“So, how did she meet Mr. Bigfoot?”
“He was doing research in the park. I think for a different project. Before all of this Bigfoot stuff became his focus. He stopped to ask her for directions and they got to talking.”
“Guess he’s a smooth talker then.”
“Don’t worry, he’s got nothing on you,” Delaney grinned. “It didn’t hurt that they had two big things in common. First, they both have an annoying appreciation for Jim Carrey movies. If I had a nickel for every time that Zoe made me sit through Dumb and Dumber with her, I’d be retired and then some.”
“Is this a bad time to admit that I love Dumb and Dumber?” Casper said.
“There’s no good time to say that, so I’ll just pretend you’re making a joke. Anyway, the second was an undying love for Creedence Clearwater Revival.”
“The band from the seventies?”
“That’s the one. Zoe’s a strange bird, but she’s one of a kind. My take is that if Gil is all right by her, he’s all right by me.”
“Fair enough. I’m open-minded.”
“Just don’t quote Jim Carrey movies if I’m still in the room,” Delaney said with a chuckle. “Anyway, let’s see how this episode wraps up…”
“In recent years, experts have largely discredited the film. People have come forward claiming they made the suit that they wore. People have come forward saying that Patterson himself was in on the hoax. Others say that none of that matters because Patterson accomplished his goal. He made the study of Bigfoot a workable occupation. He opened the doors to let science in. Explore more with me the rest of this season as we dive further into the makings of this legendary beast. Next week, we will hear an interview with legendary cryptozoologist Grover Krantz and discuss the implications of his research. In the meantime, if you want to get a jump-start on the curriculum, you can pre-order my book, The Elusive Beast, on Amazon and at your local bookstore today. Until next time, I am Gilbert MacDougal. Stay safe, folks.”
Spooky tones played over the credits. “Okay, that wasn’t too bad. I didn’t know he was promoting a book. That somehow makes it better,” Casper said.
“I believe the book is still being written.”
“Ah, so at least we’ve got that in common.”
“Yeah, how’s that coming along? Any agents knocking down your door to hear the story of The Punkhorns?”
“Not that I’m aware of. My old agent from the first book is out of the business. Apparently writing books is a less than viable way to make a living these days.”
“Don’t mention that to Gil.”
“Oh, there are more than a few things I will not mention to Gil, but I’m still excited to meet him. Maybe more than ever before.”
“Well, hope you are also ready for a slew of questions from Zoe. Nothing will be off-limits for her. She’ll poke and prod. Ask you if you’ve ever been in love or what your deepest, darkest secret is. Be ready.”
Deepest, darkest secret. Casper cracked his knuckles.
“Bring it on.”
Lost in the brief distraction that Bigfoot provided, Casper swallowed the thought and decided that he’d let Delaney have her space. She’d bring it up in time. When it was natural. When it was right. He had earned her confidence. In time, she would reveal her secrets and they’d deal with the fallout. She’s not who you think she is. When had that ever been a good thing?
Chapter Nine
The smell of coffee woke Zoe from her fitful sleep. She blinked her eyes open, surprised to see that Gil had already left their bed. An email marked urgent blinked on her phone screen. She read through it and collapsed back onto the pillow. Work beckoned. Even on days off.
Gil entered their bedroom with a steaming mug of black coffee and a childish grin. “Your daily jolt of trimethylxanthine, dear.”
Zoe shot him a playful look, and he placed the mug on her dresser. She hiked up her thick green uniform pants and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. Early morning motivation?”
“Just getting a jump on the day.” He eyed her as she dressed. “I thought you closed today?”
Zoe buttoned the rest of her top and followed Gil into the kitchen. “I do, but Mathias called an all-staff. Have to leave in a few to get to the other side of the park.” She noticed disheveled papers all over the kitchen table. “What’d you get into last night?”
