by Kristi Rose
No matter how nice he seemed.
Cricket was inside the diner and waved Cori over. Her smile fell when she saw Deke step in behind her. She led him to Cricket's table anyway.
“Hey, Deke's joining me for food, and I'm going to get some shots of him. Did you have any questions for him?” Cori asked and slid into the booth.
“I'm not talking to him,” Cricket said and put her hand up to the side of her face in what Cori assumed was an attempt to block out Deke.
Startled, Cori chocked back a laugh. “What? How are you going to interview him?” She slid into the booth, Deke following after her. Something peculiar was going on here, but Cori couldn't place it.
“I sent him an email. Feel free to share anything he says with you. Or better yet, record it.” She handed Cori a menu and smiled like a southern belle with a deep secret.
“Ah...” Cori didn't know what to say, but she was totally curious as to why they weren't talking.
Deke filled in the void. “She hasn't spoken to me for six months. Woman can hold a grudge.” He extended his arm across the back of the booth.
Cricket began to hum.
“Okay, then,” Cori said and looked for the waitress. Sally was working, and she pointedly ignored Cori. “I don’t think we’re gonna get service anytime soon, and I also think it's because of me.”
Cricket tried to flag Sally down, but the waitress wasn't having it. Clearly, she wasn't over Fort bringing Cori to town. Cori faced Deke. “You might want to order for us. Apparently, Sally doesn't speak to me. I'd like the buffalo burger with extra fries and surprise me with the pie.”
He looked at Cricket, who pointed at what she wanted on the menu.
Deke slid from the booth and made his way to the counter, stopping to talk to people along the way. Cori snapped pictures, anxious to look at them later.
“Wanna share why you haven't talked to Deke for half a year?” She kept the camera on Deke.
“It's a long story. One I'd have to be waterboarded to share.”
Cori glanced at her. Her thin pressed lips were no joke. “Noted,” Cori said. “Are you going to be able to eat with him here? I can move.”
“Nope.” She waved her hand like it was no biggie. “I do it all the time.”
Cori wanted to probe further, but Deke returned. Maybe the silence wasn't awkward for them, but it was for Cori. Of course, she wasn't used to it like they were. She'd intended to share a watered-down version of last night with folks in hopes of shining a light on Fort that didn't show what a tight-ass he was. A more carefree side.
“So, last night, Fort played the worst prank on me. I was so mad, though it's kinda funny today.” Cori noticed the two tables closest had stopped talking.
She painted a story of two lovers out enjoying the stars, not ready to end the day, who found themselves by the railroad tracks. She laughed as she imitated Fort's frightened face, telling her the light was a ghost. The chatter in the diner was quieting as more patrons were listening to Cori. She had their rapt attention. Then she bragged at how she beat him back to the truck and made up the part about making him sleep on the couch. The last part earned her an ugly scowl from Sally. She had the room laughing when she told them the size of the couch and how his legs hung over the arm to nearly touch the floor.
She let the story float around the room for a few minutes before broaching her next topic. “It was nice to see him relax. Aside from the election”—she elbowed Deke good-naturedly—“his family has had some cattle go missing. One here. Another there. It's weird and”—she lowered her voice—“kinda spooky. Where I'm from, there's usually a sign of what happened. Fort says there's nothing. Not one clue.”
“Don't I know it,” Mr. Phillips said. “I have my suspicions.”
Cori looked at Cricket who mouthed “aliens.”
“Recently?” asked Cori.
“Another went missing last night,” he said. “Poof. Gone.” He did his hands in a dramatic mock explosion.
Deke squirmed beside her. “Listen, I have to go. Thanks for the pie, Cori.” He turned to the rancher. “I'm sure there's a logical explanation, Mr. Phillips.” He tossed down a twenty and was gone before Cori could protest.
“The Williams had it happen, too,” said Sally to the crowd.
Others were chiming in with their thoughts. A few of the ranchers left, plates barely touched, likely heading out to check their herds. Cori turned to Cricket with a brow raised. “What do you think?”
