F I N A L

L I E

(A Maggie Flight Suspense Thriller—Book Four)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising nine books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising ten books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising seven books (and counting); and of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2025 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

PROLOGUE

"Are you sure this tent is safe enough?" Angela Tanner looked dubiously at the zipper nestled in the olive green canvas. To her, it seemed like a flimsy barrier between the interior, with its narrow mattresses and double sleeping bags, and the outside world. Especially when the outside world consisted of threatening woods. There was no moon, and apart from the lamp which her fiancé Jason had hung on a nearby tree branch, it was utterly dark.

Angela had to admit she was a city girl at heart. She was used to some light around – the ambient glow from street lamps, flashes from cars zooming down the road, the brightness of windows from other houses. This darkness was disorienting. She wasn't even sure if there was any phone signal out here, but in any case, her phone battery was almost dead.

She and Jason had hiked so far into the woods that she'd completely lost track of how to get back. The past hour had been an exhausting trek, winding between trees, slipping in the mud, losing the path, and then finding it again.

“Oh yeah, the tent is fine,” Jason replied to her question. “It won't collapse, and it's fully waterproof. I only bought it in the spring, and it's had one outing apart from this one.”

Jason hadn't gotten what she meant at all. Her new fiancé didn't see any danger in these woods. But then, before they met, he'd gone hiking and camping most weekends. He loved the Northern California forests – the dark, mysterious areas that made her instinctively uncomfortable.

Now that they were engaged, she had to step up to the plate. It was either going to be sit at home, or come with him. And besides, she needed a hobby. She didn't really have a passion like Jason did. He’d grown up in the small town of Willow Creek, where they'd now returned for this camping trip, and he was used to its forests and fast-flowing waters and its outdoor lifestyle.

“The town was founded by some crazy nature lover about half a century ago,” Jason had told her the first time she’d stayed over at his place. “Apparently, he wanted to find the most remote place in the whole of California. He founded the town, bought a huge section of forest next to a national park, and then sold off portions of it into big farms. Some of those got divided up by the owners over time, and still today, the town is growing, and it doesn’t seem so remote anymore as it was back then. It’s a really cute place. We can go into one of the restaurants for lunch on the way home, and you’ll see.”

She’d been concentrating on breathing, not talking, so the conversation had been basically a monologue as he chatted, while she toiled along. She hadn’t told him that the town still seemed remote to her.

Now, she was remembering something else he’d said. “The woods were very dangerous in those days. That was when the old legend of Bigfoot first gained traction in Willow Creek, I think. It kept the town small for a long time. It was only when the access road was tarred that it became more popular. And with human activity, the wildlife has retreated. You don’t need to worry about bears anymore.”

Anymore?

That would mean at one time, the forest was full of wild bears?

At least that explained where the Bigfoot legend had started because Willow Creek had marketed itself as 'the home of Bigfoot.' She'd never thought she'd be camping near in a small town with that tagline.

Nor that she’d be out in woods that were infested with potentially killer bears.

As an ex-model, she'd never really been exposed to the rough and ready side of life. Jason had used to laugh about that when they’d first started dating, teasing her that she was a clubs, bars and malls type of woman who didn’t understand outdoor adventuring at all.

The forest was foggy, and visibility had been poor. The first part of the walk had been among hundreds of mighty redwood trees, their trunks stretching high into the air, giving her the weird feeling that her own perspective was distorted.

In addition, Jason had pointed out many other trees to her. The Douglas fir, the canyon live oak, the California Bay laurel and the madrone.

She’d tried to take it in, but now, as she tugged on her hair, all she was wondering was… how close were these bears? What would happen if one of them decided to break into the campsite, which was nothing more than a clearing in the trees?

Would she be safe when she went to pee?

Now, Jason was stripping off his old denim jacket, whistling to himself and rolling up his shirt sleeves as he turned to the pile of wood that he'd gathered during the last part of the walk, and got ready to build a fire.

Another rustling noise from the darkness made her turn her head. Her heart accelerated. Had that been a branch breaking? She was sure she'd heard the crack of a small branch, as if something heavy had trod on it.

Peering through the trees, she caught her breath as she thought she saw a looming shape, far bigger than a human. But she saw it for only a moment before it slipped behind the trees, if it had been there at all. It could have been the canopy of another tree or a bush that had moved in the wind. Even so, she couldn't get the tension out of her stomach now that it had lodged there.

“I think there’s a bear there,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Bears are not a threat these days.” Jason didn't sound as patient as he had done an hour ago. Now building the fire, he sounded as if he was all done with her and her fears. “I wish I’d never told you about the town’s history. I was just chatting to keep you going, because I could see you were battling back there, but it’s spooked you for no reason. There are no dangerous bears anymore. What are you afraid of now?”

“I don't know. What if there's something out there bigger than a bear?”

That noise she'd heard had sounded heavy. The shape she'd glimpsed had looked large. She didn't want to sound like a coward, but what if there was something unknown out there?

“Oh geez.” Still holding a knotted stick in his hand. Jason turned to frown at her. “Now we've gone from unrealistic to entirely imaginary. Maybe you shouldn't have come with me, and we should just pack up and go home.”

“I'm really sorry. I'm not used to the woods, and I guess this whole environment has made me jumpy.”

She could see she was now annoying him to the point where he was losing his temper with her. Surely they could manage to go on a two-night camping trip in the woods without having their first fight? She was an easygoing person who hated conflict and was never one to start an argument. But she knew she was timid, and now, out of her comfort zone, she couldn't help feeling uneasy.

"If you want to help me, then grab the flashlight and hold it so I can start the fire. A blaze will keep the bears away." He spoke jokingly, but she could hear the undertone of frustration.

Angela took the flashlight from off the branch where it had been hanging, acting as a lantern, and shone it directly at the kindling.

Another twig cracked in the darkness this one closer. She glanced that way, the flashlight beam wavering off its target.

“Babe, I need you to point it here so that I can get the kindling going.”

“Sorry.”

She forced her attention away from those disturbing noises, and aimed the flashlight’s powerful beam at the kindling.

Jason was building this fire expertly, gathering together the smaller dry branches, and then stacking the bigger ones around them with practiced efficiency.

Soon, this would be a lovely, blazing fire, and they could get food going, open the bottle of wine that Jason had brought, and she could stop being so scared. Really, she just needed to adapt to this environment.

Crack!

She caught her breath, and the flashlight beam wobbled. What was that? It had sounded really loud and close. Even Jason looked up.

“Could be just a deer passing through.”

But she could hear the doubt in his tone now, too. It wasn’t just her. He’d also gotten spooked by – by whatever it was out there.

“Let’s have a look-see,” he muttered.

He stood up from the fire, which had just started to crackle and glow, and grabbed the flashlight from her.

“Sorry for being a ‘fraidy cat,” she said, feeling bad.

But he shook his head. “I think you’re right.” The words sent a shiver through her. “I do think there’s something out there.”

“What should we do?” Her heart was thudding hard now.

He took the flashlight. “I’m going to go see.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just stay here?”

Jason nodded. "Whatever it is, it's likely they'll be scared off if I head out. The best thing you can do is sit tight."

“Sit tight.” She repeated the words, trying to stay calm. At least the fire had now taken, providing a glimmering, smoke-shrouded light. She guessed whatever was out there wouldn't come near the flames.

Shivering, she huddled near it.

Another crack of a twig, this one even closer. Whatever it was, it was definitely moving in

“Don't worry.” Jason picked up a long stick. Big and solid, one of the ones he hadn't used on the fire. He hefted it briefly, showing off the broad strength of his shoulders under his scruffy T-shirt. “Whatever it is, it's going to get a big scare. Be ready to hear it flee.” His teeth flashed bright in his shadowed face.

Then he headed out in the direction of the noise.

And then the trees rustled hard, and she heard a loud, heavy thudding noise. Then a strange, metallic, ripping sound. She barely had time to process it before Jason gave a high-pitched hoarse cry.

Coldness flooded her as she heard the terror in his voice.

“No, no. Get away. No. Get the hell off me, man. No, what the hell?” And then his voice rose in a hoarse scream. “Help, help.”

Angela's hands flew to her mouth. Terror flooded her, the emotion paralyzing. There was a gurgling noise. Scuffling. Was that a weird roaring sound?

With her hands crushing her own mouth, she shook so violently her entire body convulsed.

Then, she saw the beam of the flashlight moving unevenly. As it veered wildly, the light flickered over Jason himself. He was scrambling through the undergrowth, limping hard, and with every step, he was uttering a harsh, breathless cry. As she watched, the light dropped from his hand, and in its glow, she saw he was streaming blood.

“Jason, are you okay?” Her voice rose to a screech. Her heart lodged in her throat. She stood tense, gripping the phone that was even now bleeping the last of its battery life away.

“Run, babes. Get out of here. Run.” His voice was rough and ragged.

Behind him, something huge loomed, faceless in the flickering light of the flames. A monster. A giant.

“Run.”

He sprawled down, landing heavily as the giant closed in, crushing the foliage, huge feet stamping.

Screaming, she turned and ran blindly into the darkness, needing to get away, far away, from the killer. She stumbled over a tree root, sprawled, and then righted herself. A thorny branch clawed her face, and she raised her hands to protect herself in the utter dark.

Behind her, she could hear noises. Terrible sounds – ripping noises and weird growls, and Jason's scream rising again and again.

The screams behind her turned to groans. Then silence.

Blindly, she ran on, a branch slashing her arm painfully, another root snagging her so that she sprawled down, the breath knocked out of her, her ankle flaring painfully.

And then, behind her, she heard the sound she dreaded. The noise of all the worst nightmares made real.

Crushing footsteps, coming her way.

It was coming for her.

CHAPTER ONE

“Hello, Maggie. Hello? Can you hear me? There seems to be an echo on the line.”

Listening to her mother's voice, Maggie Flight stood in the kitchen of her small apartment. She had a pot on the stove and was looking at it dubiously as it simmered. In her right hand, she gripped a wooden spoon.

“Sorry about the echo. I installed one of those apps that records every call. I think it sometimes creates that effect,” she explained.

“You're recording your calls?” her mother asked, sounding surprised.

“You know, I just thought it would be a good idea for work.” Maggie wasn't explaining the real reason. The real reason was far deeper than that.

The call that she'd picked up a couple of weeks ago was still seared in her mind.

She had been convinced that the voice she'd heard for those few seconds, calling from a withheld number, had been that of her twin brother Cole.

He'd said he was in trouble and asked for help, and then the call had cut. It had been so brief, so pleading, and so intense. That had gotten Maggie on a visceral level.

In a panic, she’d tried her best to trace the number, but she hadn’t managed. It was only a while later that she thought of writing the message down. By then, crazy as it seemed, she couldn't remember exactly what had been said. She didn't know how that had happened. Maybe it was because she'd been in such a state of shock hearing it.

The next morning, when she'd woken up after a fractured sleep that had been plagued by nightmares, things had gotten even worse. She had started doubting herself, second guessing that it had been Cole at all.

It could have been someone else, a wrong number. Maybe that was why it had cut off, because that person had realized that they'd misdialed.

If Cole had gotten through to her for those few seconds, then why hadn't he stayed on the line? And why hadn't he called her before? Why now? It had been nearly a decade since she'd last seen Cole, and the last interaction with him had been troubling.

He'd been doing jobs for bad people. He'd gone over to the dark side, and he'd given her a fierce, harsh warning that she should back off and leave him alone.

It had been more of a threat than a warning.

Maggie had been trying to come to terms with the fact that the reason she hadn't heard from him for so long was because Cole was dead.

She dragged her focus back to the conversation with her mother.

“You've been in law enforcement for a long time?” Her mother spoke the words innocently.

“Well, yes. I've been in policing since I was twenty-one. You know, I started off in LA?”

She'd done the second half of her psychology degree part time, while working as a junior police officer. Maggie still remembered those late nights, holding down a tough job with long hours while doing intensive studying. "And then I joined the Bureau of Investigation a year ago," she continued, hoping that she might jog her mother's surprisingly patchy memory.

Working as an agent for the Department of Justice had required her to move to San Jose. She couldn't believe it had been almost a year since she’d taken that giant step. Time had flown.

And while she'd been advancing her career, her mother had managed to meet a challenge that had plagued her all her life. She’d faced up to her addiction at last, and had been clean and sober for a few months now. They were repairing their relationship. But even so, Maggie was surprised that her mother clearly didn't remember when she’d joined the police or moved to San Jose.

“You remember, don't you, Mom?” she asked in an encouraging way. She really hadn't thought that her mother's previous addiction problems would have left her with so many voids in her memory. After all, Maggie remembered everything in crystal clarity. All the times when her mother lost it, raging around the house, falling over furniture because she was so drunk, throwing bottles and breaking glasses.

She remembered the hammering on the door from angry neighbors and sometimes from the police.

When things had gotten really bad, she'd hidden away.

“What I was wondering,” her mother said, “is why you've been with the police so long and you're only getting a recording app on your phone now?”

Uh-oh. Her mother hadn't bought that excuse. She'd seen right through Maggie. That innocent question had nothing to do with poor memory and was, in fact, a test.

With all the trouble her mother had been through, and with the many times she'd seen her at her most vulnerable, drunk out of her mind, it was easy for Maggie to forget that she was as sharp as a tack, with an incisive intelligence and also, extreme sensitivity.

“Well, you know. I just thought, you know, with modern technology and all…” Maggie stumbled over the words now. It wasn't that easy to think on her feet. Not after that surprise statement, and also because she was trying to cook dinner, something she didn't often do. She was distracted.

“I was wondering where you got that app?” her mother then said.

“I'll text you the link for it. It's not a bad thing to record conversations, you know. It makes it easy to remember things. And to listen to a caller again if you didn't pick up what was said the first time.” Once more, she thought of Cole.

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking, too.” Her mother spoke the words in a strange tone, and Maggie's instincts prickled as she listened to it. “It would be nice to have that app for any unexpected calls that might come in.”

She knew that her mother had thought she'd had a call from Cole a year ago. Had he reached out to her mother since then?

The fact that her mother was also dancing around the topic meant that it was too sensitive for discussion now.

“I'll send you that app, but tell me, how's Wilbur doing?”

Quickly, she changed the subject, asking about the rescue dog that her mother had recently adopted with Maggie's help.

Maggie was paying all Wilbur's expenses. These included top quality pet food, the prettiest walking harness Maggie could find, and also a full portfolio of medical insurance. Nothing but the best was good enough for the gentle, affectionate middle-aged crossbreed who had captured her mother's heart and was giving her entertainment, love and stability.

“Wilbur is doing so well. You know, we go to the park every morning, and also on the weekends, and he's made a friend. There's a person across the park who walks their poodle at the same time on the weekends. A lovely person. We have a lot in common. And Wilbur plays so well with his dog. It's the sweetest thing to see.”

As her mother spoke, Maggie was reading in between the lines. Listening to her mother’s tone, she was wondering who this person was. It sounded as if this might be a love interest.

She'd never had a father figure because her dad had walked out when she was so young, and her mother had never gotten involved with anyone else.

This was at once exciting and worrying. Any change in her life might be cause for worry. Maggie had learned that from bitter experience during the times when her mother had been evicted from their lodgings and they'd had to move to cheaper and more ramshackle places. The change meant her addiction worsened.

Would her mother be okay to handle this potential romance? Maggie worried that if it went wrong, it could tip her over again. What if this new love interest didn't understand her struggles with addiction?

On the other hand, it might be a positive thing, and this person might be a source of support.

Then again, Maggie warned herself that she might be jumping to conclusions that didn’t even exist.

Really, Maggie? she asked herself. Is now the time to start suspecting your mother of getting involved with someone across the park, when all she's mentioned is a dog owner? Can you please leave your profiling skills at work and shelve that line of thought now?

"I'm so pleased that Wilbur's made a friend." She managed to get out the correct response, even with her mind racing. The tomato sauce on the stove was now bubbling – spattering in a scary way. Fat droplets of tomato sauce were escaping the pot and landing on the surface of the stove.

She stirred the sauce and turned the heat down. Probably that was a good idea if it was spattering. Maggie wished she had more knowledge about cooking. Now was not the time to be trying to acquire it. It felt like too little, too late.

“So anyway, Wilbur’s good. And how's your job going?”

“The job? Well, very busy at the moment. I've been spending more time with the – the person I've been partnered with on some cases. It looks like we're permanently partnered together now. He used to work in San Diego.”

Again, Maggie chastised herself. She hadn't intended to tell her mother about Jamie at all, not until she had more clarity on their relationship herself.

“How nice for you to have a permanent partner. I'm sure that helps, especially with law enforcement landing you in dangerous situations sometimes.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful to have that consistency.”

Her mother wasn't asking more about her partner, just like Maggie hadn't asked more about the dog walker.

She felt like laughing hysterically. Getting things back on track after so many years of alienation meant that both of them were being very careful about potentially thorny topics.

She gave the sauce another stir. At least it wasn't spattering so badly now.

Truthfully, the entire reason for this cookery experiment was so that she could invite her partner, Jamie Rodriguez, for dinner sometime soon.

She'd had the idea of cooking pasta and sauce – something simple and basic that even she couldn’t mess up. A home-cooked meal felt like a more personal alternative to going out. She wanted to try it, to do this for him. It felt like the next step in a deepening friendship.

Her mother might have some tips on cooking pasta sauce, because one of the part time jobs she’d held down in the past had been with a catering company.

But before she could ask, she saw she had another incoming call. Her boss, Director Simmons, was waiting. At seven thirty p.m. on a Saturday night, this meant there might be an emergency.

“I’d better go. My boss is on the line.”

“We'll talk soon. Stay safe.”

Maggie quickly hung up and took the incoming call.

Simmons sounded remarkably tense. Maggie could hear a sharper edge in a voice that was usually like a cutting blade.

“Flight. We've had a strange case called in. There’s been a body found, badly mauled by an unidentifiable assailant, in the woods near a small town in the north of the state, and another local woman is missing. I need you and Jamie Rodriguez in the office now for a meeting. Prepare to travel to the crime scene straight afterward.”

CHAPTER TWO

This was the first time that Maggie had been called into the Department of Justice's offices on a Saturday night. As she parked outside, she wondered what this case involved and where in the state it would take them. What, exactly, did Simmons mean by 'strange'?

Climbing out and hustling to the building’s main entrance, she saw another set of headlights swing into the parking lot.

She paused, shifting her laptop bag higher on her shoulder.

It was Jamie. Just the person she'd been thinking of earlier as she made her pasta sauce. That project was now abandoned, the pot hastily shoved into the refrigerator. As he walked toward her, Maggie saw him smile.

“Hey, Maggie.”

“Hey, Jamie.”

They stood looking at each other for a long, slightly awkward moment, while Maggie wondered what the correct greeting would be. They’d been on a few outings recently, exploring San Jose together, and those had begun with hugs.

She wanted to hug him. It had felt as if their last hug had been warmer, more than just friendship, but this was work, and they were here at the offices on an emergency call-out.

Settling for reaching over and squeezing his hand, Maggie felt disappointed in herself.

He squeezed her hand back, his fingers warm on hers.

Did you get any information on this new case?" he asked as they walked shoulder to shoulder into the building, greeting the night security guard at the door.

For once, Jamie didn't look his immaculate self. His suit jacket was creased, as if he had tossed it onto a chair when getting home, thinking that work was over for the weekend.

And his shirt was older than the ones he usually wore, a color in between lemon and cream that didn't really go with his olive tanned skin and jet black hair. Not that Maggie thought it made him any less easy on the eye. She had to admit, with his handsome looks and broad shoulders, he could have worn a sack underneath his suit jacket and still given a good impression.

“I didn't get much. Simmons said a body had been mauled, and someone else was missing, but I’ve no idea where this happened. I was just told to get in here as fast as possible. But Simmons sounded more stressed than usual.”

He nodded. “She told me the same, and I picked that up too. Whatever this is, it sounds mystifying. My imagination’s been working overtime, trying to figure out the answers without enough information.”

“Have you heard any statewide news that could point to a problem?”

Jamie was better at keeping up with the news than she was, even though she did try. It was just that she never knew whether she would turn on the television and see Cole’s face with a Wanted sign underneath it. She tended to avoid it for that reason.

Jamie shook his head. “Nothing. No crime reports. I was expecting a quiet weekend.”

The elevator doors opened at the floor where Simmons had her office. They headed straight there. The door was open, and Maggie could hear the voice of her boss, staccato and sharp. She was talking on the phone. As the two of them walked in, Simmons raised her eyes from her laptop and hung up.

Even at eight p.m. on a Saturday night, Simmons looked immaculate. Her platinum hair was sleek and groomed, like a shiny helmet. Her charcoal suit made her look as if she’d just walked out of an expensive boutique specializing in sharp business outfits.

“Have either of you heard of a small town called Willow Creek?”

That was how she opened the conversation. Maggie shook her head.

“No, Director.”

Beside her, Jamie said, “I know it from years ago, but I haven’t heard it mentioned recently, for any reason.”

“This has just come in,” Simmons explained. “We've had an urgent call for help from the local chief of police. In the past two days, they've had one camper found dead, badly mauled after a vicious attack that they believe is caused by a large animal. Another local resident went into the woods yesterday. She has disappeared and not yet been found. So, the Willow Creek sheriff has asked for our help.

“Our help?” Jamie sounded surprised as he asked the question. “Surely they should get the Park Rangers in? What was it, a bear?”

"The injuries were severe, according to the coroner. The attack was witnessed, and the witness has been hospitalized. She's been in a state of terror, screaming that a monster killed her fiancé. She's still under heavy sedation. But tomorrow, she should be in a fit state to be interviewed."

“But even so, surely there's an easy explanation for it? Did they see any bears nearby? What did the coroner find?” Maggie questioned.

Simmons’ frown deepened and her voice became more snappish as she replied to Maggie.

“Coroner has confirmed this is far more severe than any bear attack on record. A couple of experts have already seen photos of the wounds, and agreed.”

Maggie glanced questioningly at Jamie. He was frowning.

“Isn't that – well, I don't want to sound as if I'm believing in strange legends here, but isn't that Bigfoot country? I remember from vacations, when I was a kid, that Willow Creek is the best place for Bigfoot sightings.”

Maggie blinked. Bigfoot? That was not what she'd expected. More worrying still was that Simmons didn't look surprised.

She nodded at Jamie. “Yes, I understand the town has based its entire reputation on being the place where Bigfoot chooses to roam. Now there's been an attack, people are attributing it toward this legendary monster. So, we need you there to assist with public safety, sort fact from fiction, and find out what has led to one severely mauled dead body and one missing person. Do not ignore the possibility of a human killer, even if it seems unlikely.”

Now Simmons was moving on to the logistics of their travel. “The Willow Creek police have already decided no investigation will be done after dark, as it's simply too dangerous. However, they want you there to start at first light. There's a medical helicopter that's going up that way in an hour's time. You can ride with them, and I've then booked you into a motel close to the landing site. The local police will take you out first thing tomorrow.”

Maggie nodded. She felt shocked by how quickly her evening had changed. One minute, it had been cookery, experimentation, hopes and dreams, and a slightly awkward conversation with her mother. The next, she was going to be in a helicopter, setting out to find an unknown monstrous being.

She and Jamie got up and headed out, their phones already beeping as the information Simmons was sending came through.

Bigfoot?

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she might come face to face with a monster who had lurked in her childhood nightmares.

And she found herself thinking: what if it is real?

*

The trill of Maggie’s alarm got her sitting bolt upright. The motel where she and Jamie had been checked in was cheap and clean and next to a main road. The light filtering through the window was still gray, and the main road was quiet, with only the occasional swish of a passing car.

Even though she hadn't slept well at all, the adrenaline she felt on waking blotted out her tiredness.

She jumped out of bed and got dressed. So far, she'd seen nothing more of Willow Creek than a cluster of lights as the helicopter had descended late last night. It had looked like an isolated place, miles from anywhere, surrounded by darkness.

Time to see more of it now.

Making shouldered her laptop bag and headed out of the room, already seeing headlights on the street outside as the police cruiser headed to the motel. A door slammed from around the corner, and she heard quick footsteps signaling Jamie's arrival.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked. Jamie was one of those people who was always cheerful and upbeat in the mornings.

He held out a hand, and Maggie stopped, uncertain about what the gesture meant. For a moment, she’d thought it was an invitation to a friendly hug. But what if it wasn’t?

Deciding that she might as well find out, she leaned into him, feeling warmth as his arms wrapped around her. She hugged him back for just a moment, and then they stepped away.

“Yes. I did sleep well. It’s surprisingly quiet here, isn’t it?” she said.

"Literally in the middle of nowhere. I read up about it last night before I got into bed. It was founded by a Mr. Willow."

“It was? I thought it was named for the trees.”

“Now what in the name of thousands of acres of forest, would make you think that?” Jamie asked in a thoughtful voice, his expression deadpan. Maggie gave him a playful smack on his arm, and he chuckled.

“Nope. Willow himself, as a young pioneer, wanted to create a new town miles from anywhere. He did, about fifty years ago, and then, it got popular, grew, suffered a few bear attacks, and branded itself the Home of Bigfoot. Obviously, the legend is a lot older than the town itself. Bigfoot has been around for centuries, if you look back. But the town seemed to be the hub of new sightings for a while, forty years ago, and they took ownership of the story.”

Maggie knew that their job was to make sure that the legend of a murderous monster didn’t overpower the truth.

“So they must have had bear attacks in the past?” she confirmed.

“They did, I believe, which probably coincides with all the sightings. Maybe there were grizzlies in the area back then? There are only black bears in these woods now. I checked.”

“Black bears can attack humans, though, if they feel threatened.”

Jamie nodded. “Even though the coroner said it looked too violent for that, we need to be open to that possibility.”

The sheriff got out of the cruiser, and they headed toward her.

“Morning, agents. I'm Sheriff Donna Holbrook.”

Holbrook had dark hair tied in a knot at the nape of her neck and an air of quiet capability about her. As she gripped Maggie’s hand, her grasp felt firm and gym-toned.

“Maggie Flight and Jamie Rodriguez.” She and Jamie introduced themselves.

“The town is in a state of panic about this,” Holbrook explained as they climbed in. “We’re a small town. That means there are no secrets from anyone, and word spreads fast. So does gossip. The good news is that most of our locals do tend to do what they're told in terms of safety advisories, although the longer established residents – the real old-timers, whose families were the first to arrive in town, sometimes ignore the police and do what they think best.” She shook her head ruefully. “We had a very quiet night last night, but I don’t think it’ll stay that way. Although this recent kill has scared some of the tourists away, we have heard that groups of Bigfoot hunters, attracted by the thrill, are keen to get into the forest and find the monster. Adrenaline junkies, you know? They don’t care about the risks, and they’re not going to be so obedient. It’s a matter of time before this happens again, because we don’t have the manpower to police every entrance to the woods.”

Maggie nodded. It was a Sunday morning, in the height of summer. Bad timing for a busy tourist town.

“Who found the body?” she asked.

Holbrook pulled out on the main road. "Two cyclists were on their way to a trail early yesterday morning with their bikes on the back of the car. They said a woman came bursting out of a trailhead and ran across the road, clearly in a blind panic. They had to swerve to avoid a collision with her. She was completely hysterical. They got her into the car and called us. We arrived and were able to establish her name and that something terrible had happened to her fiancé the previous night,"

“So she was on the run all night?” Maggie asked, empathizing with what an ordeal this must have been.

Holbrook nodded. “She hid away from – from whatever it was, and she then must have roamed the woods, stumbling upon the road when it got light.”

Maggie frowned. “She must have been in a terrible state after that.” She could imagine the fear and trauma that the woman had endured.

