Crystal Creek

by Malmborg, William

  "Okay," Quinn said. "I can see how this could play out. A question though, why would she have Brendon kill Marlon Gibbs?"

  "Who knows?" she said with a shrug. "There could be an actual reason, or maybe it was simply because she needed something to keep Brian Goldman's attention. You know, he came out here because there was supposedly video from Margaret's phone that showed her being attacked by a Bigfoot-like creature, which again, I hate to say it, could be Brendon. What if she is worried about him scooping her story? Or maybe she is hoping he will bring a bit of attention to everything and then disappear or something, which would really capture everyone’s attention—an author who writes about the paranormal suddenly goes missing while looking for Bigfoot. Can you imagine that? People would really start to take an interest, and what do you know, Cheryl would be ready to write all about it."

  Now that was something.

  "Only, she probably wouldn't claim it was Bigfoot," Beverly continued. "Instead, she would uncover the truth with her stories and point the finger at Brendon."

  "A serial killer that dresses as Bigfoot," Quinn said.

  "Exactly."

  Quinn didn't reply right away.

  Beverly waited.

  Finally, he asked, "Do you really think Brendon is capable of killing people?"

  "I know he is," she said and looked away.

  Quinn wanted to ask how she knew this, but then didn't, his fear being that if he did she would implicate herself in something. Instead, he asked, "What do you think I should do?"

  "I think you should take a careful look at Cheryl and see if she is up to something. Find out if Brendon is staying with her when he isn't in the woods and whether or not there is anything that implicates her in this Bigfoot thing."

  "And if I come across Brendon?"

  "Kill him."

  10

  "Get anything good?" Alice asked as Brian came back into the room, somewhat startled to see that she had his computer open and was staring at the screen.

  "Um…just confirmed that Annie did call the motel to make a reservation, one that Beverly Volt, the owner, says was never made." What is she looking at? "Cheryl also called while I was in there. She claims she wanted to talk to me, but for some reason I just didn't buy it."

  "What do you think she was calling for?" Alice asked, eyes still staring at the screen.

  "I'm not sure." He couldn't take it any longer. "What're you looking at?"

  "These porn videos you have, they're something else."

  "What?" He didn't have any videos on there. They were all on an external hard drive that was in his laptop bag.

  "Just kidding. I figured I'd check out those pictures you took yesterday of that guy who was killed." She twisted the laptop around so he could see it. "Take a look at this."

  "No, I'm good," he said. "Once was enough."

  "Seriously, take a look at this. I want you to tell me what's wrong with it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just take a look. Tell me what's missing."

  Looking at the busted head again was the last thing he wanted to do, especially with the greasy breakfast foods churning in his stomach, but he also knew that Alice wouldn't let whatever it was she wanted him to see go and likely wouldn't consider any other options for that morning until he took a look and discovered what it was she wanted him to see, so he stepped over to the table and took a look at the screen.

  Nothing jumped out at him as being wrong.

  What's missing?

  He stared and stared, but couldn't figure out what she was talking about.

  "Do you see it?" she asked.

  "I don't know. I'm not sure what it is you think is missing."

  "You've hit your head before, right?" she asked.

  "Yeah."

  "What happens when you do?"

  "I don't know, I swear like crazy."

  She smiled. "That's true. And you break things like cabinet doors when you slam them, but that's not what I mean."

  "Why don't you just tell me? I'm not going to be able to guess, and I really don't want to keep looking at this after having just ate."

  "How come, too bloody?" she asked.

  "Yeah, exactly, you know I can't stand—" He stopped and stared.

  "Now you see it, or, more actually, don't see it," she said.

  "There's no blood."

  "Bingo."

  "But…" His voice faded. How could there be no blood?

  "You said earlier that you and Cheryl heard him scream and then found him like this, right?" she asked.

  "Yeah."

  "And it is pretty obvious this was made to look as if he had been killed right then and there."

  "Yeah."

  "But if that had been the case, there would be blood."

  "But why would they…?"

  "I think that is something we should try to find out."

  11

  Cheryl couldn't relax and found herself pacing alongside the back-room windows of the house, eyes focused on the trees beyond but not really seeing them. And then the phone rang.

  "Hello?" she asked, somewhat winded from running over to it.

  "Cheryl, it's Brian."

  "Oh." Once again, she had been hoping for Beverly.

  "We have something you need to see. Can we meet up with you, either at your house or your office?"

  "Sure, the office is fine, unless you're planning on heading up the mountain to see the cabin Margaret disappeared from. Then my house would be better since it’s on the way."

  "Okay, we'll head up to your place," Brian said.

  "Do you need directions?"

  "Um…yeah."

  Cheryl gave him directions.

  A few seconds later, once the call had ended, she dialed the number for the motel, her hope being that whoever was working the front desk could tell her where Beverly had gone.

  Elaine couldn't.