He scrambled to organize them and carried the stack out of the room without a word. Zoe grabbed a granola bar out of the pantry and sipped the coffee he had made. She nearly spit it out. The taste was somewhere between boiled lemons and battery acid. Gil, who had more degrees than a thermometer, had yet to master the art of the pour-over and never failed to create a bitter concoction that Zoe worried would soon make the paint peel. She sipped a bit and heard him approaching, so she threw half of the mug down the drain.
“Is it better today?” He asked with a smile.
“It’s great, Gil. Thanks for making me a cup. What did you get into last night? I didn’t even hear you come to bed.”
“I had an idea that I wanted to explore. I am hoping to let it guide me today.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I am sorry if I woke you this morning.”
“No bother. It’s always nice to spend a little time with you in the morning before I head off on duty. Much better than a rushed dinner before mindless TV and falling asleep on the couch,” Zoe said. She hugged him and finished the last of her granola bar. “Anyway, I’m off. Can’t wait to hear what the day has in store for me.”
“You never know; today may surprise you!” Gil shouted as she stepped out the door.
Zoe whizzed past the gates that once marked the entrance to Reedy Creek State Park. When Umstead State Park opened in 1937, government officials split the vast acreage into two, each named after a creek that ran through the grounds. Some thirty years later, state officials combined the land into one expansive park named after the esteemed Senator-cum-Governor William Bradley Umstead.
Her extended commute to the visitor’s center was an unwelcome reminder of the size of the forest, which sat just under six thousand acres. Although Zoe’s cottage on the quiet side of the park provided peace and tranquility, it also added a twenty-minute commute through twisty horse trails that were often flooded with oblivious cyclists. All that just to clock in for the day. Often, it was the only time she spent in the woods at all.
Aside from the rangers, the parking lot next to the Visitor’s Center sat empty. Zoe parked next to the other white North Carolina State Parks trucks, surprised to see that she was the last to arrive. Clem Jenkins had an untouchable reputation as the last-person-to-show, and it was worrisome that even he had arrived before her.
The cramped conference room was the only meeting space that fit the entire staff. Stuffed to the gills with furniture and an oversized table donated after renovations overhauled IBM’s headquarters just down the road. Mathias sat at the head of the table, looking like a CEO who decided to play dress up and opted for the muted tans and greens of a Park Ranger uniform. His mustache, greased down at the ends, pressed into his cheeks like the Monopoly man. The cracked skin on his knuckles remained as a relic of time spent in the field. Chestnut hair covered most of his head, although it had continued to thin in the years since Zoe had started at the park. He looked as he usually did. Stoic.
To his left sat the ever-unreliable Clem Jenkins. Clem grinned from ear to ear as Zoe entered. She fought off her schoolyard instincts and kept her tongue inside her cheek. She poured a cup of coffee to help mask the persistent taste of Gil’s sludge. The office’s coffee was nothing to write home about either, but it didn’t have the same chemical composition as paint thinner, so Zoe could gulp it down. She slid her plain white porcelain mug onto the table and glanced over at the last member of their team.
Ernest Henley’s years as a high-ranking member of the Raleigh Police Department were his favorite and quite possibly only conversation topic. That and his time as a medic in the Army. Zoe had respect for
the man’s career achievements but often wanted to tell him to go yell it on the mountain each time he had her ear. His rants were famous amongst the staff and ranged from the medical inaccuracies of M.A.S.H. to how the Yankee transplants from the north were transforming Raleigh into Manhattan with their yuppie tendencies. Grumpy from Snow White would seem like a peach compared to old Ernest.
Ernest left the police force and after one year of retirement took an ‘easy’ job, as he put it, and joined the team of rangers that patrolled the grounds of Umstead State Park. Mathias carried a certain reverence for Ernest’s military and police experience and often let him have the pick of the litter when the projects for the week came to light.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Mathias said. He glanced at his staff with a blank expression. “To be direct, my hand has been forced.” He said each word like somebody held cue cards up for him. “State leadership has diagnosed our recent rash of peculiar activity as a problem. They tasked us with taking action.”
“Action?” Clem laughed. “What in the heck does that mean?” His southern voice moved as slow as molasses.