"Yes, she was in a bad way. I believe the doctors are keeping her sedated this morning. She was dehydrated and traumatized and in no condition to give us a coherent statement. We sent two officers into the woods with a park ranger. They were able to follow her trail part of the way, and then by guesswork, they stumbled upon the campsite, and found the body of her fiancé. His name is Jason Barrett, and he was severely mauled.”

Maggie felt her pulse speed up as Holbrook spoke those words. Her own hunting instinct was being triggered. Not the urge to hunt a monster, but the need to hunt down the truth about what had happened.

“What evidence did they find nearby?”

“Forensics is still busy there together with the park rangers. I think that should be our first stop. By the time we get there, they will have had a few hours to analyze the scene. For obvious reasons, they're also not working at night. We’ve decided to put a complete embargo on that. Until we know more, at any rate.”

“Makes sense.” Jamie nodded in agreement.

As Holbrook drove along the scenic main road, which wound past wooden shop fronts, scenic cottages, quaint restaurants, hotels and general stores, Maggie saw an inundation of signs for Bigfoot.

On a wooden kiosk, she saw a sign proudly displayed for walking tours. “Bigfoot Forest tours start here. Two hours on foot. Spot the friendly giant who's made our town a legend.”

And if this wasn't enough for tourists, they could even get a Bigfoot dining experience once they'd worked up an appetite after that walk. The restaurant next door had a special advertised.

“Enjoy our trademark Bigfoot burger at Willow Creek Eatery. Three giant patties, enough for any monster appetite.”

At the clothing store across the road, there was branded apparel featuring a smiling monster with the Bigfoot logo. The bar nearby had Bigfoot beer locally made. There didn't seem to be a store or a business in town that wasn't capitalizing on the legend.

There was even a signboard pointing along a dirt road out of town. “Reality Show Filming: This Way.”

“What’s that?” Maggie asked, pointing.

“It’s a reality show on Bigfoot,” Holbrook replied. “We have TV and documentary crews here fairly often. This group has been filming in an area just out of town for a while now. I believe they’re wrapping up soon.”

Maggie took note of that filming location as a potential source of information – or possibly even a place that this killer might have used, stealing costumes, supplies or lights. That would all need to be checked.

“Have there been any problems there?” she asked.

"Nothing reported to us as yet," Holbrook replied.

It was very early, so not many businesses were open, but there were a few cars outside the early morning diner, which offered a Bigfoot bacon breakfast roll, with free refills for the bottomless Bigfoot coffee.

Willow Creek had embraced ownership of this monster, and clearly, as Maggie saw, had turned it into a friendly, gentle giant. The Bigfoot depicted all over town, smiling, chunky and tall, was a world away from whatever had so viciously attacked and killed Jason Barrett in the woods after dark.

She was utterly sure that it wasn't Bigfoot out there.

But what was it?

“Here's where we leave the main road. Now you can get a feel for the extent of the forest that surrounds the town.” Holbrook turned down a side road that wound its way into thick forest. Through a gap in the trees, Maggie spotted a couple of cabins near a small lake. Then, as they drove left deeper into the wood, there weren't any cabins, only trees, and a path that grew ever narrower as the cruiser eased its way around the tight bends. Mist had settled in the forest, and Maggie could see no more than a few yards past the nearest tree trunks. There was a claustrophobic feel to it.

“How many people usually visit these woods each day?” Jamie asked.

Holbrook glanced his way in the rearview mirror. "It's difficult to say, because obviously some people just turn up and go on in, although there is supposed to be a fee paid if you hike through the woods. A couple of hundred people every weekend, I'd guess. Numbers have been increasing recently. We're a small town, but our forest setting, which stretches for many miles beyond the town, is making us popular.”

“People these days want to get away from it all,” Jamie agreed.

“Has the town grown a lot recently?” Maggie asked, because she could see a difference between older, more weathered buildings, and a whole row of new, shiny, more modern homes that looked to have been recently built.

“Yes, it has. It’s expanded a lot in the past few years. A good few permanent residents have built here, and more businesses have sprung up.”

"Are the original founders still around?" Maggie asked curiously, observing how different the town was now from the isolated community it had originally been.

Holbrook nodded. "The original founder passed away, but his son is still around and owns one of the larger farms. They keep to themselves, always have done – the Willows are loners, and don't get involved in the town."

“And you've never had anything like this happen before in your time here?” Maggie asked the question.

Holbrook shook her head. “We've never had anything like this since I joined Willow Creek. And I've been policing this area for more than ten years.”

If there had been a monster roaming these popular woods, surely it would have shown itself before now? Maggie mused over that fact for a while.

And then, just as Holbrook was slowing the car to park in a clearing where two other police cars and a small white van were parked, the radio started crackling.

“Officer Gilmore here. Can you hear me? I'm up north. In the woods, just past Sands Lane.”

Maggie could hear audible stress in the voice, despite the poor radio connection.

“You got anything, Gilmore?” Holbrook asked.

“I do, and it's not good news. I’ve just found a body. It looks to be the missing woman, and she’s been mauled.”

CHAPTER THREE

Maggie saw how Holbrook’s fingers went white as she gripped the wheel harder. But her voice was steady as she replied. “I've got two agents from the Bureau here now. We've just arrived at the first scene. We'll take a look at that and then come straight to you. Send the coordinates, and I'll get forensics and the coroner there as soon as possible. Stay safe.”

She disconnected with a sigh, turning to Maggie, who saw the frantic expression in her eyes for just a moment before Holbrook managed to get control back. Her phone beeped with the incoming coordinates.

"As you can see, this is turning into a disaster. She's been missing for two days, so I'm not sure how much there will be for the coroner to work with. But what is interesting is that site's at least ten miles away from this scene as the crow flies. Longer if you use a trail. So, whatever this killer or creature is, it's wide-ranging through these woods.”

Ten miles in a day? Maggie guessed that would be easy for a big striding monster.

Then, she chided herself for falling into the trap of thinking this was Bigfoot, and reminded herself to look for other causes.

Holbrook climbed out of the car. “This clearing is as close as we can get. There’ll be a walk to the scene.”

She set off along a narrow path that led through tall, thick trees. As she walked, Maggie took in the trees. The redwoods were unmistakable, their trunks stretching tens of yards into the thick canopy of the forest, which was surprisingly effective in blocking out both light and sound. They were surrounded by other trees growing closely together, the higher and lower canopies creating layers of protection against the sun.

It was a different, gloomier world in here, and Maggie noted that the temperature was far cooler than it had been outside the woods. Even though she was trying to keep focused on the human elements in this strange scenario, it was difficult not to let her imagination run wild as she took in these isolated surroundings.

Holbrook led the way down a narrow path with a running stream at the bottom of it. Two stepping stones provided a route over the stream, which was veiled in mist and with surprisingly clear water. Then they headed through a patch of mud, following the winding trail up the hill and around a steep bend to where Maggie could now hear the crackle of radios.

“This is the campsite,” Holbrook said. “We haven't dismantled anything yet, so it's all as it would have been. You can see that – whatever it was – got in here.”

There were still two white-suited forensic investigators at work, who gave a quick, brief greeting to the agents.

“We've almost wrapped up here,” one of them said to Maggie and Jamie. “The park rangers have just left, so feel free to walk the scene. Everything's been photographed and analyzed. The rangers believe that the damage was caused by an animal, but they've never seen anything like the extent of what it did. I think until they came out here, they believed that this was a bear attack.”

Maggie suppressed a shiver as she looked around. The small tent seemed flimsy when compared to the massive scope of the woods. Its sides had been slashed, the canvas hanging in ribbons. Through the gaps, she could see two colorful sleeping bags, one of which had been moved aside, perhaps by the tip of a claw.

She heard Jamie swear softly under his breath as he looked at those slash marks.

Maggie could see why they were theorizing that this kill had been made by a wild animal.

Another marker had been placed on the far side of the clearing, and she walked over to take a look at that. In a patch of mud, there were two large prints a few feet apart. Each print was massive, probably two feet in length. They were not clear - the mud wasn't thick enough, so they were little more than indents. Oval in shape, there was a vague heel and toe mark, but there were no individual toe prints or claw marks to be seen.

Maggie saw Jamie looking at those marks, shaking his head, and she knew that her partner was becoming convinced that something other than a human had been in this clearing.

Look at the evidence. That's what her mentor would have reminded her. Look at all the evidence, not just the parts of it that you want to see and believe.

What else was there in this abandoned campsite? There was a cooler box under a tree, as well as a couple of plastic bags. Flies were buzzing around one of them, and she walked over, curious to take a look.

“What's in this bag?”

“There's some candy, a couple of cheese snacks, some trail mix. Oh, and some beef jerky.” The forensic officer working under a tree nearby answered her question. “We're about to bag it up. It seems undisturbed.”

“Really?” Maggie raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, I also thought that was strange.” The officer nodded.

“Doesn't make sense for a hungry, murderous woodland creature to come across a bag with jerky and cheese, snacks and candy and ignore it all.” Maggie spoke the words to Jamie, who was now looking more dubious again. He'd swung all the way over to the Bigfoot theory, but now the pendulum was swinging back again.

“Surely if this monster got live prey, he wouldn't have needed snacks in a plastic bag?” Jamie countered, not letting his argument go just yet.

“As far as I knew, Jason was mauled, not consumed.” This was a very dark conversation to be having in the woods. It was Holbrook this time who nodded. “Badly mauled, but no limbs missing. His stomach, intestines, heart, brain – all still there, although there was a slash mark in the stomach area.”

“So not eaten.”

Jamie grimaced. “Let's not speak too soon. We've still got another victim to go and inspect.”

Before they left the scene, Maggie took another long look around. She could see some disturbances in the leaves that were scattered on the ground, but she didn't know enough to work out what could have happened. There were the remains of a fire near the middle of the clearing a few yards away from the tent. The fire to her looked like it had naturally smoldered out. It didn't seem to have been extinguished. It was little more than a pile of ash with a few coal-like sticks.

She was trying to imagine what would have played out. The fire lit, the tent put up, plans made for dinner. And then perhaps a sound was heard. Maybe something blundered into the campsite.

“Down that path, where those plants are crushed, is where the body was found,” The closest forensic officer said, pointing to a gap in the trees. “Just a couple of yards away from the campsite. I don't know if he went out to see what happened, tried to confront the monster, or what occurred. There are still quite a few flies there.”

Shivering, Maggie headed over to have a closer look. No sign of footprints. She guessed there hadn't been any clear ones, or otherwise they would have been photographed and recorded before the body had been retrieved. She could still see the cloud of flies guzzling the traces of blood.

It felt as if the scene held the frantic memory of a man's losing fight for his life.

“I think I've seen enough here. Should we go to the other scene now?”

“I'm ready to go.” Jamie spoke in a thoughtful voice.

“We're going to head there too,” the forensic officer said.

Both the officers followed them back to the cars. On this return trip, Maggie was paying even more attention to the ground, looking closely at any muddy patches. She wanted to see if she could see any more of those strange footfalls that were not clear enough in the campsite to see any detail.

But none were visible. She didn't see a thing.

Returning to the cars, the two forensic officers stripped off their gloves and head covers. Underneath, their faces were perspiring. The officer reached into his car and produced two cans of soda, handing one to his colleague. They drank the drinks thirstily down.

Meanwhile, Maggie, Jamie and Holbrook climbed into the other car. Holbrook turned carefully in the small clearing before weaving her way back in the direction she'd come from.

This other scene was in a completely different area. Holbrook exited the woods and drove back the whole way through town again, retracing her route, passing the motel where she and Jamie had spent the night, and heading along the northern section of the winding, narrow and scenic main road.

More Bigfoot-themed hotels, bed and breakfasts, and stores lined the route. They reached the town limits, and then, Holbrook took a side road that led into another section of woods.

“If I've got it right, then we follow this track.” Holbrook was dividing her attention between the GPS point on the map and the narrow track ahead. It was clear that this road wasn't often used by vehicles. She braked abruptly, and Maggie saw a thick, solid branch blocking the way. She and Jamie had to jump out and drag it to the side of the road to allow the cruiser to get past.

“The officers that are in the woods right now, are they on foot?” she asked.

Holbrook nodded. “Yes. We identified the approximate area where this victim disappeared, and it was impossible to access by vehicle, so I put in as many officers as I could spare to walk it. We also sent a drone in, but because of the thickness of the canopy, a drone can see very little. Unless it gets below the canopy, in which case you have to have it very closely tracked. One mistake from the handler, and you've got a very expensive collision with a tree trunk,” she said ruefully.

Maggie liked it that Holbrook could offer some dry humor at such a time. She was gaining a lot of respect for this sheriff, who had a tough side, but was practical and caring.

She could see that Holbrook was deliberately remaining on the fence about the cause of these deaths, not committing herself to one or the other theory, but simply ensuring that all the police procedures could take place effectively.

Another tree trunk blocked the way. Maggie climbed out again, grabbing it, using all her strength to haul it aside with Jamie's help. She jumped as a large spider scuttled out from underneath, disappearing into the undergrowth.

And then the car bumped and jostled past the obstacle.

Maggie was about to climb in again herself, when she heard a noise from the left, where a side trail joined onto this slightly wider path.

The noise prickled her spine immediately.

It was a low, aggressive, chanting sound. She'd never heard anything like it before. And it sounded as if it was approaching fast.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Jamie! Sheriff Holbrook! Listen to this.” Maggie heard the urgency in her own voice.

Jamie had already scrambled into the car. He climbed out again fast, and so did the sheriff. Maggie saw the way her hand dropped instinctively to the grip of her gun as she turned in the direction of the noise.

Now, she could see movement from beyond the trees. It was a person in camouflage gear. Not just one person. There were three of them. They were jogging along the trail, chanting in unison, and as they approached, Maggie could pick up the words.

“Find Bigfoot, kill Bigfoot. Find Bigfoot, kill Bigfoot.”

A moment later, three young men who looked barely out of their teens appeared. Their camouflage jackets were paired with scuffed jeans and boots. One of them was carrying a shotgun. One gripped a stick. And by the belt of the third, she saw a long hunting knife.

When the men saw the three police officers, they stopped dead, exchanging dubious glances. The chanting ceased abruptly.

“What are you three doing?” Holbrook spoke the words.

The leader of the group, the one carrying the shotgun, stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. "We're looking for Bigfoot. We've heard about these deaths, and we're going to eradicate the big guy. We can't have this happening in our town. We're out here to find and kill this monster. We're going to save Willow Creek." He sounded equal measures, proud and defiant.

Maggie grimaced. Having groups of well-meaning but heavily armed Bigfoot hunters patrolling the woods was not going to make things any safer right now. People were jumpy. They could easily fire on each other if a shadow in the undergrowth was glimpsed. There was a strong chance that someone innocent might be killed if that happened.

And every person who was out in the woods increased the risk that another would be killed. She didn't think that big stick stood much chance as a weapon.

“I'm sorry.” Holbrook spoke with authority, clearly recognizing the young men as part of her community. “Liam, Sandy, and whoever your friend is, you need to go back to where it's safe, for now.”

“Oh, we're not worried about danger, Sheriff.”

"No, right now, we cannot have you roaming in the woods with guns."

“But we're saving the community! How can you tell us to go back when people are dying?” Now Holbrook was the recipient of three angry glares from the young men.

“It's wrong,” the man at the back muttered. “We can't listen to these instructions when they’re going to put people at risk.”

It seemed that lawlessness in the town was spreading as people felt the need to tackle the threat. It wasn’t just the old-timers and founders who were disobeying the police anymore, Maggie thought. Her respect for the sheriff increased as Holbrook replied in a calm, reasonable tone.

"I'm sure you can understand that right now, we can't have lots of little groups out in the woods. There's too much risk that you'll end up firing on each other. What if a jumpy teen spotted you three, and thought you were Bigfoot?"

She let them absorb the implications. They all glanced at each other. Holbrook had a way of speaking that was calm, but yet carried authority. The defiant gazes turned thoughtful as the sheriff continued. “I can see you understand that would be dangerous, but what I can ask you to do is to offer your support to our official search.”

“There's an official search?” Liam sounded enthused.

“We're setting it up as we speak. We're going to ask for civilian volunteers to accompany some of our police officers and head into the woods. We'll probably get it going in about an hour's time. So if you can report for duty at the police station and tell your friends, then we'll greatly appreciate your help.”

They all exchanged glances again, and their reluctant nods showed Maggie that the sheriff’s argument had persuaded them.

“Okay. We’ll be there.”

"If you see anyone else out in the woods on the way back, spread the word. Message your friends. You three are good guys, brave people. We just need to keep things organized. Okay?”

Maggie let out a breath as the trio muttered assent and then turned around.

She was impressed by the way Holbrook had handled this. The problem was that there might already be scores more people out in the woods, doing exactly what these three had now been discouraged from doing, without realizing how dangerous the consequences could be.

This was a race against time.

Holbrook was on the radio now, communicating urgently with the police station.

“Just turned a couple of civilians back from a Bigfoot hunt. I know we said we need to get another search party out there, so let’s do it now, because they want to join. They’re reporting for duty in the next hour. Also, we need to issue an advisory about entering the woods. All the bed and breakfasts, all the hotels, all the tourist spots need to know that it's dangerous right now.”

“Copy that,” the reply came immediately.

Switching off the radio. Holbrook sighed. “Seems like we're going to need a lot more police officers than we have. I'm feeling like we're way too thinly stretched for this situation.”

They climbed back into the car and headed on. Only a couple of minutes later. Holbrook braked sharply to avoid a deep, muddy puddle. The track was narrowing further. Maggie couldn't believe how remote this place was. The thickness of the forest was disorienting. If it hadn't been for the path, she would have had no idea which way was out or in, or even north. She couldn't see the sun at all.

“We're probably only going to get a couple of hundred yards further, and from there, it's a half mile walk.” Yet again, Holbrook checked the map as Maggie peered through the windshield to see if she could see any sign of those strange footprints again.

“What information do you have on the other victim?” she asked.

Focusing carefully on the route ahead of her, Holbrook replied from memory.

“Her name is Mia Roland. And she was actually a Bigfoot enthusiast and researcher, who moved here about this time last year, and was running a blog that's quite popular.”

“Is that why she was out in the woods?” Maggie asked, and Holbrook nodded.

“She got permission to place a few trail cameras in the woods, and she was in the process of that when she disappeared. She lives with a partner, and he reported her missing yesterday evening. Her phone was off, she’d left no message, sent him no warning, and she knew the woods well. We waited until morning to send out a search party. It was fairly straightforward to search, because we simply followed the location tags for the places where she'd wanted to put the cameras. It looks as if she was found in between the second and the third tagged site.”

Silence filled the car for a moment at that comment. Maggie found herself doubting her own belief that these kills were caused by something other than a legendary monster.

Then, she told herself to make sure she remained in her investigator's role. She couldn't become wedded to a theory for which there was no proof as yet.

Finally reaching the impassable part of the trail, they climbed out.

Ahead, she could hear subdued voices and the crackle of radios. The path followed a steep uphill, and as Maggie crested the hill, she saw the body sprawled on the trail. Two cops stood guard a couple of yards away.

Mia was young, probably in her late twenties. She had beautiful hair that was now muddied and tangled, but must have been a glossy dark brunette, thick and long. On one of her fingers, there was a silver ring with a floral pattern on it. Focusing on the smaller details helped Maggie to deal with the stark, bloody truth of that mauling. Seasoned she might be, but the empathy she felt for a victim’s suffering and terror never got any easier to deal with.

Two days out in the woods had done its work. The woman's pale face stared up at the tree canopy far above. The deep scratches on her face had been invaded by ants and beetles. She was wearing. A pair of taupe pants and a peach top. Both were darkened with mud and blood, and both were slashed, the edges frayed.

The smell of old blood seemed to linger in the air.

Then, she put on her investigator’s goggles – so to speak. Analyzing the scene was going to be important.

What she saw was that this body had been mauled and torn, and small animals had since done their work. But just like the other victim, there was no evidence that Mia had been eaten.

One of those enormous gashes must have punctured the victim's lungs or her heart. Perhaps whatever had killed her had crept up from behind.

There was no sign of any claw casings, no sign of fur. She couldn't see a footprint anywhere, although in this part of the woods, the track was overgrown with grass.

Now that she had established these basic details, she gave herself permission to look away, examining the nearby surrounds. There wasn't much to see because the woods pressed closely.

She guessed that Mia must have been walking along the path. She had a bag with her and that was still there, lying on its side near a tree trunk. It hadn't been damaged in any way. It was simply a brown canvas rucksack that presumably contained her cameras, as well as her now dead phone.

It had a zip but the zipper was open, the top of the bag, gaping wide. A few flies were buzzing around the outside.

“Does anyone have a glove?” Maggie asked, suddenly curious.

Wordlessly, one of the cops handed Maggie a glove. She put it on and then stepped forward, opening the top to check for any snakes or scorpions that might have taken up residence inside, and then sliding her hand into the bag. She saw a few small cameras, a couple of plastic attachment points, some screws and cable ties, and then a rustling brown paper bag right at the bottom of the rucksack next to the phone, whose screen was blank.

Pulling the paper bag out of the rucksack, she saw that it contained some cheese pastries and salami sticks.

More evidence that whatever this creature was, it wasn't hungry. It hadn't even looked at that rucksack, which had been open and available.

"Interesting," Jamie spoke, and Maggie could hear the tension tautening his voice, but also the resolve in it.

She and Jamie urgently needed to know more about the claw marks on the victims – their size, shape, angle and possible origin. And that meant their next stop was going to be the autopsy room.

CHAPTER FIVE

Gripping the wheel of a borrowed unmarked vehicle, Maggie sped out of town. Willow Creek was far too small to have its own pathology lab. Autopsies were performed in a neighboring town about twenty miles away.

With Jamie sitting beside her, they were discussing the case.

“I must say, I'm not convinced that a human is murdering these victims.” Jamie shook his head. “Those claw marks? That looked like an animal, surely? I know we need to get more clarity, but they looked deep and vicious and the slashes seemed equidistant from each other, just like a real claw would be. It wasn't like a knife stab.”

Maggie got his logic, but she argued her own point in turn.

“If it's a human, then of course he’s going to make this look the way it needs to. And I'm saying ‘he’ because it is more likely in terms of strength,” Maggie said.

“But the violence behind it? And those big footprints?”

“I didn't see footprints, I saw indentations. That might or might not have made been made by a foot that size. How often have we seen killers who go a shoe size up or two when taking their victims, just to avoid the police tracking them by their shoe size?”

“But for somebody to leave massive prints like that, what would it be, snowshoes?”

“Well, that's one option right there.”

“Maggie, I know you always look at the human element because you’re a profiler. But where's the motive? Where is the motive for murdering random people in the woods and making it look like a wild animal has done it? That is confusing to me and I will admit it, it's a stumbling block.”

Maggie took a breath, ready for an instant reply, but unfortunately she couldn't think of one. She let the breath out again, glancing down the GPS to make sure they were on the right track, her mind racing as she considered the whys of this case.

“Maybe this killer just wants to do this. You know what psychopaths are like. They take pride and pleasure in creating a scene. This man could be laughing, thinking of everybody who thinks that he's Bigfoot.” She had another idea. “Maybe he's obsessed with Bigfoot and is trying to prove the legend is real. That could also be a reason, couldn't it? He could want to become what he idolizes.”

“I guess so. But I can’t help thinking it might be something else. The park rangers only know what they've seen. Maggie, this forest is immense. Anything could be hiding here. And you know the problem is that humans are encroaching, even in this little town. I saw a couple of signs along the main road for new housing estates launching soon. They've cut down trees for that, reduced the size of the woods. More people are coming in to go camping. Human numbers increasing will put pressure on animals that might have lived deep in the forest before now. Now they're coming into contact with humans, and we're all surprised. It's not a new species, but it sure is new to us.”

Maggie nodded. She knew she couldn't rule out that possibility. It was right to consider it just the same way as they needed to consider all other angles.

“Well, the other two cameras that Mia put along the trail before she was killed, might provide some clues. If she was following the paths where she thought that Bigfoot would roam, then surely it increases the chances? We can get permission from her partner, and check that footage.”

“We will definitely need that footage,” Jamie agreed.

The town limits for the town of Hogsback, where the pathology lab was located, were coming up. This town was bigger than Willow Creek, but also incredibly scenic. It reinforced to Maggie what a unique part of California this was – enchanting and mysterious. Strange, wild creatures aside, this area deserved to thrive and survive.

Maggie knew that a threat like this was capable of destroying it.

Is it a human? And if so, why these kills and this MO? The questions spun in her mind as they headed up the hill, past a checkerboard of farmland, and then into the town center, where shops, restaurants and a few small office blocks were all crammed together on the busy main road.

A couple of streets beyond that was the pathology lab.

Maggie pulled up outside. She glanced at Jamie, trying not to give away how anxious she felt. He wasn't at his best in this environment. Okay, so that was an understatement. So far in their partnership, they've been into a pathology lab twice. Twice, Jamie had rushed for the restroom afterward to throw up.

She knew it was due to past trauma. He’d been working as a detective in San Diego, successful and well liked, when his partner had been killed while on a case.

Losing her had been severely traumatic for Jamie – so much so that he’d left San Diego and made a fresh start at the Department of Justice.

“I'll be better this time.” He’d seen and interpreted her glance.

She nodded. “No pressure. I know this is tough for you.”

Jamie sounded exasperated with himself as he replied. "I just hate that this happens and I'm fighting it. I need to get over these memories, and I need to get over these feelings."

Feelings?

Maggie blinked. There was something about the way he’d said that word that clued her the situation was more complex than she’d thought.

For the first time, she started to wonder what exactly Jamie’s relationship with his investigation partner had involved.

She had never thought about it before, but now she was wondering whether Jamie might have been romantically involved with her and if that was partly why he had taken the death so hard.

Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about that, but rather thinking about your own feelings for Jamie. Are you falling for him? And if so, what are you going to do about it? Do you think it’ll work out, dating your investigation partner, or will it cause problems down the line? Do you really want this to go ahead, knowing it might damage what you have now, if it goes wrong?

Silencing the voice in her mind, she pushed open the pathology lab door and they headed into the chilly, brightly lit environment.

The receptionist was typing at speed on the keyboard, and the soft clacking filled the air as Maggie walked in. When they approached the desk, she turned to them, clearly having been briefed on their arrival.

“Morning agents. I'm checking with the doctor now. Let me see if he's ready to see you.” She turned to the phone.

“Thanks,” Maggie replied.

A glance at the wall clock showed Maggie that the hands were ticking their way towards twelve noon. Viewing those two woodland sites had eaten up the time. She felt a combination of nervousness and unease because although Jason had definitely been killed at night. Mia had been planting her cameras during the day. There was no set time at which another victim might be taken.

“Dr. Parker is ready to see you. Go down the passage and it's the autopsy room at the end,” the receptionist said, handing them masks.

Maggie headed to the door at the end of the passageway, tapped on it, and heard an immediate’ “Come in.”

Walking in, she saw that the pathologist was busy tidying up from an autopsy, which must have been recently completed. The rattling sound of water sluicing into a stainless steel sink filled the air.

“You're the agents from the Department of Justice, right? I’m Doc Parker.” The pathologist's bright blue eyes met her own. He was probably in his early sixties, a man with decades of experience. Hopefully that would stand them in good stead.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez.” She introduced them.

Although the doctor wasn't wearing gloves and his hands looked freshly washed, he didn't offer a handshake. Maggie guessed, in that line of work, one tended not to.

