At 10:34 that morning, the Northwest Police Department received a call from a near-hysterical woman claiming that some sort of creature killed a man in Wasp Canyon and then tried to attack her. Very little was gleaned from that phone call due to the woman’s state of distress. Officer Kilburn was assigned to go to the hospital (where the woman had called from the parking lot) to get a more detailed—and less hysterical—statement from the caller, while Detective Moser gathered a team to head out to the canyon. The old bastard was probably getting his ass in gear quicker than usual since Wasp Canyon was the home of all those rich fuckers, and heaven forbid you upset one of them. And instead of assigning Kilburn to the recon team heading out to the canyon, he got sent to the damn hospital to interview some dipshit blonde who probably had one too many mochas and hallucinated the whole damn thing. It was probably just some homeless man out there, avoiding the heat by staying inside the canyon. And one less bum wasn’t going to upset nobody, in Kilburn’s humble opinion.
“But it is going to rain!” Jessica hollered.
Kilburn sighed. Why the hell was he here and not with Moser’s team? He had spent what he thought were many admirable years on the force, and yet he was still getting cleanup duty. Get the statement, dot the I’s, cross the T’s, yada yada yada. All the while, Detective Moser and three other officers were gearing up to go to the site, pending what Search and Rescue discovered. If anything this raving chick said was true, then it sure didn’t sound like this fellow was going to require any rescuing. Yet here he was, on clerical duty, in a disgusting hospital room trying to get a statement from a crazy chick that wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
“They need to go now!” Jessica insisted. “Tell them to stop fucking around and get out there!”
“Jessica!” Andrea Cleary exclaimed. She stood to the side of the hospital bed, looking nervous and pale under the hard, fluorescent lighting.
“Ma’am,” Kilburn said, “I understand that you are upset. But I’m going to need you to calm down.”
“There is a man up there who was literally torn apart,” Jessica said. “Whatever did that to him almost did it to me too. And it is still out there!”
“Yes, but, um,” Kilburn flipped back a page in his notebook, “you said that it stopped.”
Jessica gawked at him, her forehead scrunched into a furious collection of wrinkles. “What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped.
“Well,” Kilburn said, trying not to further agitate the crazy, infuriated ditz, “per your report you said this—thing—chased you for a substantial distance. And then right when you fell down and it was about to attack you, it decided to stop? Just like that?”
“I don’t know why it stopped! Maybe it didn’t want to leave the canyon or something!” Jessica threw her hands in the air, exasperated.
Kilburn flipped his notepad shut and looked at Jessica. He had had just about enough of this shit. Maybe there is a body up there. Maybe something did chase her away from the kill, that’s normal predatory behavior. If a bear or a cougar had offed something—human or otherwise—they would guard it to make sure another predator didn’t try to steal it. She probably stumbled on a bear kill, the bear spooked her, and now I have to deal with this instead of going up to the scene. I’ve never even got to see a damn bear victim, Kilburn thought.
“Ma’am—”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Ma—Jessica, the amount of damage you described regarding the body was most likely the result of a bear or mountain lion attack. Those attacks can be pretty gruesome.” And I’ll never get to see one, Kilburn thought with irritation.
“But I saw it. When it stopped chasing me I saw it. And it was not a bear. Or a mountain lion. I’m sure of it,” Jessica said.
“But did you see it?” Kilburn asked. “I know you saw something, you clearly stated that. But you also said it was in the shadows and pretty hard to make out. And with the amount of fear that you were in . . .” He gestured into the air in an attempt to find the right words. “All I’m saying is that fear can make your memory fuzzy. Or it can make you see things that might not have been there.”
Jessica stared at him, mouth hanging open. It didn’t appear that she was buying his explanation, but at least she wasn’t yelling anymore. “I saw what I saw,” she said finally, her voice low and even. She lowered her eyes to the floor.
“Of course ma’am,” Kilburn said, tucking his notepad into his back pocket. Complete waste of time, he thought. “If you think of anything else, anything at all, please call our department.” He reluctantly extended a business card to her. He did not want this woman calling their department, and he sure as hell didn’t want her asking for him when she did. She didn’t reach for the card, so he placed it on the bed near her bandaged leg.
“We will keep in touch.” Kilburn turned and headed for the teal curtain.
Jessica called after him, the hysteria gone from her voice. “Your men better be careful out there,” she said. “It’s still out there.” And then after a pause: “And it knows how to set a trap.”
Kilburn looked back at Jessica for a moment. He kept his face even as he gave her a final nod, but inside he felt a chill go up his spine.
Chapter 22
Andrea sat with her daughter and waited for the doctor to arrive. Although she appeared calm, Andrea was overwhelmed with worry regarding Jessica’s injuries. Her frail daughter looked like she had fallen down a mountain—and that was just her upper body. Andrea was very anxious to find out what was hiding underneath all those bandages on Jessica’s ankle. She had been doing so much better, Andrea thought wistfully, and now this. She shook her head, but only slightly. She didn’t understand how God could help her daughter start to get better, then throw a giant hurdle in her recovery. A hurdle in the shape of a dead body, no less. Jessica had already seen far too much death this early in her young life.
