Trouble Afoot (Shepard & Kelly Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  Trouble Afoot

  Benjamin Bradley

  Copyright © 2021 by Benjamin Bradley

  First Edition published September 2021

  Published by Indies United Publishing House, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.

  ISBN: 978-1-64456-367-0

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021943634

  For J.R.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Benjamin Bradley

  About the Author

  “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”

  Samuel Langhorne Clemens

  Chapter One

  The beast looked bigger than anything Taylor had ever seen before. Taller than anything that belonged in a forest, aside from Narnia or maybe something from the Lord of the Rings. The creature’s eyes looked fake, rubbery, but somehow emotive in the distant fog from the morning dew.

  Taylor blinked his eyes, rubbed at them, and squinted again. Waited for the image to clear. To refresh. But the beast remained. Staring at him. Cold, lifeless eyes. Like something out of a comic book or a horror movie. Every muscle in Taylor’s body tightened. He whispered, but no words came out. Just an exhale that bordered on a quiet groan. Fear sounded different than anything else.

  Moving in slow motion, he tapped Cooper’s leg. Cooper let out a half-snore, groaned, and murmured to himself as he adjusted his position in the beach chair. “Ten more minutes…”

  Out of the corner of his mouth, Taylor whispered. This time, words emerged. “Open your eyes, Coop.”

  Taylor couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It stood far away, somewhere near fifty yards from their shoreline fishing spot. Unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He kicked Cooper again. Harder this time. Cooper let out a yelp. The creature didn’t move. Just stared. Like he was trying to communicate. To signal something. Taylor’s throat went dry. The pounding in his chest sounded like the beat of a kick drum. Everything inside of him braced for the worst.

  “Look over there…” Taylor whispered.

  Cooper grabbed his fishing pole and pulled. “Nothing still?”

  “Look over there…” Taylor whispered again.

  “You know I can’t hear you when you talk like that. What is going on with your face? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  The beast moved. A step to the right. The leaves crunched into the ground beneath its feet. The early morning sun crept over the horizon and the shadows of the trees and brush flickered. Cooper caught on. He followed Taylor’s gaze.

  “Do you see it? Or am I losing my mind?” Taylor whispered.

  “Not sure those two are mutually exclusive, but I see it.”

  “Is it…. What is it?”

  “Maybe a bear. Maybe a hunter in camo.”

  “Are there bears in North Carolina?”

  “I mean, not around here, but maybe it got lost. Escaped from the zoo or something.”

  “Have you ever seen a bear before?”

  “Yeah, on a boy scout trip as a kid in the Smokies.”

  “And did it look… did it look like this?”

  Cooper shook his head. “No, but there are lots of kinds of bears and—”

  The beast sprinted off. A crash in the leaves echoed and then faded into the distance. It moved on two feet. Like a human. It moved with familiarity, a comfort in the forest. Graceful and nimble.

  “Well, that was weird.” Cooper turned back and tugged at his rod. Taylor couldn’t take his eyes off of the tree line. The forest was still. Typical for an early morning where fishermen outnumber hikers. Ripples dissolved into the algae-lined water, which now sat tranquil as it held Cooper’s bobber on the surface. Soil pushed out into ridges around the butt cap of Taylor’s borrowed rod. The reel seat sat against the ground, resting atop pebbles and straw pine that would provide little resistance to the chomp of a curious creature underwater. Any momentary interest in the lake had disappeared the instant the beast moved into his eye line.

  “Coop?” Taylor asked. His voice cracked under the pressure of the moment.

  “Yes, Taylor? Are you going through puberty again or…”

  “Did we just see… did we just see Bigfoot?”

  Cooper let out a belly laugh and slapped his knee. “Because Bigfoot lives in suburban North Carolina. Good one. You get any sleep last night?”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “Because it’s not an actual question, right?”

  “We need to tell somebody.” Taylor stood, seized the moment of courage and pushed Cooper to move. “Get your stuff. Enough of this waiting around.”

  Cooper met his eyes and, after a moment of hesitation, nodded and pulled his line out of the murky water. They tiptoed towards where the beast once stood, every step unleashing a cacophony of crunches through the quiet morning. Taylor scoured the ground for a set of tracks. Nothing. No footprints. Not a trace. Cooper stood and watched with his arms crossed and a smile on his face.

  After another ten minutes of searching, Taylor gave up. He waited for Cooper to dig into him for the fruitless search, for the unwarranted fear that he’d let overtake him. But nothing came. They began their trek out of the woods in silence. With each step, Taylor eyed the surrounding woods. Each thrash of a squirrel jumping into the leaves sounded like the crash of a cymbal. Sweat beaded on his brow. Each step he took was careful. Measured. Calculated.