Jamie was already uncharacteristically quiet. Maggie wasn't sure if he was going to be able to live up to his promises of doing better this time.

“I did most of the work on Jason Barrett’s postmortem yesterday afternoon. I finished off this morning in between working on two motor vehicle accident victims. Unfortunately, the weekend always makes things busier. I've noted down all my findings because I know how important the smallest details might be.”

He spoke in a precise, clipped way, indicative of a methodical person.

“What did you find?” she asked.

Parker turned and took an iPad from off the desk.

“Jason was in good health, a man in his late twenties. Fit, strong, with no sign of prior injuries.”

Maggie nodded, listening carefully.

“The wounds that were sustained during the attack were inflicted from behind,” Parker said. “However, he didn't outrun the attacker. The cause of death was severe wounds that looked like deep claw marks. Those were visible on his shoulders and his upper back and must have been inflicted by something extremely sharp as well as long. They caused a ruptured aorta and three punctures in his right lung. He must have fallen because there were a couple of grazes on his face and arms. Then there were another series of four deep wounds in his right thigh, inflicted from behind, one of which cut all the way to the bone. Splinters retrieved from the palm of his right hand suggest to me that he was holding a stick tightly, perhaps to use as a weapon.”

There was silence in the room. Maggie could hear Jamie take a shaky breath.

She soldiered on, knowing that the questions now would be up to her. Jamie was willing, but he wasn't able.

Given what the pathologist had explained, she wondered if he might have headed out to investigate the noise, having grabbed a stick to defend himself. That would seem plausible for the actions of a young man looking to protect his girlfriend, although the stick’s protection clearly hadn't been adequate. She didn't know what would have been. Would a gun have helped?

“So those were the main wounds, the ones in his back which penetrated and killed him, and then the subsequent wounds in his thigh?”

“That's correct,” Parker replied.

“Was there any evidence that part of him was eaten?” What a question to be asking.

“No, no evidence. The wounds were extremely deep, but they were claw marks, not tooth marks. I couldn't find any evidence of tooth marks, and nor could I find any evidence of flesh missing.”

“And the wounds themselves, would you say they're made from an animal’s claw or a steel blade?” That was an important question. Maggie waited anxiously for the pathologist's response. Parker frowned in a thoughtful way.

"The wounds are very clean. They're not ragged, and there's no ripping evident. Whatever caused them, whatever inflicted those cuts, it was extremely sharp, and that points to it being a blade. However, I have seen that some powerful animals with sharp claws can cause wounds that look very similar to a blade. So, I'm not prepared to say with a hundred percent certainty. I would go with eighty percent."

Parker swiped his iPad screen and continued.

“The second thing I looked for is the regularity of the distances between the wounds.”

“And what did you find there?”

“All the injuries are a sequence of four wounds, side by side in a slight arc, the same way they might be in a hand or claw, if you imagine four bladed fingers lashing out, causing four deep wounds.”

Maggie nodded. She saw what he was illustrating. “The wounds are about an inch apart, except for the third and fourth in each sequence, which are more widely spaced.

“Any difference in the depth of the four wounds?”

Maggie had started off feeling hesitant about this autopsy and the results. But, with Roland's expertise and his passion for precise measurement, she was starting to feel fascinated. This was giving them great insight. The way that he was describing the wounds was helping her imagine what might have caused them.

“Yes. The first and the second wound in each sequence are deeper. The third and the fourth are shallower.”

Now becoming enthusiastic about his topic, he turned the iPad in her direction. Maggie took a deep breath and stepped forward. It was going to be important to look at photographs of the corpse. She didn't know if Jamie would have the stomach for it right now, but to her surprise, although he didn't say a word, he stepped forward next to her, and stared down.

Scrolling through the images, the pathologist showed her how he had analyzed the wounds and measured them carefully, their depth, their length. And their spacing.

“Is there a left and a right hand, or claw?”

He nodded. “Yes. Most of the wounds have been inflicted with the right hand. However, there are a few that have been inflicted by the left. Those are weaker, as if whatever made the injuries was definitely right hand dominant.”

“And any idea of the height of the person or animal?”

“That's where things get tricky. Jason is a tall man. I measured him at just under six foot. And the first set of wounds, the ones that I think must have taken him down, show a powerful downward arc. My feeling is those wounds were made by something, or someone, who at that point was two or three feet higher than him.”

That was disturbing. Maggie was trying and failing to see how this would be possible for a normal human. She guessed an exceptionally tall person could have stood on stilts, but would someone really have done that? Could a person have navigated the uneven forest floor using stilts?

It confused the issue and made everything even more perplexing.

“Anything else that you noticed and you found unusual? Anything at all?” Now that she was here, in this autopsy room, she wanted the maximum information that she could get.

However, the pathologist shook his head. "I've told you everything. There's nothing more. I wish there was. I hope you get a breakthrough on this because whether it's an animal or a human doing it, the consequences are going to be extremely destructive. I know how much the wild outdoors is part of Willow Creek. I'd hate to see the town suffer because people stay away, or for vigilante groups to take over in the woods. I go hiking on the weekends, but I must say I am second-guessing doing so now."

Feeling somber and realizing all over again what rode on this, Maggie thanked the doctor.

“There’s another victim coming in soon,” she said, guessing that Mia’s body would be en route by now. “Her injuries seem similar, but if you notice anything different, or anything that takes this further, can you let us know straight away?”

“I will,” he promised.

Jamie hadn't spoken a word the whole time they've been in there, and she expected that he would be just as badly affected as always. But when they left the autopsy room and headed back down the corridor, he didn't sprint for the restrooms. Instead, he headed outside with her, took a deep breath and then another, and got into the car.

“Right,” he said, in tones that sounded wobbly but reasonably brisk. “I guess our first stop needs to be Mia Roland’s house. Perhaps her partner can give us access to the cameras she set – and if she was followed, maybe one of them picked up this monster.”

CHAPTER SIX

Maggie wasn't expecting much conversation after the autopsy room, but again, Jamie surprised her as she got onto the winding, narrow road that headed back to Willow Creek.

“You know, coming here brings back memories for me, of the most amazing childhood vacations. It’s disturbing to think how this danger might damage the innocence of the town, and how other people might never experience what I did.”

“Did it make such an impression?” she asked. “I've been thinking ever since I arrived here what a beautiful place it is, despite all the trouble. I wish I'd been able to come here as a kid.”

“It's been haunting me ever since we got here,” he admitted. “We traveled here twice, once when I was about six, and then a couple of years later. The town was smaller then. I don’t remember so many restaurants or bed and breakfasts, but both times it was magical. We even went on a Bigfoot hunt into the forest. My brother and I were little guys, so we didn't go very far, maybe a mile in and a mile out? But it was one of the most exciting times of my life at that stage. I think the organizers planted clues along the way. There was a big hat stuck in the fork of a tree, a claw mark high up, even a huge fake footprint with massive toes along the path. Boy, was I excited when I saw that footprint.”

There was such joy in his voice that Maggie found herself grinning too. “It was so mysterious, I wouldn't be surprised if that sowed the seeds for me being an investigator one day,” he added.

It was the innocence of the town that got to her. That was what this beautiful place was all about.

“The problem is,” he told her, “that I'm still thinking of it as if I was a kid again. In part of my mind, I truly believed that Bigfoot was real. I can't get over that now.”

“Yup, I can see that must be hard. But we have to find the truth, and I'm sure it doesn't include the existence of a monster.”

She followed a side road just before the town limits of Willow Creek, to the cottage where Mia, and her partner, Joshua Holmes, lived.

The road was narrow, lined with quaint wooden cottages that were set in huge yards. The gardens were colorful with yarrow, wild roses and California poppies. A few of the homes were doubling up as bed and breakfasts. Signboards outside gave the rates, and advertised ever more sumptuous breakfasts.

The cottage where Holmes lived was not set up as a bed and breakfast, but it was in between two such businesses. Cottage number nine had the front door painted dark green, with flower pots hanging on either side.

Maggie headed up to the door, realizing that she wasn't sure about the relationship between Mia and Holmes. Had they been business partners or also romantic partners?

Either way, this was going to be a tough interview, but if there had been a romantic connection, she was sure that Holmes would be even more distraught after learning about what had happened to Mia.

She knocked and waited.

After a pause, she heard footsteps coming to the door. The footsteps were slow and shuffling. When the door opened, she saw the man standing in the tiny entrance hall looked haggard and tearstained. With unruly blond hair and a face that was so pale it was almost white, she guessed that he was in his thirties, although he was walking like a man double that age.

Her stomach clenched instantly.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez. Are you Mr. Holmes?”

Holmes nodded, bowing his head. A lock of blond hair fell over his sheet-pale face.

"It's not a good time. My mind's all over the place. I don't know what I can tell you anyway. I just want to be left alone. This disaster has happened, and now I've got to cope with it."

He stared at them as if they were the ones to blame. Anger was starting to compete with his heartbreak.

“Could we come in for five minutes?” Jamie asked.

He shook his head. "I don't want to talk right now. I know you guys are probably not personally to blame for that, but right now, I need someone to blame. I'm pointing the finger at the police. Why didn't you do something about this before now? Surely there were other cases, or near misses, or some signs?”

He made as if to close the door, and Maggie took a sharp breath. She didn't want to jam her foot in the door of such a traumatized man, but right now, this case was critical, and every minute counted. Could some fast talking change his mind?

“Mr. Holmes, please don't close the door on us. We've just arrived here from San Jose. We've been specially called in to try to figure out what's going on here. Anything you can tell us might help.”

Thankfully, the sharp sound of her voice had stopped him in his tracks.

Slowly, her words permeated, and he nodded. “I guess I don't want anyone else to go through what I've been through.”

He turned and trailed through the entrance hall into a living room with gray couches and a rocking chair. There were two arrangements of flowers on the coffee table that must have just been delivered – lilies and white roses, the colors soft and muted. A photograph of Mia was there too. In life, her face was laughing, with bright blue eyes and mischievous freckles.

Holmes sat on one of the couches, staring at the wall.

Maggie and Jamie took the other couch, sitting side by side.

Holmes was going through a lot. Taking a minute and being patient might give him the chance to gather his thoughts. So she simply sat, looking at the flowers and that laughing, carefree photo, taking in the art on the walls – landscapes, seascapes and flowers.

Then, finally, Holmes took a deep breath.

“We moved here last year,” he said. “I work remotely, but Mia was unhappy in her job, and she had this idea that she could start a really popular blog, sell merchandise, and make a life in this town that she'd been to a few times on vacation. I financed it, so I was a silent partner, and it was doing well.”

Maggie leaned forward, nodding, encouraging him to keep talking. The more these floodgates opened, the better for them, and perhaps also for him.

“We rented a warehouse in a town north of here. And we'd ship hundreds of dollars of stock every day. We had apparel, toys, towels, dishtowels, we even had interactive games. It was so much fun doing it all.”

“It sounds like a great adventure.”

“It's over now.” It was a silence after those three final words. Glancing at Jamie, Maggie saw he was looking uneasy too. His hands were tightly clasped, his mouth was grim, and he was frowning down at the floor.

“Did Mia ever feel threatened or unsafe out in the woods?” Maggie trusted a woman's instinct.

"Not that I recall. You know, we were so involved with the whole Bigfoot legend that we never really felt scared in the woods because the town is such a small community and this was the only threat and it didn't really exist, or so we thought." He sighed deeply. "She was sensible. She didn't go out at night. She was aware that there were a lot of strangers in town during the summer season, like now. I think the worst that happened was a confrontation with a couple of drunk men a while ago. They flung abuse at her, and she ignored them very sensibly and took the other path home. If I'd been there, I don't think I'd have been that controlled. I'd have been mad at them," he admitted.

“Nobody following her, no feeling that she was ever being tracked in the woods?”

“Absolutely nothing like that.” His tone was firm.

“How about you? Did you ever sense anything unusual in the woods? Any strange sounds? Did you ever feel you were being followed or watched?”

He thought about that for a while, but then shook his head.

“Why the cameras in the forest?” Maggie asked. “What made you decide to install them?”

“There were Mia’s idea, like so much else was. She decided that having a Spot the Sasquatch camera feed with twenty-four hour footage would create a huge draw card for our site because people would log in just to watch it and they might see other wildlife passing by, which would be exciting. It took us a while to get permission for it because we had to work with the park rangers to choose a spot that was out of the way. They didn't want the public being filmed on someone's blog. It took a few months to come up with the right spots.”

“And the cameras themselves, what functionality do they have?”

"They're state-of-the-art. Tiny and practically undetectable, with a clear, vivid image and a wide-angle lens. They're not motion-activated, of course, because people might want to log in at any time. We tried to position them to give a good view of the wildlife pathways so that there would be a lot to see." Now that he was focusing on the latest project, he was talking with more animation. "They're attached to large battery packs, which means they have about a two-week lifespan before you need to change the batteries. I wanted to put in cheaper ones, but she said no, we might as well do it properly if we were going to do it at all. Mia was so excited. I can't believe that she was out there just two days ago, busy putting the cameras up. And now, she's gone."

"And why did she choose those spots? Was there a reason behind the park rangers giving those specific sites the go-ahead?"

Had Mia stumbled across the place where a killer was hiding, ready to stake out his victims? Or had she been followed?

“What does it matter why she did anything?” Again, anger surged in his face as he spoke the defiant words, and she nodded, absorbing the emotion, accepting it.

“It matters because while she was doing that, she was killed. We need to look at every detail. I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, I know this must be so tough for you." Jamie spoke those words, and surprisingly, Holmes looked up when he heard the quiver in her partner's voice.

Perhaps he sensed that Jamie was also taking strain. At any rate, he nodded and then continued, giving a proper answer instead of a defiant backlash.

“Because we both knew there wouldn't be actual Bigfoot footage, Mia spent a long time tracking wildlife through the forest. She wanted to get a sense of where the deer went, where there was likely to be a squirrel, maybe even a bear. So, we picked paths that wildlife used. I guess people could use them too, if they knew about them. She had to go quite far into the trees to access the sites. Obviously, in between, she walked along the main trails."

. Somebody could have picked her up on the trail and followed her into the deeper forest, Maggie thought.

An eight foot high person with claws for hands? Are you sure you're not on the wrong track yourself, thinking this is a human killer?

She pushed the unwanted thought aside.

“Are the cameras activated?” she asked.

Holmes nodded. “They activated as soon as they were put in place. She didn't want to go back there because it was a trek. But I haven't looked at the footage. I haven't been able to bring myself to do that. The police came around yesterday, after I reported her missing, and they asked about it, but I assumed it wouldn’t be relevant as she would have moved on after installing the cameras. Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly. Yesterday, I didn't even know she was gone.” His voice cracked.

“Would it be possible for us to look at that footage now?” Maggie asked.

He shrugged. “I can send you the links to the cameras. I'm not going to watch it. I don't want to know.”

“I understand. Thank you so much.”

Standing up, Maggie felt exhausted by the sheer force of the emotion, the raw agony this man was going through. Interviews like this were searing. But it gave her more motivation to find the truth.

She handed over her business card, and they left.

As they climbed into the car, her phone beeped. She saw that Holmes had done what he'd promised already. He'd sent a link to the live video feeds as well as the recordings that had been made so far, of the two cameras currently in operation.

"This is more than evidence," Maggie said. "This is a potential lead. We need these cameras monitored full-time in case they pick up anything. And I have just the person for the job."

Maggie made the call right there in the car. She couldn't afford to waste any time. Luckily, she had the Department of Justice’s IT expert on speed dial. Olivia wasn't just a colleague. In fact, she was now a friend – the first real friend she'd made in San Jose.

“Hello, Olivia. Are you at work? We've got a serious issue that we need your help with.”

“Of course I'm at work.” Olivia sounded affronted at the mere thought. “It might be a Sunday, but someone needed remote help, so I’m logged in from home. And I'm currently working on one of the admin assistant’s laptops, which they've somehow managed to disconnect from the system. So, if you have anything more exciting, I'm keen to get started.”

Maggie imagined that she might be at the tiny work desk in her apartment, possibly enjoying some ethically grown sweet potato snacks with avocado dip. Food she enjoyed.

“We're here in Willow Creek.”

Maggie didn't get any further before Olivia uttered a gasp.

“I've just heard about that on the news. That's where Bigfoot has started slaughtering people.”

Maggie sighed. “Don't let Director Simmons hear you say that. She has sent us here to assess the situation, which probably doesn’t involve a monster.”

“Seriously. Maggie, you and Jamie need to be careful. This sounds dangerous. I've been sent pictures.”

“Of what?” Maggie felt a step of concern. Surely the photos from the crime scene couldn't have been leaked? She'd hoped that. Holbrook had run a tight ship in that regard.

"Photos of the monster slaughtering people. They're AI-generated, of course, but it shows how much of a commotion it's causing. I searched the real police records and reports after I saw those, and based on the reports, the pictures don't seem that far off.”

“Well, we're here and we’ve been briefed to rule out, or else rule in, the human element. I've got links to two cameras that one of the victims installed in the woods. She went missing shortly afterward, on the way to the third camera site, and her body was found this morning. Is it possible for you to write some kind of a program that can alert us whenever there's movement?”

“Sure, I can do that. She disappeared right after planting those two cameras?” Olivia sounded intrigued. “I wonder if there's any sign of this killer or animal or whatever it is on the historic footage?”

“That was what we were wondering. We haven't had a chance to look yet, and I don’t know if it can be accessed.”

“I can write a program for that too. Get it to speed view the history, and send you clips where there's any movement.”

“That would be great.” It would save a lot of time, seeing that they had nearly two days of footage to go through, and they certainly didn't have that time to spend now.

“I'll get on to that immediately. The admin assistant can wait for her laptop.” Olivia spoke decisively. “Catching this killer, whoever he or it might be, is far more important.”

Thanking her, Maggie hung up.

“Well, at least we know we'll get those results as quickly as possible,” she said to Jamie.

He nodded. “I think our next stop needs to be the hospital. We've got an eyewitness to one of these murders, and maybe she's now feeling calm enough to speak to somebody.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The hospital wasn't in Willow Creek itself, and it was only after a twenty mile drive that Maggie pulled up in the paved parking lot outside the double story brick building. These scenic, winding roads were picturesque, but the long distances between towns ate up the time. It was already mid-afternoon.

There were two receptionists on duty inside, and both appeared to be fielding nonstop calls. As she reached the counter, Maggie heard the one-sided conversation that the nearest receptionist was engaging in. Pushing out her lower lip in concentration, she frowned at the computer screen, the corners of her mouth turning down in visible creases.

“Ma'am, I'm afraid we have no information on Bigfoot. All I can say is that the woman in the hospital is recovering. Yes, I'm sure the police will release more information when they have it.”

She replaced the phone, which immediately started ringing again.

Quickly. Maggie produced her ID. “Agents Flight and Rodriguez. We're here to see Angela Tanner. Is she available?”

The receptionist's frown deepened. "She was still sedated at lunchtime. But let me call up and check."

She dialed a number on the phone and spoke quickly and unintelligibly. A moment later, she hung up.

"The nurse in ward three says you can go up and speak to her. She may be drowsy, though, and she isn't allowed to get upset."

Maggie felt desperate for an eyewitness account, even if it had been viewed through the lens of panic and disbelief.

She and Jamie headed in the direction of ward three, up the stairs.

Two hospital orderlies heading down were also speaking in concern about what had happened. She couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.

“They say his arm was almost ripped off,” Maggie heard one of them utter in hushed tones. “Apparently that Bigfoot took out his insides and guzzled them while he watched.”

She glanced at Jamie, feeling stressed by this. Rumor had spread a whole lot faster than fact, and it wasn't going to help them at all. He shook his head, looking grim.

The ward nurse was at the front desk, updating some information on an iPad. She replaced it on the desk as they walked in and gave them a grim stare by way of welcome.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez. Is Angela Tanner available? It's very urgent, ma'am.”

The ward nurse looked like one of those protective dragons who would always take their patients’ side. She frowned at them from under her steel gray bangs.

“Patient welfare comes first in this ward. I’m not sure she’s ready to speak to the police yet.”

“Understood. But knowing what happened up there could really help us save lives.”

For a moment, she thought the nurse was going to continue denying them any audience with the patient. But then, Maggie's persuasive words seemed to penetrate.

“She's due for another round of sedation in half an hour. She's sleepy now, but she is conscious, and she's in room two. However, if you upset her in any way, then you will have to leave.”

“Understood and thank you.”

The ward nurse clearly didn't trust them to obey instructions without being personally supervised because she followed along behind them, still holding the iPad.

Maggie headed into room two. Walking softly, she headed across the ward. There was only one patient in the two-bed room, and she was near the window which had the blinds shut. The curtains weren't drawn across around her bed, but she was lying back on the pillows with her eyes closed.

“You go,” Jamie whispered, as they neared the bed. “Better she talks to just one of us.”

Nodding, Maggie agreed with him that given Angela’s fragile state, talking to one agent might be less overwhelming. She stepped forward as Jamie stood back.

She looked fragile, Maggie thought. She had a pale-faced, ethereal beauty, with a heart-shaped face, full lips, long eyelashes. A beautiful young woman who'd been through hell, and the marks were there.

She had a deep graze on one side of her face. A portion of her hair had been shaved and the scalp neatly stitched. One of her arms was bandaged all the way past the elbow. Those were only the visible wounds. Maggie could imagine the terrified, plunging flight that she'd taken through pitch dark, unfamiliar territory after seeing what she did.

The scars in her memory were probably the most serious injuries of all.

“Angela?” She spoke her name in a soft voice.

The woman's eyes flickered open. Slowly, she focused on Maggie.

“We’re from the Bureau. We're investigating this terrible incident that happened. I'm so sorry about it all. Are you ready to speak about it?”

Her eyes were reddened and hooded. Her gaze focused on Maggie sharply.

“You need to understand,” she said in a soft voice. “The monster is real.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Are you ready to head out?” Evelyn Frost asked the question to her assistant, Fred. At the moment, the only part of him visible were two feet in solid black Doc Martens boots. He was standing on the step ladder, getting the equipment that she needed from the attic room.

“Ready, ready. All coming down.”

Fred always sounded cheerful, even when he was in a rush. Right now, they were in a rush. The vehicle filled with tourists was arriving in just ten minutes. She'd been planning the routes that she hoped would be safe as well as productive. That had meant some changes because terrible things have been happening in the forest. There had been bodies found.

As someone who'd studied a degree before veering off into the world of cruise ships, entertainment and tourism, Evelyn believed that Bigfoot was not real. However, for the purposes of her profession, she had to pretend that the monster was not only real, but also roamed at large in the woods.

With wild blonde hair, expressive blue eyes and a naturally theatrical demeanor, she was able to provide an entertaining experience to her clients. She always got a lot of personal recommendations. People liked her personality, they liked her delivery style, they liked the sense of suspense she could bring to even the shortest walk in the woods.

Rushing over to the foot of the ladder, she reached up, taking one of the cardboard boxes from Fred. It contained a stash of plastic weapons which looked a little like lightsabers, and, in fact, that had been her inspiration when she'd gotten them made by a cheap overseas manufacturer.

They were all part of the legend, the story. They were what kept her clients enthralled.

"As the light fades," she would say in a low, sonorous voice while they were in the thickest part of the woods, "You'll find this useful. Not only will it provide some light, but it's also right on the ultraviolet side of the spectrum, and Bigfoot finds that light highly disagreeable. In fact, he can't stand it. He doesn't like that frequency. He cringes away from it because his eyes are so well adapted to the lower light of the forest. He's really more of an infrared guy."

That usually got a chuckle when people in her group knew a little about science.

None of it had any scientific founding whatsoever, but the point was it was real top dollar entertainment, the caliber that people flocked in for. They didn't want a boring lecture in a lab. They wanted to be out, feet on the ground, brandishing their lightsabers, and on the hunt.

She went over the words in her mind now, while unpacking the tools.

She knew about the recent tragic deaths in the forest. But she felt certain that they were not connected with Bigfoot. Bigfoot didn't exist. This was probably a bear. And with a large group of people, there was no way a bear would be anywhere nearby. Especially eight chattering people laughing and gasping and squeaking and brandishing colorful lightsabers. No, she and her group would be fine.

The responsible side of her mind wondered if she should cancel the outing. But people paid well for this, and they were already on their way here. What harm could it possibly do?

They’d all be back before dark. The outings ended with everyone enjoying a Bigfoot Burger at the local restaurant. If she brought more than six people along at one time, then she ate for free. That was a good deal. It was a kickback of doing tourism in this area.

“You sure we’ll be okay out there?” Fred sounded uncharacteristically nervous as he asked the question.

She frowned, not wanting him to doubt her decision.

“Of course we're going to be fine. We're far away from both those sites, and in any case it's clearly just a bear kill. I know it's late in the season for a hungry bear. But maybe pickings have been scarce.”

Fred stared at her with a dubious expression. She could see he wanted to argue, but he didn't want to argue now because he knew that she would start getting mad. And when she argued back, she always won.

“I just wondered, you know, for, for the insurance, what if there's some legal liabilities? You know how people are suing these days?”

“They sign a disclaimer.” She frowned. He was not on the right page now.

"Yes, but the thing is, I don't know if the actual deaths are mentioned in that disclaimer, and you know about the deaths, so shouldn't you at least inform people before you set off?"

He really was being difficult.

“They sign a disclaimer. Trust me, I worded it with my lawyer.”

As she said that, though, she felt a flash of doubt. He was more of a property lawyer. Still, she didn't think that the disclaimer was flawed. And in any case, she'd always been a believer in looking on the positive side. Why be mired in fear when you could take people for a perfectly uneventful outing that they would enjoy?

“Get ready. Bring the flashlight. And bring the two phones just in case.”

The car was pulling up outside. Here were her clients – a family of four, and two couples. The two kids were over the age of twelve; one of the couples was middle-aged, and the other was young and adventurous. This was a great group. She always had success with this mix of people, and she could already see that they'd bonded in the car and were getting along just fine, talking and laughing together.

Quickly, she pulled on her special Bigfoot scarf with the snarling cartoon mouth and the huge, hairy feet that she had made in the same place that did the lightsabers. She sold them for a good profit. Everyone wanted one. Some before the walk, others after.

"Good afternoon, good afternoon!" She clapped her hands together. "How wonderful to see you folk. We're going to have a great time this afternoon walking into the woods to see if we can track the monster while learning some of the local lore surrounding him. We'll round off the whole experience with a Bigfoot Burger at the place down the road. There will be loads of opportunity for taking photos along the way, and we've even got some memorabilia in the office, which you can take a look at later."

Fred was finally rising to the occasion. Circulating among the guests, he was checking that everybody had a jacket with them, a bottle of water, and of course, he was handing out the special Bigfoot repellent tools.

As everybody prepared to get ready, she did hear the older couple talking quietly.

“Is this anywhere near where those deaths happened?” the wife asked.

“I don't know, honey, I'm sure it's okay. We wouldn't be going out if it wasn't safe.” Her husband replied in a low voice. Straight after he'd spoken to her, he glanced at Evelyn.

She gave a confident smile and a nod, but she couldn't help her gaze straying across the road to the wood. The afternoon was clouding over. Rain wasn't expected, but it would be darker than usual, especially along the route she was taking. It just so happened that the route that avoided both of those killing sites tended to be very gloomy in cloudy weather.

She was sure everything would be okay. And the business needed the money. She reminded herself that she couldn’t sacrifice a whole day’s income just because other people were getting panicky.

“Let's go! Come on!” With her group prepared, she led the way across the quiet road, the tasseled ends of her Bigfoot scarf flapping in the breeze.