“I think something in Wolf Creek stinks, and we've got us a story.”
“I would agree.” Cori glanced at her watch. “I'm gonna head over to the sheriff's office and try to catch Fort before he starts his shift.” She hung her camera bag across her body, messenger style. “You need me anywhere soon?”
Cricket pursed her lips in thought. “Nope. Pop over and give me those photos when you get the chance.”
“Done,” Cori said. As she left the diner, a few people called out their goodbyes to her. Here only a few days, and she'd smiled more than she had in the last ten years. Wolf Creek was more home than where she grew up. Cori exited the diner and stood in the shadow of the door, biting her lip. She would not get attached to Wolf Creek and its people. She reminded herself that she could have this nearly anywhere. It just meant starting over, and doing so wouldn't be all that awful. She was about to step out of the shadows when she caught Deke stalking across the town square toward his office. Left behind in the parking space in front of the church was Conway Witty. He was leaning against the door of a pickup truck talking to someone. Cori couldn't make out whom. Moving swiftly, she fit her camera with a high-powered lens made for long distance shots. She brought it to her face, finger depressing the shutter, hoping to get an image before the opportunity was gone.
She knew the shots weren't likely to be in perfect focus. Sometimes a person could miss a shot and sometimes they got lucky and snagged the perfect one. The man in the truck leaned farther out the window, and Cori got the shot she needed. When she saw him up close through the lens, she gasped. She captured some more then quickly tucked everything away. She tugged a sun hat from her bag and placed it on her head at an angle, hoping to hide her face. She shuffled from the diner toward the sheriff's department, head down and away from Witty and the man. She reached the sheriff's office as Fort was walking in.
“What's up short stuff? What's with the hat?”
She snagged him by the elbow and dragged him into the office. Once inside, she removed the hat and moved away from the windows. “I have lots to tell you. First, Mr. Phillips had another cow disappear last night. Said it vanished without a trace.”
Separating the offices from the waiting room was a waist-high wall and swinging door. Fort sat on the edge of the wall and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankle. He looked delicious in his uniform, all strong and capable, like an alpha hero waiting to come in and save the day. Her mind got off track as she pictured being swept up and carried in his arms, fireman style would work, too, to a remote field where he'd lay her down, slowly work on her buttons and...
“Cori, where'd you go?” Fort was snapping his fingers in her face.
She coughed then cleared her throat. “Sorry, was trying to recall if any other ranchers said anything.” She fanned herself. “Is it hot in here or is it me?”
“It's seventy degrees in here.” His lips twitched, leaving her wondering if he could read her mind.
“Hm, must be all the food I ate.” She sat down in one of the waiting room’s plastic chairs and set her camera bag in front of her. “After I mentioned the Mystery of the Missing Cattle, a few ranchers hustled out of there. I don't know who they are.”
“If they find heads missing, they'll probably report it now that they know it's happening to everyone. It's a small community, but it’s amazing what people don't say. How'd it go with Deke?”
Cori groaned. “I don't think I can be unbiased where he is concerned. I think he
's up to something.” She told him about his behavior when they started talking about the missing cattle and how she'd seen him storming across the square minutes ago. “But that's not all. I got some shots of a stranger. Witty was talking to this person, and I'm guessing Deke was, too.” She lifted her camera and turned on the screen, then scrolled through the pictures.
“This guy look familiar to you?”
Fort took the camera and studied the image. She liked how he took his time. That he wasn't impulsive…much. He'd been rash about bringing her here, but she liked to think it was working out for him.
Fort leaned closer to the image. “Can't say that he does. He look familiar to you?”
Cori blew out a breath, lunch sitting in her stomach like concrete block.
“You okay? You look kinda pale.” He pushed from the wall and came to squat before her. After setting her camera aside, he pressed his palm to her forehead. “You're sweaty. Here, tuck your head between your legs”
She did as he said. She had to tell him. “I don't know the guy's name, but I've seen him before,” she said as she stared at the under seat of her chair at a large pink blob. “Someone stuck gum under here."
