He swallowed once, hard, then continued. “Now, there’s a new development that we haven’t made public yet, but I’ve been cleared to share with you all now. There was a man shot up, close by the Boy Scout camp, and he has passed away from his injuries. From what we can tell, he was deliberately shot. We’re not sure if he had any role in the kidnapping, but we do know that he was not from this area.”
Part of that was a white lie, because James had a pretty good idea Yoder was somehow involved, even if they didn’t have the proof yet. What James wasn’t telling the townspeople was the debate that had gone on between his sheriff, himself, and George Ortiz. They had discussed whether to release the dead man’s identity and his previous relationship with Amanda but had finally decided against it. James and George knew they’d have to squelch rumors about the paramedics going on a call and finding a dead man, but the sheriff thought the information about Yoder being Amanda’s ex-boyfriend might be beneficial and flush the kidnapper out. George and James had argued with him until they were practically blue in the face, and the sheriff finally capitulated and said it was up to James. Both James and George agreed that releasing all the information about Yoder could possibly panic the kidnapper and force him to try to dispose of his victim and, in the end, their opinions won out. While he was at Cuppa, briefing the folks of Ravenwood Cove, George and his team were finding out every scrap of information they could about Ken Yoder.
Brian Petrie stood up. “So, how can we help? What can we do?”
There was a murmur of eager agreement, and James put up a quieting hand. “We appreciate all everyone is doing, we really do. Right now I’d like to ask you all to keep your eyes and ears open for anything you might see or hear that’s out of the ordinary. We’ve got every law enforcement officer we could get on this case, and they’re doing their level best to bring Amanda home. Please support them and don’t interfere with their investigations.” He looked around the room, at people he’d know his whole life. “And I’d like to ask you to pray, if you’re so inclined. My family and I are people of faith, and we’d appreciate your prayers.” He tried to clear the lump that was suddenly in his throat. “Thank you,” he added, and sat down.
There was a bit of conversation around them and Mrs. Granger made a sound of disgust. She hefted herself out of her seat by the handles of her walker and turned around to face the crowd.
“Hey!”
She was tiny, but she was mighty. No one would dare to talk over the diminutive lady, and silence descended on the crowd.
Seeing she had their attention, she continued. “Now, I believe in prayer, too, but I believe sometimes answer to prayer is helped by real action from people. We need to do something, and we need to do it now. We need to start using the brains the good Lord gave us!”
She turned to James and pointed a crooked finger at him. “Let’s start with you and that yellow lab you’ve got at home. I say you need to get Benson to go down there with you, where they found that man, and see if he can pick up Amanda’s scent. No animal on earth loves her more than that dog; not even Oscar.”
James looked surprised. He’s already talked to the county sheriff about bringing in a tracking dog to see if they could find any trail that would lead to Amanda, but he hadn’t thought of Benson going out to try. Benson followed Amanda from room to room in the house, and had even developed an uneasy friendship with the huge orange cat, Oscar, so he could stay as close as possible to his favorite person, Amanda. He liked James, too, but often tried to sneak in between the two of them on the sofa when they watched TV at night, or to want to go with her in the car whenever she had errands around town.
“That’s not a bad idea,” James said, and Mrs. Granger nodded in satisfaction.
“Now you’re talking. Everybody, get out there and see what you can find. And you,” she said, nodding at James, “go get the mutt.”
Chapter 13
When James answered his phone, he was surprised to hear his friend Ruby Gilbert’s voice on the other end. He normally just talked to her when he stopped by Ivy’s Diner, and he couldn’t remember the last time she’d called him.
“James, I know you’re really busy, but I’m here at the diner and I’ve got someone here I think you need to talk to.”
He could sense the urgency in her words. In all the years he’d known Ruby, she’d been a very level-headed and practical woman. She’d worked hard to make Ivy’s diner into the best place in town to get homemade pie, and had a reputation for kindness and candor. If she said she had a lead, he trusted her.
“I’ll be there in three minutes,” he said, ending the call before Ruby could even say goodbye.
It was actually five and a half minutes, because he had to wait for a mother mallard and her parade of five ducklings to waddle from one side of Elm street to the other. He bit his tongue the whole time he watched them slowly pass in front of him, and finally got out to gently shoo the little family across safely before hopping back in his car and heading toward the Ivy’s.
When he got inside, he waved off the teenage waiter who was holding a menu and offering to seat him and walked toward the dining room. Ruby was sitting in one of the booths, across from a man and next to a very young girl with curly pigtails and a sprinkle of freckles across her pug nose. They were coloring one of the paper placemats together and chatting, and Ruby looked up as soon as she saw James coming toward them.
“Honey, remember how I told you about my friend who was coming over to see me?” Ruby asked. “He thought your story about what you saw was really interesting and he’d love to hear it.” She grinned at James, but from the look in her eyes he could see she was keeping up a pretense of casualness that was a complete fraud. She’d discovered something, and she needed James to play along.