  Before long, they were at the car. Whether from tiredness or a newfound belief, Cooper had lowered his defenses and agreed to tag along as Taylor told the park rangers what he saw. Taylor stood with eyes on the forest behind them as Cooper tossed their cooler and chairs into the trunk of his car. Each dancing shadow looked suspicious. Every movement was alarming. Nothing was the same as before he’d seen that beast. Nothing.

  Chapter Two

  The leaves of the towering sourwood trees were bonfire red and stood in stark contrast to the sun-flame golds of the neighboring magnolias. Autumn had brought on cooler temperatures and stiff winds, but the sun hung in the sky like summer had
n’t disappeared just yet. The hum of low-volume local news filled the tiny cab of Zoe Watt’s truck as she steered away from her cottage and toward the front gate of Umstead State Park. Her tires sank into the soft soil next to the driveway, falling into well-worn grooves. She threw the gearshift into park and hopped out.

  Six patient drivers waited at the gate, blasting heat through their vents to fight off the morning chill. Along the shoulder just outside the entrance, five other cars sat idle and cold as the dewdrops. Although four “NO PARKING” signs lined the soil, five gate-hoppers was a relatively meager crew. In Zoe’s rookie days as a Park Ranger, she had marched along the street and written a ticket to each illegally parked vehicle. Nothing changed. If anything, more cars were parking there now than before.

  The old beat-up teal Prius waiting at the front of the line was as familiar as the morning birdsong. Zoe beamed as she undid the combination lock, opened the gate and waved the traffic through. The Prius’s driver stopped midway and waved. “Another beautiful day in Umstead!” The gray-haired woman shouted with more pluck than anybody should have at such an ungodly hour.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “I hope to be on your level of enthusiasm by my next cup of coffee, Donna Sue.”

  “If it takes two cups, you’re drinking the wrong stuff.” Donna Sue grinned and nodded. “More jerks parking on the shoulder, I see.”

  Zoe glanced toward the cars. Most were Subarus or hybrids, and most had a bike rack or straps.

  “I know they mean no harm but darn, have some respect!” Donna Sue said.

  “In their defense, our staff have their hands full elsewhere. Parking tickets have fallen on our priority list.”

  “And yet, here you are, glaring at them while you open the gate.”

  Zoe chuckled. “Who was that guy who rolled a rock up a hill for his entire life?”

  “Sisyphus, I believe.”

  “That’s the one. I’m thinking about changing my name to Sisyphus.”

  Donna Sue laughed with a vigor Zoe admired. Zoe tapped the roof of the car and waved her on. “Enjoy your run, ma’am.”

  Zoe cruised down the path after the bottleneck had cleared and switched the radio to music. Her presets were all classic rock and news stations, but she only used them when somebody else was in the truck. She’d grown to love the awful country radio stations despite broadcasting to the world that it was the music of backcountry hillbillies and Hollywood love stories. North Carolina had that effect on people. It wore a person down. Without notice, Zoe was singing along to fast-paced banjo-induced rants about trucks and cold beer. She hadn’t even admitted it to Gil. There was no guidebook on what little secrets of your world you should let your soon-to-be husband in on. She found cover under their shared love for all things CCR. She switched over to the CD player and the unmistakable opening chords of Bad Moon Rising rung out.

  A squat Ford Ranger with the North Carolina State Parks logo on the side and a dented back tailgate approached from the south. A trash-picker and three split logs rattled around the truck bed as it neared. Zoe slowed to a crawl and faded the volume of John Fogerty’s voice to a whisper. The smiling face of Clement Jenkins, accompanied by his thick-as-molasses southern accent, greeted her as she stopped.

  “Thought you were opening today, mighty fine one we’ve got,” he said.

  “Not half bad. It’ll warm up.” Zoe looked to the cloudless blue sky. “I was just headed in to see Mathias. What’s on your plate today?”

  “Pulled the maintenance crew to help clear some brush off Sal’s Branch Trail.” Clem pulled a toothpick from his lips and picked between his teeth. “Storm the other night must’ve washed some gunk into the culvert. Looks like a dam, so I hear. We’ll be busier than a one-legged cat in a sandbox!”

  Zoe chuckled at the image. Clem’s repertoire of southern sayings that meant absolutely nothing went on longer than a country mile. “Need a hand? I’d love to pitch in.”

  Clem grinned. “Mathias has you penciled in for desk duty. Joanne is still out.”

  Zoe’s heart sank. “Shit, still? I thought I was free to roam this week.”

  “Think again, wild spirit.” Clem returned the toothpick to his lips and smiled. “I’m off. Enjoy the shackles and recycled air of the Visitor’s Center. Don’t get a paper cut!”