“Who's the guy, Cori?”
Feeling much like that blob of gum, chewed up and left in the dark, forgotten, she said, “He used to come around my dad. I think they did some work together, and by work, I mean cons.”
18
Fort kicked the toe of his boot against the red clay, his hand resting against the post where the salt lick was nailed. Eventually, old cantankerous Lester Phillips would shut up, so Fort held his tongue and waited for his opportunity to get a word in. It might be when the man was finally put into the ground, but the time would come, and Fort had enough inner reserve to dig deep and wait him out.
They stood in Phillip's east pasture, ankle deep in brown and green grass with the foothills behind them. It was an idyllic view, bucolic, only thing missing were the cows. They should have been surround by a small heard of ten heifers, but instead it was just Fort and Phillips.
And the salt lick.
To the casual observer, it might have looked like the two were shooting the shit, or maybe one was selling the other something. Fort touched the badge on his hip and stared over Phillip's shoulder to the intact fence line twenty feet away. This was serious business, and Fort was getting sick of these cattle disappearances. Rustlers, it had to be. How they were doing it was the million-dollar question.
The old man paused to take in air, and Fort had his moment.
“You aren't being targeted by aliens, Mr. Phillips. I promise.” He held up his hand when the man began to bluster. “I know this because we aren't the only town losing cattle around here. Far as I can tell, nearly everyone's seen some heads disappear. Bison's Prairie, Elk's Pass, and as far as the outskirts of Cody.”
“Without a trace?” Mr. Phillips asked wide-eyed.
Fort nodded. “Yessir. No tire marks or hoof prints from horses that anyone can find.”
Phillips harrumphed. “Then how you reckon it's not aliens? A giant UFO comes down and sucks them up in their beam.” He narrowed his gaze at Fort.
Fort suppressed a chuckle. He knew there'd be no changing Mr. Phillips mind, a man who'd long preached conspiracy theories with such sound arguments he made pastors look inept and the Bible like a fiction novel. Fort knew what he'd have to do. He pulled out the big guns and hit him with science.
“Well, sir. I was doing some research, and even if a UFO had come down to suck up the cows in their giant beam, there'd be some trace of the beam. Maybe the grass would be a shade lighter? A tad crisper, perhaps. But some sign. This brown grass is from how dry it's been, not a beam. You can see because it's all over the pasture. I've taken pictures of every area. I've studied them till my eyes burn. I'm not seeing anything. I've asked other law enforcement, and they can't see anything either. They've taken pictures, but nothing.”
“So then how do you explain this ain't no aliens? Maybe their technology is so far advanced there wouldn't be any telltale signs. Hm? What do you say about that?” When Phillips raised his overly bushy eyebrows, Fort couldn't hide his slight smile.
Phillips frowned.
“Maybe I'm naïve, but I'm fairly certain that it doesn't matter how advanced the technology is. It can't change physics. Maybe change how it presents, but not hard and fast rules.”
“And there's no crop circles.” Phillips scratched his cheek with his thumb, lips pressed together in thought.
“That, too,” Fort said.
“I reckon you might have a point or two.”
Fort let it slide. “I'm gonna tell you what I told the others and what we're doing at Ma's ranch. Mix things up with—”
“What in the Sam Hill does that mean?”
“It means you have a predictable schedule. We all do, and these thieves have watched us long enough to know it. They're taking advantage.”
“Bullshit,” Phillips said.
“Mr. P, you eat lunch every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at the diner with three other Vietnam veterans and ranchers. You're away from your ranch about three full hours. All four of you have been targeted. Let me take a wild guess and say these heifers were new to the herd and not yet branded?”
Phillips shoulders drooped.