  Where the hell is she?

  The question lingered long within her mind.

  12

  "Wow, it doesn't take long before the town disappears, does it?" Alice noted, eyes glued to the trees beyond the window."No, it really doesn't," Brian agreed. "Makes you wonder what all the hoopla is over the logging companies taking the trees because there seem to be plenty to go around."

  "I think it's a different story once you get higher up into the mountain. There are probably hundreds upon hundreds of acres that have been destroyed, entire landscapes and environments fucked up beyond repair."

  "Yeah, you're probably right."

  "Can you imagine that? Not just the sight of a landscape stripped of trees, but what that would do to the land itself. With the trees gone, all the roots would be rotting away, which would make the land weaker because it's full of holes, so it would erode away easier and water would probably flow down different paths when it rains, cutting through the weaker soil and creating new rivers while others lose water because it no longer flows to them."

  "I never really thought about that."

  "Honestly, I never did either until I was at the airport yesterday and started reading about the logging company situation in these mountains. I always just thought about the trees themselves and the animals that would call them home. Seems the impact is more than that."

  "But hey, at least the logging cuts down on forest fires."

  Alice gave him a look that said she was not amused.

  Brian was quiet for several seconds and then said, "I wonder what Cheryl will think when we point out the lack of blood."

  "I think she's going to fake surprise, while secretly being pissed that we noticed it."

  "So you really believe she is behind all this?" Brian said.

  "I don't know what to believe at this point, but I think her actions and Beverly Volt's actions are fairly suspect. I mean, why did she lie to you about Annie having a reservation?"

  "That's the question that's sticking in my mind."

  "You said that when you first spoke to Cheryl she said Annie was pret
ty much a crackpot who was just trying to get attention, but now I wonder if that was just to try and get you away from this story."

  "But then why take me up the mountain to talk to Marlon Gibbs, who was then killed while we were there?"

  "Well, made to look like he was killed."

  "Yeah, just the same, whoever did that wanted me to think he had been killed right then and there, and that Bigfoot was involved. Why would Cheryl try to get me to leave town one day and then take me up to see that the next?"

  "I don't know."

  "Me either."

  It made no sense to him, and the more he tried to figure out the motivation behind such a thing, the more twisted up his mind became.

  But maybe talking to Cheryl would shed some light on things.

  Maybe it would force her to realize they had caught her in a lie, and she would admit to what was going on.

  Then again, maybe her realization that she was caught would be bad because she would then try to silence them. After all, a man was dead and a young woman was missing. If Cheryl was a part of that, then she might not want anyone else to know that she was behind such horrible acts and would try to stop them from telling anyone.

  Or would she?

  It seemed there had to be a reason for her deception, one that involved him for some reason.

  But what?

  He couldn't figure it out.

  Nor could Alice, the only thing she could suggest following his question on this being, "Obviously it has something to do with the book you wrote and your website, but beyond that I can't make heads or tails of this."

  13

  Cheryl watched the two pull up to her house, her anxiety over the lack of contact from Beverly and the addition of Brian's wife to the situation having reached a critical level following the call from Brian. Not knowing what it was he was going to show her was a factor in her unease, though not the focal point. That was reserved for Beverly, and had more to do with the post-sex mind fuck she always experienced following her departure.

  Why did she always leave afterward without saying anything?

  Was it the same reason why she never got off when they were together?

  Cheryl pondered these questions as she headed down the stairs toward the front door, a knock echoing seconds before she reached it.

  "Morning," she said as she opened the door. "Come on in."

  The two stepped inside just as a gust of wind caused the wind chimes to sing.

  "Doesn't that get annoying?" Brian's wife asked.

  "No," Cheryl said. "I find it soothing."

  "Huh."

  Cheryl eyed her for a moment and then turned to Brian. "You said you had something to show me."

  "Yeah, it's about the pictures you took of Marlon Gibbs. Do you have them handy?"

  "Um, I do," Cheryl said. "Why don't you two have a seat while I go get them?" She motioned toward the family room.

  Brian smiled and started down the hallway.

  His wife followed.

  Cheryl headed upstairs to get her computer, which was sitting on the desk in her old bedroom, screen opened upon an article she was trying to write about Marlon Gibbs, one that would be a simple piece about his quiet life up on the mountain off the grid that could accompany his obituary. Nothing much was written yet, her mind having been unable to focus on anything beyond her night with Beverly and the concerns she held about whether or not she truly enjoyed their time together.

  Is she with me because of who I am or because of what I am?

  Is it a lack of selection that has caused her to settle for me?

  This was a question she had asked herself several times during their relationship, one that she felt she knew the answer to even if Beverly always denied it.

  Maybe Beverly isn't purposely denying it; maybe she simply can't admit it to herself.

  Cheryl had never really considered such a possibility before, and now that she did, it changed things a bit.

  But she didn't have time to focus on that now and headed back downstairs.