  Before Zoe could groan again, Clem had sped off. She considered doing a lap of the parking lots or picking up trash to kill time before the doldrums of the desk. Her instincts won out, and she went inside. Mathias could already see her truck from his office if he’d glanced out either of the two large, grime and pollen-caked windows. She swallowed her pride and steered toward the back, where a lone truck sat in the lot.

  Each ranger had their own domain. Clem managed the foot trails used by hikers and runners. Ernest Henley, who was about as friendly as poison ivy, took care of the bridle trails, which were more often used by mountain bikers than horses in recent years. Mathias Wittles, the firm but fair leader of the pack who held the title of Park Superintendent, managed the budget, staffing, and all else that fell in-between. Zoe had drawn the short straw as the least-senior staff member and was in charge of volunteers. Despite many protests about how her degree in Environmental Science and Ecology didn’t equip her to supervise troops of Boy Scouts and churchgoers, nothing had changed.

  Zoe eyed the front desk with a loathing she reserved for assholes that littered or anybody who would dare speak ill of her beloved Creedence Clearwater Revival. She’d tried to talk her way out of the rotational position more times than she could count, but Mathias wouldn’t hear it. His dispassionate response echoed around her brain as she slumped into the rickety wooden chair.

  “Everybody takes a few hours here or there when we need it.” Mathias tugged at his unruly mustache. “Until we can afford another full-time office worker on days Joanne has off, this is a team effort.”

  Raucous laughter sounded from the back office and out stumbled Ernest. The gray-beard of the ranger staff stepped out for patrol, laughing on his phone as he approached his truck. Zoe waited for her skin to match the pine needles as she turned green with envy as Ernest darted off towards the horse trails and sighed.

  By nine, Zoe had handled two “emergency” phone calls from lost hikers and redirected them back to safety. She worked her way through a Sudoku without a mistake, then started a crossword. Just as she parsed out the letters for ten across, the front doors opened and two out-of-breath teenagers tumbled in.

  Zoe stood. “Can I help you boys?”

  “We—” the taller one bent over like a sprinter after a race. He kept trying to talk, but almost hyperventilated.

  “Take it easy, no rush here. Catch your breath,” Zoe said. “Is somebody hurt?”

  They both shook their heads. Relief washed over Zoe. Few things were worse than the panic that ensued after an injured hiker. Even if it was poor luck or the hiker’s fault, the mountain of paperwork rivaled Everest. Plus, the whole park shut down. Trails grew crowded with rubberneckers. If there was such a thing as too many first responders showing up, it too often followed a sprained ankle on the trail.

  “What are your names?”

  The shorter one with a buzz cut introduced himself as Cooper. The taller one with a messy brown mop was Taylor. Cooper nudged his friend, who was still out of breath. “Go ahead, tell her.”

  “We saw something,” Taylor took a deep breath, “In the woods.”

  Zoe reached into a file cabinet to her left and slapped the piece of paper onto the desktop. “Fill this out, please.”

  Taylor looked dumbfounded. “But, like, aren’t you going to do something?”

  “Is anybody in immediate danger?”

  Taylor shook his head. “No, but somebody could be. We don’t know where that beast went off to.”

  “I can complete this for you.” Zoe slid the paper back her way. “Can you describe what you saw?”

  “Well, it was earlier this morning. We’d set out to fish on the side trail of
f Big Lake around dawn.” Taylor told the tale like it was a bedtime story. “We were just sitting there shooting the shit and all, and then we—”

  “You,” Cooper interrupted. “I saw nothing but a blur.”

  “Fine. I saw this, like, ape.”

  Zoe kept her eyes on the paper. “Okay, and how far away were you?”

  “Hell, maybe half a football field?” Taylor looked to Cooper, who ignored him again. “It was down, like far away, but I know what I saw. It walked like a human.”

  Zoe tried to hide her grin. “And how big was this ape?”

  “Tall.” Taylor raised his hand above his own head. “Bigger than me, I’d guess.”

  “Mhm, and you?” Zoe turned to Cooper. “You were busy or didn’t see it or…”

  Cooper was stoic. “I fell asleep. This asshole wakes me up saying he saw Bigfoot and I—”

  “I never said Bigfoot, Coop. I just—”

  Zoe let their bickering simmer before finishing the paperwork. “Thank you both for your time.” She pasted on her best marketing-material-park-ranger smile. “This is a helpful report. We’ll put our best rangers on it.”

  The boys looked dumbfounded. “You’re not scared?”

  “Nope.” Zoe leaned in to whisper. “I’ll tell you a secret. We actually have a lot of wildlife in the park.”