As she led the way into the woods, she had her story ready. The legend of Bigfoot was exciting, and it was oh so much more impactful when she told it as the dark trees closed around the guests.

"The story of our furry, reclusive primate is buried in the mists of time. Bigfoot is also known as Sasquatch. Those who have glimpsed him have reported that he looks similar to a human, except much taller, with long, powerful, furry limbs, a huge jaw, and giant hands. If we're lucky, we'll see some footprints along the way."

She turned the first corner.

“Willow Creek has always been known as the home of Bigfoot, because the monster was very active about fifty years ago, when the town was founded by a young man who wanted to get away from society and form a small, isolated community in a sheltered, beautiful area. He was quite a recluse, history tells us, but the town grew popular over time, and it’s become the haven we enjoy today.”

Very active was a generalized way of explaining the fact that there were bear kills initially in the woods. People would know that if they researched the area’s history, but she didn’t want to dwell on the kills. Saying that also reinforced the legend that the monster had been seen more frequently in the early days.

“Is Bigfoot really real?" The younger boy of about thirteen asked that question. Usually, she'd answer with a confident yes. But as she thought about it now, she felt apprehensive about being proven wrong. It really was very dark in this forest. And there was a strange sense of expectancy in the air. It wasn't usually so heavy.

“Everybody here believes so.” That was the best she could do, and she could have kicked herself for not delivering it in her normal upbeat tone.

“I thought we were looking for a real monster.” He sounded sulky now, disappointed.

“We are, don’t you worry,” his mother said.

"I can't help wondering about that rumor I heard that there is a real monster roaming the forest," his father said thoughtfully.

“Yes.” The middle-aged man added his input, causing Evelyn’s pulse to accelerate. “I also heard about that. You think it’s wise for us to be going in now?”

“It is quite dark in here,” his partner replied. “And you can't see very far.”

Quickly, Evelyn interjected. “Oh, it’s no problem at all, because those incidents were probably just hikers disturbing wildlife, and they occurred in a totally different part of the forest. Visibility is quite normal for this time of the year.”

“I dunno.” The middle-aged man who was determined to spoil this for everyone, wouldn’t shut up now. “Bears can cover a fair distance during the day, as I recall. I think we should all take care, seeing as how there are kids in the group here, you know. I didn't realize this tour took us so far into the forest and that it would be so dark and so misty, and so thick. You can't see far at all.”

“Don't call me a little one,” the younger of the two boys grumbled, but the others took in his words in thoughtful silence. Evelyn gritted her teeth. She thought this was going to be such a good group, a tight team. Now it was degenerating fast. They were all squabbling, and she didn't want to mention anything, but she'd heard some strange noises coming from the woods.

Whatever she was hearing seemed to be moving on a parallel track to the group. There were strange crashing noises, and a rhythmic scrunching, as if something large was treading on the foliage. Perhaps they should turn back. It might be wiser, but then people would start wanting refunds, and she had a policy that she never refunded due to circumstances. Whether it was rain or shine, they headed out to hunt Bigfoot.

“Uh, Evelyn?” Now Fred had heard the noise too. She heard his voice coming anxiously from the back of the group.

“It'll all be fine.”

“I don't think so.” The middle-aged man spoke in a reasonable voice, the type of calm, logical delivery that it was almost impossible to argue with. “I think that we should all turn back. We'll live to hunt Bigfoot another day. I don't feel comfortable about going any further myself. And those with kids, I wouldn't recommend it.”

“I'm not little.” The comment came from behind Evelyn, delivered through gritted teeth.

“Maybe we should turn back.” That was Fred now taking their side, robbing her of her profits.

“I think we should go back.” The mother of the two boys added her voice to the others, earning glowers from both her children and a dubious look from her husband.

“Well, I'm willing to go on ahead.” Thank goodness somebody was being a sporting person today. That was the husband of the younger couple, speaking up. What was his name? She was usually good with names, but today had been more stressful than usual. Jayden, that was it. At least Jayden and his wife were keen.

She supposed she couldn't force anyone else to go. It would be pointless to trek through the forest for another two hours with a grumbling group behind her, filled with people who were going to be getting startled by every rustle in the undergrowth.

Or by that strange crushing noise that now seemed to be keeping pace with them.

“Let's split up. I'll go ahead with anyone who'd like to do this fun tour. And Fred, you turn back and lead the group out. They can spend some time in our front room. There's a lot of information on Bigfoot there, they can read all the posters, and you can even show them that video we took in the fall. There’s some memorabilia to purchase, and then we'll meet for a Bigfoot burger in a couple of hours.”

Frustration surged inside her. This damned monster. She didn't think it was real, and she was sure it was a rogue bear that just happened to be heading the same way, but the problem was it was creating so much fear.

The group split up, and after some discussion, Evelyn saw that the only people coming with her were the younger couple.

When the others had turned back, she forged ahead. She was going to make this trip even more fun than usual, and she was going to ignore the rustling sound that she now realized had persisted ever since they’d entered the woods. She wasn't going to let her own fears get to her because she couldn't afford to. It would cripple her business.

“Now, down here is the place where we had a confirmed sighting of Bigfoot. Somebody saw him heading down to the little stream that we're about to cross. You get a great view from the suspension bridge ahead. I'll go first, and then I'll give you a hand across.”

The area was more muddy than usual, so the park rangers had added a sloping rope ladder on either side, leading to the bridge itself.

With practiced ease, she scaled the ladder and jumped onto the suspension bridge. She headed across, walking lithely, barely even touching the supports. At the end, she didn't bother with the rope ladder, but simply jumped down the five foot drop, landing easily, marching a few steps away, her feet squelching in the mud. She turned back, waiting for her two clients.

“Come on, it's not as scary as it looks. You'll find it fun.”

But the woman who was in front was hesitating. Pointing into the woods behind where Evelyn was.

“Wait, what's that?”

Evelyn couldn't help it. Her heart sped up and she glanced behind her, seeing nothing but thick, dense trees.

“What’s what?”

“I saw something there. It's in the trees and it's huge. I think we should turn back now. I don't want to get any closer to that thing, whatever it is.”

Evelyn turned once more. And as she peered into the depths of the forest, she started to feel scared for the first time ever in the woods.

There was a massive creature in there, and it was coming her way. She couldn't see it clearly with the undergrowth so thick, but she could sense its bulk from the way that the branches were breaking. She could hear crashing footsteps, and her spine prickled as a feral growling noise rang out.

Was that man or beast?

Maybe it's just a prank, her mind begged her. Maybe it's just a prank.

It was coming straight for her. Finally, reality cut through her own denial. Had she really thought that all this public awareness and the police warnings were caused by a bear? Had she really thought that people were only in danger at night? She should have listened to the cautionaries, and now it was too late.

“Run, she screamed at the couple. “Run.”

She launched herself across the muddy grass, leaping for the rope ladder once more, panic flaring. Maybe if she could reach the other side, she’d be safe.

But in her haste, her hand slipped off the rope. She missed, falling heavily onto the ground, her fingers clawing at the muddy grass.

The footsteps were louder now. Whatever it was, it was bursting out of the forest. It was coming for her.

She made one last desperate scramble for the rope ladder, but it was too late.

Evelyn slipped again, and the rope scoured her fingers, burning through them as she let it go with a cry.

The monster was here. The growls were closer. She didn’t dare to look, squeezing her eyes shut. She'd been blind to the truth, and now she was the one who was going to suffer for it.

CHAPTER NINE

Maggie stared at Angela in concern. The woman in the hospital bed looked frail, traumatized. But she was speaking with conviction, and her eyes were blazing as she spoke the words.

The monster is real?

Maggie needed to find out what Angela had seen.

Glancing around, she saw that the ward nurse had been hovering at the ward entrance but had now retreated, leaving them alone.

“Why do you say the monster is real? Can you describe what you saw?”

Angela closed her eyes for a while, and Maggie's stomach clenched. Was even this too much for her?

She waited, watching the machines that were monitoring Angela's vitals, seeing that the readings were going up.

"I was jumpy from the moment we went into the woods." Angela spoke in a near whisper, her eyelids fluttering. "I could hear things that sounded scary and strange. I thought there was something following us and that it was near the campsite. I felt ashamed, because I thought I was being scared for no reason. Jason went out to see what was there. He went out because of me."

Her eyes flickered closed, and a tear rolled onto her cheek.

Maggie reached forward and gently clasped the woman's left hand.

“Jason was very brave. But he went out because he heard something was nearby. It was already there. This was not your fault, and you mustn't blame yourself. You were brave and strong to run away and stay alive.”

“Thank you.” More tears were flowing now. Maggie hoped she could take the next step.

“We need to try to catch this killer, whatever it is. To do that, I need to know exactly what you saw.”

“It was dark, and I was so confused. I'm not sure what I saw. It was a monster. Huge. Isn’t that enough for you to know?”

“Talk me through what happened.”

Maggie was certain that she was evading the memory. The trauma was searing her. Her mind didn't want to confront it again.

She hoped that Angela would find the courage to describe her ordeal.

"Jason picked up a piece of wood from the fire. He took the flashlight and he headed out. Then I heard him scream. He was trying to run back to camp, and there was this thing chasing him. It was enormous, growling and snarling.”

Listening to the breathless shaking of her voice as she described the attacker, Maggie couldn't stop the shivers coursing down her spine.

“Did you see it clearly?”

"No, Not really. The flashlight was all over the place. He was holding it, but it was swinging. It shone on that thing. It was very, very tall. And I saw this, this metallic gleam, and then I heard him scream. I knew I had to run, so I just fled into the dark. I heard it chasing me, but it couldn't find me. I ran and I fell, which was so terrifying. So, so terrifying." Her heart rate was speeding up now, and Maggie winced as she heard an alarm begin to shrill.

Their time here was soon going to be up.

In the meantime, Angela was continuing, her voice tense and breathless.

“I was trying to be quiet. I was trying not to breathe. I couldn't breathe, I felt suffocated. And then somehow it missed me, somehow it just went past and into the distance, and I didn't hear it anymore. I lay still, so still for so long and then, when I couldn't hear it anymore, I decided I had to try get away."

"Of course, of course, you knew you had to."

Her fingers were icy cold. Maggie squeezed them gently.

After a pause, Angela continued again. “Then I didn't know what happened. I just ran and ran, knowing that I had to find help somehow, and that I couldn't let it catch me, but I didn't know where it was. I've never been so scared, ever. I kept on running and then eventually it got light, and I heard the sound of cars on a road. People picked me up and then, well, here I am. I’m never going back into those woods again, ever.”

The terror she had felt was palpable. Maggie could hear it in the shaking of her voice. She could feel it in the icy coldness of her fingers. She hated forcing her to relive a moment that had nearly broken her. But there might still be more clues.

“When you heard this attacker coming, what exactly did you hear when it came after you?”

She glanced at Jamie, who was frowning as if he thought this was too much and that Maggie shouldn't be pressuring her to this degree. But she knew she must. She had to know to see whether the suspicions she had were confirmed.

“All I can remember are Jason's screams.”

“I know. I can't imagine what you had to go through. You were so strong. But afterward, when he'd stopped screaming?”

“There was this crashing and slashing in the undergrowth. It was a sound like… like a machete might make. That was what I was thinking. That I would just be slashed to death if it reached me. I can't remember anything else. I don't think I heard anything else.”

“Did you hear a voice? Did you hear any voice at all? Maybe you heard something and you didn’t understand it?”

Maggie risked the question, hoping that there would be a clear answer.

Angela frowned. She was thinking now, and Maggie could see she was all the way back in those scary, pitch black woods.

“Now I do remember I heard something strange,” she admitted. “I don’t know how long afterward it was, and it might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a man’s voice. It was low and rough and it sounded hoarse and it was muttering, “Where is she? I need to find her. She must die,” over and over. But I must have imagined that. I was so scared.”

Maggie felt a flare of triumph at this breakthrough. But she couldn't push it anymore. The heart rate alarm was still sounding. The ward nurse was at the door again. She was frowning, just the same way Jamie was.

“That's enough. My patient is disturbed, and her heart rate is going up. Time for her sedation, and you two need to go.”

Briskly, she strode across the polished floor toward the hospital bed.

Maggie let go of Angela's hand. “Thank you so much for what you've told us. I hope you recover well.”

The words seemed futile when she thought of the ordeal that the young woman had endured and the fact that she had lost her fiancé. But she had given them valuable information. Thanking the warden nurse in a low voice, Maggie turned and left.

As they headed for the stairs, Jamie spoke.

“You think she really heard that? Someone speaking those words? Or could that have been a delusion or a false memory? I think it was a delusion, or else she said that because she thought you wanted to hear it.”

As they descended the stairs, Maggie shook her head.

“I think she remembered accurately, and Angela has just confirmed for sure that it isn't a monster. It's a human. I am convinced of it now, and we have to hunt him down. He was looking for her, but he couldn’t find her.”

“But why do you think so?” Jamie's voice sounded incredulous. “Just because of what was probably an auditory hallucination?”

Maggie felt her stomach swoop, because for a moment now, they weren't like partners at all. They were like opponents. The tension of this case was getting to both of them, and now Jamie wasn't believing what she said.

Perhaps he would if she could explain it in a logical way.

“There were certain things that I was listening out for when Angela explained what had happened during that attack. First of all, the visual clues.” Maggie turned, moving away from the staircase and facing Jamie.

“What visual clues?”

“She saw a gleam of metal. That was what she said. It was like a blade. That means she saw something metallic. She did not see a claw.”

“It was dark and she was terrified. How is that moment in any way something to rely on?”

“Then, there was something else, too. After Jason had died, when that… being was searching for her, all it did was crash through the undergrowth.”

“Exactly. Just like a big angry animal would do.” Jamie gesticulated in a frustrated way.

“No, not like a big angry animal would do. Just like a human would do if it was looking for a person without any means of finding it. No sense of smell. She didn't mention that the animal was making any snorting noises, or any snuffling noises. All she heard was a crash of branches in the undergrowth. Because it has no facilities for hunting apart from blundering through the darkness. It can't hear well enough, it can't smell well enough, and it can't see well enough. A pretty useless wild animal, wouldn't you agree?”

“Okay. I see your argument.” She didn't know if Jamie was fully convinced, but he did seem partway convinced.

“Plus, these attacks have taken place both in the day and in the night. An animal that is adapted for hunting in the day won't want to hunt at night, and vice versa. But a human who's out there picking off people is going to use whatever he can find, whether it's the light of a campfire and the sound of hikers setting up camp, or whether it's following people down one of the paths in daylight.”

Now Jamie was looking a little less set on his theory. She could see he was at least taking in what she said.

"Plus the voice, which I'm not surprised about. When people think they're alone, they talk to themselves. He's tall, I'm guessing, even without whatever he's wearing, and he's probably not a very young man with that rougher voice. That's what my profile is showing so far."

He nodded again.

“We have to think of this as a human, and that's what I'm going to do from now on. What we now need to do urgently is figure out who this human is, who has made some kind of a bladed device he’s using as claws.”

“How about the extra height then?”

“Stilts? Maybe even a fake pair of shoulders and a head to add to the illusion? Stilts would be my guess. A low pair of stilts would give a tall person extra height. And that would account for the blundering and crashing that Angela heard. It wouldn't be that easy to pick your way through the undergrowth on stilts.”

“How would you balance at all?”

“Maybe this person’s had a lot of practice, and managed to customize themselves a pair of stilts that’s stable to walk in. The footprints are big, so whatever it is has a wide base of support at the bottom, not a thin pole. He might have done that, since he’s also built a killing blade in the shape of an animal’s claws.”

Jamie sighed. “For this moment, your logic is convincing me. But if it is a human, how do we find him?

“We need to continue building the profile.”

As Maggie spoke, she realized that her phone was buzzing inside her pocket.

Pulling it out, she saw it was Sheriff Holbrook calling.

“Agents, we've got a problem. A tour group went into the woods to hunt Bigfoot, despite the police cautionary. They got spooked, split up, most of the group headed out, but three stayed behind to go further. And we've just had news that the leader of the group has been killed – Evelyn Frost.”

CHAPTER TEN

The wooden chalet was colorfully painted in red and white, with vines creeping up the side and a prominent notice above the front door. “Bigfoot Forest Tours.”

Its cheerful appearance contrasted with the distressed, disheveled group standing outside.

There was already a police car in attendance. Sheriff Holbrook was at the scene when Maggie and Jamie sped up.

"It took her, it just took her down. We ran for our lives all the way back here."

A young couple who looked mud spattered and tearstained, were describing what had happened to the rest of the group. Two boys in their early teens were listening wide eyed, staying close to their mother. A young man with a baseball cap rammed down over a head of wild curls, wearing a shirt with the same logo that Maggie saw on the signboard, was standing next to the sheriff.

Maggie rushed over to the group.

"Agents Flight and Rodriguez," she quickly introduced them. "Tell me what happened here, please. And then I'm going to need one of you to walk with me into the woods. We need to get to the scene as soon as we can."

Inside, she had to admit she felt close to panic. She wasn't giving up on her theory that this was a human. She was not. The fact that it was picking off so many people in such quick succession, with no flesh consumed, and at different times of day was only making her surer she was right.

But this group was looking utterly traumatized.

“I'm not going back in there, no way.” The young woman spoke in a shaking voice, wringing her hands as if she couldn't stop.

The man had his arm protectively around her.

“I just know it came for her. It came for that tour guide, I saw something chasing her and I just ran. All I wanted was for my wife and I to be safe.” Maggie saw that the young man was incoherent with fear.

“Can you tell me where this happened?”

“No, I don't know the woods at all, and I'm not heading back in there. Not after that.” He shook his head vehemently.

Maggie looked around the group, wondering if anyone else would be willing. Her gaze fell on the young man with the baseball cap. But he looked down, and she saw he was pale with fear.

“I've been working with Evelyn for a year now, but please, I can't go into those woods again. It might still be there. It might still be waiting. Don't ask me to do that.”

Then the middle-aged man stepped forward.

"If it has to be done, I can go back with you," he said in a low voice. "I took note of our route through the forest, and I saw which way the three went when we peeled off and headed back."

This man looked to her as if he might be ex-military. He had a seasoned air about him, as if he'd survived bad situations before.

“Let's go.” She knew that the evidence they were going to get would be the freshest yet, that the sooner they got to the scene, the better the chances were of uncovering a clue they needed. Glancing at Jamie, he nodded in agreement. They turned away with the middle-aged man, leaving Holbrook in charge of the group.

“I'm Graham Erling. I served twenty years in the Army.” As they strode toward the darkened entrance to the wood, his first words confirmed what Maggie thought.

“Thanks for being willing to come back in here with us.”

“I think this entire situation spiraled out of control,” Erling said. "We should never have gone out there. I heard a snippet on the news as we were driving to Willow Creek. I should have listened more carefully. By the time we got there, it was nagging in my mind. While we walked to the forest, I actually had a look on my phone and got up to date with the news. When I saw that two people had been killed in the area, I reckoned going into the woods was a bad idea and that the guide, rest her soul, should have been more responsible. Everyone was excited, everyone wanted the adventure. Nobody was actually looking at what had happened."

“So you went back with the first group?”

"I did. I advised everybody to go back, but unfortunately the tour guide was set on completing the tour. So, I simply made sure that the people I was with stayed safe as we headed out of the woods. We hadn't even got back to the chalet before we heard screams behind us. That young couple were running out, as if the devil himself was in pursuit. I knew immediately something had gone badly wrong. I wanted to go back and see if she was okay, but I knew my priority was to get the group out safely, so while we were all on our way, I called the police."

Already there were more police cars pulling up outside, sirens blaring. Before too long this part of the woods would be crowded. Whoever or whatever had been there was probably long gone already.

Maggie had thought that by now she would be used to these woods, the way that they seem to blanket the surroundings in silence with the mists pressing in. She was on high alert. This killer might still be nearby, and there was so much she didn’t know.

As they walked. Erling suddenly stopped, glancing around him. Maggie looked at him inquiringly.

"This is the first place where someone felt something wrong. And you know, at that moment, I heard something over there." He pointed to his left.

“How far away was it?” Jamie asked.

“Maybe twenty yards,” Erling replied. “Difficult to tell with these trees. I find it disorienting in these woods.”

Maggie nodded. “I feel the same.”

It was clear that the group had been tracked from early on and from the direction of the town itself. Whoever this killer was, they had been looking out for the group and then kept track of them, waiting for the chance to pounce. Splitting up had unfortunately made it easier. But then again, it might not have mattered how many people were in the group once this Bigfoot impersonator had shown himself. It was clear that the sight created immediate panic and that everyone would run for their lives.

"There's a bridge ahead, probably a couple of hundred yards away. It was just before the bridge that we split and went our separate ways. I was thinking to myself that bridge would be a good place for an ambush. Call it my military experience coming to the fore."

“There it is.” Things happened suddenly in this mist. One moment, all Maggie could see in front of her was a blanket of gray. The next, tall wooden poles came into view.

The bridge spanned the fast flowing stream and also a section of muddy, marshy ground. Rope ladders had been added to the sides of the bridge to traverse the thick, clinging mud.

She grasped the rope ladder stretched over the muddy area, which swayed under her weight. Then she stepped up it, rung by rung. At the top, the bridge supports provided a more solid handhold for her to grab onto. After stopping and listening again, she headed across the bridge, treading carefully over the wooden slats.

She was halfway across when she saw the slumped figure on the other side.

Reaching the end of the bridge, still holding the support ropes, Maggie looked down. She felt crawling horror as she gazed at the sight, but also a sense of deep pity. She looked so frail. What chance had she had? Evelyn must have realized too late that she was in a deadly situation.

Maggie wondered if she’d died as she jumped for the ladder on the opposite side. Was that a rope burn on her outstretched palm? That might indicate she'd been grabbed, pulled down. And then this monster, or rather this man, had slashed and stabbed and murdered.

Clinging to the rope, Maggie descended. This ladder structure gave her the chance to look closely at the sight without making footprints on the ground. Holding the rope, she lowered herself a few rungs, peering down.

There, behind Evelyn’s body, were the same big prints she’d seen at the other site.

This time, Maggie could see what direction they’d come from.

They had come from the direction of the town, and then, she saw another set of prints leading away again. They were blurred and unclear, but from this higher vantage point, it was easier to track them.

The prints led back in the direction of the town. Walking slowly back, glimpsing signs of the crushed grass, and the indentations in the mud, Maggie saw they were visible all the way, right up to the thick overgrowth near the start of the trailhead.

Whoever this killer or monster was, she saw from the footprints that they’d started out from town and followed the group into the woods, before returning the way they’d come.

That strengthened the evidence that this killer was based in town, or nearby. At any rate, this now needed to be the focus of their search. He was lurking near town to look for his victims, and that made it more likely that this place – so isolated and remote – was, in fact, his home base.

If Willow Creek held the answers, Maggie was going to find them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maggie retraced her steps up the ladder and then went back along the bridge with Jamie.

Holbrook had arrived and was waiting on the other side. She was looking stressed, and talking rapidly on her radio.

Maggie headed up to her, and Holbrook turned her way, her eyes troubled.

"This situation is escalating all the way out of control. I've been getting calls from higher-ups in government, law enforcement, and in the media. The Park Rangers are saying we must close the woods completely. The state governor is suggesting we need to send a team of hunters in. They don't realize that these woods are thousands of acres in size. You can't just send in a garrison of hunters and expect to find what's there. We need a better answer, but I don't know what it is. I've organized search parties, we're doing our best to ban entry into the woods, but people aren't listening. This was a local woman, and she should have known that this was serious. If she hasn't listened, what hope do we have of warning all the hunters coming in?"

“Roadblocks on each side of town to stop new arrivals?”

She nodded. “We’re trying to get those in place. Manpower is a problem, though. We’re short on staff, and every officer who mans a roadblock means one less somewhere else we need them. But no matter what we do, we don’t have control.”

Maggie nodded. “We’re now convinced that it’s a human killer. I’m building a profile on him, and I feel certain that he lives in town, knows the community, and knows these woods well.”

“You think it is a person?” Holbrook's voice was incredulous.

“Yes, I've seen enough small pieces of evidence in these past three sites to make me sure. So from here on, Jamie and I need to focus on hunting him down.”

Holbrook nodded. “We've got a skeleton staff at the police station for obvious reasons, because everyone’s out in the town or the woods, but if you need to research anything, there will be someone who can help you log in. Most of our officers have been here a few years or more and know the town's history. But I have to say, there's no one who raises red flags, although we did have a look at our list of offenders. Here in Willow Creek, it isn't a long list."

“We'll look into it, and if there's anything we need to know about the town’s history and background, then we’ll call you.”

Maggie moved away from the muddy patch. The coroner had arrived, and two medics were carrying a stretcher through the woods. Soon, the body would be removed for the postmortem.

By the time that postmortem was done, Maggie hoped that she and Jamie could have found some answers.

“Where are we headed?” Jamie strode alongside. “Are you thinking we should go to the tourism office?”

Maggie was relieved that after that moment of conflict earlier, they seemed to be back on track as a team.

“I'm heading there, because I reckon the tourism office will know what's happening in town, who's been making trouble, and if there's anybody who's been obsessed by Bigfoot. That should be our first stop.”

“A local who’s taken the legend to extremes?”

“It’s a likelihood.”

“What else does your profiler's brain tell you?”

As they walked, Jamie's swinging arm brushed against hers. The touch sent a jolt of sensation through her, all the more surprising because her thoughts were elsewhere.

“My profiler’s brain is looking for motives in every direction. We know that this is all about the kills, not the victims.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jamie asked.

“The victims are being picked opportunistically. They're not being chosen because of who they are, but because of where they were in the woods and that they happened to be available.”

“So it’s a case of wrong place, wrong time, for the people who’ve died so far?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Got you. That helps us see it in a certain light,” Jamie agreed.

“So, first up, the reason would be some form of gain – that someone is killing because they're profiting from it, but it’s difficult to see how that would apply here. Even if this killer is trying to reinforce the Bigfoot legend, what they’re doing is resulting in people leaving town.”

“Okay,” Jamie said thoughtfully. “That definitely doesn’t apply.”

“Secondly, it might be obsession. Someone's killing because they have a driving, burning need to do so and they believe they are nurturing the legend.”

“And thirdly?”

“The third reason could be anger. People who have issues with others. Conflict, fights, resentment, maybe even a need to protect the town from outsiders. We need to look at all those theories.”

Jamie grimaced. “I don't know which is the most disturbing. But yes, let's start with the tourism center.”

There it was up ahead. It was designed to look like a woodland chalet that somebody might stumble across while on a forest walk. They'd planted a few trees around it to enhance that effect. It had neatly boarded sides with long, inset windows, and a steeply pitched roof with an overhang in front. A notice on the wall next to the door advertised its opening hours. As she got closer, Maggie could see that the windows were papered with posters and notifications. Most of them were for Bigfoot tours, hotels, experiences and events.

The door was ajar, and Maggie stepped inside. The small office was cozy and smelled of fresh paint and varnished wood. At the far end was a desk with a vase of colorful carnations on it, and a miniature image of Bigfoot, about a foot high. The miniature image had a cheerful expression, very unlike the killer that Maggie knew she was hunting.

Although there was a pile of paperwork on the desk and an open laptop, there wasn't anybody around. A moment later, though, footsteps sounded from the door behind the desk. A sturdy woman with curly hair and freckles patterning her snub nose rushed out, carrying an armful of files.

She looked stressed. Given the circumstances, Maggie could imagine everybody connected with tourism in Willow Creek was stressed right now.

“We're agents from the Department of Justice.” Maggie showed her badge. “We need to ask you some questions, ma’am, and get some information from you.

