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She sat and watched as Dallas went on. “Rumors have spread like wildfire in the community of Denton as far back as Thanksgiving that a man called ‘the Woodsman’ has been stalking children in the forests around the city. So far we have not been able to confirm this with the Denton Police Department. Whether or not there was any substance to the rumors before, there is certainly a lot of fear now that Kayleigh Patchett’s abduction is the work of the Woodsman.”
The screen split into two boxes, one showing Dallas Jones and the other showing the anchor back at the studio. Under the two of them the chyron read:Local Teen Feared Abducted by Man Calling Himself “The Woodsman.”
“This is not good,” Josie groaned.
The anchor said, “Dallas, this sounds a lot like a disturbing fairy tale come to life. Have the police indicated whether or not this Woodsman has been active anywhere else in the state?”
Dallas shook his head. “Not at this point. As I said, the police have not given us many details. Right now, they say, their priority is finding Kayleigh Patchett.”
Josie turned the TV off and gave Trout a squeeze before snatching her phone from the nightstand. She didn’t bother checking the time as she found the name in her contacts. Heather Loughlin slept about as much as Josie did. She picked up after two rings and agreed to meet with Josie at a truck stop along Route 80 in one hour.
With plenty of time before she had to report to work, Josie fed Trout, took him for a walk, and left Misty and Harris a note before driving forty minutes to the truck stop that Heather had specified. The massive parking lot was half filled with eighteen-wheelers. Josie circled the sprawling mini market in the center of the lot, watching as truckers went in and out of its four different entrances. Neon signs promised everything from cigarettes to hot showers. Inside smelled like scalded coffee and bacon. Televisions hung in every corner of the shop, each one tuned to a repeat of the newscast that Josie had watched when she woke up: Dallas Jones telling viewers about the mysterious Woodsman.
Josie found Heather sitting at a booth in the dining area and slid into the seat across from her. The bright orange vinyl banquette bowed under Josie’s weight. Her palm touched something sticky. She was relieved when she turned her hand over and saw a smudge of what looked like maple syrup. A quick sniff confirmed it. A wet wipe appeared under her nose. “Here,” said Heather. “It’s antibacterial. I always carry them.”
Thanking her, Josie scrubbed at the syrup. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
“I’m here to shake down some of these truckers,” said Heather. “About a missing woman. Might as well have breakfast.” She pushed a pile of foil-wrapped sandwiches toward Josie. Each one oozed grease onto the table. “You have high cholesterol?”
“What?” said Josie, poking around until she found something labeled bacon, egg, and cheese. “No.”
“You will after you eat that.” Heather pushed a paper cup of coffee over, together with several creamers, sugar packets and a stirrer. She gestured to the nearest television. “You’re here because of that, aren’t you? The Woodsman.”
Josie started dumping creamer into the cup. “That reporter? Dallas Jones? He likes to dig. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out about your cases and tries to connect them to ours and this mythical Woodsman.”
Heather nodded and opened a breakfast sandwich that appeared to be sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel. “He won’t have to try. They are connected to the Woodsman.”
TWENTY-THREE
A burning sensation started in the pit of Josie’s stomach. She pushed the coffee away. “What are you talking about? Heather, the Woodsman is a kids’ story. It’s folklore. He’s not real.”
“Didn’t say he was,” Heather said. “But Josie, these kids in Montour and Lenore Counties? They went into the woods looking for this guy.”
Josie had never thought about the story beyond the fact that it had scared the hell out of Harris. “I didn’t realize the story of the Woodsman came from outside Denton. I just knew it was circulating among elementary school students in the city.”
Heather took a big bite of her sandwich. “Who knows where it came from. Hell, it probably started on the damn internet like everything does now. I’m just telling you that when we caught these two cases, this story about the Woodsman was the impetus for the kids to go into the woods.”
“Where else have you heard about the Woodsman?” Josie asked, hating herself for using valuable investigative time on some kind of twisted fairy tale. Then again, she wanted to know whatever there was to know about him—or whoever was lurking in the woods hurting children—before the press got their hands on the information and drove the entire city into a panic.
“Not much, really. I thought with the first case that it was a one-off kind of thing. Something the local kids were kicking around, but then when we caught the second case it was clear that it wasn’t confined to one area. Have you looked on social media?”
The burning in Josie’s stomach intensified. “It’s a hashtag?”
“It wasn’t trending until today, but there’s a smattering of posts about it, mostly from people in Pennsylvania. It’s like a challenge. Two kids go into the woods after dark looking for the Woodsman. If both of them survive, they win the challenge.”
This was not the lore that Josie had heard from Harris or even from the Patchett family. “What do you mean, if both of them survive?”
Heather took another bite of her sandwich, bits of scrambled egg falling onto the table. Josie waited for her to finish chewing. “The legend of the Woodsman, as I’ve heard it, is that two kids go into the woods and only one comes out. If both kids survive, you win. You beat him.”
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing,” said Josie. “How old were the kids who went in?”
“Teenagers,” Heather answered. She polished off her sandwich and started wiping both hands with a wet wipe. “What have you heard?”
“The Woodsman takes you and you never see your mom again—that’s the gist of it.”
Heather picked up her own cup of coffee and slugged some of it down. She grimaced as she set the cup back onto the table. “That’ll give you an ulcer. Anyway, you’re hearing this stuff from elementary kids. It makes sense that the lore would be more complex among teenagers. You know how these things are—they evolve. The story can only be repeated by so many people before kids start adding their own twists on it.”
Josie looked over at the nearest television. Dallas Jones had been replaced by the meteorologist giving a weather report. “This isn’t real, Heather.”