Jessica hadn’t said much since the officer left. Andrea noticed her tugging at her hair with one hand, a nervous tick that she had ceased doing in the past few weeks. Andrea sighed. “Oh honey, you were doing so much better.” She squeezed Jessica’s hand. “I am so sorry this happened to you.”
Jessica looked up, opened her mouth to say something, but then the doctor came in. You certainly have incredible timing, don’t you doctor? Andrea thought. She shook off the momentary irritation and prepared herself for what she hoped was good news—or at least not horrible news.
“Hello Jessica, my name is Dr. Reisen. I’ve been going over your imaging and it appears you have taken quite a tumble.” Reisen was a portly man with a neatly trimmed mustache and receding hairline. His white lab coat was unbuttoned, and he wore a navy blue dress shirt underneath.
“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” Jessica muttered.
“Dr. Reisen, is my daughter going to be alright?” Andrea asked.
“Yes, she most certainly is. She may look worse for the wear, but I believe she will be able to make a full recovery. The bumps and bruises will heal with time.” Reisen paused to look at the cut on Jessica’s right arm. “This laceration will require some stitches, I’m afraid. And I will be prescribing some antibiotics to ward off infection.” Reisen turned his attention to Jessica’s bandaged leg. “My main concern, however, is the ankle.”
Jessica looked up when Reisen mentioned her ankle. Her face, still covered in dust and streaked from tears, was etched with worry.
“Your ankle and foot sustained considerable damage during the incident you had up in the canyon,” Reisen said.
“No argument here,” Jessica said, looking down at her bandaged leg.
“When your foot struck the rock in the trail three of your toes were fractured. Unfortunately your hallux—that’s the big toe—was one of the ones broken. The recovery from a hallux fracture can take much longer than the other toes and may require surgery.
“As for the ankle, you have sustained a grade three sprain of your anterior talofibular ligamen
t and the calcaneofibular ligament. These ligaments are located on the lateral aspect of your ankle—that is what we call the outside portion. These types of sprains are caused by forced inversion of the ankle joint, which means you rolled your ankle inward when you collided with the rock.”
Reisen paused, waiting to see if anyone had any questions. Jessica was poking at the bunched up sheet that was spread across her lap, where smears of dirt and few splotches of dried blood stood out on the white fabric. “And what is a grade three sprain exactly?” she asked.
“A complete rupture of the ligaments involved—meaning they tore completely. Being able to run with this severity of an injury is almost unheard of.”
“Getting chased by some sort of hell beast is pretty motivating,” Jessica said as she rubbed at a reddish-brown smudge on the white linen.
Andrea held her daughter’s forearm, her eyes also drawn to the smudges on the hospital sheet. She looked up at Reisen. “What does this mean for my daughter, Doctor?”
“I believe we can give conservative measures a try for now,” Reisen said, “meaning we can allow your injuries time to heal on their own. However, if we do not see any improvements within a few weeks, surgery may be necessary.”
Jessica looked up from the bed. “What are conservative measures?” she asked.
“An orthopedic walking boot,” Reisen said. “A controlled ankle motion boot, to be precise. That’s a CAM boot for short.”
“A boot?”
“Yes. The marvels of modern medicine, I know. The boot has a metal or plastic base to keep your ankle fixed at a ninety-degree angle. It is secured with Velcro straps and then inflated with a pump to further stabilize the ankle. The compression from the air pump will also assist with edema reduction—meaning it will help to reduce your swelling. And the boot will take the pressure off of your toes as well, allowing the fractures an opportunity to heal.”
“Ok, and then what happens?”
“Hopefully the fractures in your toes will set and your ankle will begin to heal. If so, we will continue to follow these conservative measures. If not, we will have to consider surgical intervention. Either way, I see a lot of physical therapy in your future.”
“That’s not so bad, honey,” Andrea said, rubbing Jessica’s forearm. “After physical therapy you’ll be as good as new.”
Jessica smiled weakly at her mother.
“I’m going to have someone come in to stitch up that wound on your arm, or maybe we could get away with some surgical glue. We’ll get you cleaned up and your wounds sterilized. And I will send orders for your CAM boot, a course of antibiotics, and some pain medication you can take as needed. Let's schedule a follow-up appointment in three weeks and then we can determine if surgery will be necessary,” Reisen said. “Any questions for me before I go write up your orders?”
“Yeah, just one,” Jessica said. “Will I ever be able to run again?”
“I certainly hope so,” Reisen said, “but I don’t see that happening any time soon. For now you can’t put any weight on that leg without having your boot on. And running is out of the question for the foreseeable future.”
“But what if something happens where I have to run?”
“Well, let's hope that it doesn’t come to that,” Reisen said, and left the room.
Chapter 23
A few hours later, Andrea and Jessica sat at Andrea’s kitchen table, Subway sandwich wrappers and crumpled paper napkins spread out in front of them. Andrea asked multiple times if Jessica would like a home-cooked meal, but Jessica had declined. Jessica nibbled at the sandwich and had eaten half of it, but her appetite seemed to have already disappeared, along with her ability to run.