“Yeah, that's been the same in most places. So, moving forward. I'll get in touch with livestock auctions, but it's pretty much impossible when the animals aren't tagged or branded. You change your schedule. Be less predictable. Brand the new ones as soon as you can. Any chance any of these cows had some distinguishable marks?”
Phillips frowned and glanced at his feet.
“Any chance you've registered your branding with the county?” Fort already knew the answer but thought perhaps if asked, he might plant a seed of an idea in Phillips head.
“Hell, no. You think I'd let the man into my business?” Phillips brows pulled down and inward until they looked like one long, bushy line.
“I can respect that Mr. Phillips, but right now the man”—Fort pointed to himself—“could use just one element to be in our court to help out with this. Think about it.”
Phillips spat on the ground. “Well, shit.”
“Yup.”
They walked in silence the hundred yards to the dirt road where they'd left their cars.
“If it's not aliens, then the next commonality is your gal. She showed, and cows started going missing.”
Fort stopped at the hood of his deputy SUV. “Cows started missing before Cori came to visit.”
“True, but that doesn't mean she wasn't doing it from afar. Tell me when your heads are next to each other in bed you don't engage in pillow talk?” Mr. Phillips upped his voice several octaves. “Tell me what's going on in Wolf Creek,” he said in what Fort thought was an impersonation of Cori. He then dropped his voice low. “Mr. Phillips got in some new heads. Old fool doesn't even register his cows.” Fort assumed that last bit was him.
“I would never tell her about you getting cows.” He leaned closer to the older man. “Because when our heads are close together, I've got better thing to say and do than talk about an old fool like you.”
“Ah-ha,” Phillips said, “so you do think I'm an old fool.”
Fort nodded. “Yes, I do. With technology the way it is, today there's no reason for you not to be protecting yourself. On our ranch, we're old fools, too. We like to think that we can take our time. That nothing's gonna happen. We even have that fancy GPS system and we tag them right away but brand when we can.” Fort pointed to the mountains. “There's an epidemic out there. Meth, and we might think it's not affecting us here in Wolf Creek because we don't see it, but it is. My guess is that we're experiencing rustlers, and its likely for drug money. Trick is I can't figure out how they get the cows out of here.”
“Maybe the meth heads built a spaceship. A hovercraft.”
“Maybe,” Fort said and got into his truck. Some people never changed. Never
saw what was in front of them, that their actions were not helping their situation. Cori had shown him that. Since he got home from Afghanistan, he'd held everyone at bay. It wasn't easy letting people in. Sometimes it was annoying, but Mrs. Williams had made him more banana nut muffins today, and that was a perk.
19
The following day, while Fort was out talking to ranchers, Cori spent her time with Cricket at the newspaper going over photos to use for articles and making a list of what others she needed to get for upcoming stories. The newspaper offices were housed in one of the original buildings. Brick walls and large windows gave it charm. The front room were the offices, the back held the antiquated-looking printing press that Cricket ran with the help of some high school students.
“You're really good,” Cricket said as she held a candid of Deke talking with others at the diner. He looked nothing like the guy Fort had said he was. In Deke, Cori saw a warmth and genuine interest for his town and people. Her father had always feigned that. His smile had always been too small or too big. Engaging with the people who'd elected him mayor was one never-ending beauty pageant for him. All fake smiles and what he thought others wanted to hear.
Cori's gut told her something wasn't adding up. No, sir.
Fort texted her that he was coming to town in a few hours and would pass off the truck keys. She would try to talk to him then if she could get him alone. She texted back and asked him to meet her at the station. Hopefully, the walk to there could provide some alone time to think everything out.
Cricket slid another photo from the pile, Deke with this manager. It wasn't a close-up like the previous one, but she could still make out the expressions. Cori had caught them in conversation. On Deke's face was the largest, fakest smile she'd seen him make. But his body language spoke the opposite. Arms were crossed over his chest, shoulders were back in defiance, and he was leaning away. Witty looked much the same, but when Cori lined up a sequence of the photos, Witty never looked at Deke.