“He wants us to hunt it,” Ernest said. He tapped the butt of his gun. “Leave it to me; I’ll take out our visitor. Friend or foe.”
Clem pulled a toothpick from his mouth. “There ain’t no visitor, Ernest. This is all a bunch of malarkey. What’s that the kids say these days? Fake news?” He grinned at his attempt at youthful humor.
Mathias cleared his throat. “I am looking for something that will appease the upper management. Not something expensive, dangerous, or that could leave the door open for more of this bullshit down the road.”
Zoe opened her mouth to speak, but Ernest interrupted before a sound could emerge. What was that saying Joanne liked to use? Put enough men in a room and sure enough, they’ll talk over themselves until the dogs come home.
“How about a trap?” Ernest asked.
“Yeah.” Clem faked a laugh. “Let’s set a trap in our park. Brilliant plan, you snake in the grass. Do you want to call the state attorney and explain our side of the lawsuit now, or wait until someone gets hurt?”
Mathias raised his hand and silenced the others.
Clem pushed on anyway. “Hey Mathias, what caused all of this anyhow?”
“There has been information shared and we—”
“I’ve been running all over hell’s half acre lately, trying to get the trails in shape. I don’t have a second to spare for this boondoggle,” Clem said.
“Somebody made a convincing case to the authorities. Somebody anonymous,” Mathias said with a glance towards Zoe.
“So, we just make a tip of our own that the whole thing was a hoax. Easy as pie,” Clem said.
Mathias glared at him. Clem recoiled in his seat. “Zoe, thoughts on the matter?” Mathias said.
Zoe exhaled and stared at the table. “I’d imagine that we need to educate the public. Safely. Without causing a scene. Maybe we put up some posters with information about what to do when you see a bear or other—”
“Bear? There ain’t no bears in suburban North Carolina, Hun,” Clem laughed.
“Don’t you Hun me. I’m suggesting that we—”
“Cheap and friendly to the public. Let’s pencil that in.” Mathias Wittles, ever the wordsmith. “Is that all?”
“What about game cameras?” Zoe asked.
“Oh, that’s actually a great idea.” Clem snapped his fingers. “We could put some up in the abandoned structures next to the Bike and Bridle Trail parking lot too. If I have to clean up one more piece of litter, I will-” He curled his hand into a fist.
“I could put some in the areas where we’ve seen a cluster of sightings. Maybe we can wrap this up by tomorrow morning and ease their minds.” Zoe’s mind pictured a long day in the woods, climbing trees and positioning the game cameras at just the right angle.
Mathias pondered the idea. He nodded. “Simple enough. We already have the cameras, right Ernest?”
Ernest stood. “We have some in the closet from the wild boar incident last year. I believe it’ll send any photos taken directly to the park email address.” He nodded towards the closet. “They will capture anything that moves, so we may get a bunch of deer, fox and squirrel, but it may appease the powers that be.” Ernest spoke to Mathias like nobody else was in the room.
“Good.” Mathias nodded. “Dismissed.”
Zoe moved toward the closet, but Mathias’ voice interrupted her halfway. “Ernest will set up the cameras. Zoe, I need you on the desk for the morning. Joanne will be back from vacation this afternoon.”
Her heart sank faster than a penny in a wishing well. She nodded and retreated to the lobby before anyone could see the disappointment on her face. Mathias followed and stood over her. The tension was palpable. Zoe braced for the worst. He played with his mustache for a second until Zoe noticed his stare and put two and two together.
“Sir, I had nothing to do with the anonymous tip. I swear to you. I’d never—”
Mathias raised his hand. “I know it wasn’t you.”
As he turned away, Zoe caught half of a smile on his face. Once he left, Zoe faced the stark reality of the moment. Only one person outside of that conference room had the knowledge and motive to call in such a tip.
Jesus, Gil. What in the hell were you thinking?
Chapter Ten
Andy knocked a cigarette out of the half-empty pack and into his palm. He played with it for a second, rolling it back and forth between his fingers like a carnival trick.