Andrea gathered the napkins, wrappers, and plastic bags. Jessica poked at her phone, willing it to ring. God, I hope they made it up there in time, she thought. The rain had come shortly before three that afternoon. Finding the thing in the canyon was going to be pretty damn difficult in all that rain. I wonder if they even made it to the body in time.
Jessica looked out the window. Outside, the rain had finally stopped. The ground was sodden and the plants were drooping, their leaves beaten down and heavy with water. Dark, low hanging clouds slowly made their way across the bruised sky.
She shoved her phone aside and looked down at her brand new orthopedic walking boot—CAM boot for short. It was a cumbersome thing, black and bulky, and it held her ankle like a vice. Her entire lower left leg and foot were enveloped inside a tomb of plastic, metal, polyester, and—apparently—air.
Her ankle was beginning to throb. At first it just felt heavy, but now a dull ache was beginning to come from deep inside. It crept its way along her ankle and down into her toes. And everything was starting to pulsate with waves of a much sharper pain. She couldn’t see her ankle inside the CAM boot, but she imagined what it must look like, and was grateful that the boot was in the way.
When her phone buzzed Jessica jumped in the kitchen chair, startled by the sudden vibration on the table. She grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID. The screen said Unlisted. It must be them, she thought. Just please let it not be Officer Dumbass.
It wasn’t. A deep, burly voice introduced himself as Detective Moser. “Good evening, Jessica,” Moser said. “How are you feeling? And how is your ankle doing?”
“Uh, it’s fine. Hurts. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Jessica said. “So how did it go? Did you find him? Did you find . . . it?”
Moser paused for what felt like an eternity. “We did find the man that you informed us about,” he said finally. “He was in a similar state to what you described. There were extensive injuries to the face, torso, and extremities. I think it is safe to say that he died from his injuries, although we will need the medical examiner to confirm. Another possibility is that he died of natural causes on the trail and predators came along afterward and fed on the body.”
Moser paused again. Jessica could hear papers shuffling around and could picture a large man sitting at an even larger desk, surrounded by countless documents. The shuffling stopped and he spoke again. “Although,” shuffle shuffle, “this theory that the body was damaged after death seems unlikely given your statement. You said the body was in the trail during your return trip, but not when you entered the canyon. Is that correct?”
“Yes, yes it is,” Jessica said. She could feel her stomach fluttering. She hoped this man would believe her, and that she wouldn’t get dismissed as crazy or confused again.
“Whether he died from his injuries or they occurred post-mortem, it is odd that he was moved onto the trail during the short period of time you were in the canyon. You said you didn’t hear anything that may have been an attack? No cries for help? Or maybe screaming?”
“No, nothing.”
“And you didn’t pass him on the way in?”
“No, I didn’t see anything. There was a walking pole near the entrance when I came out, but I might have missed it on my way in. It was off to the side of the trail, not in it. It helped me get back to my car.”
“It is possible he got attacked the day before,” Moser said, “or very early in the morning, depending on when he began his hike. The medical examiner will need to determine the time of death.” Papers shuffling. “Anyway, in regards to the body’s location—I suppose a predator could have heard you go by as you entered the canyon and then decided to move the remains to another, more secure, location. The animal didn’t expect you to come back so soon and abandoned the body on the trail when it heard you returning to the area.” The speculation in Moser’s voice diminished. He continued, “And once you got too close to its food—to the body, I mean—it felt it needed to defend its meal from you, therefore chasing you out of the canyon.”
“But . . .” Jessica trailed off. Moser’s theory sounded believable—hell, it even sounded probable. But that’s not what it felt like out there, not at all. It wasn’t your basic predator relocating a kill for later consumption. It set a goddamn trap, for Chr
ist’s sake. Fear makes you remember things differently, though . . . that’s what Officer Dumbass had said. But she knew what she saw and what she felt. And it all felt . . . wrong, somehow. “But what about the rock? The one I tripped over?”
More paper shuffling. “The rock was unfortunate,” Moser said, “but very likely could have been knocked onto the trail by the animal when it was trying to relocate the deceased. It heard you, quickly went from its current location to the body, knocking the rock over in the process. It began moving the body to a location it felt was more secure, heard you coming back, and abandoned the body in the trail. You arrive, it determines you are not a threat to its safety, but it still doesn’t want you near its food source. So it chases you off until it thinks you are far enough away to not be a threat to what remains of its meal.” Moser sounded like he had just solved the mystery of the killer’s identity in a slasher movie only part way through the film—pleased and a little bit proud of himself. Case closed. Over. Done. Finito.
Jessica felt mounting fear in her gut, the throbbing in her ankle forgotten. Had she imagined the whole thing? The trap? The monster? What the detective just explained sounded so likely that she could feel her mind already starting to accept it, shuffling her memories around so they fit this new explanation. But they didn’t. Deep down she knew that was not what happened out there. That rock was not just knocked over accidentally as the animal went by, that rock weighed a million pounds. It would have been a chore for your run-of-the-mill mountain lion—or even a bear—to move that thing. It was put there on purpose. It had to have been. Which meant the body was put there on purpose as well.
“Jessica? You still there?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” she mumbled. “But the rock was so heavy. It couldn’t have just been knocked over by accident.”
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