The Chupacabra Catastrophe

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You don’t.” Jack looked me up and down. “You look well rested.”

  “I slept at Hooper’s Mill this morning, too.” Plus, I didn’t have nearly the amount of guilt radiating through me, although I kept that observation to myself. “I’ve had more sleep than you.”

  “Not much.” Jack dragged a hand through his hair as he stared at the bedspread. “I’m not good at stuff like this.”

  I had no idea what he was referring to. “Stuff like what?”

  “This.” Jack gestured toward the bed and for a moment I thought he was going to say something about our obvious chemistry or the emotions that kept running roughshod over my heart when he was around. I thought he was going to say he felt the same way.

  Then he ruined it. He always ruined it.

  “I’m not good at letting people boss me around and take over,” he supplied. “I didn’t want to listen when you said I needed sleep, but I feel better now. Thank you for that.”

  “Oh, right.” I tried to tamp down my disappointment. It wasn’t his fault I was developing a crush on him. In fact, I didn’t think it was my fault either. I was pretty sure it was Millie’s fault for putting the idea in my head and Laura’s fault for being a jealous pain in the ass. “It’s nothing, Jack. You needed the sleep. We both did.”

  “Yeah, but you made sure I got it, and … thank you.”

  It was hard for him to get the words out. I recognized that, and for some reason I felt a giddy jolt course through me at the sheepish look on his face. He really was thankful. That was something, right?

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jack smiled, the expression lighting up his dour face. He grabbed my hand – an instinctive move that he clearly didn’t plan – and gave it a good squeeze. The simple action was enough to make the energy in the room crackle as we stared into each other’s eyes.

  I swear it felt as if my heart was in my throat. I thought there was a very real chance I’d pass out. Jack’s feelings were harder to ascertain, but I was certain he felt something. He didn’t lean closer, but he didn’t pull back. Our faces were close; a few inches either way could change everything.

  Perhaps Jack sensed it, and that was why he released my hand. His cheeks seemed pinker than normal, but he maintained an air of cool confidence that made me believe he didn’t feel the same jolt I did when we touched.

  “I need a shower,” Jack volunteered after a beat. “You, too.”

  “Is that your subtle way of saying I stink?”

  Jack snickered. “No, but it will make you feel better. Once that’s done we should meet with everyone in the dining room. We have some decisions to make.”

  “Okay.” I rolled off the bed and stared at him across the expanse. There was something rueful about his expression that I couldn’t quite identify. “Is something wrong?”

  “There’s a lot wrong,” Jack replied. “As for the rest … .” He helplessly held up his hands and shrugged. “We can only deal with so much at a time. Let’s handle showers and dinner. Once we know more about Chris and what happened we can deal with the rest.”

  I had no idea what “the rest” entailed, but I merely nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Jack moved to the door, wrapping his hand around the handle before twisting it. “Thank you again for making me sleep.”

  “Thank you for not snoring so I could sleep.”

  Jack chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “I’m glad I could be of service.” He pulled open the door, his lips still curved in a smile, but the mirth on his face fled as quickly as it appeared.

  “What?” I asked, sensing trouble.

  “I think more happened in this hallway than a falling painting,” he replied grimly, causing me to stare over the corner of the bed and cringe when I saw the item resting on the other side of the door.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a coyote head,” Jack gritted out. “It’s … um … fresh.”

  Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good, right?

  DEPUTY PIERSON arrived within the hour, and he didn’t look happy about the latest development. He instructed one of his officers to take photos of the coyote head – which had been rather crudely separated from the animal’s body – and then arranged for its removal.

  The maid quickly got to work and cleaned the threshold, but I could still picture the head, staring, and the knowledge was enough to cause me to shudder.

  “You didn’t hear anything?” Pierson’s gaze was probing as he stared at me.

  “I told you we didn’t.” Jack’s eyes flashed with anger.

  “What’s going on?” Laura asked, appearing in the hallway. “I thought I heard voices.”

  “Someone put a severed coyote head outside Charlie’s door,” Jack replied.

  “Really?” Laura arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “It’s a message of sorts,” Pierson replied. “People around these parts use coyote heads as warnings.”

  “They do?” I rubbed my hand over my damp hair. Jack insisted I take a shower during the cleanup effort, and even though it was uncomfortable knowing the cops were working in the hallway, I felt better after the fact. He was freshly showered, too, although he didn’t look nearly as refreshed as I felt.

  “They do,” Pierson confirmed. “It’s something of a tradition around here, an omen, if you will.”

  “Is it supposed to scare us away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that won’t work.” I slid a look to Jack and found him staring at the floor where the coyote head rested an hour before. “Right?”

  “What?” Jack stirred and nodded. “No, it won’t. We’re not leaving without Chris. If they want us to go, they need to return him … alive. If he’s dead, I’ll bring the full force of the federal government down on this place until we know who did it and why.”

  Pierson’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “How do you expect to do that?”