  Brian was sitting on a couch while his wife stood by a window, staring out at the mountain.

  Both turned toward her as she entered.

  "So, what about the pictures?" she asked while setting her computer down on the coffee table, finger working the mouse tab over to the file she had created that morning.

  The folder opened, icon images of Marlon Gibbs's body appearing on screen.

  "Open that one," Brian said, pointing.

  Cheryl moved the mouse over to the icon in question and double clicked it.

  "Okay?" she asked.

  "Notice anything odd?" Alice asked.

  Cheryl looked up.

  His wife was still looking out the window, but then turned and looked at her. "In the photo. Notice anything missing? Something that should be there had that poor old man really just had his head smashed open on the rock."

  Cheryl eyed her for a moment and then shifted her focus back upon the picture.

  Looking at it felt surreal given how fresh the scene was in her mind.

  Nothing jumped out at her as being missing.

  Obviously there's something, or they wouldn't be here.

  Whatever it was, she was at a loss.

  "Give up?" Alice asked.

  Cheryl didn't reply.

  "Where's all the blood?" Alice asked.

  Cheryl looked up at her and then back at the picture, a question of “what do you mean?” ready to be asked, but then she halted.

  Where is the blood? she asked herself.

  There should have been buckets of it.

  Well, maybe not buckets, but there should have been blood present.

  But that means—

  "Well?"

  "Well what?" Cheryl demanded.

  "Can you explain why there isn't any blood?"

  "No," Cheryl said. "Can you?"

  "I can't, but I must say, if I had to guess, it would be because he wasn't really killed on that rock, but simply put there to make it look like he was—to make it look like Bigfoot had attacked him."

  "Any idea why someone would do that?" Brian asked.

  Cheryl turned to him and shook her head.

  "Bullshit," Alice snapped.

  Cheryl twisted back toward her.

  "Honey—" Brian started.

  "No, don't ‘honey’ me about this. It's bullshit."

  Cheryl didn't know what to say and turned back toward Brian.

  "Is she right?" he asked.

  Cheryl didn't reply, panic growing.

  "Is this bullshit?" he asked.

  "I-I-" she started, voice fading.

  "Brian, tell her about Annie Morgan."

  "What about her?" Cheryl asked.

  "Any idea why Beverly Volt would claim she didn't have a reservation when she obviously called the motel Wednesday night and made one?" Brian asked.

  "And why would she then claim Annie had called to say she wasn't going to make it when there is no record of such a call?" Alice added.

  Cheryl looked back and forth between the two, the questions, coupled with his wife's aggressiveness, making it impossible for her to think up an answer beyond what the truth was, which was something she didn't want to voice. Couldn't voice.

  Beverly lied to me.

  The realization was like an ice pick to the heart.

  If Marlon Gibbs wasn't killed up on that rock—if he was killed somewhere else and brought there to make it look like he was killed there—then it meant Beverly had likely known what would happen when suggesting she take Brian up there by claiming his fingerprints had been found on the phone, and that the attack wasn't a moment of random violence at the hands of her brother. It was planned.

  Or was it?

  Maybe Brendon had acted on his own, and Beverly had tried to cover for him.

  Just like with Margaret.

  Maybe—

  But what about the scream and gunshots?

  Had that all been Brendon?

  Had
he tried to make it look like Bigfoot had attacked the man on his own, or had he been instructed to do that?

  If he had been instructed to do it, what was the reason for it?

  And why had he then attacked Chief Parker and dragged her into the woods?

  Why had he tried to rape her, again?

  She needed to talk to Beverly.

  But first she needed to get rid of these two.

  "Well?" Alice asked.

  "What are you insinuating with all this?" Cheryl asked, trying to sound commanding but falling short.

  Alice looked at Brian and said, "Are we insinuating anything?" She then turned to Cheryl before Brian could say anything and said, "Is there something we should be insinuating with all this, something that you know and are not telling us?"

  "No."

  "See, I don't really believe you." She turned to Brian again. "Let's go and find out what the police think of all this."

  Cheryl was about to protest but then realized that Alice was hoping for just such a reaction, so she caught herself before falling for the trap and said, "Chief Parker was pretty busted up yesterday, so you'll probably have to talk to Jeanne."

  "Local police?" Alice asked and shook her head. "No, no, I think we'll head to the county and see what they think of all this."

  Cheryl shrugged. "In that case, you'll have to head all the way to Clearwater if you want to speak with them. They don't have any outposts here in town. I can give you directions if you like. It'll take you a few hours, and chances are they'll just have desk jockeys there today and you'll have to wait until tomorrow to speak with any investigators."

  "I'm sure we'll be able to get a detective to look at things," Alice said. She turned to Brian, "Come on, honey, let's go."

  He hesitated for several seconds, eyes on Cheryl the entire time, then, almost reluctantly, broke his contact and stood up.