“What are you coloring?” he asked Ruby, sliding into the booth next to the man. They nodded at each other, and James put out his hand. “Are you her father?” he asked.
“Foster Lieberman,” the man replied, shaking his hand.
“It’s a pony, with skates,” the girl replied.
James turned his attention back to the little girl and smiled. “That’s a nice picture.”
“Thank you. I made it myself,” came the answer, her concentration completely on her artwork.
Trying to suppress his anxiety at what she might say, James knew he had to play it cool so he didn’t scare her. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Am I in trouble? Is that why you came to talk to me? Because I really did see Bigfoot, and I’m not lying,” she said as she looked at him, a tremor in her voice, but James instantly shook his head.
“You’re not in trouble at all.” He pointed to his chest and smiled. “I’m James, and my job is to help people.”
“I’m Flora.” She twisted one fat finger through the curls in her left pigtail and eyed him with suspicion. “Are you a policeman?”
“Yes, I am. Did you know Flora is one of my favorite names? My mother’s name is Flora.”
“It means flower,” the little girl said proudly, grinning, and James nodded in agreement.
“Yes, it does. So, Flora, we’re looking for a lady and we’re interested in what people have seen and heard. Do you know something about that?”
“I saw something bad, when Daddy got out of the car to go pee. Then he didn’t believe me when I said I saw it.”
Foster Lieberman’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Honey, you don’t have to share that part.” He turned to James. “I pulled over when we were driving up in the woods for just a minute. When I got back she said she’d seen Bigfoot and he wasn’t very nice.” He shrugged. “Flora’s got a heck of an imagination, so sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t.”
“Bigfoot wasn’t very nice. I don’t like him,” Flora piped up, reaching into the can to choose a fat green crayon.
“What did you say, honey?” James asked gently.
“That man was a bad, bad man. Or maybe he was a bad Big
foot. He said a bad word.”
Almost holding his breath, James slowly put his head down closer to Flora and looked her in the eye. “He did? Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.”
The little girl nodded her head in agreement, her bottom lip sticking out in disapproval. “I think my Daddy would wash that bad man’s mouth out with soap.”
“Why did he use a bad word, sweetheart?” James asked, trying to keep his voice and his breathing even.
“Well, that lady didn’t want to go with him, so she bit him on his hand.”
“Flora, can you tell me what the man looked like who yelled at you? Do you remember what color his hair was, or if he had any tattoos?”
“Um...” she thought for just a moment, then blurted out, “I think it was Bigfoot, but my dad didn’t believe it. He said maybe I’d seen just a man. I told him Bigfoot was wearing a tree.”
“What?” James took the little girl’s hands, his eyes locked on hers as he attempted to grasp her meaning. “What do you mean, he was wearing a tree?”
She bit her bottom lip and looked worried. “I’m not lying. He walked out of the woods, and I thought he was a tree at first. He was all covered with leaves and long grass stuff. Like he was part of the forest. Bigfoot lives out there, you know.”
James had a sudden thought and quickly dug his phone out of his jacket pocket. Tapping the screen for a moment, he scrolled through until he came to the photo he was looking for. He held the screen up so Flora could see.
“Did he look kind of like that, Flora?”
The little girl gave a quick nod. “Yep, that’s him. That is Bigfoot.”
James turned the phone back toward him. Looking at it, James could certainly understand why Flora would think the kidnapper was dressed as a tree. The picture was of a military sniper dressed in a ghillie suit. Ghillie suits were used by the military and hunters, and were designed to blend into foliage and grasses. When someone was wearing one they could appear to be made of greenery, with only a vaguely human outline as the moved to give away their true identity.
An important clue, but it didn’t get James as close to the truth as he wanted. Ghillie suits were available from most sports and hunting stores.
So, now he had a witness, and a suspect who was as anonymous any tree in the forest.
Chapter 14
Ever since she was a child, Amanda had had the same recurring dream. The background was sometimes varied, and the bad guy chasing her was sometimes different, but the feeling of running for her life and not being fast enough was always the same. Her feet were always too slow and mired in fatigue, or mud, or hopeless numbness.
Sometimes dreams were too real.
She felt like she wasn’t moving fast enough.
Amanda pelted across the open field behind the cabin, her eyes moving from side to side to see as much as possible in the dim light. It had just rained, and she knew every footstep could give her away if someone was good at tracking game through the forest, She prayed she could keep up a good pace without stepping into a mole hill or some sort of hole. Ignoring her aching hip, she gulped deep breaths and pumped her arms as she ran, trying to get every extra bit of speed she could, even as her lungs were protesting and begging for more air. She could see the edge of the forest coming closer with every stride, its deep pools of shadow a perfect place for her to hide. A minute, maybe another more, and she was suddenly under the drooping branches of ancient fir trees, tangled together with bushy undergrowth and some large rocks. Amanda skidded to a halt and put her hands on her knees as she gulped in great, deep breaths. She was out of the open field, and now she just had to find a way to get home, or to get help.