The woman peered at the badge while plunking the files down on the desk. From her expression, Maggie could see that their arrival was compounding her stress. She let out a frazzled sigh.

“I guess you're here because of the kills. We don't know what to make of it. My colleagues and I are getting so many calls, and we have no idea what to say to the public. There are cancellations left, right and center for accommodation and tours. Tourists are leaving. Three property sales have fallen through in the past day, and yet, we’re worried that the wrong elements are going to start arriving soon. Vigilantes, you know? Are there any answers yet? Any leads at all, so I can give callers some reassurance?”

“We're hoping you might be able to help us with that.”

Emotions chased each other over the woman's face at Maggie’s words. Surprise was followed by consternation, and then disappointment.

“I guess that means you don't know what's happening yet. You haven't got any idea where this monster might be? You see, people who live near the woods, which means most of the town residents, are getting worried about their safety. Are they at risk when they’re at home?”

“Everyone needs to take care,” Maggie said, wishing she could provide more clarity. “I’d like to get a picture of what’s happening in town at the moment.”

“What do you mean by that?” the woman asked. “I’ve just told you what’s happening. People are panicking and wanting answers.”

“I mean, what has happened over the past couple of weeks that has caused any problems? Has anyone requested anything unusual? Has anyone caused trouble or complained about the tourists? Any big fights between residents? Anything that you’ve found concerning?”

The woman glanced at her laptop. Then she moved to her mouse, twiddled it, and refreshed the screen.

She sat down in her chair as if her tired legs were glad to take the weight off. Peering again at the screen, she gestured to the chairs on the other side of the desk.

Maggie sat down and waited for this stressed woman to look through her records.

In a minute, she looked up from the screen.

“Well, I guess the issue that we’ve had to make the most changes for, the one that we’ve had to accommodate and juggle to include, is the movie shoot.”

“The movie shoot?” Maggie asked. She remembered the signboard that they’d seen when arriving in town. That had been on her list to check out, but they hadn’t yet had time. Worrying now that this had been an important omission, Maggie did her best to find out more.

“How long has the shoot been in town?”

“I guess they’ve been set up for a few weeks now, so we think everyone knows,” the woman said, sounding apologetic. “They’re wrapping up in the next few days, which is just as well, because that director is very difficult to deal with.”

“Who is he?” Maggie asked.

“He’s a local. He was born in Willow Creek, and his name is Blake Winters.”

Blake Winters? Maggie was sure she’d heard that name before. Maybe he was famous. Or infamous.

“And why’s he so difficult?”

“He wants the whole of the town rearranged to suit him. He seems obsessed over making this the best show ever. If things don’t get done the way he wants, he makes our lives very difficult. He has a temper, you know. He’s a strange man, and he’s been a problem from the start,” she said with a grimace. “He blames us for his problems. Says we’re getting in his way, and that we should make all the changes he needs, as far as blocking off certain road entrances and not allowing tourists into certain parts of the woods. All to enable his shooting, apparently.”

“And how does he justify that?” Maggie asked.

“He justifies it by boasting that his reality show will bring more visitors to Willow Creek, and help it to grow. But it’s already done that, you know? It was a tiny town when it started out, and thanks to tourism, it’s nearly doubled in size recently. However, some people don’t like that, and the older residents, especially, are now complaining it’s too big.” She shrugged.

“So you don’t buy that altruistic motive?” Maggie asked.

She shrugged. “If he really wanted the town to thrive, he wouldn’t be trying to change everything to suit him, would he?”

This was pointing all the way back to the first motive that Maggie had considered – benefit. Three murders by a supposed monster would result in increased ratings and global media attention. Logistics wise, he might have a Bigfoot costume available to use as needed. And, of course, he would have been able to access and explore the woods all day. Being familiar with the woods and having a reason to go in and out would be an asset for a killer.

“Anyone else that you’ve been worried about?” Jamie asked. He was looking curiously around the room, taking in everything from the posters on the wall to the framed photos of unidentified shadows that were lurking deep in the woods. Maggie guessed they were fake, or else bad shots of odd-looking trees, but she was glad Jamie was scrutinizing them just in case.

“There were a couple of tourists who caused trouble, but they left a few days ago. They were complainers, you know the type? They had a problem with everything, but at the same time, they didn’t respect the town, and they definitely made some of our hosts and locals unhappy and angry, too. We do get people like that, and it’s difficult to handle the situation in the correct way. We've all had training, but you know, the human element is what it is.”

That could be significant, Maggie thought. A host who was unhappy and who happened to be a vindictive psychopath might have decided the best way to get payback would be to destroy the tourist trade completely.

Maggie wasn’t ruling that possibility out. Right now, she couldn’t afford to rule anything out.

“I’ll need the names of the locals who complained,” she said. “And the names of the tourists, too.”

Immediately, the attendant looked anxious.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to give you those names?” she asked.

Maggie nodded. “Yes, I’m sure you are. You won't be in trouble.”

She guessed that having personal trouble land on her head might be this woman's main worry.

“I'm sorry,” she admitted, proving Maggie’s guess right. “I think we’re all very anxious about anything else going wrong, all trying to be overly cautious. “I'm sure I can give you the visitors’ names. After all, they wrote them down in the visitors’ book and all the public can look at that. And as for the locals who complained, they are repeat offenders and have both complained in the past. There’s the visitor’s book, if you’d like to see.”

She indicated a large leather-bound book that stood on the filing cabinet in the corner.

Maggie headed over to have a look.

Paging through, she saw that an astonishing number of people had visited the small town. Some arrived for day trips, most enjoyed an overnight stay of at least one night. The book asked for those details as well as the reason for the visit.

Everybody's answer was the same. Bigfoot, Bigfoot, Bigfoot.

The feedback was mostly positive. Scenic town, caring locals, a thrilling walk in the woods, good food, interesting items to buy. Only yesterday's feedback was less positive.

“I felt scared knowing there'd been somebody killed in the woods. Might think twice about visiting again.”

The difference was noticeable, and Maggie knew there would be more negative feedback to come now that there had been three deaths in these dark, misty woods.

“Here are the names of the tourists who were unhappy. But like I said, I think they were just discontented people. And here are the names of the locals who complained to me.”

The attendant handed over a handwritten piece of paper on which she had scribbled down the names, the phone numbers and the local addresses of the problematic people.

“Were the tourists both in one group or separate?” Maggie asked.

“They were in the same group. The locals were not directly involved with them. One was the neighbor of the bed and breakfast owner, who’s complained before now about noise, and one was a farmer who complained about the traffic, and he’s done so a few times before. He hates tourists. It makes things difficult, you know, when so many people here make their living from them now, and we have to look after their interests.”

“Thank you for all of this information.”

This had been a productive stop-off, and they now had three strong leads.

As she looked down at the page, Maggie saw that the troublesome tourists could be ruled out. The rowdy duo were part of an overseas tour group who had checked out and left yesterday to go elsewhere. The neighbor and the farmer were obviously still in town and would need to be questioned.

But her first stop was going to be the reality show movie set.

Soon as she walked out, she looked up the name on her phone, wondering again why it sounded so familiar. Why did Blake Winters ring a bell?

By the time she reached the car, her search had yielded results.

“Jamie, look here. This is interesting. I thought Blake Winters was familiar.”

Jamie stared at her sharply. “You found something on him?”

“Yes, I have. I’ve found a magazine article that claims Blake Winters has a history of staging evidence for his reality shows. Apparently, he's been arrested for fraud in the past, and reacted violently when police tried to take him in.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I see here that the reality show production site is a couple of miles out of town,” Maggie said, as she climbed into the car. “We need to drive north, then take the service road into the woods. Looks like that's where the filming is taking place, anyway.”

Maggie got behind the wheel and got going.

Holbrook was already hard at work coordinating so many other angles of this investigation. She’d be sending every available police person into the forest, leading teams of volunteers and civilians who were eager to eradicate this threat.

And at the same time, people being what they were, Maggie was certain that the police station would be inundated with false alarms and fake sightings and people thinking they'd seen something. It always happened, and they couldn't afford to ignore any possible lead. The police would be run off their feet right now.

“Service road ahead.” Jamie's reminder pulled her back to reality. She'd been immersed in her own thoughts and had nearly missed the narrow dirt track sandwiched in between two ranks of trees.

Braking sharply, Maggie swerved onto the track, the car juddering over the rutted surface. Already, she could see signposts ahead. They weren't exactly welcoming. “Private road. Keep out. Trespassers will be prosecuted. Filming in progress. Do not enter.”

“Friendly people,” Jamie observed cynically.

“It definitely looks like outsiders aren’t welcome.”

As she reached a bend in the road, she saw the site ahead.

There was a mobile office in the center of the clearing. It was large, with a couple of people conversing in the doorway, both wearing blue golf shirts with the word “Crew” on the back.

There were a few cameramen standing near the office, some busy adjusting their lenses, and a couple of others smoking. They were watching the door of the mobile office warily.

On a tree stump near the edge of the clearing, too far away to hear the commotion, a man was sitting, wearing a Bigfoot costume. Maggie looked at it closely. With extra broad shoulders, powerful arms that were dark with fur, and a mask with a high forehead and snarling mouth, she was now wondering if this costume might have played a part in the killings. She couldn’t see any bladed claws, though.

How far had this director gone to ensure the success and viewership of his show?

And where was Winters?

As she had that thought, she heard angry words resonating from inside the mobile office. Someone was shouting loudly.

The two crew members left the doorway in a hurry, retreating to the edge of the clearing where they stood watching the mobile office apprehensively.

Maggie strode in the direction of the office. A couple of the photographers looked at her curiously as she headed that way.

“I'm looking for Mr. Winters. Do you know where he is?” she asked them, showing her ID.

“He's inside, but I wouldn't go in there. He's mad at one of the staff. Better to wait.”

She was grateful for the advice, but she wasn't going to take it. Glancing at Jamie, she saw him raise his eyebrows. He was also keen to get face-to-face with the tempestuous director.

By the time she reached the doorway, the words were audible.

“You don’t want to cause trouble on my set. We have rules here and you obey those rules. I can't have people stepping out of line here. This is not a small-time production, and we need professionals. Now act like one!"

“I’m sorry, but I –” The other voice was interrupted as the tirade continued.

“This show is going to a world beating success that’s going to set new records in the rankings. Trust me when I say that it’s headed for the biggest triumph ever. If you want to be a part of the most famous show on Bigfoot ever made, then you'd better get into line. If you arrive late again, causing trouble and delays, you're going to be fired.”

Peeking through the doorway, Maggie saw that the speaker was a lean man with a white fedora jammed on top of a head that looked completely bald. He was standing on the far side of the office, facing another crew member, punching his fist in the air. “We have rules here and if you want to get paid and have a job, then you follow the rules. You don’t want to get on my wrong side.”

The last words had a threatening note to them.

With his shoulders hunched and his head bowed, the crew member was backed up against the wall, intimidated by this telling off.

"I'm really sorry. Mr. Winters. I just wanted to get some equipment that I left behind. That's why I was late. I went back to the storeroom."

“Nobody goes into the storeroom without my permission,” Winters hissed. “Nobody goes anywhere on site without my say so, at all times.”

Maggie wondered why he was so adamant about this. Winters was making the sound like a major offense. What was hidden away in the storeroom or elsewhere that he was worried about, she wondered. Bladed claws were a possibility, surely?

Their movement in the doorway attracted Winters’ attention, and he looked in their direction, his face now twisting in surprise as he saw them.

His blue eyes were the same color as the crew's shirts, and they blazed out of a surprisingly pale and lean face.

“What's going on here?” His voice was incredulous.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez. Mr. Winters, we need a word with you.” Maggie stepped forward.

“I have no time whatsoever to speak to you because we’re on deadline here. There’s no reason for you to be here at all. We're behind on our shoot. I have a schedule to stick to. I've got investors relying on me to make the best Bigfoot show there’s ever been. I have to try to keep up to date with my deadlines, and I don't need you barging in and accusing me of breaking rules. I haven't broken any rules. My contract states I can work in the woods twenty-four hours a day.”

My word, he was defensive, Maggie thought, as she listened to the tirade.

“We’re here about something different, not about the rules in particular, although I do need to know about your movements in the woods.”

The crew member that Winters had been speaking to was sweating, perspiration beading his broad face, and adding to the musty smell that she picked up in this surprisingly warm office. He looked relieved to see that the police had arrived, and was sidling in the direction of the door.

“I don't have time right now. Make an appointment,” Winters blustered.

“We're not going away. We're investigating multiple deaths. The police are on the point of shutting down the whole town, and then where will your shooting be?” Jamie sounded stern as he faced up to the angry director.

"My shooting's three days from being done. By the time you've managed to shut the town down, I'll be long gone. But these three days are critical. I have to get this wrapped up. And I don't see why you're investigating the deaths. Why would the Department of Justice start poking around? Leave it to the park rangers. They're the experts on wildlife. Bigfoot's real. I've been saying it for years. This has just proved it, at a very opportune time." His mouth twisted in satisfaction. "Perhaps you can be part of the next season's show, because there's going to be one for sure. I can organize for you to be interviewed, and you can admit how you searched the town and finally accepted that the monster was real."

Maggie glanced through the window at the costumed actor outside.

“Real?” she repeated.

“He’s a wild animal who doesn’t come and go according to our instructions,” Winters grumbled. “We have to have a body double.”

“These killings are very opportune for you, aren’t they?”

His eyebrows, which were almost nonexistent, rose high at Maggie's words.

He turned to glower at the luckless crew member. “Get out,” Winters commanded him.

With an expression of relief, the man turned and hurried out, his shoes clumping over the plywood floor. Jamie moved aside to let him leave.

“Are you seriously accusing me of manufacturing two deaths?” Winters’ voice rose to a crescendo. “Or is it three now? I thought I saw something online just before I had to deal with my crew member.”

“Three people have been killed in the woods and we don't believe it's caused by an animal, or by a mythical being.”

“Then you're deluded.” He sneered out the words.

Maggie struggled to control a terse response. This man was extremely rude, and his rudeness was both targeted and deliberate. She reminded herself that as a profiler, she needed to work with his weaknesses rather than simply retaliate in anger.

So she managed to control the sharpness that she wanted to use to lash out. Instead, she achieved a sweet note in her tone. She knew that this was going to mean intentionally baiting him, but if that was what it took, she was ready.

He was already on a hair trigger, and she hoped that if she could push him further, he might erupt in anger and blurt out something important.

“It's certainly coincidental that it's happened right before you've wrapped up filming. Did you really have nothing to do with it, seeing as how these deaths would improve your ratings and guarantee a second season? What would you be prepared to do to keep your ratings high? Because they seem to be the most important thing in your life. More important than the people who have died out in the woods, that’s for sure.”

Winters’ chest was heaving, and Maggie could see that she had made him furious.

“How dare you say that!”

“You’ve shown no sympathy or consideration for any of the townspeople so far. Why?” she pressured him.

His face twisted. “Get out!” he cried.

Lunging at her with a cry, he shoved the desk aside.

Maggie remembered what the helpful woman at the tourist office had said about Winters’ temper, and what Jamie had told her about his historic violence when arrested. She was seeing it now.

One moment, they’d been intensively questioning the defensive man. And the next, he had snapped, and was trying to physically force them out of his office.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Winters barged his way toward Maggie, shoving her in front of him so that she struggled to keep her footing.

Shock ripped through her at the force and suddenness of the physical attack. Reflexively, she ducked under his fists, avoiding the blows, leaping aside as she looked for the opportunity to contain him. But at the same time, thoughts were racing through her mind. Why had he suddenly turned so violent?

Had he snapped because he had something to hide?

“Get

She flung her arm out, aiming to connect with his solar plexus to force the air out of him.

But he was ready. She was surprised by how fast he got his forearm up to block that blow. It didn't land, but her other arm was already coming in. With his focus on defending against the solar plexus jab, she had a backup move. And it involved his jaw.

Maggie lashed out with an uppercut, aiming at the underside of Winters’ chin. With all his attention on avoiding the body blow, he wasn’t ready for that sneaky move.

It hit home.

His head snapped back, and his teeth clacked together like castanets. The impetus of her punch, which had all her force behind it, sent him twisting sideways. He staggered back, and fell over the chair which had been behind the desk that he'd shunted in Jamie's direction.

Actions had consequences, after all, Maggie thought in satisfaction.

Winters sprawled down on the floor with a crash, landing on his side, his long, lean limbs reminding her of a panicked spider as they flailed.

Maggie was already moving in. First rule of street fighting – never miss a chance to finish things off once your target is on the floor.

She lunged forward, grabbing his arm, and in one smooth movement, she yanked him sideways so that he landed face down, his legs still entangled in the chair.

Taking the handcuffs off her belt, Maggie got them ready. She was helped by Jamie. That fight had taken only a couple of seconds, the same amount of time it had taken for him to shunt the desk aside and get to her.

“That escalated fast.”

He spoke the words breathlessly, above Winters’ frenzied shouting.

“This wasn’t my fault! You’re going to blame me now, I can tell! Did you do this on purpose? It’s a trap, isn’t it?”

“You always have the right to ask people to leave. But you crossed a line when you tried to throw my partner out physically,” Jamie told him, in grim tones.

“I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled.

Too late, he’d started regretting his actions. Maggie didn’t care. This man was coming in with them, because the sudden way he’d gotten physically violent was triggering all her suspicions about what else he was capable of.

*

Maggie hadn't been in Willow Creek's police interview room until now, but she was impressed by how neat and well-equipped it was, though small.

She and Jamie were seated in close proximity to Winters, facing him across the narrow steel desk. He had his chair pushed up right against the back wall, and she wondered if that reminded him about how his luckless crew member had felt.

Maggie waited a beat, to see if Winters was going to continue with his defensive blustering or not.

Surprisingly, it seemed that he had regained his control. Maybe that told her something about him. He might have reckless moments, but as quick as a flash, he could switch to another persona. That was what she was seeing now.

Sullen, silent and reserved, the man facing herself and Jamie now was very different from the one who’d been in a manic rage in the movie set’s office.

After letting the silence build for a while, during which time Winters fidgeted and shifted in his chair, Maggie opened the conversation. “I didn’t want to bring you in, but your own actions gave us no choice. How do you feel about that now? Why did you react the way you did, on site?”

He grimaced. Her words had hit home. But he wasn’t backing down.

In a flash, he’d gone from sullen back to his previous taunting persona.

“I don’t regret anything I’ve done. The only thing I’m sorry about is that I didn’t decide to call a lawyer earlier. Not because I need one to get me out of trouble, but just to make sure I get my point across to you that I’m innocent. And it might delay you. You deserve that for causing me trouble and delays. Maybe I’ll call one now, and you can wait. It’s my right.”

Maggie hadn’t thought it possible to have more contempt for Winters than she had done, but records were being broken here.

“So you need to stick to your own deadline at all costs, but you don’t care about anyone else?” She let the question sink in for a while before continuing. “That shows me that you’re prepared to do anything to get your way. Would you agree?”

His breathing was harsh. "I do not agree. You're making me out to be selfish. I'm simply focused. I see a goal and I reach for it. That's why I'm so successful. Although you'd love to put me in jail just because I defended myself from an unprovoked attack earlier."

He was playing games with them now, twisting the truth into lies, and she needed to put a stop to that.

“It was not an unprovoked attack. And you could have had a civilized conversation with us. You chose not to do that, and this is why you’re sitting here now.”

“You’ve been evading and blocking us ever since we walked into the site office, and you assaulted my partner when you asked us to leave.” Jamie spoke now, and Maggie could hear the fury resonating in his voice. "I want to know why. What reason do you have for needing to block the police and stop us from finding out the truth about a person who is murdering people? Because we know it's a human. We've figured this out, and now the only question is which human it is."

Her partner was still mad about that earlier attack. She knew he was angry that it had happened and even angrier that he hadn't been able to get to her sooner.

“Why should I be your suspect?” Winters retorted.

“You have a track record of trying to influence your own reality shows through fraud,” Maggie reminded him. “There were articles published about that, and you've actually faced fraud charges in the past. Maybe it's going to backfire on you now. If you get charged as a murder suspect in the Bigfoot killings, do you have any idea what it's going to do to your career? You mentioned your investors. What will they think of this? Because my feeling is that they will be horrified. So why don't you stop being evasive and start giving us the truth?"

There was a resounding silence after those words. Her mention of the investors had hit home, hard. Maggie could see Winters’ face twitching. He was thinking about the consequences, and now, he wasn’t just thinking his way.

He was realizing how bad this could get.

Finally, Maggie hoped, she’d broken through that sarcastic and defensive wall. At any rate, he sounded different when he spoke again.

“Look, I know I get protective about what I do, and it’s because I’m passionate. No other reason. I always go into everything, a hundred and fifty percent.” The harsh note had vanished from his voice. Now, Maggie thought he sounded borderline apologetic. “I have nothing to do with these murders, or maulings, or whatever they are. Nothing. Yes, I was accused of fraudulently influencing a situation previously, but that was just malicious gossip, combined with an unfortunate piece of coincidental truth. I never got actually sentenced, you know."

"Coincidental? Right.” Maggie still wasn’t buying it.

“Listen to me!” His voice peaked in stress. “Will you listen?”

Backing down in the face of what she now saw was genuine emotion, Maggie gave a reluctant nod.

“So, I heard about these killings. I was concerned. That’s why I was trying to enforce my own rules on site when you walked in. That’s what I was doing. I have crew members out there in the woods, filming. I can't afford to lose any of them. They're assets, and I value them!"

That wasn’t what he’d implied in the site office, all threatening and domineering. His pale cheeks were flushing now, as if he remembered that moment too, and was realizing how it contradicted his words now.

She knew he was a liar, but she didn’t know whether he’d lied just to save face there, or for a bigger reason.

“Go on?” she encouraged.

“I’m sorry. So, I can lose my temper, like anyone can,” he mumbled in explanation, before continuing. “Anyway, the point is that I did hear about these kills, and – well, do you want the real reason why I was so stressed?”

“That sounds good.” Maggie kept her tone noncommittal, even though she hoped they might finally be heading for a breakthrough. To her, his body language looked like he was ready to call a truce. His shoulders had sagged, and that defiant tilt had gone from his jaw.

“I instantly realized that we could use the deaths,” he admitted, now sounding embarrassed. “They were valuable to us because our program would be coming out at exactly the right time. More people would watch it. There would be massive curiosity about what had caused the kills. And we would have millions more viewers. Plus, without a doubt, there would be a season two. It all just seemed to be so fortuitous, and I decided we had to rush this through to production. That's why I brought the deadline closer and put the pressure on everyone.”

“You decided on that recently, then?” Maggie asked.

He nodded. “We were supposed to be here another three weeks, but when this happened I decided we could wrap it up in three days if we hustled, and edited things in a different way.”

“So what you're saying is that you simply took advantage of the situation, hoping it would boost your viewership?” Maggie wanted to make sure she'd gotten him right, and that there wasn’t anything else he was holding back.

“I did, but am still shocked that you thought I was involved in this, that I'm some kind of killer? How on earth could I go murdering people in the forest, while running a top quality, professional production? Why would I want to do that? Do you believe I could take a step into the woods without my cellphone ringing and someone needing to get hold of me? You clearly don't have any idea what a director’s life is like.”

Maggie ignored the bluster. It could be that he was trying to derail the questioning and doing so very cleverly.

“It’s a logical assumption, because you had all the elements you needed. You had access to the forest. You had a Bigfoot costume. Probably a few of them, just in case one got damaged. You had knowledge of the woods, and you had every reason to benefit if Willow Creek suddenly came onto the radar for negative reasons related to your show.”

“I'm a local boy, and I wouldn't want this town negatively affected.”

“You were born here, but you've been directing movies elsewhere. Do you even still own a house here?”

Winters sighed. For the first time since she'd met him, Maggie glimpsed a hint of humanity in his face under the hard, ruthless mask.

“I do still own a home, and my mother lives there. You might think I’m a bad person, but I’d never want anything ad to happen to her, or the town. I love Willow Creek, and I want it to thrive. Trust me, my property value and my mother's safety and peace of mind are important to me. Sure, we rushed the last couple of days of filming to capitalize on the fact that there have been attacks, and there will be more public interest, but we never caused those attacks. Logistically, how on earth could we do something like that, when we've got every spare person on set working double overtime, myself included? Where would we get the time from?”

His cheeks were flushing now.

He still wasn't Maggie's favorite person, but now she understood his thinking better. He had a very harsh persona. He cultivated it deliberately, and treated a lot of people badly. But he had a soft space in his heart for his mother. She could see the truth in those words and the difference in his body language. The flushing meant he was embarrassed to admit to having a soft side.

And that aside, what he’d said about the logistics of filmmaking rang true. And based on that, Maggie hoped that she could check his alibi.

“What were your movements earlier today? Say, from the early morning until a couple of hours ago?”

“I was here, in the back office, working with our editor. Do you know how much excess footage needs to be trimmed away before a scene is ready? Do you have any idea how much time and energy it takes? Clearly no. I was working on the edits from before it was light.”

Maggie remembered the large computer which had been at the far end of the room when they’d arrived. “I can show you the editing timeline if you like. I can call it up on my phone for you, because it’s synced there. Then you'll understand how frustrating this is and how much work it takes for how little progress. I think I'd rather be a cop." He gave a cynical shrug. “And I was texting my staff continually, too. That, I can also show you.”

Jamie got up and handed Winters his phone, watching as he opened it and called up the editing history.

Glancing down at it, Maggie saw that there was nonstop activity on it since early this morning, as well as a number of terse text messages which Winters had sent, asking for equipment to be set up and moved, and catering to be organized. She was convinced after looking at this conversation that their suspect was cleared.

Although deeply flawed and not a likable person, Winters was not their killer.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As Maggie drove out of the film shoot site, winding her way back down the rutted, bumpy dirt road, Jamie was busy looking up the details of the two locals who had complained. She wondered if they might be the old-timers who seemed to do their own thing rather than obeying the police.

If so, perhaps one of them had decided it was time to scare the tourists out of town.

The first was Miles Henson, the angry neighbor of the bed and breakfast owner. The second was the farmer, Gavin McBride, who had complained about tourist traffic.

“Let’s head to Miles Henson first,” Jamie suggested, after confirming the addresses of the two. “He’s closer by, living in town.”

Henson’s address was right next to the Forest Lookout bed and breakfast, where the troublesome tourists had stayed. Maggie pulled up outside his house a minute later.

The bed and breakfast next door was empty, she saw. There was a “Rooms Available” sign placed on the neatly mowed grass outside.

Maggie feared that the river of tourists was already being replaced by a trickle of bounty hunters, intent only on taking down Bigfoot.

In contrast to the neatly maintained bed and breakfast, Henson’s house looked scruffy. It was in need of a coat of paint, and his lawn was overgrown. Maggie also saw that his curtains were drawn. Was he at home?

She headed up to the front door and knocked.

There was only silence from inside. The small house felt quiet, and Maggie’s suspicions were prickling that he wasn’t at home.

"I'll go around to the back of the house and check there," Jamie said.

Since nobody was coming to the front door, Maggie decided to head next door. While they were here, she could get an account of the trouble from the bed and breakfast owner, if they were here.

Moving from the scruffy lawn to the neatly mowed grass, she knocked on that door.

A few moments later, it was opened by a middle-aged woman with a scarf over her head and a smock over her blue jeans. With gloves on and a mop in her hand, she was clearly in the middle of cleaning up after the problem guests.

“Agent Flight,” Maggie introduced herself, showing her ID. “Ma’am, we are looking for your neighbor, Mr. Henson. Is he here? Have you seen him today?”

She hesitated, and her expression became wary. Clearly, there was bad blood there.

