Secrets of Ugly Creek (6 page)

He was right, but I didn’t want him to hate me for it. “Look, this is my hometown. I know your reputation, and I can’t help but worry.”

He took my hands in his. “I just want to document this beautiful area. I’m here because this town is special.”

“Yes, it is.” At that moment, I wanted badly to trust him. But the cynical part of me, the part that frequently kept me out of trouble, didn’t trust him to protect our special corner of the world.

He studied me for a moment, then dropped my hands. “I understand.”

He walked away, and I turned toward my car ignoring the ache inside of me. No way was I going to let a little hormone-induced idiocy blind me to the knowledge that Gibson McFain was a dangerous man.

Chapter 6

I sat in a black metal lawn chair with comfy cushions. The mouth-watering smell of grilling steaks wafted from where Steve stood, long-handled spatula in one hand and long-handled, two-tined fork in the other. Liza came out the French doors that connected the back of their house to the large stone patio where I was currently making myself at home.

On a metal and glass table near me, Liza put a huge salad near condiments, plates, and silverware. My stomach growled in anticipation. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”

Liza smiled as she shook her head. “It’s just great to have you here.”

It was true I rarely got a chance to visit my closest friends here in Ugly Creek. Most of the time I’m in DC, hunting down leads on stories or writing into the wee hours of the morning to make a deadline. It was good to be with people I cared about. People I trusted, and I seriously needed to talk to somebody I trusted. “I think the faeries may be behind the attacks on the documentary folks.”

Liza’s eyes widened. To my left I heard Steve drop something.

“Faeries?” Steve said. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“I saw one when the smoke bomb incident happened, and I think Haven caught a glimpse of one when the generator blew.”

“The faeries rarely come out of their territory. Not much gets them to interact with our world, why would they care about a documentary?” Liza asked. “I can’t believe they’d care enough to put themselves at risk to stop it.”

“They might if they thought Gibson McFain might expose them to the world.” Steve’s face was as grim as I felt. It wasn’t a good feeling having my concerns voiced by someone else, especially someone as logical and levelheaded as Steve Zapata.

“How would they even know about him and his film?” Liza dropped more than sat in the chair beside me.

“I’m sure they keep track of humans.” Steve flipped the steaks without benefit of the dropped spatula.

I sighed and leaned against the squishy cushion. “It’s almost like the non-humans are determined to be found out. First Mr. McDuffy argues with the mayor right in front of the documentary people, then Abukcheech was watching the shoot from behind a tree, and now faeries were spotted at the last two attacks. One of them by an outsider.”

Inexplicably tears touched my eyes. “They’ve been hidden for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. It would be horrible if they were proved to exist now. Can you imagine the freak-out? And people from all over coming to study—or dissect them. Their whole culture, their social structure, their very lifestyle would collapse.”

Steve left the steaks to come over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Maddie, the non-humans will be protected.”

I turned on my good friend. “Are you sure? They’ve never been subjected to this kind of danger. Gibson McFain can smell a secret, and we have a big one. Several, in fact.”

“We’ll take care of them. Honest.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. I’d just make damn sure they
were
safe.

“You know it’s strange,” Liza said, “that we have so many non-humans here. I know there are other places protecting Bigfoot tribes, but this is the only place I’ve ever heard of with such a large and varied population.”

“Apparently there’s a reason for that.” Steve served up the steaks, and the three of us sat at the table. “Liza, you remember Randal Merletti?”

“Of course. He came over for dinner one night.”

Steve chuckled. “You tried to set him up with Phyllis Layton.”

I narrowed my eyes so as to better study my friend. “Phyllis Layton? What were you thinking?”

Liza glared. “I was thinking she is a nice woman, and they have a lot in common.”

“Anyway,” Steve cut in. “Randal is a geologist. He says there’s a ley line convergence somewhere around here.

He also told me our area has a high concentration of limestone, magnetite, and certain types of crystals that seem to attract non-humans and some types of seriously artistic or psychic humans.”

“Sounds about right to me,” Liza said.

“Me too.” I thought about that. “It might even be one of the reasons Mac was attracted to our town. I wonder if Dayton has that too.”

“There could be non-humans running around down there too,” Liza said.

“Actually, I’ve heard rumors.”

We both looked at Steve, and he shrugged. “Just saying.”

****

Three hours of great conversation and the best steak I’d ever tasted, I got in my Aveo and headed toward Mom’s. I was about halfway there when I caught a glimpse of a familiar mini-dachshund on the side of the road.

As soon as I stopped the car, Gizmo ran over to me. “What are you doing out again?” I asked as I picked him up.

“Looking for you,” the dog replied.

To my credit, I didn’t drop the dog—or run screaming down the road. “So you really do talk. I didn’t imagine hearing you.”

He licked my face, the varmint. “Of course I talk. How would I communicate with you if you couldn’t understand me?”

I slid behind the wheel and put Gizmo on the passenger seat. “Ace is probably worried about you.”

“He’s gone on a rescue trip. Besides, we need to have a conversation.”

I tried to call Ace, but—surprise, surprise—he didn’t answer his cell.

I dropped my head onto the steering wheel and looked at my furry passenger. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Take me home. I told you, we need to talk.”

I sighed as I started the car. “This is so wrong.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said.

I seriously doubted that, but getting in an argument with a dog wasn’t on my agenda for the day. Instead, I put the car in gear and headed home.

