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“My name is Carlton Jeffe, and I live here in Grizzly Falls. You may have heard of me.”
She hadn’t but didn’t say so and waited for him to go on.
“Well, see, I’m the president of our local club, the BFBs. Y’know, the Big Foot Believers.”
Her stomach tightened. So that’s what this was about. “Okay.”
“And I heard that you had a close encounter with a Sasquatch last night, that one of them chased you up around Reservoir Point. Is that right?”
Again, she didn’t answer.
Jeffe said, “You saw one.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Well, honey, it’s all over town. Bryant Tophman is one of our members. He let me know. Me and some of the other guys, organizers, y’know.”
Tophman? Crap. That jerk-wad!
“And he gave you my number?” She was pissed.
“Yes, he did.”
“Why?” she asked, getting a bad feeling about all of this. “Why are you calling me?”
“Well, see, Bianca, I’d like to talk to you, in person. Hear your story and, y’know, I thought maybe you’d like to come speak at our next meeting.”
“Speak? As in give a lecture?”
“Nothing that fancy.” He gave a raspy cough. “Just come in and tell the group what you saw. Over at the Sons of Grizzly Falls Hall. Tuesday night. Seven sharp, but you should show up a few minutes earlier, y’know, to get set up.”
Was he crazy? Probably. She was shaking her head.
As if he could see through the wireless connection, Jeffe upped the ante. “We serve coffee, soda, and cookies. And we’ve got some people who’re interested in what you’ve got to say. Important people.”
Oh. Like. Sure. “No.”
“Now, darlin’, come on, it would really help us. There’s been a rogue Big Foot seen up around Cougar Pass, and this may be the same one. A rogue. Loner. Any information you might have would be a big help.”
Darlin’? Seriously?
No way would she be a part of his carnival. She flashed on the massive smelly beast and his one glowing eye that had crashed through the underbrush while running after her. A shiver ran up her spine. “I don’t know what I saw last night,” she admitted.
“Maybe I can help you with that.”
“No!” she said, then, “No,” again and hung up. She dropped her phone as if it were radioactive. It was one thing for her to “think” she may have been accosted by a creature that was more myth than substance, another to have a complete stranger call her and invite her to speak at a meeting.
And the next time she ran across Bryant Tophman, she was going to ream him out but good for giving out her number. “Idiot,” she muttered and glanced at the TV with its silent screen. A yearbook photo of Destiny Montclaire filled the screen. Bianca turned on the sound.
“. . . discovered last night at Reservoir Point. Police are still searching the area where the body was found, trying to determine if the girl died from natural causes or if foul play was involved. If anyone has any information—”
Her phone rang and she saw her mother’s number appear on the screen. “Hi,” she answered, still watching the newscast.
“How’re ya doing?”
“Okay.”
“The ankle?”
