Secrets of Ugly Creek Page 5

  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.

  ****

  I rushed through the big glass doors into Ugly Creek General Hospital. To one side I saw Mac talking to a man in a white coat, presumably a doctor. I admit to feeling a huge relief that he was safe.

  But somebody was hurt, and I wanted badly to know what happened.

  I edged toward the two men, and when White Coat turned and took off, I approached. “Mac.”

  He turned toward me, and shocked me by taking my hands in his. “Madison.”

  “What happened?”

  “Somebody hit Shaun in the back of the head.”

  I must have frowned, because a moment later he followed up with, “He took Kevin, the sound guy, to the emergency room to get his arm treated.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. “That’s terrible.”

  “I’ve already arranged for security for the rest of the shoot, and we’re not going to announce where we’re shooting next. Or even that we are shooting.” He looked into my eyes. “I’m not going to let people get hurt.”

  “I know.” Why was I leaning closer to him?

  He seemed to hesitate before he said, “Provided Shaun is medically cleared by then, we’re shooting day after tomorrow just south of town at that old railway station.”

  It took me a moment to realize the trust in me he’d just shown. “Thank
you.”

  He swallowed. “I debated telling you.”

  Well, his reluctance was understandable. I am press. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

  “I know that.” He brushed a long strand of hair off my face. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I smiled. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Good,” he whispered.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Kate Stone’s voice raked over me like a tension headache.

  The woman should really have been a shark.

  “I’m going to get some coffee,” I said. “Either of you want anything?”

  “I’d love a cup,” Mac said.

  Kate just stared at me like I was a wounded fish and her inner shark was hungry. “I can’t believe you’re fraternizing with the press, Gib.”

  “Madison is a friend,” he said, and smiled at me.

  So she called him Gib, and I could see in his expression he didn’t like it. “Maddie,” I said.

  “What?”

  I smiled slowly with a touch of smirk. “My friends call me Maddie.”

  Shark Woman glared even harder. Hard to believe that was even possible.

  “I’ll be right back, Mac.” I hurried down the hall before I got my head bitten off. Maybe literally. I couldn’t resist a little smirky smile as I headed off in search of coffee.

  There was a coffee machine in the emergency room area, but I needed to do some walking. Mom says my inability to be still is the reason I can eat the way I do and not gain weight. I just hope the looming three-oh doesn’t mean pounds are looming too.

  Toward the other side of the huge building I found the coffee machine the nice lady at the help desk told me about. I got a couple of cups and headed back toward the ER. As I walked, I caught a glimpse of a sign for the burn unit. My feet slowed for a moment, but I kicked them in gear and hurried away from that side of the building. Memories from ten years ago lapped at my heels, but I refused to allow them to get hold of me. The past was over, and right now I had things to do.

  By the time I got back, the shark was gone, and a handsome man was waiting for me.

  “Thanks,” Mac said.

  “How’s Shaun?” I asked.

  Mac took a sip of coffee. “They’re going to keep him overnight for observation, and he’ll have to take it easy for a while. But, they say he should be ready to go back to work in a couple of days.”

  “That’s great.”

  He nodded. “Shaun is the youngest member of my crew. He’s barely nineteen, so I like to keep an eye on him.”

  I admit I was a little surprised. “That’s nice of you.”

  Mac chuckled. “You’ve been listening to the stories about how horrible I am.”

  “Ugly rumors?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I sorely wanted to just sit and enjoy the company, but I was a journalist. “Do you think this attack is related to the others?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Makes sense though, doesn’t it?”

  Mac let out a long sigh. “None of this makes any sense.”

  Boy, wasn’t that the truth. “Any idea who wants the documentary stopped?”

  “This is your town, you’d know better than me.”

  “Wish I did.”

  He took my hand in his. “I’m glad you’ve decided I’m not the devil incarnate.”

  My laugh was tempered embarrassment. “I never thought that.”

  “Just that I shouldn’t have come to your town.”

  His green eyes stared into mine with an intensity that made me struggle to remember he was a journalist too. A voice in my head warned me to watch my words. “It’s my town. I guess I’m protective. And you have to admit you have a reputation.”

  Regret washed over his face for a millisecond, and then his expression went stoic. “Are you saying this cute little town has deep dark secrets? Because that’s all I did, you know, exposed a secret that I felt it was important for the public to know. Nothing you haven’t done a time or two.”

  My throat went tight as I looked down at my coffee cup. He was right, I’d like to think I would never expose something that would cause the damage he had, but was that really the truth? When we printed somebody else’s secret, we never knew what the consequences would be. “So you’re planning to resume shooting when Shaun is better.”

  “Yes, with precautions. I’m not about to let this get too out of hand. It’s just a film, after all. No matter how important it seems to me.” He stared down at his cup.