“I did see him very early this morning,” she said.

“Where was he headed? Do you know?”

Now, she looked even more reluctant. “He went out, but I’m not sure where. I guess he was going all day because he had a backpack with him. Maybe he went hiking. He does that often, and I always feel relieved when I see him go because at least he's not around complaining about noisy guests and threatening that he's going to make sure that he gets payback.”

Maggie felt intrigued. “Does he ever go out walking at night?” She was wondering where he’d been on Saturday night when Jason was killed.

The woman gripped her mop more tightly. “I try not to take much notice of him because he doesn't like it. He accuses me of prying into his business if I happen to be looking out of the window when he's around. But I have heard him go out at odd times recently. His front door makes a terrible noise when it slams.”

“And I understand he was unhappy with your tourists?”

She nodded. "He's been complaining to me regularly, and this time, he said he was going to make an official complaint. You know, unfortunately, the number of tourists in town makes him angry, and if there is any noise at all, then he gets upset. He's one of those who would like to see the town the way it was, free from tourists and quiet. He's told me so many times."

Maggie felt excitement flare inside her as she thanked the woman and turned away to where Jamie was waiting by the car.

Out, walking in the woods? She knew who could help them here, and that was Olivia. She had the resources and the expertise to be able to trace a cellphone number, fast, if the phone was turned on. Sometimes, she could even work her magic if it was turned off.

Updating Jamie, she said, “He’s been out in the woods since early this morning. We have his cellphone and we need to track his number.” They'd obtained it from the tourism center. Now it was time to use it.

She climbed into the car, got on the phone, and got hold of Olivia.

"Are you calling about those cameras?" the tech expert asked. "Because if so, they're up and running. So far, though, no footage apart from two deer, one squirrel, and about a hundred birds."

“I'm glad we have an update on the cameras, but actually I'm calling about something else I hope you’ll be able to do.”

“What is it?”

“Urgent cellphone tracking.”

“I'm on it.” Olivia sounded as if she was rubbing her hands in glee. “Give me the number. First step, let's see if it's turned on. Then I'll try to get you a location for it.”

Maggie read the number out, hearing the rapid tapping of keys in the background as Olivia worked her magic.

“Good news is that it's turned on. I should be able to get you a location. Give me five minutes, and I'll get back to you.”

That she hung up. Maggie felt hopeful. It seemed as if the tide was turning, and they were finally starting to make progress. However, Jamie was frowning as he checked something on his own phone.

“The news is spreading,” he said. “Willow Creek is making headlines all over California and in quite a few other states as well. There are even a couple of international papers that have run articles on these killings.”

“I guess everybody is thinking it's a monster?”

“Yes, that's the theory. A lot of people are saying that for all this time, nobody's realized that Bigfoot is, in fact, real, but now the truth is out. They have interviewed a few groups of hunters, who are already making plans to come here to Willow Creek and start searching the woods, ready to hunt him down. And a few tourists have said the woods are dangerous, and they’re never going near the place again no matter what, because there’s no guarantee there isn’t more than one monster in there.”

Maggie shook her head.

At that moment, her phone rang and she saw it was Olivia calling back.

“Fingers crossed.” She exchanged a glance with Jamie before picking up the call.

"Well, I've got good news and bad news for you." Olivia's voice was sharp, staccato, and matter-of-fact, the way she always spoke.

“Let's have the good news first,” Maggie decided.

"Good news is that the phone is trackable and I can continue to track it. I've got an app working now. That's going to keep in contact with it and keep pinging it. And there's more good news to follow that. His phone is within probably ten miles of where you are now."

“That's brilliant.” Now Maggie felt focused and ready. With Olivia's help, they could do this.

“Don't forget there is a smidgen of bad news.”

“What's the bad news?”

“Unfortunately, the signal around there is terrible. It's all those woods, these rolling hills, everything that makes it such a pretty tourist destination also makes it a nightmare to track GPS.”

“I get that,” Maggie acknowledged.

"Signal's going to come and go, and you're going to have times when you lose it completely. That's a fact, and there's nothing I can do about it."

“If we have the location some of the time, we can work with it.”

“Right. What I'm going to do then is share an app that links up to both of your phones. That app is going to have a pin drop on it that tracks the phone when it's on and when it's available. The app is ready to go, and it's uploading as we speak. It should be on your phone in a minute, and from there, well, happy hunting."

It was less than a minute before a map of the area filled Maggie’s screen. She could see the red pin drop. Miles Henson’s phone was north of where they were, eight miles away, on the other side of the woods.

The hunt was on.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The area they were heading into became more and more remote as the miles went by. Looking at the map and figuring out their route, Maggie realized they were circling around a huge tract of woods.

“Another five minutes and we'll be there.”

While Maggie drove, Jamie had been looking up more information on their new suspect.

“He’s forty-seven years old. Divorced, according to the official records. His last job was as a manager in an abattoir.”

“An abattoir?” Maybe she shouldn't be surprised by that. It might be where his prowess with the blades came from. This killer seemed to have skill and intent behind his actions. Long experience in that environment might create that.

“That's what I'm seeing here. I'm not sure if he still works there, though. It's outdated by a few years.”

“Still, it’s something to keep in mind.”

Expertise with blades would be something she needed to add to her profile of the killer, the picture of him that she was building.

As she pulled up at a stop street, Jamie showed her the photo of Henson that he had found.

He was a big man with a square face, cropped blond hair, and an unsmiling, hard mouth. Looking at his aggressive expression, Maggie thought he seemed like an angry person. For sure, he seemed like somebody who would go out of his way to inflict payback.

If only she had the ability to sense whether a person was a psychopath, but all she could do was draw on her training and experience.

“Does he have any criminal record?”

“That's my next stop. It’s not a quick process. Signal here really is patchy, and I’m battling to connect to the database.” Jamie spoke in a thoughtful way as he scrolled rapidly through his phone. “Right. What do we have?” He stared down at the screen. “Interesting. He has threatened people with violence before. In fact, he's been charged with intimidation. And I see here… let me look at these notes. This gets even more interesting, Maggie.”

There was a note in Jamie's voice that got her head turning. Whatever this was, Maggie thought it was going to be good.

“It looks like the person that he threatened, who was an aggrieved coworker, actually tried to bring a case against him for assault.”

“Not just the threats. Why? What happened?”

“A few days after the threats were made, it seems that the coworker was beaten up badly enough to fracture his cheekbone and put him in the hospital. Unfortunately, they couldn't provide enough proof to make the assault charges stick.”

“Sounds like Henson did it though. So soon after the threats, that can't be a coincidence.”

“No, it can't. I think it was just a lack of proof and that he hired a clever lawyer who managed to get him off the secondary charges. I hate when that happens.”

“It makes it a triple offense in my opinion. Threats, assault and then lying about the assault to wriggle out of the charges.”

Jamie nodded grimly. “We're dealing with a vindictive person here. You know there are two types of people when it comes to threats and most people would stop at the threat and not actually follow through.”

Maggie nodded. Henson clearly had a seam of violence that ran close to the surface. And it looked like he was now within a half mile of where they were.

Although they were closing in fast, the signal was getting patchy. As she looked at the map, she saw the red dot disappear, blinking out as if it had never been there at all.

She was about to say something to Jamie when she saw the dot return, but now it was flickering, as if signal was coming and going. Not surprising since they were now nestled in between steep, rolling and thickly treed hills. But that alone wouldn't make such a patchy result, would it?

Maggie guessed this might mean something else. It could point to the fact that the target was on the move.

If he was heading deeper into the woods, they had to follow.

At least they had a signal to track, Maggie thought. This one small advantage might lead them to their target.

She braked abruptly. They'd reached a stage now where the trail had narrowed to only a few feet wide. The car wouldn't fit. In fact, she would have to reverse for a few yards to be able to turn around. The trees were closing in, the canopies already blocking out the light.

Maggie opened her door and stepped outside. “I guess we walk from here.”

“I guess we do.”

Maggie took her phone with her. The red dot was flickering. As she watched, it disappeared from her screen.

She and Jamie set off in the approximate direction that it had been in, their feet scrunching over fallen leaves. The trail was solid in parts, but squelchy with mud in other sections. Maggie looked carefully at the surface in the muddy sections to see if she could see any footprints – large, small, or huge.

There were none. The mud wasn't sticky enough to take a footprint, and the surface was too cluttered with leaves. She trod carefully as she headed through another squelchy patch. Then there was a steep uphill to navigate. Maggie caught her breath as, for a moment, the red dot appeared again. It flickered out almost immediately, but that brief glimpse gave her time to see which way Henson was moving.

“He's heading westward. I wonder if there's a trail he's following?” If so, then they might be able to preempt his movement and arrive ahead of him on the same trail if they took a diagonal path through the woods.

The needle was on the move again. The signal blinked into life once more, showing the red dot in a different location, and Maggie stared at it in a puzzled way. How was this possible? How was it moving faster than they were?

Enlarging the map, she looked again, comparing the first spot that they'd seen it with the one where it showed briefly now. The two were a good few hundred yards apart. She and Jamie had barely made a hundred yards of progress, what with scrambling over logs and avoiding the deepest sections of mud.

She wondered if Henson had somehow gotten a contraption that allowed him to move faster. The mythical Bigfoot, of course, would take giant strides. He would be able to power through the forest at twice or three times the speed than a normal human being could achieve.

Would using stilts have the same effect? Maggie’s guess had been that the stilts were only used for the last part of the hunt, to confirm to the victim and anyone else around, that the killer really was a giant.

She remembered the old seven league boots from fairy tales. Occasionally, when she’d been sober, her mother had read Maggie and Cole fairytales and bedtime stories. When their mother hadn’t been sober, she and Cole had read them to each other. Maggie had been spellbound by the worlds they had described. Enchanted forests, boots that allowed you to take giant strides, magic slippers, magic wands. Reading about these fantastical scenarios and otherworldly abilities had helped her to escape the grimness and trauma of her life.

Those fairy tales had allowed her to feel that she might have some power in the world. If she only had a magic wand, she could wave it and make everything right again.

Cole had always been frustrated by them. She remembered how he'd complained. “Reading this is a waste of time. I hate reading about things that will never be real. We'll never change our situation. We're stuck here.”

She wondered if her own dogged optimism had helped her to come through that traumatic childhood as a stronger person. Maybe in the end it had broken Cole, and that was why, in helplessness and rage, he had chosen the dark side. Again, Maggie thought how strange and difficult it was that she and her mother were now managing to reconnect on such a different footing.

She’d spent a lot of her childhood hating her, but then, she now realized that her mother had spent a lot of it hating herself.

And what had Cole done? How did he feel about his life choices, and did he regret them? Had he changed back from the person he’d become?

It was strange how her thoughts always ended up veering back to Cole when she was in times of crisis. Now Jamie's voice grounded her again.

“Maggie, can you hear something?”

She stood still and listened. Over the rustling of the wind and the chirping of birds, she did hear something. And now she understood how the suspect had managed to move through the woods so fast.

“He's gotten hold of an ATV. I can hear the engine. That's how he's getting around the woods so quickly.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Maggie paused, craning over Jamie's shoulder, matching up the sound and sight with the available paths on Jamie’s map. Suddenly the forest was coming alive with small, dotted footpaths, no longer looking like a thick and impenetrable wood.

Henson was speeding along one of those paths.

An ATV would be a useful thing to have for a man who intended to commit murders in the woods. He could use it to store the equipment that he needed to become Bigfoot, with the bladed claws, perhaps the stilts, maybe headgear of some kind. She didn't know what exactly he had with him. But now there were two ways of finding him.

One was following the dot, and the other was following the sound.

Now, all they needed was a path to take them there.

“If we could figure out which one he's on, then we could figure out how to intersect with him,” she said.

“Could it be that path there, heading to the northwest?” Jamie asked.

Maggie wasn't sure. She hesitated as she looked at the paths. Then, she strained her ears for that faint but audible sound.

“Listen out. That engine noise is coming from further away than that, I think. I’d go with the next one up.”

“Okay, let's assume he is on the one higher up. If he is, then look, it bends sharply south further down. And when it does that, it intersects with the path that we're on.”

Looking at the paths once more, Maggie nodded. Jamie was right. They would converge in the correct place.

"Let's hope it's not an easy ride for Henson on that ATV. He's going to be dealing with logs, mud, puddles, same as we are, if that path is in the same condition," Jamie observed.

In fact, in Maggie's opinion, it would be even more difficult to have to dismount every time he reached a barrier he couldn’t just ride over. That would take up a lot of time. Moving the barriers aside for the ATV to cross, or else maneuvering around them in that closely packed forest, would also eat up the minutes.

And it might mean that there was a convergence point ahead.

“Shall we run?” Jamie asked.

“Great idea.”

Jamie broke into a run, and Maggie followed, glad of the chance to close up the distance faster. Digging her boots into the soft ground and leaping over the fallen branches, she was encouraged by the thought that in this terrain, being on foot might just be the winning decision.

The sound of the ATV was now louder, the blurt of the engine could be tracked. She could hear the sound, a growling, incessant noise. But it wasn't moving at a consistent speed. Just as she'd thought, it was starting and stopping.

There were long seconds where it idled, followed by loud revving noises where she could imagine the rider maneuvering around an obstacle or else impatiently making up ground after having pushed something aside.

She and Jamie were making up ground, too. The convergence point was looking more and more likely. Maggie was starting to allow herself to hope.

The breath burned in her lungs as she pushed herself up her steep hill, her boots skidding on the mud. Forcing herself forward, she leaped over a deeper puddle. Then she was on to a rocky stretch, hurdling over a jutting outcrop. Finally, ahead, she could see where the two tracks joined.

She’d thought that their trail was narrow and difficult, but the other one was even more so. It was nothing more than a faint line between closely pressing trees. She could see a large rock jutting out of the middle of the path. That would need to be carefully bypassed if you were on an ATV.

Her pulse sped up even more as she heard the engine approaching.

There it was. This might be the moment they needed – the confrontation with the killer.

The blatting, barking noise of the engine filled the air as the rider came into sight, hunched over the wheel of the mud-encrusted vehicle. He wasn't wearing a helmet, but a baseball cap was pulled down low over his wide head.

He hadn't seen them. All his focus was on the path ahead, which was treacherously twisting. But the rock would work in their favor. No way was he going to be able to accelerate around it.

Maggie watched as the ATV braked sharply. Then, as he began maneuvering it to the side, with the wheels sending up splatters of mud, she and Jamie leaped forward, racing onto the trail. Jamie headed to the front of the ATV, preparing to grab one of the vehicle’s handlebars, while Maggie rushed straight for the driver himself.

“Miles Henson?” she shouted. She was a few yards from him, closing in fast, fumbling for her ID even as she neared the ATV. “Agents from the Department of Justice. We need a word.

He looked up at her, aghast. His face was smeared with mud, his eyes wide and white as he glanced down at her ID.

“Get out of my road. Get away!” He revved the engine harder. Mud sluiced up as the vehicle swerved wildly. For one heart stopping moment, Maggie thought he was going to do it, that he was going to manage to get past them. The vehicle surged forward. But Jamie was ready. Leaping into its path, he grabbed one of the handlebars and wrenched it to the side. More mud fountained into the air as the engine howled.

Now Maggie was so close that she could see the fear in his eyes amid those dark splatters of mud.

Miles Henson did not want to meet them here on this track. He was astonished to see them there. What else was on that ATV? There was a large backpack at the back that attracted Maggie’s attention. But before she could get to Henson and ask him about that bag, he did something she'd never expected.

Vaulting off the ATV, he grabbed the bag, turned, and began sprinting back the way he'd come.

“Stop!” Maggie yelled out the word. “Miles Henson, wait. We need to speak to you.”

He wasn't stopping, he was fleeing, and she felt her adrenaline surge all over again. She'd been geared up for a confrontation, but she hadn't expected a pursuit. Why was he running so hard? Did he have something incriminating in that bag? He must do. There was no other reason for why he would be sprinting away from them now, at a surprisingly fast pace.

“Stop. This is an order.”

He ignored her plea. In fact, it made him run faster.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Maggie's legs burned with the effort of running as Henson sprinted along the track. He was a tall, powerful man and he was running as if for his life. This section of the track was mired in mud, and there was only a narrow area that was passable.

So far, the killer had disappeared effectively from every one of the scenes. She wasn't going to let Henson do the same now.

With Jamie behind her, that meant her partner was limited by her speed. And although Maggie knew she was a fast runner, she didn't have the same acceleration that the long legged Jamie possessed.

It would be better to move over. As soon as she was able, she leaped to the side, grabbing hold of a tree trunk to support herself in the slippery mud, and allowing Jamie to plow past her.

Then, gritting her teeth, Maggie put all her strength into keeping up with the two racing men.

Just as she thought they were finally catching up, Henson surprised them again. He turned suddenly, slipping and sliding his way down a steep path so narrow and precipitous that even an ATV couldn't have coped with it. It was studded with rocks. He stumbled over them, only just preventing himself from plummeting down to the valley far below. Maggie caught her breath as her boots slid on one of the slippery rocks. This was an insane decision for Henson to have taken, especially when carrying a bag with him. In fact, she thought he'd made the decision in a moment of panic. Maybe he would regret it, because now Jamie was catching up.

Jamie was like a mountain goat on these rocks. He was incredibly agile and well-coordinated. As he leaped and braced and slid down the precarious slope, using a combination of instinct and judgment, he was finding the perfect route. Behind him, all Maggie had to do was try to follow in his footsteps. And, ahead, she could see that Henson was finally slowing.

The terrain was getting the better of him. Maggie guessed he'd hoped that by ducking down here, he could somehow outpace them, but he had underestimated how rough and steep this incline was.

As she watched, with a cry, he stumbled, slewing sideways, grabbing for a tree stump to save himself. But the stump bent under his clutching hand, and he slid a few yards further down, flailing for purchase but not finding it. In the process, he let go of the bag, which tumbled down the slope ahead of him.

With a cry of alarm, he slid and slithered after it, still not finding his feet, and heading down the remainder of the slope mostly on his side.

However, Jamie was still on his feet, and he was ready. He leaped forward, grabbing for Henson's collar, bracing himself against the incline, and his hand closed around it just as Henson reached the bottom of the slope. Fighting to get to his feet in the mud, Henson turned, lashing out with his arms.

Taking advantage of his lack of balance, Jamie had gotten the initiative and as Henson flailed wildly, Jamie grabbed one of his wrists in a quick, deft action, and then got hold of the other.

“Running is never a good idea.” Jamie uttered that comment in a gasp, as Henson groaned in defeat.

Slipping and sliding, Maggie joined them at the foot of the slope. The mud-streaked suspect already had his hands pinned behind him. She got there just in time to grab hold of his grimy wrist as the second handcuff was attached. Streaked with mud, the bag was lying nearby.

Jamie kept a firm grasp on the handcuffs as Henson struggled to his feet. But the fight had gone out of him now. He was too exhausted for his own legs to keep supporting him. Bending over, he then collapsed down onto a rock. He was panting, his broad shoulders heaving. His weathered face was streaked with sunburn, and his flushed skin was shiny with sweat.

Maggie gazed up at the slope. It would be a long, muddy and torturous climb with a suspect in tow. Jamie’s next words showed he was thinking the same way.

“Don't think there's any need to take him up that precipice. I think we can ask what we need to right here.”

“I’m not telling you a thing,” Henson said, his voice defiant.

Ignoring him, Maggie pushed on.

“You went to a lot of trouble to make sure we couldn’t ask you a thing. Why did you do that?”

He glowered, his eyes moving from side to side. He was clearly thinking up a lie.

“I thought it was a hijacking,” he explained. “What else was I supposed to think? You jumped out at me from nowhere, back there in the woods.”

“We identified ourselves and I saw you look at the ID.” Maggie had to remind him of that.

“You really think I saw a thing? I was in a panic. I didn't see it.”

“Why were you panicking so badly?”

No, he gave her a shifty looking glance. “Because things have happened in these woods. I don't want them happening again, not to me.”

"Are you talking about the kills?" Suddenly, the air seemed cooler. Perhaps it was just the perspiration drying on her, but Maggie felt a chill.

"Of course, I'm talking about the kills. You think I don't know about them?"

“The question is how much you know,” Jamie said.

Henson said nothing, so Maggie continued.

“How do you feel about the fact that Willow Creek is getting busier? Do you like that, or would you rather the town was the way it used to be?”

Henson swung around to stare at him. “What are you implying?”

“Just getting a feel for your thoughts.”

“You really think that I'm a murderer who'd go around picking people off because the town is too busy? That’s what you seem to be saying.”

“You’re the one who said it.” Jamie corrected him, and he scowled.

“I hate the tourists being here, I admit it. And the residents who keep moving in. And yes, I would love for all of them to get the hell out of here. They should. They’re polluting the area, they cause noise, they throw trash around. They disturb the wildlife, and if you ask me, this is payback, what’s happening now. This was never the way that Willow Creek was supposed to be. These tourists, these new developments. They’re unwanted and unwelcome. I hate them. But I’m no killer.”

“How long have you been out in the woods today?”

Maggie wondered if he would answer the question honestly or if his version would be different from the neighbor's.

“I left early. Walked down to a friend’s house, borrowed his ATV. I went to see a friend who lives out west. Using a vehicle makes it quicker.”

“This friend of yours,” Maggie asked. “Can he confirm that you were there?”

Henson gave her a sly glance. “She probably wouldn’t want to do that,” he replied cagily.

Maggie thought she understood what Henson was implying. So that had been his lunchtime visit?

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

“Change of clothes. So that I could arrive at my lady friend’s house without being covered in mud.”

Maggie didn’t believe him. “Open the bag,” she ordered.

“Uncuff me first,” he demanded.

“No. You can open it with your handcuffs on,” Jamie said, standing close by and watching him as Maggie handed him the muddied bag.

Henson was now in an uncooperative mood. He shrugged his shoulders as if being in those handcuffs had hurt him.

Clumsily, he reached for the bag and unzipped it.

Inside was a change of clothes and a clean pair of shoes. What was underneath?

He moved that object aside quickly, sliding the small bag under the shirt, fumbling in his haste to do it without the agents noticing, but Maggie’s sensitive nose picked up the aroma. He had cannabis in there. A lot. More than he was permitted to possess for personal use.

But he didn’t have any weapons. No blades. No stilts, no mask, no Bigfoot outfit.

She was going to make the call that his story was true and that he had been visiting a lady friend and sharing some weed. If he'd been caught en route from a kill, then there would have been signs. There would have been some evidence.

There was none. Henson was not their killer.

“You have way more than the legal quantity of weed in your possession,” Jamie said. “We’re not going to take action on that now, but somebody else will in the future, so watch it.”

Henson shrugged, his expression darkening further. “We’re a small town. We always used to keep to ourselves in Willow Creek and do our own thing. The police are interfering because of the tourists, and that’s why I hate what’s happening to this town. How it’s changing. You know, I’m a peace-loving man.”

His record belied that statement, but Maggie wasn't going to start contradicting him when he was talking at last. Instead, she listened as he continued. "Some of the folk here in town, they hate the newcomers and the crowds so badly that they would be willing to cause trouble. Ask any of the old timers, and they'll tell you the same. Willow Creek needs to be like it used to be. We can’t go back, but we can stop things from going forward, and a lot of people would like to do it.”

“Anyone in particular?” Jamie asked.

“I don’t snitch on others,” he shot back. He wiped a chunk of mud off his sleeve, staring at Jamie resentfully. “But let me tell you this for free. There are some old-timers in town who have secrets, and those secrets are not for telling.”

“What do you mean by that?” Maggie asked.

He scowled at her. "Maybe if you treated me better and weren't so abusive, I'd tell you. As it is, you don't need to know. What the old-timers know, they don’t share.”

“Depends what those secrets are,” Maggie said, but she could see that he’d shut down on her. He pressed his lips together wordlessly.

There was something that he knew, and he wasn’t telling. He was giving the excuse that the police had bullied him, but Maggie didn’t think he’d have told them even if they hadn’t chased him down a muddy slope.

It might mean nothing, and be just a taunt, but conversely, it could be important.

He wasn't their killer, but his attitude had given her a lot of insight into the way people thought here. She was sure that Henson's views were shared by others who wanted Willow Creek to be the same way it had before the numbers increased. The old timers banded together, and they knew how things had been before and wanted them to be that way again.

The old timers knew something that others didn’t.

“You need any help getting back up that slope?” Jamie asked Henson.

“Get the hell out of here, and leave me alone,” came the ungracious reply. “I’ll find my own way up when you’re gone.”

Shrugging, Jamie grabbed onto a rock and hauled himself up the slope again, with Maggie following.

Worried as she was about the case, Maggie had to admit that the view going this way was spectacular. When she looked directly ahead of her, she could see the way her partner’s suit pants were tautening over his muscular backside every time he pushed himself up.

Maybe this climb wasn’t a chore after all.

She knew though that they needed a good, coherent strategy for managing the next step of this case.

As media attention snowballed, they were going to face renewed pressure for the theory that this was a monster after all, and that would mean her theory and her investigative process came under scrutiny. She might end up suffering career-wise for having had the courage of her convictions.

That truth felt like a lead weight in her heart. It had felt like a major breakthrough when she had pieced the facts together and deduced that this was no wild animal, and that it was a human committing these crimes.

How could anyone so evil exist? What did it take to put yourself in the skin of a monster and chase people down?

Maggie sighed as she grabbed onto the last big rock that was in their path. Over this, and they'd be back on level ground again.

She pushed with her boot and pulled with her hand, and then, muddied and battered, she was standing on the flat trail next to Jamie.

“Let’s head back to town, and go straight on to our next suspect. If he’s an old timer, then we might still learn those secrets,” he said, sounding determined and focused.

They did have another suspect, and in terms of what Henson had said, he checked all the boxes.

Time to go and find the angry farmer, Gavin McBride, who lived on Hazel Tree Farm.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As Maggie drove back toward town, she checked the time, seeing to her worry that it was now after six p.m.

Their chase-down had eaten up the afternoon, and they still had no answers. All Maggie had were chunks of mud on her shoes and her pants legs, and a clearer picture about the attitude of the old-timers in Willow Creek. Their resentment ran deep, and they felt differently about the town, wanting to protect it from tourists and expansion.

Her phone beeped, and she glanced at it, seeing that it was an update from Olivia.

“Still working on accessing that camera footage. I’ve got a program running. Shouldn’t be long now before I can get into the history.”

Maybe that would give them a new direction. She hoped so.

While she headed back to town, Jamie got on the radio, checking in with Sheriff Holbrook.

"We've been pursuing a suspect, but unfortunately, he’s been cleared.”

That terse summary covered a lot of action, Maggie thought wryly, as he continued. “What news your side?”

"I'm checking in with you. What’s the update?” he asked.

Holbrook sounded breathless. "We're out in the woods now. I'm leading one of the patrols. We have two others also deployed. We're all taking different parts of the woods, but it's going to be a misty evening, and it's clouding over. We're going to have to turn back in another hour, and we've seen nothing suspicious so far. The only thing we have found are two groups of Bigfoot hunters, both heavily armed. One group actually fired shots before they realized who we were. People are jumpy and trigger-happy, and things are going to get very bad if this continues. But we’re trying to stay positive.”

Her positive tone contrasted with the results she was reporting. Those results were ‘nothing so far’ apart from vigilante hunters. The most demoralizing outcome possible, and yet Holbrook was courageously holding it together.

She was a fantastic leader. They couldn’t have wished for anyone better. And yet – where was the killer? He seemed invisible. And with hundreds of thousands of acres to roam in, that wasn’t surprising.