Mom saw me pull up and met me at the door. “How did your dinner go?” Then she saw what I had in my arms. “Oh, who is this?”

“His name is Gizmo, and he belongs to Ace.”

“What are you doing with him?” By this time, she was scratching the mutt’s head.

“He got out of the fence. He does that a lot.”

“I’ve heard that about Dachshunds.”

“Ace calls him Houdini,” I told her.

“I’m sure if you call, he’ll come get this cute thing.”

Gizmo was eating the attention up. “I tried, he’s not answering.”

“Too bad.” Boy, she didn’t look sad about the situation.

“I’m taking him up to my room.”

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” She gave the dog another head-scratch before she turned away.

I trotted up the stairs with the furball in my arms, closed the door to my room, put him on my childhood bed, and sat cross-legged two feet from him. “So, what do we need to talk about?”

“Kate Stone.”

“What?” I was quite sure I had heard wrong.

“You know, the assistant to Gibson McFain.”

Okay, this was too much for my head. “How do you know these people?”

“I have eyes and ears, don’t I?”

“Most definitely.” I studied the long furry ears, hanging like pigtails on either side of his cute little head.

“Well, this Kate person’s up to something.”

“Yeah, she is.” I sighed. “She’s seeing the mayor, and I don’t think his wife would approve.”

“Well, that explains where she’s getting her info.”

“Info? What are you talking about?”

“She’s trying to find out where the Bigfoot hide.”

Chapter 7

I stared at the cute, black-and-brown furball on the bed not far from where I sat. “Are you serious? Kate Stone is trying to find Bigfoot? How would she even know about them?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “How do
you
know about them?”

Gizmo scratched his ear while looking at me. “People talk around dogs. They don’t pay any attention to us.”

True, and I’d never do that again. “So she said she’s looking for Bigfoot?”

I had no idea a dog could look exasperated, but this one did. “Yes, that’s what I told you. Apparently, she saw a photo in a tabloid, and now she’s determined to prove it’s for real.”

The picture of a young Bigfoot was taken by my friend Stephie. She never meant for the shot to be published, but someone else got hold of it and sent it to
The Weekly Tattler
. The tabloid predictably jumped on the photo like a politician on a publicity opp, and published it in their next edition. A few days later, the photo was declared to be a fake—after some clever maneuverings from Ugly Creek residents who make it their job to protect the little town and its unusual residents. Nobody questioned the fake status; tabloids are infamous for that sort of thing. Which begged the question: “Why in the world would she think that shot was real?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m a dog.”

I was going to beat my head against a wall—or a dog. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Me too.”

“Thanks.” I meant it.

“You’re welcome.” He lowered his furry head a little, almost like a bow. I had to smile.

“I should do some research.” I pulled out my cute pink laptop and surfed for some info.

The first piece of the puzzle was easy to find. Mr. Golden was right; Mac had invested a big hunk of his own money on his current project. Now the big question would be did he invest because he believed in the project, or because he had an ulterior motive he didn’t want to share with his investors? What was the best way to find out?

Then I turned to research regarding the warning from the dog. The dog. Info from a mutt was just inherently wrong.

Checking out Kate Stone led to a long list of boring information. Prestigious school, all the right apprenticeships, all the right jobs. I had all but decided I was on a wild dog chase, when I saw something interesting. “Stone worked for
The Weekly
Tattler
.” Years ago, but was it a coincidence?

“The what?” Gizmo asked.

“Tabloid. A real tabloid. Not like
Capitol Spy
. People only think that’s a tabloid.”

“You work for a tabloid?”

“No. We just do some stories that are kind of tabloid-like. But not really.” Why did I feel the need to explain to a dog?

My cell rang, and I glanced at the readout. It was a friend of mine who worked at the local hospital. “Hi, Nita, how are you?”

“I’m fine, I just have a second, but I thought you might want to know one of the documentary crew just got brought in.”

My stomach all but punched through my chest. “Which one?”

“No clue, but I heard something about being attacked.”

“I’m coming over there.”

“You didn’t hear this from me.”

“Of course not.”

I hung up and looked at my furry informant. “Gotta go.”

“Go? What am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll take you downstairs, and Mom can feed and play with you until I get back.”

“That works. I like your mother.”

I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m not surprised.” Scooping up the dog, I headed down the stairs. Something occurred to me as I went, and I whispered. “You do
only
talk to me, right?”

“You and your soul mate.”

“My what?” I stopped mid-stair and looked at the furball.

“I can speak only to you and your soul mate. That’s the rule.”

“Who made that rule?”

“TPTB.”

“What the hell is that?”

“The Powers That Be, of course. You live in a town full of non-humans. How can you not know that?”

“Bite me,” I whispered, as I turned the corner through the kitchen and out to the screened-in porch where Mom was relaxing with a glass of iced tea.

“Mom, I have to go out, could you watch Gizmo for me?”

“Of course I can. He’s adorable.” She took furball in her arms. “Did you not get in touch with Ace?”

“He is kinda cute. And no Ace. Somebody said he’s on one of his rescue missions. I guess they must be right.”

She was baby-talking to the mutt as I rushed toward the door.

All I could think of as I drove was Mac might be hurt. Fellow journalist, likes dogs, protected me from rocks, and I needed to pump him for information; those are legitimate reasons for concern. Right? No attraction. Nope, none whatsoever.