  “I hope you don’t have any more problems.”

  “Me too.” He stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a crew member to take care of.”

  I saluted him with my coffee without looking into his face.

  After he left, I sat for a moment to get my head together. So much for digging for facts. The man had gotten more from me than I had from him.

  What kind of pathetic journalist was I? The kind that runs away, that little voice of conscience whispered. I’d left my friend in the burn unit, and my mom grieving for my dad. Wasn’t that as bad as printing secrets without knowing the consequences?

  Or was it worse?

  ****

  I was on my way back to my mom’s house when my phone rang. The name on the display sent irritation down my spine. “Hello, Greg.”

  “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  Confused and worried. “I’m fine.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I’ll be back in DC soon.” Why did saying those words make me sad?

  “We’ll take a long weekend when you get back. Just you, me, and a beach. Sound good?”

  It did, except for one thing. “We need to talk first.”

  “We can talk on the beach,” his voice was pitched low and sexy.

  Normally that voice wrapped me right around his finger, but today it wasn’t having the effect it usually did. “I’m sorry, Greg, but I need to go.”

  “Call me later.”

  “If I have time.” I clicked the button before he could protest.

  As soon as the line was clear, I called Steve. “I thought you should know one of the film crew was hit on the head tonight.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Should be.” I took a deep breath and dove in. “Steve, I’m worried.”

  “About the guy who was attacked?”

  “No. Just a feeling about this whole documentary thing.”

  Steve laughed, the rat. “Maddie, you are not psychic. The ones you’re worried about will be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Okay.” I clicked off my phone, still as worried as before I’d called him. In fact, my friend’s casual attitude about the situation somehow caused me to worry even more. Somebody had to do something to protect the non-humans. Even if that somebody was me.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, I headed out before the sun was up. The back road was dirt packed and seemed to go on forever. I might not be psychic, but I saw a bath in my poor Aveo’s near future.

  The road abruptly ended, and I waited for the dust to settle before I got out of the car. A deep breath and off I went on my morning adventure. Even in my Nike sneakers, Calvin Klein jeans, and a cute T-shirt I snagged on sale a couple of weeks ago, the hike through the thick woods was long and hard. And rather unnerving. I knew where I was going—mostly—but I’d never actually been there.

  There wasn’t an actual trail. Just weeds, flowers I couldn’t identify, rocks and tree roots to trip over, and bugs. Lots of creepy crawling and flying bugs. Grrr.

  I was so busy scanning the ground for snakes, rocks, and big bugs that I almost missed the slim, gorgeous woman standing not five feet from me. “Hello,” I managed. I’d barely seen a faery before, never spoken with one, and certainly not in their own territory.

  She dipped her head to one side and studied me. “Welcome
,” she said.

  I’d spoken to politicians, sports stars, actors, heroes, but I’d never been this nervous. “I’d like to talk with someone in charge.”

  “You may speak with me. My name is Shaylee.”

  I pulled back my shoulders. “My name is Madison Clark. I’ve come because I’m worried for your kind.”

  “We have been expecting a human,” she tipped her head again. “But not you. You have never been in our realm before. Would you like to explain this concern for us?”

  Now that I was here, standing in front of what was likely a big-shot faery, my determination to handle this thing alone was waning. Almost as fast as the bugs were multiplying. Well, I was here, so I had to try. I swallowed hard. “There is a human making a film in Ugly Creek; a documentary.”

  Shaylee nodded curtly. “Yes, we are aware.”

  “A couple of days ago, near the the filming, I saw one of your kind.”

  I don’t think she so much as blinked. “You must be mistaken.”

  “I wasn’t. Yesterday an outsider saw one of you. Both times it was just before an attack on the filmmakers.”

  There was a reaction this time; her upper body leaned back, as if dodging something. “Are you saying our people are responsible for attacks on humans?”

  “Of course not.” Hey, I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to make an accusation. “I just mean it is dangerous to be around the filming, especially when these attacks are happening. I’m worried about any non-humans being seen by outsiders.”

  “We appreciate your concern.” Shaylee turned, her wings unfolded, and she vanished on the wind, wrapped in the glow of shining emerald and tangerine wings.

  “You’re welcome,” I told the wind, and turned back the way I’d come.

  It sounds easy enough, just go back the way you came. The thing is, high grass, no trail, and myriad insects don’t really give you any idea of where you’d been.

  No, I’m not an idiot. I’ve lived next to the forest my entire life, and I had my trusty compass with me. I trudged through the meadow-woods area, which was thick with high grass that was full of the ubiquitous bugs, and easy for snakes to hide in.

  Finally, I reached a more normal forest with moss, logs and, of course, more bugs.