Either way, she needed to be sure Koi wasn’t going to be following her. Almost afraid of what she would see, she climbed behind a nearby tree stump and peered back at the cabin.
It seemed to still be deserted, the only light coming from the kitchen window and the bit of front porch light she could see.
Koi hadn’t returned yet. It was time to move, and time to see who would win this battle.
She leaned down and retied her gym shoes, then started off into the deep blackness of the coastal wilderness.
By the time she heard the sound, her legs were already aching with cold and exertion. Far behind her she could barely make out something moving the brush to get it out of its way.
Maybe it’s just a bear, she thought, then grimaced. She was scared of bears, but the thought of a bear was less frightening than the thought of Koi reaching out and grabbing her again.
Frantically, she looked around her. The woods were dense and close around her, the ground beneath her sloped and leading up into a rocky ridge. If she tried to outrun him she knew she’d be heard. She could hear the sound of running water off to her right, so she eased her way down the slope and worked her way through the bushes as quickly and quietly as she could, silently cursing every tangled shrub and missed footstep.
The farther down she went, the louder the rushing water was. Closer and closer she moved until at last she could see a creek rushing along between rocky banks, the moonlight glinting on the white tips of the splashing currents. Scrambling along the basketball-sized rocks, she tried to keep herself in the cover of darkness as much as she could, but finally the riverbed widened out into a broad expanse of sandy beach and swaths of small pebbles, mostly dry except for the crescent-shaped sliver of water rushing along one edge. There were bushes and scrubby trees surrounding the expanse of open riverbank, digging into the hillside cut by previous floods.
If she went out in the open like that, she’d be spotted in an instant. Working her way around the left edge of the beach toward the trees, she could make out the faraway crashing behind her.
It was getting closer.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she started running along the hillside, quietly leaping from darkness to darkness. When she’d reached the far edge of the open riverbed, there was a deep darkness to her left that she couldn’t identify. Almost indiscernible, she moved closer and put a hesitant hand out to try to discern what it was.
Her hand went forward and she nearly fell. It was a cave like hole, carved by surging water and harsh weather sometime in the past, and from the smell of it, had once been an animal’s den.
The crunching of broken bushes was getting closer and closer, and Amanda held her breath as she shoved herself into the hole. She pushed against the back wall so she was as far inside as possible. An overhang of grassy turf hung down over the opening so her view of the creek was limited, but she figured if she couldn’t see out, maybe whatever was coming wouldn’t be able to see in.
There was a muffled squeak of protest, and Amanda had to slap a hand across her mouth to keep from yelping in surprise. Something small and furry streaked out of the cave, and she leaned over to see what it was. A small rabbit hopped excitedly in a zig-zag pattern away from the cave and toward the creek as fast as it could go, and Amanda breathed a sigh of relief.
It could’ve been a bobcat.
Or a bear.
Or a man.
Silent, almost not breathing, she watched the moonlit patch in front of the hole’s opening. She could hear rocks being moved, then a muttered curse.
The thing pursuing her was not a bear.
She had a sudden flash of a memory, of her friend Beth’s nephew playing with her when he was about four years old. He’d been playing hide and seek with her, and like so many children, thought if he couldn’t see you then you couldn’t see him. More than once she had to explain that covering his eyes didn’t make him invisible.
Yet she had the same simple instinct. Maybe if I close my eyes he won’t see any sort of reflection if he looks in, she thought. Maybe he’ll somehow go away.
Pressed against the back wall, easing her breath in and out to keep silent, she was almost worried he’d hear her pounding heart as he crept closer and closer to where she hid.
Another foot forward, and she could see his moon-cast sh
adow. Two more steps, and she could see his legs.
She stopped breathing entirely.
He stopped every few moments, then moved forward, until after what seemed like an eternity, he walked toward the creek and continued to follow it away from the beach.
She could see his head swiveling around as he tried to figure out where she’d gone, but after several minutes of standing and listening, then walking a bit and doing it again, he finally walked out of sight and down by the sloping creek bed.
She waited, listening and not moving, so afraid he was going to come back, but after a bit she realized he’d gone past her. If he came back this way and caught her in the open she’d be his prisoner again, or worse.
Slumping against the grainy dirt of the back wall, she watched and waited, until her heavy eyes gave in to her fatigue just before sunrise, and she slipped into dreamless sleep.
Chapter 15
Amanda awoke with a start, and for a moment had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten into some dark, dirty hole.
Her stomach growled as she slowly crawled to the den’s opening, and she stayed out of the sunlight for a while, listening and watching.
There was no sign of Koi. The only sound she could hear was birds in the nearby trees and the rushing water of the swollen creek. She eased forward, biting her lip to keep from crying out as her cramped, cold legs unfolded. Holding onto a nearby sapling, she carefully stood up, the stiffness in her legs nearly making her fall over. She pulled her sweatshirt more tightly around her and blinked against the midday sun. It was later than she thought it would be, probably past noon, but the trauma of her car accident and then being drugged must’ve made her sleep late into the day.
Flora, Fauna, and Foul Play Page 5