"And the advisory to stay out of the woods? Is that working?" Jamie sounded anxious as he voiced this next question.

"Well, it's not working as well as it needs to," Holbrook acknowledged. "We have a lot of visitors flooding into town. The tourism office is trying to keep track of them and issue the advisory, but not everyone is going through those channels. And we're short-staffed, so we can't man two permanent roadblocks in and out of town. We're doing what we can."

“I guess that shortens the timeframe we have?”

“Yes, it definitely puts the pressure on. We need to get results, and the sooner, the better in terms of public safety.” Holbrook sighed. “People are going to go out into the woods with such good intentions, but they simply don’t realize how vulnerable they are. Nobody thinks the worst will happen to them, do they?”

Maggie knew that this was going to have implications for herself and Jamie as well. They’d been co-opted here to save lives. Pressure on Simmons would mean pressure on them. Simmons would be forced to justify Maggie’s call to start searching the town instead of the woods.

If there were no results, then Maggie knew that her own decision would be under criticism, and that she and Jamie would suffer the fallout.

And that was over and above the human lives that were lost. Worry clenched her as she thought of those. They were the main reason why she and Jamie needed to push on harder. Never mind her own career trouble. She could deal with that.

“Have you ever had any serious problems with the old timers in town?” Maggie asked her, remembering what Holbrook had said when they’d first arrived in town.

"Yes, the old-timers are a law unto themselves." Holbrook's reply was immediate. "There were a handful of men who arrived in town when Mr. Willow founded it and bought up the large farms. There's definitely a shared attitude among their families, even today, that anyone who came afterward isn't a true citizen of Willow Creek and should have a lesser say in what happens to the town. It's always the same people that complain, you know? We're working on it, trying to improve the relationship."

“Have you heard of any secrets that the old-timers have worked to hide? Any mentions of that? Our last suspect dropped hints about it, and I was wondering if it referred to some kind of historic cover-up,” Maggie said.

“There may be historic crimes that happened before my time, that we never knew about and which were covered up. The old sheriff was one of the team, I guess you could say, but he died of a heart attack and that’s when I took over.”

That was interesting, Maggie thought.

But she needed to turn her focus from the past back to the present.

People were already flooding into Willow Creek with one goal in mind, and that was to catch a monster. They didn't understand that the monster was far more likely to catch them.

*

The drive took her and Jamie all the way through the town again, and she glanced at the buildings that they passed, now seeing them in a different light. Scenic though they were, the restaurants didn't seem to be doing a good trade today, and the parking lots were mostly empty. Many of the guesthouses that were on the main road had vacancy signs outside. She was sure that for the height of summer, this was extremely unusual.

Yes, there were some people coming into town, but they weren't there to take advantage of all the vacation amenities. They were going to head straight for the woods once they'd gotten whatever gear they needed that they thought would kill a monster.

She headed along a side road that wended its way up through verdant farmland. It felt reassuring to her to be able to gaze into the distance across the rolling fields. At any rate, right now, it seemed a far less threatening environment than the woods.

“Hazel Tree Farm is the second place on the left.” Jamie was watching the map. Maggie at the wheel, was watching the vista in front of her. These farms seemed to be fairly small, probably about four or five acres each. Small enough to know your neighbors well, she thought.

The farm had a low wooden gate on uneven hinges which was closed. Jamie got out and opened it, carefully lifting it and then carrying it across its rickety arc.

Then, they headed up to the farmhouse, which was set on a hill. It was built from white painted boards and was surrounded by trees whose leafy branches were laden with fruit.

The farmhouse’s garden had a low board fence around it. The gate set in the fence was open.

It looked like a serene place, and Maggie wondered what the owner would be like. Would his temperament match this farmhouse? Or would he be in the same mold that Henson had been?

Maggie parked outside and she and Jamie walked through the gate, their feet scrunching over the gravel path.

She tapped on the front door, and a moment later, she heard footsteps. The door was opened by a tall, gangly boy who looked to be in his late teens. He was wearing a frayed pair of denim shorts and an old baggy T-shirt, and his sandy hair had a dark green streak dyed in it.

“Good afternoon.” He looked surprised to see them, and even more shocked when Maggie handed over her badge.

“We’re from the Department of Justice, and we've got some questions for Gavin McBride. Is he your father?”

Now looking even more startled, the teenager nodded. “Yes, he is. He’s not here now, though. He’s gone out, and he’ll be back at about nine p.m.”

He sounded nervous, as if he was worried that Maggie and Jamie might grab him up and spirit him away to a prison cell. He was fidgeting, shifting from one sandaled foot to the other with a restless energy.

“You know where he is?” Maggie asked.

“He’s running errands. I don’t know where he’s gone. I only know what time he’ll be back. Maybe you should come by later?”

“Does he have his cellphone with him?” Maggie felt as if nine p.m. was a long way away.

“He does, but that’s his private phone, and he’ll get mad at me if I tell you the number.”

She had reached a stalemate, and standing here on his front doorstep wasn’t going to do anything but waste time.

However, there was one question she could ask.

“What car does your father drive?”

He blew his cheeks out in a pout, frowning. Maggie could see he didn’t want to give them this information, but she’d made the question too simple for him to refuse.

“He drives a Toyota pickup, beige in color.”

“Give me the plate, please?” Maggie made eye contact with the evasive teen, holding his gaze. “We will be coming back, and he’s not in trouble. We need to ask questions, that’s all, and the sooner, the better.”

Reluctantly, the son read out the plate, and Maggie thanked him and copied it onto her phone.

“I’ll tell him to expect you,” the son called out, as they turned to leave.

Maggie guessed the son would warn McBride, and she didn’t think that would be a good thing.

If he knew he was guilty of something, he’d avoid the police.

As soon as they were back in the car, Jamie got on the radio.

“We have a person of interest we’d like to speak to. Gavin McBride. I’ve got his license plate here. If anyone spots his car, please give us a heads-up.”

“Copy that,” the operator said.

With an APB out on the plate, Maggie realized that they needed a new strategy. It was starting to get dark, and their remaining suspect was only going to be home in an hour.

“Do you think we should go door to door?” she asked Jamie, as they drove back into a town that she was now sure held secrets. “Ask some of the old timers what they know?”

He shrugged. "It's a possibility now that people are heading home for the evening."

Maggie was about to suggest a strategy for making a start on this when her phone rang.

She picked up quickly, seeing that it was Olivia on the line.

Their IT guru sounded excited.

“Listen, those cameras that Mia set up in the forest? I’ve finally managed to get into the history, and you’re right. They picked up something – and you need to see it.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“You’ve seen what?” Maggie’s heart accelerated. This could be the breakthrough they needed.

“It’s a person, in both the frames, but I’m still working on downloading the footage. You have no idea how slow this site is.” Olivia sounded frustrated. “Just as I called you, it froze completely, and I now have to restart.”

“How long will it take?”

“It’ll take about twenty minutes. I just wanted to give you a heads-up." Suddenly, Olivia sounded like Maggie’s mother as she added, “Go get some food. I’m sure you haven’t eaten today.”

Maggie hung up. “Did you hear that?” she asked Jamie.

“I did,” he replied. “Parenting at its finest.”

“Kind of her to think we’re hungry, but we should do something else with the time. Maybe go and join a patrol.”

But Jamie shook his head again. He glanced at the car’s clock.

"Twenty minutes? We might as well go and eat, Maggie. Take a break. Take a step back for a moment. Sometimes, it helps with perspective."

She glanced at Jamie, appreciating his wisdom.

"You know what?" she admitted. "It would be good to sit down with you for twenty minutes and talk about something that isn't related to the case."

“I’d appreciate that, too,” Jamie said.

Maggie breathed out a sigh. “Imagine coming here for a normal vacation, and not because of unexplained murders. When’s the last time you took a vacation to a place like this, just to relax and enjoy a scenic little country town?”

“Not since the times I told you about when I was a kid,” Jamie admitted. “I think it’s on my to-do list now, though. How about you?”

“It would be another world for me. But I’d love it.”

“Maybe the two of us – sometime?” he asked.

For a moment, she allowed herself to visualize a vacation with Jamie – the two of them, taking it easy, enjoying all the quaint discoveries within the town, choosing which restaurant to have dinner at, planning their hikes as they explored the unspoiled forests.

The murders had shattered the innocence, fun and safety that she knew were reasons why people did want to visit Willow Creek. Maybe, one day, when they’d solved this case, they could come back and see the town for what it was.

“That’s a great idea,” Maggie said, seeing the warmth in Jamie’s eyes as she spoke the words.

It didn't take long to find an empty eatery in Willow Creek. Maggie guessed a lot of people had decided to postpone their day trip. The first restaurant they stopped at had only one other occupied table.

The waitress bustled over, giving them an extra warm smile for being one of the few customers who had braved Willow Creek today.

“What can I get you folk?”

"I'll have a Diet Coke and a cheeseburger," Jamie said.

“And for you, ma'am?” She looked at Maggie in an expectant way. Something in her face told Maggie she expected her to order a salad.

“I'll have your house pizza. The one with the tomato, pepperoni and feta cheese. And, um, a chocolate milkshake.”

Maggie gave in to her craving for her favorites as the waitress nodded approval.

Jamie grinned as she bustled away to put in the order.

“On fine form, agent Flight?”

Maggie shrugged. “It’s been a tough day. I need calories only a milkshake can provide, you know. What with running, climbing, even boxing, earlier on, with that reality show director.” It was difficult not to talk about the case, she realized. Stepping away from it wasn’t so easy.

“That was some takedown.” Jamie nodded appreciatively as he clearly also battled to distance himself from the earlier action. "At first, I was really mad because he shoved the desk in my direction, and I couldn't get to you. Then I realized that I didn't need to. In the time it took for me to get around that desk, you'd slammed him down on the ground."

Maggie felt her cheeks grow hot. Praise didn't usually have this effect on her, but there was something in Jamie's voice that was making it happen. Or maybe it was the expression in his face as he looked at her.

“Well, I was lucky. He was an aggressive street fighter, and he came in mad.” She downplayed things. He had actually had skill, but she didn't want to brag.

“I don't think there was much luck involved in that.” Jamie's voice told her that even though he'd been struggling with an overturned desk, he'd read the fight accurately.

Their food and drinks arrived. Maggie's milkshake was all she'd wished for. Rich with chocolate, drizzled with caramel. And it was clearly homemade, not from a packet. Someone had taken cocoa powder, and farm milk, and a scoop of homemade ice cream, and had blended it all together. Now she saw more than ever why Willow Creek was so appealing and why so many visitors usually came this way.

Even though she was impatient to find out what Olivia’s footage would reveal, nothing was going to take away Maggie’s appetite for her dinner.

She saw Jamie looking longingly at her drink. He was probably wishing he'd ordered one too.

“You want a sip?” She offered him the straw.

He didn't just take a sip. He was theatrical about it in a way that made her want to snort with laughter. He gazed down at the milkshake in a loving way. Maggie thought he might have sniffed the chocolaty surface first before taking a tiny sip through the straw. Then he closed his eyes, and an expression of bliss suffused his face.

“Perfection. There's nothing better than a real homemade milkshake from a small country town. Made me feel like I was a little guy here on vacation again, and that makes me all the more hell bent on getting things back to the way they were, so everyone can enjoy Willow Creek again.”

She felt happy inside because his thoughts had reflected hers so closely.

“We need to start thinking about a strategy for tomorrow. Just in case McBride doesn’t work out.” Jamie made the suggestion once he'd taken a huge bite of his burger and chewed it with relish.

Maggie paused with her pizza slice on the way to her mouth for a second bite.

“We need to dig deeper into the town. The tourism office is only the first stop. There are plenty of other places we can go to ask questions. Towns like this, you know everyone is in everyone else's business.”

So far, they've been chasing all around a wide, remote area In search of a killer so elusive that she was sure most people still believed it was a woodland monster. And a small town didn't seem so small when you were trying to probe secrets from it.

Jamie sighed. “The problem is that some people in Willow Creek might be shielding other people. That’s what can happen in small towns. Yes, people will rat out their neighbors for minor offenses, but the bigger issues? It works the other way around, and people often close ranks against the outsiders – and the police. Particularly given all the hints we’ve had about the old-timers and their attitudes.”

Maggie nodded. “It’s also possible that the killer has been able to fit in well enough in the community that nobody knows who they really are. Small towns are surprisingly good hiding places for psychopaths.”

As Maggie was lifting the fourth tasty, cheesy piece of pizza to her mouth, her phone rang.

She lowered the slice and picked up fast. It was Olivia.

“I’ve gotten you the results,” she said. “Long story short, you need to get into the woods. The man I saw has changed into Bigfoot, somewhere between the first and second camera. I can’t see who he is. Angle’s all wrong, and it’s only his back view, although I’ll also forward it to the sheriff, in case she recognizes who it is. But maybe he left something behind when he changed, and it will give you a clue?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Maggie slid a few ten dollar bills under her empty milkshake glass, stuffed another bite of pizza into her mouth, and then she and Jamie were on the move. Her heart was thudding fast.

Finally, they were going to see a shot of the person responsible for the killing. She couldn't wait for that footage to come in.

As she started up the car, Jamie was checking his phone.

“Here we go. Take a look at the first footage. Olivia was right. All you can see is a man’s back view. And it’s not even in focus. He’s moving outside the trail, and I am sure he’s being very careful to follow Mia without attracting attention.”

Maggie peered down at the phone, staring intently at the shadowy man. It was blurred, and he was outside the camera’s field of focus, but she could pick up a few clues. For a start, he was tall and big-built, wearing blue jeans and a dark jacket. The jacket had a hood, which was stretched over his head, hiding his hair color since the camera had only caught his back view. He had a bulky bag slung over his shoulders, further obscuring his shape.

She couldn’t see enough to guess at who he was, but perhaps someone in town might know more? Was there anyone who could identify him from this blurred and hazy footage?

It might not be clear enough, but at least it was evidence that a human had walked this way.

And now, the second footage?

As Jamie switched to that, Maggie felt a flare of trepidation. What would they see? The time stamp was twenty minutes further ahead. There must have been a walk between the two cameras, and of course, Mia would have taken time to put the camera in position and turn it on.

She gasped as she saw the footage.

Suddenly, a huge figure loomed in the screen. His immense back view filled the entire picture before he began striding away. Tall, solid, intimidating, and the camera caught a steely flash from the metal claws at the end of his long arms.

That same hood was still in place, covering his head.

And his legs? With her heart frantically drumming but trying her best to keep an analytic and calm approach, Maggie guessed that he must be wearing stilts with big, solid bases where the feet would be. Foot shaped. Maybe they were made of wood, especially to provide support? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was watching the Bigfoot impersonator head down the trail, away from the camera, to intersect with the woman who would have been his first victim.

She let out a shaky breath.

“Well, we have some proof. Not enough to catch the killer, but some.”

Hitting the gas, she headed down the road in the direction of the trails. There was only a few minutes of light left, and they needed to make the most of it, in case any clues had been dropped when this killer morphed into a monster.

*

Maggie pounded along the trail, watching the coordinates on her map, seeing the first camera’s pin drop get closer. It was much darker in the woods, and she already had her flashlight out, the beam swinging left and right as she ran, with Jamie behind her.

She was on high alert for any noise, any small sound from these impenetrable woods.

Slowing to a walk, she gasped in a breath.

“Okay, here we are. First camera is on the right, so now, let’s see if there’s anything beyond it.”

If Olivia was watching, she would have seen them enter the frame and leave it again. Her friend would know that they were on site, and on the hunt.

Anywhere along this section of trail, this killer could have opened the bag, and made his transformation into the monster. Had he left a trace, anywhere?

She was going slowly now and scanning the path carefully with her flashlight. There had been rain since the first kill, and leaves had fallen, and the forest floor looked pristine. But one clue was all they needed. Just one could give them the break they were waiting for.

She made sure to look under the leaves, to scrutinize the muddy patches carefully, to look at the edges of the path and not just the middle. They couldn’t afford to miss anything now. Every small detail was critical.

She caught her breath as the flashlight picked up something light and bright, but it was only a piece of raw bark that must have fallen from one of the overhanging trees.

She carried on, becoming aware of the silence of the woods, and trying her best to suppress the creepy feeling that was starting to settle in her mind.

Then, her flashlight gleamed over something else. This time, it wasn’t just bark.

“Look here!” She spoke the surprised words as she bent down and rummaged in her pocket for an evidence bag.

She had no idea if this was a significant piece of evidence or not. It was a padlock – a thick, solid one that must have provided sturdy protection for the door it guarded.

Its rusty state showed Maggie that it was old – maybe decades old.

And as she picked it up carefully, using the bag as her grip, she noticed something else unusual and strange.

On the rusty shaft, there was a fresh, bright section of steel. The padlock had been cut.

“What do you make of that?” she asked Jamie.

He shook his head. "I don't know. No idea what it means. But it might have fingerprints on it. This could help us track this killer. I mean, it's lying right there in the path where he walked, and it's an odd thing to find.

“It is,” Maggie said. “It’s a very strange thing to find.”

It was fully dark now, and a cold breeze was gusting through the forest, rustling the leaves in bursts. The sudden coolness was prickling her spine.

And, as the breeze died down and the forest was still again, Maggie heard the distinctive crack that a branch might make if someone stood on it.

And it was coming from nearby.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

“Did you hear that?” Maggie’s voice dropped to a whisper as her heart sped up again.

Jamie murmured, “Yes, I did.”

She shone her flashlight into the trees, but a thousand leaves swallowed the light, and she couldn’t see further than a few yards.

Even though the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up, Maggie knew this could also be someone else – a hunter, or even an innocent animal.

“Who’s there?” she called.

She took a step into the woods, and then another. It was impossible to get further with any speed. The undergrowth was dense.

Now, she heard the cracking again, and this time, it was further away.

Whatever had been close by was retreating. There was no way they could catch it now. And maybe, Maggie thought, the opposite also applied. If it was heading the other way, then they weren’t being targeted – for now at least.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jamie said.

With adrenaline still fizzing inside her, Maggie turned back to the trail. She kept her right hand close to the grip of her gun all the way back between the trees.

As they got back into the car, the radio crackled to life. It was Sheriff Holbrook getting in touch.

“Listen, I got that footage. I don't know who the man in the camera frame is. I'm sending it to my team to see if anyone recognizes him. But in the meantime, you wanted to speak to Mr. McBride? His pickup’s just been spotted by one of our patrols. He’s just arrived at the bar on the main road.”

Had he left the woods and driven straight there?

"Copy," Maggie said quickly. She knew the bar that Holbrook was referring to because they'd passed it several times. It was the Bigfoot Bar – of course. What else would it be in this town?

She sped along the dirt road, heading out of the forest, wondering again who’d been in there, and why, and where they were headed now.

Was this killer in the woods, lying in wait for a victim? If so, then Maggie fervently hoped that the visitors and locals were going to obey that advisory.

If not, there was a good chance they’d become prey.

The Bigfoot Bar was a mile down the main road. It was a festive-looking place, with a neon notice and brightly colored lights. There were several cars parked outside, and from their license plates and appearance, Maggie guessed they all belonged to locals.

She parked at the end of the row, and she and Jamie went inside.

The sound of muted conversation and the thump of rock music filtered out as she opened the door. There were a few men in their fifties and sixties surrounding the bar and a few couples sitting at the tables. The air smelled of beer, and a waitress with a dishcloth tucked into her jeans belt was carrying two overflowing glasses to the furthest table.

Maggie headed for the bar.

The barman gave them an entitled stare that made Maggie wonder if he was also an old-timer. He was stocky, with tattoos on his forearms that looked decades old, and a thick mustache that looked like it belonged in the 1980s.

He watched them curiously as they walked up to the counter.

“Agents Flight and Rodriguez,” Maggie said. “Two Cokes, please?”

He didn’t make a move to get them the drinks. “You’ve come in here for Cokes?” he asked.

“And something else, too. We’re looking for Gavin McBride. Is he here?”

As she spoke, she watched his face.

His eyes flicked right. The man sitting at the bar, with a full glass of beer in front of him, was probably in his late fifties, solid and graying and wearing an olive green outdoors jacket.

He didn’t answer, but that was fine with Maggie. She had the information she needed.

"Get us the Cokes, please?" She slapped down a ten-dollar bill. Then, she strode over to speak to McBride.

He'd seen her coming and was gulping down his beer when she leaned on the bar next to him.

“I’ve got nothing to say to the police,” he told her. His voice was flat and hard, his gaze was closed all the way in. He didn’t want her here, in this bar, in his space, asking questions. She could see already it was going to be a battle for the answers.

“You seem to think I want to speak to you?” he asked.

The man next to him in the bar gave a derisive chuckle at that comment.

“Refill, please?” he asked the barman.

The waitress bustled back again with an empty tray, picking up another round and taking it out to the tables. She gave Maggie a quick smile, as if she’d sensed that the locals were giving her a hard time and she was rooting for her.

Jamie was now on the other side of McBride. That meant his neighbor couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation anymore, but it was making McBride himself even more annoyed.

“I’ve just got here to relax after a long day at work, and I don’t want to be harassed by the police.”

He drained his glass.

“I don’t want to harass you, but I do want answers. Is that such a problem?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t want to give you answers. I don’t have any reason to speak to you. Why don’t you leave me alone?”

“Because we want to know why you laid a complaint against the tourists that you said were blocking the road? Is that correct?”

“I am not speaking to you about that. My complaint should never have gotten to you. What happened to privacy laws?” His voice was peaking in rage. He was seriously mad. Why so mad at that question? Maggie detected a truckload of defensiveness.

“Do you complain about tourists often?” she asked. “I'd like to know more about this, because threats about getting payback are serious, and you made them.”

“You're lying. I never threatened any tourists. I don't need to bully people in that way when they're weaker than me. Why would I do that?”

“That’s what I’m asking. Why would you?”

Maggie felt deeply curious. It was as if there was something about the confrontation that was making him feel guilty. That was what this seemed like. It felt as if he was circling around a topic that he did not want them to find out about.

He was breathing faster now, and a small vein in his temple was starting to pulse. That was a sign that he was getting enraged.

She was puzzled over why her questions were triggering this man so badly. He was becoming angry, and she had no real idea why. All she knew was that guilty people got a whole lot madder when they were asked difficult questions, than innocent ones did.

“I don’t need to answer your questions.”

He slammed his empty glass down. Then, he got off his stool and headed to the back of the bar.

He was going to the restrooms, but Maggie had no idea if he was going to use that as a convenient escape route. He might go outside from there or come back into the bar itself.

The barman had poured her a Coke. Now that her attention was off the man who’d been on her right, she saw the glass.

Maggie picked it up and drained it, the soda sweet and icy cold, with a hint of lemon from the slice in the glass. Then, she murmured to Jamie, “I’ll go to his car. You go that way?”

That should cover all bases.

She jumped off the stool and headed for the exit.

Either way, she promised herself, they were going to get McBride – and the information he was hiding.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Outside, the night air was fresh and cool. The beige pickup was still in its place, a light dew now misting the windows.

As she headed over to it for her stakeout, Maggie’s nose picked up a hint of cigarette smoke.

She turned to see the waitress, with her back against the outside wall, inhaling deeply and gratefully.

“Long night?” Maggie asked, feeling sympathetic.

The woman nodded. “Always a tougher gig when the old-timers are the only ones in the bar. Doesn’t happen often. But they don’t tip as well, and they stay until all hours.”

Nodding with a wry smile, Maggie said, "If the old timers had their way, they'd be the only ones in town, I believe?"

"Yeah. My mother was an old-timer." Warming to her topic, the waitress became chattier. "She always used to talk about the good old days and how close the men in town were. It was like they were a brotherhood. They wanted Willow Creek to be a hideaway that nobody knew about."

“Did they?” Intrigued, Maggie listened as she spoke.

“It was founded around fifty years ago. It was a very dangerous place back then. Very remote. I believe the original Mr. Willow’s idea, as a young man and the founder, was that it should be a small outlying community. Tiny, more like a hamlet, actually. Problem is, it was so well located and so beautiful that it grew like wildfire. I think over the years, a lot of the detractors realized that growth was good and that the town was becoming prosperous and they could benefit from it, so their attitude changed. My mother always said it was as if they and the town grew together. She said she liked every one of the early settlers here except Mr. Willow himself.”

“That's interesting.” Maggie encouraged her.

“You know, everyone is so scared about these attacks. I try to calm myself by remembering that the woods were infested with wildlife back then. There were several attacks in the very early days. Then, nothing more, and I always remember my grandmother, when she spoke about those times, telling us that the town’s founders had sorted the problem, although I don’t know how. And now here we are. Let's hope that we can overcome this, right?” She looked nervous as she spoke the words.

Maggie had the rare ability to always listen closely when people spoke. She knew it was one of the skills that made her a good profiler, even though it was also a burden because she couldn't simply disengage from a conversation like this. Not now that she had gotten involved in it.

Besides, it was starting to intrigue her. In fact, she realized that she was busy putting new pieces into the puzzle based on what the waitress had said.

There was a picture forming in her mind, and it was helping her to understand what was happening in this town.

“So there were a lot of bear attacks – what, forty years ago? Why?”

"I guess back then, wildlife was much more aggressive, you know?”

“Why should that be?”

“I don’t know, but it was what my mother always used to say. It was interesting that from that time, the legend of Bigfoot became part of the town's history, and it became known as the place where Bigfoot could be found. You know, people often ask, why Willow Creek? Why not anywhere else in the Pacific Northwest? Why not a town further north? I guess it was really because of all those attacks. But people forgot, and more settlers arrived, and gradually the town built its reputation on it instead of being damaged by it.”

“I believe the Willow family is still around?” Maggie asked.

“Oh, yes.” The waitress took one last, long pull on her cigarette before stubbing it out. “They’re actually the McBrides’ neighbors. But the farm owner, Mick Willow, hardly ever goes out. He’s the last surviving Willow, and like the rest of the family, he’s a recluse, and he doesn’t like crowds. If I’ve seen him twice, it’s a lot.”

Footsteps trod over the paving behind her, and the waitress turned, looking startled, and then skedaddled inside.

Maggie took a deep breath. Approaching from the other side of the parking lot and clearly hoping to make an unobtrusive getaway was McBride.

She waited, standing still in the shadows, not making a sound, because he was stressed and in a hurry, and he hadn’t seen her.

Three, two, one. She counted down the seconds. And then, as he opened the door, she ran for it. She grabbed the door and yanked it all the way open, and stood facing him.

He was shocked, Maggie knew that from the sharp, indrawn breath he gave, and the sudden tension in his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was wobbly. “Just leave me alone.”

“I had a question for you about tourists, Mr. McBride. You didn’t answer it, so I’ve come outside to see if you’re ready to talk now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another figure approaching. Jamie. He was striding up, having clearly followed McBride from the restroom.

“I’m not ready to answer your questions. You’re asking about a topic that isn’t yours to know.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Maggie said.

“I’m not telling you. Like I said, not yours to know. Willow Creek looks after its own.”

He shifted to the side, preparing to climb inside the car, and as he did, Maggie saw what was on the passenger seat.

Lit up in the glow from the pickup’s interior light, the steel shape of the tool was unmistakable.

It was a bolt cutter.

In a flash, she remembered the damaged padlock she’d picked up just a half hour ago, in the woods.

“What’s that for?” The question burst from Maggie’s lips, but she didn’t get an answer. Shoving her aside, McBride scrambled into the car and slammed the door. Before she could grab it again, he burned rubber backing out of his bay, swerving so violently that Maggie had to jump out of the way.

“What the hell was that about?” Jamie asked as the pickup’s engine screamed. The taillights vanished over the hill, and Maggie stared after them, her mind racing.