  “The Legacy Foundation works closely with the federal government. Chris is the foundation head’s nephew,” Jack replied, not missing a beat. “If I know Myron, he’s already on his way here … and he won’t come alone.”

  “I had no idea this guy was such a bigwig,” Pierson said.

  “Would that have changed anything?” I was legitimately curious. “Would you have searched harder for him if you knew?”

  Pierson straightened. “Ma’am, we scoured that entire area. We had dogs. They alerted on Mr. Biggs’ scent outside the hotel, but they lost him inside. We put the full effort of our office – and that of the county – into finding him. He’s just not there.”

  “Well, since we know that’s not possible, something else must have happened,” Jack challenged. “He’s out there. At least he was out there. Someone must have taken him.”

  “The only tire tracks belong to your vehicles,” Pierson argued. “We checked the treads.”

  “Then you’re missing something.” Jack was adamant.

  “He’s not out there. I’m sorry.”

  “What about what happened here?” Jack pressed. “Someone put a warning outside of Charlie’s room. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “How do you know she didn’t do it herself for attention?” Pierson asked.

  “That does sound just like her,” Laura offered, smiling sweetly.

  Jack ignored Laura and glared at Pierson. “Because I was with her. I already told you that.”

  “And what were you doing?”

  “What were you doing?” Laura asked, her eyes filling with something I couldn’t quite identify. “Why were you in here with her?”

  “Because the maid was cleaning my room when we came up, and I was exhausted,” Jack replied, refusing to let Laura rile him. “We both went to sleep. We were in here together, and she most certainly didn’t get up, kill a coyote, behead it, plant it outside her door and then let me discover it when I was leaving.”

  “You napped in here with her?” Laura was incensed. “On the same bed?”

  �
��No, I made her sleep on the floor, Laura,” Jack drawled. “Yes, we slept on the same bed. It’s not a big deal.”

  I knew he didn’t mean the words as an insult, but I couldn’t help internally lament them all the same. He could at least add that it was difficult for him to stop himself from rolling on top of me and kissing me senseless. What? That’s not shallow, considering the circumstances. I can worry about Chris and myself at the same time. I’m nothing if not an efficient multi-tasker.

  “So you were in here the entire time?” Pierson asked, ignoring the interpersonal work drama.

  “We were,” Jack confirmed. “Something woke us. I’m fairly certain it was the painting hitting the floor.”

  “Yes, I noticed that.” Pierson’s expression was thoughtful as he stared at the painting. Someone had returned it to its place on the wall. “So, by your theory, someone was trying to send a message to Miss Rhodes. Why do you think she was the focus of the threat?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack replied. “Maybe someone saw us come in here together. Maybe I was the focus of the threat.”

  That seemed unlikely, but I didn’t want to raise Pierson’s suspicions regarding the painting. Everyone was laboring under the assumption that whoever was in the hallway bumped into the painting and dislodged it. I didn’t want them questioning that too hard, because it would raise inevitable questions.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Pierson said. “Most of the department believes you’re doing this as some sort of publicity stunt.”

  “What do you mean?” Laura asked.

  “He means that they think we’re doing it to boost attention so Chris can pop up in a few hours and say he was stalked by the Chupacabra or something,” I supplied. “That’s what they assume. They think the coyote head is part of it, too.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Laura snapped. “Chris is out there and he needs help.”

  “We can’t do anything right now.” Pierson was firm. “If Mr. Biggs remains missing after another twenty-four hours … .”

  “If he’s still missing in twenty-four hours it will be too late,” Jack growled. “You know what? Fine. We don’t need you. I followed the rules and called the police. I’m done doing things your way.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Pierson asked.

  “It means we’ll find him ourselves,” Jack replied. “We’re not waiting around for twenty-four hours. Laura is right. Chris is out there. Charlie most certainly didn’t plant that coyote head, which means that we’re being watched. I’m not going to sit around and wait for something to happen. I’m taking the fight to whoever did this.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jack replied, folding his arms over his chest. “I’ll take it from here. Have a nice day, deputy.”

  And just like that, Deputy Pierson was dismissed and we were on our own. Things were about to get serious.

  25

  Twenty-Five

  Jack didn’t say another word to Pierson, ignoring him as we descended the stairs and met the rest of the group in the lobby.

  “You can’t go off half-cocked,” Pierson argued. “We already looked. He’s not out there.”

  “I believe he said you could leave,” I offered, doing my best to appear bold and brash even though my insides turned to liquid at the idea of talking to a police officer with anything less than the utmost respect. “If you’re not going to help, you’re simply in our way.”

  “Your way?” Pierson’s eyebrows hopped. “Your way to do what?”

  “Find our friend.”

  “He’s not out there.”

  “That doesn’t mean we’re not going to look.”

  Jack gestured toward the door, and even though I could tell Millie wanted answers right away she wisely fell into step with us and exited the hotel.

  “We’ll get dinner and then we have some plans to make,” Jack announced. “I’ll fill everyone in over the meal.”

  I risked a glance at Pierson and found him standing in front of the hotel, a dark look on his face. He wasn’t happy, but there was little he could do.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Pierson called out.