“You ever smoke, Kyle?”
“Cigarettes? No.” Kyle kicked at a rock on the ground. “Weed. Yes.”
“Cigarettes are a hell of a vice.” Andy put one into his mouth. “I’ve quit more times than I’d like to admit, but that’s a curse I share with half of this country.”
“That a verifiable stat?”
“Sure as shit is. What else do you think half this country has in common? Smoking crosses political lines. Geographical borders. There isn’t much that we as folks have in common but damn it if we don’t all have our vices.”
A bell rang at an ear-piercing volume throughout the school. They both ignored it.
“Fair enough. You selling tobacco on the side now?”
Andy continued on. “I once justified the just one more thought by thinking of all the farmers around the Carolinas that made their riches off tobacco crops back in the day.”
“Mhm. Tobacco Road and all that jazz.” Kyle glanced at his watch.
“All that jazz.” Andy chuckled. “Hell, they built this entire region on tobacco. James Buchanon Duke founded Duke University with his earnings from the old Bull Durham company.”
“Thought that was a baseball team?”
“One day, they just decided that they’re proud of it. Opted to keep the old-fashioned billboards up as a reminder to the dark days of segregation, tobacco farming and greed. Shit is wrong.”
“Didn’t hear the bell ring and start my own personal history class, Coach Tucker.”
Andy fumbled for a light. A stiff wind rounded the corner of the parking lot and wiped out the flickering flame he’d pulled close to his mouth. He used another hand to shield his cigarette from the elements and took a long drag.
“Between all that and the history of prohibition down here, not much has changed,” Andy continued. “Our cars got faster, the drugs grew more dangerous, and we got better at hiding things. That’s how.”
“How what?”
“How I sleep at night.” Andy smiled. “I tell myself that our ancestors did the same shit we’re doing these days to earn a buck. Probably on the same property that we’ve made our own little smuggling playground.”
A student pushed open the exit door, saw the two teachers outside, and spun back into the building. Kyle waited until they were alone.
“A means to an end.” Kyle chuckled. “I’m in the same boat, so I don’t know why you’re trying to convince—”
“Man, there ain’t no boat. The only person I’m trying to convince here is myself. How do you carry on knowing inside that you’re as corrupt as sin when the price is right?”
“It’s just drugs.” Kyle shrugged and stepped away from the cloud of smoke from Andy’s puff. “They’d find a way to the pockets they end up in. I’m just a cog.”
“In more ways than one.”
“Hell, so are you, man. We’re nothing. If we dropped dead on a Friday, The Fox would have a new runner in place by Monday.”
“More like Friday night, but thanks for the reassurance, bud.”
“I’ve got to run. Office hours and whatnot,” Kyle said and turned toward the door.
Andy kept his eyes on the sea of cars parked in the lot. “I’ve got a job.”
Kyle raised his brow. “About time.”
“I’m hungry for it, so, of course I get a job the day that I’m supposed to take my god-damned kids to Carowinds.” Andy shouted. “Talk about some luck.” His hair looked unkempt. The red in his eyes were classic insomniac. Or Andy had, as threatened, picked up an extra shift as a nighttime security guard somewhere to keep himself out of the red.
“I’m sorry, dude. I—”
Andy raised his hand. “None of that pity. Just let me bitch. How was the last job?”
“Easy as ever. But the bag was heavier than last time.”
“Yeah, been there. I think The Fox has been taking it easy on me. Giving me lighter loads. Started heavy, but it’s lighter as of late.” Andy laughed. “Maybe he somehow knows that my knees are shot. Maybe my doctor is The Fox.”
“Maybe you’re just getting stronger. Ever think of that, man?”
Andy belly-laughed. “Shit, when you approach forty, nothing inside you is getting stronger except a sense that you screwed your entire life up. The only direction my body is trending is downward. I appreciate the kind words though. You think you’d be up to take one for the team tomorrow?”
Kyle hesitated. “I’m still trying to—”
Trouble Afoot (Shepard & Kelly Mysteries Book 2) Page 5