, Leroy? That I watched Big Foot take Kaitlin and didn’t do a damn thing about it? Do you think I watched him kidnap her and then I just went back to sleep?”
Leroy was studying his friend intently. “It doesn’t make sense that Big Foot would kidnap anyone. That’s never happened before. Sure, there have been sightings, but he’s never hurt anyone. Hell, that’s if he’s even real.”
“Oh, he’s real—that’s for damn sure. I saw him plain as day.”
“Well, that detective’s questions got me thinking. He asked a lot about whether or not you went into Kaitlin’s tent. When I started thinking about it, I realized you were the first one to suggest Big Foot took Kaitlin. What if you were doing that to throw us off?”
“What?” Elton asked incredulously. “You can’t honestly believe that.”
“Well, I do know you tried to force yourself on Kaitlin when she was a juvenile.”
Gary and Sarah each gasped out loud and Melvin turned to watch the dynamics of the group. Things were growing tense and he wondered if he should intercede. Part of him thought he’d better step in before things got out of hand, but another part of him wanted to see how this thing played out. What if Leroy could get Elton to confess? He’d seen stranger things happen in his long career as a Mechant Loup police officer.
“I didn’t force myself on her,” Elton said through clenched teeth. “She wanted it. And besides, it was only a kiss.”
“Had I not walked up, it would’ve been more than a kiss.”
“You messed around with my daughter, you little shit?” Gary asked. Even in the dim glow of the lights from the boat, Melvin could see his face was burning with anger, but the man stayed sitting. “When did this happen?”
“It was a couple of years ago,” Leroy said. “When Kaitlin was still in high school. You know, Elton, what I could never understand was why you didn’t go after a college girl. Why’d it have to be my little sister?”
“Dude, I’m telling you, I didn’t go after her. We just kissed that one time. I’ve never done anything with her since.”
Leroy stood slowly, allowing Sarah’s hand to slide off of his leg. She had been leaning on him, trying to relax, but she now sat up straight, tense and alert. Melvin was alert, too, but he wanted to see where this conversation would go.
“Look, I’m only going to ask you once more, and I want you to tell me the God-honest truth.” Leroy hesitated and watched as Elton sat there looking up at him. “Did you, or did you not, go into Kaitlin’s tent that night?”
“I did not.” Elton shook his head to emphasize the point. “I swear on my mom’s eyes—I never went in that red tent.”
Melvin felt the question needed to be rephrased to fit the specific allegation, so he asked, “Did you ever unzip the flap on the tent?”
Elton shifted his gaze to Melvin and shook his head. “Never.”
Leroy closed the distance between himself and his friend in an instant. Melvin was caught flatfooted, not expecting the kid to move when he did. Elton wasn’t expecting it either, because he yelped in surprise when Leroy pounced on him and began raining punches down on his head and shoulders.
“You little bastard,” Leroy bellowed. “If you hurt my sister, you’d better tell me and tell me now, or I’m going to kill you!”
Gripping his rifle firmly in his left hand, Melvin sprang into action, but Elton’s face was already bloodied up by the time he reached Leroy and grabbed him by the back of the shirt with his right hand. With a powerful jerk, Melvin lifted Leroy from his friend and flung him across the boat and toward the twin engines.
Wiping blood from his face, Elton grabbed onto the side of the boat and got shakily to his feet. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flaring. “For the love of God, Leroy, I already told you I didn’t hurt your sister.” Tears started to well up in the boy’s dark brown eyes. He didn’t even attempt to go after Leroy to retaliate. “Dude, I love your sister. I mean, I think I do. I haven’t thought about another girl since that night we kissed. All I want to do is hang out with her and get to know her. I would never hurt her. Never!” Tears were flowing freely down Elton’s face now. “I swear to God, I’d never do anything to hurt her.”
Leroy was twisted in an awkward position at the stern of the boat, part of his body hanging over the edge. His face was flushed with anger as he glared at Melvin.
“Don’t even think about it, little man,” Melvin said coolly, stealing a glance at
Gary Shelton, who hadn’t budged from his seat. “If you hit another person on my boat, I’ll throw you overboard with the alligators.”
Sarah approached Leroy and helped him up. “Please calm down, Leroy. You’re not helping anything.”
Leroy straightened his now-stretched shirt and was about to open his mouth to speak when the silence of the far away swamps was shattered by a booming gunshot. Sarah screamed. Leroy, Elton, and Gary all looked to Melvin.
“Stay here and get down!” Melvin commanded. Without saying another word or watching to see if they complied, he sprang from the boat and landed on the ground in a dead run, heading straight toward the gunshot. He hadn’t taken two more steps when another gunshot exploded, and then another, and then three more. The muscles in his legs strained as he ran as fast as they could carry him, counting Clint’s shots as he ran. He was familiar with the shotgun Clint had, because it was his, and he knew there had been seven double-aught buckshot rounds in the tube and one in the chamber. Clint had fired six rounds so far and only had two remaining.
Another shot suddenly exploded, this time from not as far away, thanks to how fast Melvin was sprinting. One shot left!
Melvin thumbed the selector switch to make sure his rifle was ready to fire. He didn’t know what he was about to rush into, but he knew Clint was about to fire his last shot and might need cover fire.
The last shot never came, and Melvin wondered if he had miscounted. What if Clint’s shotgun was dry? Or, what if he had been taken down before he could get off the last shot?
Within seconds of having that terrifying thought, Melvin burst through the tree line and into the clearing where the campsite was located. He skidded to a stop and gasped out loud, his chin nearly dropping to his chest in shock as he took in the scene before him. There was blood everywhere and the smell of gunpowder and death clung to the night air like a heavy mist.