  “Don’t worry,” Jack shot back. “I have no intention of doing anything stupid.”

  He didn’t speak again until we were back at the restaurant, barbecue and drink orders placed, and everyone’s full attention on him.

  “We’re in a tough spot,” Jack announced, licking his lips. I could tell he was trying to organize his words before speaking. “Chris went missing in a very short amount of time. I don’t know how it happened, but I think it’s important to put all the information we have out there so we can come up with a plan.”

  “And the police aren’t going to be part of that plan?” Hannah asked, keeping her voice low. She looked distraught, but she was the sort of person who managed to hold it together under incredible stress. I admired her for it – mostly because I was the type to fly off the handle and then hate myself after the fact.

  “The police are working under the assumption that this is a publicity stunt,” Jack replied. “They think we’re trying to bolster our claims that the Chupacabra is to blame for Wendell Morrison’s death by allowing Chris to voluntarily go missing.

  “They believe he’s going to pop up safe and sound in the next few hours with wild tales of animal shenanigans,” he continued. “They also think what happened outside of Charlie’s room is part of that plan.”

  “What happened outside Charlie’s room?” Bernard asked, confused. “Did we miss something?”

  “I thought everyone knew.” Jack rubbed his chin as he related the story, truncating it as much as possible and refusing to focus on the fact that he was sleeping in my room when it happened. I didn’t miss the dour expression on Laura’s face as he talked, but she wisely didn’t interject her opinion. “So, that’s where we’re at.”

  “And what’s the plan?” Millie asked. She was a strong woman under normal circumstances, but Chris’ disappearance was clearly affecting her. I knew she loved him. She didn’t have children of her own, and from what I could tell, all her maternal instincts were focused on Chris. She wasn’t married to his uncle any longer, but Chris was still family. She’d be devastated if we didn’t find him alive.

  “I’m going back to Hooper’s Mill after dinner and I’m not coming back without Chris,” Jack answered simply.

  “That’s your plan?” Millie arched an eyebrow, sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue. “You think you’re going to go out there and will yourself to find him? Jack, I have faith in your abilities, but I don’t think you’re being rational.”

  “And I don’t think we have much choice in the matter.” Jack was calm, but I could practically feel the irritation radiating off him. “We need to talk about what we know and then we’re going to talk about what we can realistically accomplish. First, we know that Chris couldn’t have been gone long before Laura alerted us that he was missing.”

  Jack turned his dark eyes to Laura. “I need you to run through exactly what happened once you left Charlie and me.”

  “I’ve already told you,” Laura protested. “The story isn’t going to change.”

  “Yes, but I need more details.” Jack refused to back down. “Where did you go when you left us? How much time did you spend in that spot? What was Chris specifically doing during that time?”

  “Oh.” Laura bobbed her head. “I see what you mean. Okay. Let me think a second. I want to get this right.”

  I sipped my iced tea and glanced at Jack. His profile was strong, the sleep had done him wonders, but I sensed an air of weakness, too. He was so worried that he wouldn’t find Chris that I wondered if it was possible for him to turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  “Okay, so we crossed the street and were in front of the hotel for a bit,” Laura started, her mind clearly busy as she struggled to keep things straight. “It was dark, but we had flashlights and
the night-vision scope. I wanted to go inside the hotel, but Zach told me that was a bad idea.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What did you think you would find in the hotel?”

  Laura shrugged. “I don’t know. I just like it. It’s one of the few buildings in Hooper’s Mill that doesn’t creep me out.”

  I could see that.

  “Go on,” Jack prodded.

  “Zach thought it was a bad idea to go into the buildings after dark even though we had flashlights,” Laura explained. “The floor is weak in some places. He didn’t want to risk anyone falling through.”

  Speaking of Zach, he was conspicuously missing from dinner. Of course, if I were in his position I wouldn’t want to hang around with us either. He looked bad for losing Chris – especially because of what he was doing when our lovable boss disappeared – and he probably didn’t want to risk Millie’s wrath. Heck, for all I knew, Millie might’ve already unleashed her wrath and frightened him away. I made a mental note to ask her about it later.

  “So we walked around the front of the buildings for about ten minutes,” Laura continued. “Chris was still with us. He was using the scope and chattering away. He was excited. It was his idea to go to the back of the buildings.”

  “Why?” Jack was intent as he watched Laura tell her tale.

  “Because he thought that the fire might scare away the Chupacabra. We could hear you and Charlie talking – although what you possibly have to talk to her about is beyond me – and Chris was convinced that your voices would keep the Chupacabra away, so he wanted to go behind the buildings.

  “Zach and I agreed, because … well, because it was darker back there and we thought it might hide us,” she said. “The area behind the buildings is different. I don’t know if you’ve been back there.”

  “I have, but tell me what you saw anyway,” Jack instructed.

  “There are a lot of low hills back there, like moguls on a ski slope more than anything,” Laura said. “There are a lot of them – and even some discarded crates.”