“I know he knows something we don’t.” Maggie was now starting to reach a conclusion. Finally, the thought she had put into this was reaching a conclusion.

“We need to pressure him.” Jamie frowned. “We should get going now.”

“I agree that we should get going. The only question is where.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I don’t think we should follow McBride. He’s not the person we need.”

“Who is, then?”

“We’ve missed something important. Something that has been an undercurrent in this case ever since the start. And that’s the history of this town.”

“The history? How do you think that’s relevant?”

“The thing about history is that it repeats itself,” Maggie said.

“And that’s somehow relevant to the case?” Jamie sounded confused.

“Yes, it is. I think that we have been missing the importance of something that happened in this town a few years after it was founded. One of the things that everyone's mentioned. And that is the kills, the deaths.”

“Well, what about them?”

“There are a few too many coincidences here.”

“In what way? You think the earlier reports of killings, from forty years ago, are connected to this? Jamie was frowning incredulously. He wasn't getting her yet, but Maggie was sure that he would.

“The Willow family founded this town. They intended for it to be a small, secluded place, just them and a few other chosen farming families, but then it started growing like wildfire. Then there were attacks in the woods. People were killed. It ended up cementing the town’s reputation as the location for Bigfoot. And now the town is growing again and properties are encroaching on their farmlands. All the old timers are feeling threatened and protective. I'm wondering if the same thing is happening again. And if it's the remaining Willow heir, who is angry about all the people in the town, and who believes he’s protecting their territory.”

"It would surely not be the same person. Those first kills were so long ago, that person must be very old by now."

“They were attributed to bears. Strange, because after that, the Bigfoot legend started. And where were the bears, in any case? There weren’t grizzlies in California forty or fifty years ago. Did black bears kill so many? I don’t think the bears were the killers back then. That’s what we’ve been missing. There was a small group of men, led by Willow, who didn't want their town to grow. They wanted it to be an isolated hamlet.”

Jamie nodded slowly. “I see exactly what you're saying now, Maggie. There are echoes.”

“I think there was a reason why the Willow family has always been so reclusive. I think the family may have psychological issues. Issues that started with the father, or even generations before that, and continued on to the son. That's why they looked for a secluded hamlet and why they wanted so few people around. What if these people genuinely believe that they are monsters?”

Jamie's eyes were wide as he considered her words.

“Then I guess they would go out and kill, believing that they had to keep the town protected from outsiders?”

Maggie nodded. “But just like you keep secrets locked away in your mind, maybe they had a different way of locking up those secrets? Maybe people in the town knew about it from the first time, because it was one of those legends that gets passed down over the years, told to only an exclusive few until nobody knows whether it's really true.”

Jamie's eyes were wide.

“Are you talking about that lock we found in the woods? That's what you mean, isn't it, Maggie? It's that lock.”

“We found a lock. I saw bolt cutters. I think McBride went and cut the lock on a door that was deliberately barricaded long ago to keep the secrets inside. To stop the owner of the door from accessing what it kept locked away. Because he knew that when the lock was off the door, whatever was inside would start to get used again."

“So we don't need to go to the McBride farm.” Jamie's expression was intense. “We need to go to the Willow farm. And see if we can find what's hidden there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

In his memory, he could see the man. When he thought of him, it felt as if he was eight years old all over again, peeking around the door of the barn. The door that was always kept tightly locked with a big silver padlock, except for the rare occasions when the man went inside.

Curiosity had brought him to the big wooden door, and when he saw what was inside, he’d been rooted to the spot.

The man was a giant, threatening and lethal, with steel blades at the end of his arms. The blades had made a strange clanking noise when he moved. That first time, he'd been terrified. The sight of a monster in the shed had taken his breath away.

He had let out a gasp, unable to stop himself. He'd seen the figure turn, and he’d known that it was all over then. Whoever this monster was, it was going to get him. He felt terrified, but suffused by a strange excitement.

Strangely, though, when that deadly figure had turned his way, it hadn't attacked. Instead, it strode forward and bent close to him, giving a low chuckle that was menacing and yet familiar. Gasping in a shocked breath, he had seen his father's eyes behind that glowering mask. Consternation had filled him. How was this possible? How had his father turned into a monster?

Leaning close, his father had whispered the words he remembered still.

“This has to be done. Some people have wronged us. They're stealing what's ours. And you don't wrong the Willows without payback. That's the family motto, son. We always make sure we get our revenge.”

There had been a strange light in the man’s eyes. He hadn't sounded or looked like his father at all. But he hadn't spoken another word.

He had simply strode out into the darkness.

From then on, the boy had watched again and again, and he had seen what had happened and how his father had come back. He'd returned a different person. Those steel blades had been bloodied, and his big stilt-like boots had been muddied. He’d been breathing hard, uttering a gleeful laugh of satisfaction. The sound had been at once terrible and hypnotic.

“You want to come with me sometime? You want to watch? I think I might do one more, just one more before I lock up this shed forever." The words panted out of his father's mouth.

Strangely, he'd started to feel the same desire inside himself. To go out there. To become that person that his father was. To roam the woods and to rake his steel claws over the intruders.

As if he was the monster, the one who had the power.

“You see, son? You see what we need to do. Nobody will ever know, because we become somebody different. The monster takes over our mind. It'll happen to you. You wait and see. It happened to my father, too, and then to me. It's the family curse, although I think of it as a blessing."

His father had screamed with laughter.

And the boy he had been had recoiled from the truth of it. How could he do such a thing? This was shocking. Impossible. How could his father go out into the woods and do this? How could he come back with those bloodied steel claws?

He'd fought the desire, and resolved to be different, even though every time his father went out, he couldn't help but creep down to the shed and watch him.

But he had promised that he would break this cycle and that he would never unleash what he sensed inside himself.

His father had grown old. He'd become frail. He had no longer gone out into the woods, and he hadn't even made sense a lot of the time. At the age of eighty, he'd finally passed away.

But as he himself had gotten older too, he'd found that same compulsion creeping into his own mind. He'd found himself going out into the shed, putting on the claws and the boots. Wearing this disguise, he had roamed into the nearest woods, walking quietly, finding his balance on the tall stilts, feeling as if he was a true part of the woods in a strange way that he never had before. It had almost seemed as if his father's voice was talking inside his head, guiding him as he strode in the darkness and learned its secrets.

And when he was out in the woods, strangely, he felt his anger started to build. He felt the same fury that he knew his father had felt as he saw other people roaming the woods, hunting the wildlife, driving away the bears, slaughtering the deer. This was his land.

Even though it was difficult, he had kept to the shadows and roamed alone and avoided people, even though he had felt that need to kill building inside him, and he slowly felt as if the spirit of Bigfoot was taking over his mind.

And yet he'd managed to resist becoming the monster, although when he knew he was alone in the woods, he had slashed trees, he had cut branches, he had clawed the ground. He'd imagined that he was taking a victim, just the way that he knew his father had done.

But still, he resisted it. Even when the woods became more crowded and when walking out in his disguise became more difficult. And when he heard the old timers complaining about the evil of the people who had invaded the town and how terrible they were and what damage they were doing.

He still managed to resist it until the time came when he couldn't anymore.

The town was crying out for him to do what he needed to. After all, this was why Willow Creek existed. It existed because of his father. And he had inherited his killing urge, his ability to become somebody else.

The voice in his mind got louder and louder, and one day, he knew that he was ready to become the monster, and that there was no holding back, that the monster was consuming his mind.

When that time came, he'd forced himself into compliance by locking the barn door with his steel hands inside – those claws that his father had made and that he had kept sharpened and oiled.

He locked them away and flung the key into the creek, and then, for a couple more years, he had managed to avoid the barn, even though he’d often stood by the door and wondered what would happen if he were to go inside.

And then came the day when everything changed.

The day when he came down to the barn, and he found that the lock was broken.

He stared at it for a while, holding out his hand and picking up the thick lock, staring at the sheared metal, feeling excitement boiling inside him, and then, with a sudden jerk, pulling the door open.

It was meant to be!

Everything was still in there and it had been so easy to put it on again.

He’d slid his arms into those gloves and felt the wooden supports that he'd made so long ago. With those great steel claws, they were still so sharp that when he touched them, he felt them slice into the pad of his finger.

That was when he knew that destiny had spoken, and it was time for him to fulfill his calling.

He could barely remember anything that happened after that. And yet tantalizing memories knocked at his mind. Small glimpses flared among the darkness. A screaming face, constricted in terror. The power of his arm as he lashed out with one of the claw blades.

The claws were bloodied, and the stilts were muddied, and he knew he had become the monster and that he would be this person forever. Now that he had unleashed it, he would be its slave, just like his father before him.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

“It’s up this way. Go left here.”

“On it,” Maggie replied through gritted teeth, swinging the wheel to the left.

Jamie was watching the map closely as Maggie floored the gas down the hill. She'd put the word out to the other police, and they were converging as quickly as Holbrook could get her scattered forces together.

She knew that she and Jamie would be first at the Willow farm. She had no idea what they would find.

Here was the McBride farm up ahead. This was where they'd been earlier. She wondered if McBride had driven straight home after leaving the bar. If he had, what had he done? Had he warned his family? Had he warned his neighbors?

“It must be the next one on this road.” At Jamie's warning, Maggie slowed, watching the darkened sidewalk carefully, waiting for any sign of a farm gate or a notice board.

There it was. The wooden farm gate was closed, although tire marks in the dirt driveway showed that cars had recently been in and out.

Jamie jumped out and dragged the gate open. As she drove through, Maggie's spine prickled in suspense. She had no idea what they would find in here.

Or who would be at home?

The driveway curved around a bank of trees, and then they saw the farmhouse ahead.

It was a shabby but homey building. Its roof looked in need of repair. Tall, well-established trees stood in the garden, with a rusty old swing hanging from one thick branch.

There were lights on in the window. Maggie headed to the door and hammered on it.

She waited, breathing hard. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when nobody came to the door. She doubted whether anyone was at home.

Mick Willow was probably out, looking for his next target.

Self-blame filled her that she'd realized this so late.

Quietly, she walked around the house, staring left and right. The wind was gusting strongly, and there was an expectant feel in the air. Perhaps that was because weather was blowing in. The sky was thick with clouds.

Buildings loomed ahead of her, and she shone her flashlight over them.

“This could be the place?” she whispered. The small shed was so old that the door was hanging half off its hinges. Inside, the light played over rusty machinery, a broken lawn mower, and a metallic section that looked like it came off a combine harvester. That made her think of the metal claws and how easy it would have been to make them using farming machinery.

“Nope, not this one,” Jamie murmured back, sounding reluctant.

The shed was clearly not the place where the Bigfoot items had been stored, because the door didn’t have a place for a padlock.

Self-doubt clenched at her stomach. What if it the lock wasn’t from this farm after all? She might be wrong about this theory. So much of it was based on the puzzle pieces she'd put together and on the profiling she'd done rather than hard evidence. Hard evidence was what she was hoping to find now.

Here was another building which looked bigger and more solid. In fact, it looked as if its old walls might have been shored up recently by new boards from the outside. Fresh planks were haphazardly nailed over the old, splintered ones.

She headed around, looking for the doorway.

There it was. And it was ajar. She saw a narrow, gaping crack in the weathered wood, and a rusted, metallic loop where a padlock had once been.

She’d found it.

Maggie put on a glove and pushed the door open, hearing Jamie’s footsteps softly treading over the scuffed paving stones behind her.

Inside, her flashlight cut through the utter darkness. Everything in here looked as if it was from a mausoleum. It was covered in dust, but as she looked at the floor, she saw that sets of footprints had been tracked in the thick dust. Some were the normal size of a man's print with visible boot treads. A few of the others were large and shapeless, and a shiver went through her as she realized that these were the same prints she had seen out in the wood at the killing scenes.

She gave them a wide berth as she headed further in, needing to preserve the evidence. They had him. At last, they were in Bigfoot’s lair.

A few items at the back of the barn gave her yet more clues. A heap of sacks tossed aside with scuffs in the dust. A couple of old-looking but wicked blades and a knife sharpener. A hammer and some nails. And some dark fur, sliced in strips, lying on the dusty floor. Perhaps it had once come from a bear. Now, Maggie knew what it had been used for.

McBride had opened up a Pandora's box and unleashed the horrors that had been buried for decades. He'd cut that lock purposely, because he was one of those who knew the town's secrets, and he knew how payback worked in Willow Creek.

But there was no sign of the man they needed. Where was Mick Willow? They had to find him.

They needed to set out new search parties now. If he didn’t have a trackable phone, how could they predict where he would be?

Her mind was distracted and preoccupied as she turned to leave.

"Let's get the police here. We can make a start. I think there's enough." She whispered the words to Jamie, and he nodded.

“For sure, there's enough. We've got him now. We just need to move on this before he can take anybody else.”

Maggie headed to the door. Hearing the blustering wind outside, she walked out.

And then, over the sound of the wind, from above her head, something lashed out at her, so silent and fast that she almost didn't take see it at all.

Pure instinct had her diving aside as the slashing claws came down.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

“Watch out, Jamie, watch out!” Maggie shouted the warning as she ducked. The claws thudded down with a metallic screech, and one of them caught the side of her holster. Dagger sharp, the blade ripped it open and sent her gun spinning down into the darkness, as she dove the other way.

Great. Just great. No weapon to fight him with.

The flashlight had clattered down on the ground as she’d evaded the attack, and its low light illuminated the tall figure as he lunged for her a second time. Adrenaline surged inside her as she realized how lethally fast he was. He was more monster than man right now. She needed to get her gun again.

As she fell, his foot stamped forward, and instead of going after her gun like she'd intended, Maggie found herself having to writhe away, desperately jackknifing to safety.

The next moment, his arm lashed out, and with a forceful movement, he slammed the barn door. It crashed shut, and he kicked it firmly, wedging it in its frame.

Would Jamie be able to get out? Not without a struggle.

She was trapped between the slashing blades and his heavy, stamping wooden feet, two lethal points of attack.

Again, his foot stomped down as Maggie twisted sideways. Reaching out, she grabbed at one of those feet. But, of course, her fingers simply scraped over a hard wooden stilt.

She needed to get higher to attack him back.

She could hear guttural grunts emerging from his throat, even though she could barely see his face. All she could see was a tall, hairy silhouette and the glint of steel. He was crouched, ready to lash out at her again. Crashes and bangs came from inside the shed as Jamie tried to fight his way out.

Maggie realized that he thought he was a monster. He was convinced of it. She could see it in his body language. She could hear it in his breathing.

While he believed he was a monster, he was unstoppable. That she knew. The violence in him was so innate that it had needed to be locked away. That was the family secret that Willow Creek had been built on. Her only hope now was to talk him down, even while she was evading him.

“Mick Willow. Mick.” She said his name loudly, wondering if the use of that word would jolt him out of his delusion.

She thought he paused. At any rate, there was another half second between the attacks that were keeping her jumping and scrambling for her life along the uneven, dusty paving outside the barn.

If only she could get to her gun. But she couldn’t even see it in the shadowy darkness, and she had to leap aside again because the steel claws were lashing out again.

She tried again, not willing to give in to desperation and knowing that this was the only chance she had to stop him.

“Did your father teach you to do this? Did you see him go out into the woods forty years ago? You must have been a young boy then." She knew her voice was breathless. She was being punished by the unrelenting attacks. As she spoke, she had to jump and dive again because he was lashing at her with those claw-like hands, and they were lethal. They were so sharp and so hard they were striking sparks off the paving. Her boxing training was giving her the speed and judgment to stay alive, but this deadly dance couldn’t last.

He brought his arm down again, and this time a claw snagged her jacket, ripping the sleeve with a ragged tearing sound.

That had almost been her flesh. One claw in her and she wouldn't have a chance. She'd bleed out.

But she did think that question had made him hesitate, so she needed to try again, breathlessly.

“Maybe your father taught you this. Did you learn it from him? Maybe you should stop now. It's time to stop. You've done enough. You've achieved what you need to. The people are leaving the town.”

She realized with a shiver that her evasive maneuvers were taking her close to the wall of the next-door building that she'd seen earlier. If she got any closer to that wall, she was going to be pinned between it and the monster.

Damn it, if only she could get to her gun. If only she could reach it. But she couldn't. He wasn't giving her time or space to draw it as she ducked, rolled, and evaded.

How could she buy the time? Talking to him wasn't working. And as she was tiring, and getting closer to the far wall, she thought that his motions were getting more calculated.

But then, from the direction of the barn, she heard a rattling, scuffing sound that sounded more promising than the bangs and thuds. She only just picked it up above the gasping of her breath and the scrape of her boots as she dove aside yet again.

He hadn't noticed yet. He hadn't heard that sound. His own breath was ripping harshly from his throat. He was grunting, his eyes blank, his gaze focused only on her, and his motion relentless, like a machine. No wonder Willow Creek had gained the reputation for being the home of a monster, because once the Willows were in its grip, they were unstoppable.

Talking him down hadn't worked. Maybe she should try the opposite.

As his foot shot toward her again, Maggie scrambled back. Now she had the boards right at her back. There was nowhere left for her to evade him, and she heard him give a hoarse shrieking laugh. In the breezy night, it sounded like a monster's scream.

And she screamed at him in turn.

“We are going to beat you.” She yelled out the words. “We're going to beat you. This town will be flooded with tourists. The woods will be eaten up with houses. You won't have any peace. They'll never let you be alone.”

As she spoke, she managed to leap aside because now he was seriously on the attack. Now, she realized that the earlier maneuvers had been nothing more than taunting her.

But now, her words had maddened him. And they’d affected his judgment.

His claw lashed out at her, but it scraped against the wall of the shed – too high and wide, and for a moment, it stuck there.

This time, Maggie had the barest chance, the opportunity she needed to lunge for the dark shape on the ground and grab up her gun at last.

He screamed in an unearthly voice as the blades lashed down again. Instead of shooting, she had to scramble sideways, bashing her shoulder against a drainpipe.

And then, from behind her, she heard a shout.

“Hey, Bigfoot. Hey, Bigfoot. I bet you can't get me!”

The taunting words were Jamie’s.

The monster that was Willow whirled around, letting out a gargle of rage.

Maggie took a moment to aim. And then, raising her weapon, she fired it.

The bullet thudded into Willow’s right shoulder blade.

He uttered another cry, this one laced with pain. He was staggering. Now his arm was hanging limply, the metallic claws looking like swinging knives.

Jamie rushed up to him, and Maggie launched herself at his left arm, which was uninjured, and still the one that carried the lethal power. Together, she and Jamie grasped it and yanked him sideways. He gave a bellow of rage as he lost his balance and fell heavily off his stilts and onto his side.

The blades were affixed to a wooden handle which was strapped to his wrist so firmly that she couldn't undo it. All she could do was drag his hand behind his back. Then she managed to get hold of the other arm, the injured and weakened one. His legs in those rough wooden shoes were still stamping as if he wanted to squash them like bugs.

But the pain had got the better of him. He'd been able to transcend most sensory input while in his monster state, but not the simple agony of a bullet in the bone.

Together, they got the handcuffs on. Finally, he was quiet, his breath rasping in his throat as he lay face down.

Jamie reached out his hand, and grasped her own in his. Relief flared in his eyes. She squeezed his hand and slipped her arm around him, letting her guard down for a moment, just as he was doing.

From the road, Maggie heard sirens approaching. Holbrook and her team were on their way.

And at last, they had caught themselves a monster.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

“So, Flight? How are you feeling?” Jamie spoke the words to Maggie jokingly, but she could hear the concern behind them. It was a sunny morning, and they were sitting side by side on an airplane heading back to San Jose.

“Well. I'm feeling stiff and sore. I feel as if I've done twenty rounds in the ring with someone three times my weight. And how do you feel?”

“I feel damned relieved that you made it, and also that I managed to wriggle out of that window when I did.”

“Willow set a clever trap. He knew where we were going, he knew we'd find him, and he lured us in. I must say. I wonder how delusional he really was, and how much of what he did was purposeful.” Maggie considered that carefully. “I'm glad you got out of that window when you did.”

“Me, too.”

Their arms were pressed together. Their hands were brushing. Maggie had to admit, she loved the contact she was having with Jamie in the cramped confines of the airplane seats. She couldn't deny her attraction to him from a purely physical standpoint.

And yet, Maggie knew that the successful conclusion of this case had deepened their relationship in other ways. They’d gotten closer, each letting the other a little further inside their guard. She felt differently about Jamie now, in a way that made her feel at once hopeful and shy. She guessed time would tell what happened next between them. But at least they've been an unbeatable team last night.

Once arrested and processed, and with all his accessories and blades removed. Willow had been taken to the hospital under police guard, and they had questioned him there. He would later be transferred to a psychiatric ward where, without a doubt, he would serve a life sentence for his crimes.

In the questioning, Willow’s responses had veered from the sullen defensiveness of an old timer to the incoherent ramblings of a man who was part monster. He talked about his father. He'd idolized what he did, saying that he'd cleansed the town, that he'd kept it small, and that he'd made sure people respected the woods.

But then, in another breath, he talked about how the dangers needed to be locked away, and how he’d wanted the padlock to stay on the door, and that Bigfoot must never walk the woods again.

He’d been two people. A man – and then, when his mind turned, a monster.

McBride, and possibly a few others, would face serious charges for having enabled his neighbor and, in fact, provided the trigger for the killings to occur. Maggie didn’t know if they’d acted this way out of protectiveness for the town, wanting it to be the way it used to be, or whether they had been scared to say anything.

Either way, by the time Maggie and Jamie landed, the news would be all over the country.

Even Simmons had personally called them while they were sitting on the plane before it took off to congratulate them on a job well done.

And Holbrook, too, had received congratulations from Simmons, from the area chief, and even from the state governor. The praise had been well deserved. Holbrook hadn't known the details about the old network that had festered in the town, although Maggie knew she'd sensed it.

Holbrook had thanked them in a heartfelt way. And, this morning, after she'd given them a ride to the airport, she had presented Maggie and Jamie with a big box of chocolates as a thank you for what they'd done.

Best gift ever – for her anyway. She'd been touched by the gesture.

It was the best possible outcome for Willow Creek. With the public knowing that there had been only one human killer who was now in custody, and that the mythical Bigfoot hadn’t committed these crimes, would rebuild people's confidence in the town. Now, it could return to a beautiful vacation haven and a peaceful living space for those who loved it. And everybody could walk in the woods without fear.

Maggie felt at peace and satisfied, although she was aching all over, with a minor cut on one arm that she couldn't remember getting, and an ankle that throbbed when she walked on it. She knew she'd have to rest up for a few days before she went back for her boxing training.

But it had all been worth it in the end.

Maggie guessed she must have dozed, because it felt like they'd only been in the air a minute before the jolting bounce of the plane landing startled her out of her hazy thoughts.

They were back down on the ground. Back to work, back to normality, or at any rate, whatever passed for it while working for the Bureau.

But when she turned on her phone, she saw she had a message that must have been left while she was in the air.

It was from her mother, and Maggie felt anxiety surge inside her. She was never sure exactly what those messages would mean and whether it would be terrible news, or if she might hear the drunken slurring that always haunted her memory.

Quickly, as she and Jamie were walking through the airport, she listened to the message.

At least her mother sounded sober. Relief filled her as she realized that. But the content of the message got her spine prickling all over again.

“Hello Maggie, I'm so sorry to call you during working hours. Just so you know, everything's fine. Wilbur and I are all good. But I had a call just now, and it was strange. It was from someone who said he was Cole’s friend. Luckily I've recorded the call thanks to my new app – the one you recommended.”

Maggie listened carefully to the message, frowning as her mother continued.

“This man said that Cole needs our help. That he's in big trouble, and that he's hiding. The friend suggested a meeting place, and that. I should go there to learn more about Cole’s situation. Maggie, I am beside myself, and I don't know what to do. I am so worried for Cole, but I feel scared to do this, and I don't know if it would be sensible. There's something strange about this. I don't trust what that man said. Anyway, if I don’t hear back from you in time, I’ll probably go to the meeting anyway. At least we’ll get answers then.”

Maggie took a deep, shaky breath after hearing that.

She didn’t like the sound of this either. Why would Cole do such a thing? Was someone using him? Was this going to play out as a hideous gang revenge – Cole’s enemies getting payback by hitting the family?

Her mother might already be in terrible danger. Maggie needed to stop her from going to this meeting – if there was still time to do so. It could be an ambush or a trap.

But at the same time, it was also a chance – the only one she might get – to find out where Cole was and, perhaps, to see him again.

NOW AVAILABLE!

FINAL BREATH

(A Maggie Flight Suspense Thriller—Book Five)

“This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don’t have to wake up early!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

When prestigious Napa Valley winemakers are found literally drowning in their own success, it’s up to CBI Agent Maggie Flight to investigate. With each death, the pressure ferments to solve a mystery that threatens to spoil California's most celebrated industry.

FINAL BREATH is BOOK #5 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestseller NOT NOW (a free download) has received over 600 five star ratings and reviews. The series begins with FINAL KILL (BOOK #1).

This gripping crime series navigates through unexpected turns, heart-pounding action, and startling twists and turns. With its addictive storytelling and intricate plot, this page-turner will have you burning the midnight oil, unable to put it down until you've unraveled every last clue. Fans of Lee Child, Kendra Elliot, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are also available.

“This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn’t put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book.”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!”

—Reader review for The Killing Game

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

FINAL BREATH

(A Maggie Flight Suspense Thriller—Book Five)

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eleven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting);  the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the KELSEY HAWK SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising twelve books (and counting); the NORA PRICE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the NINA VEIL FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); OF the BARREN PINES PSYCHOLIGICAL SUSPENSE series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting).

THE KILLING GAME (an Alexa Chase Suspense Thriller—Book #1), LET ME GO (an Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book #1), and NOT ME (a Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book #1) are available as free downloads on Amazon!

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

MAGGIE FLIGHT SUSPENSE THRILLER

FINAL KILL (Book #1)

FINAL CHANCE (Book #2)

FINAL MISTAKE (Book #3)

FINAL LIE (Book #4)

FINAL BREATH (Book #5)

FINAL WHISPER (Book #6)

FINAL HOUR (Book #7)

ADDISON SHINE SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIND ME (Book #1)

FIND HER (Book #2)

FIND HELP (Book #3)

FIND HOME (Book #4)

FIND HIM (Book #5)

FIND YOU (Book #6)

FIND HOPE (Book #7)

FIND NO ONE (Book #8)

FIND OUT (Book #9)

FIND DEATH (Book #10)

FIND TRUTH (Book #11)

FIND COURAGE (Book #12)

FIND MERCY (Book #13)

BARREN PINES

THE UNSEEN NEIGHBOR (Book #1)

THE UNSEEN WIFE (Book #2)

THE UNSEEN KILLER (Book #3)

THE UNSEEN WOMAN (Book #4)

THE UNSEEN PAST (Book #5)

THE UNSEEN GUEST (Book #6)

THE UNSEEN FACE (Book #7)

NINA VEIL SUSPENSE THRILLER

AWAY FROM HERE (Book #1)

AWAY FROM HIM (Book #2)

AWAY FROM HOPE (Book #3)

AWAY FROM HOME (Book #4)

AWAY FROM HUMANITY (Book #5)

AWAY FROM MERCY (Book #6)

AWAY FROM SIGHT (Book #7)

AWAY FROM YOU (Book #8)

AWAY FROM SANITY (Book #9)

AWAY FROM INNOCENCE (Book #10)

NORA PRICE MYSTERY

CAN’T RUN (Book #1)

CAN’T HIDE (Book #2)

CAN’T ESCAPE (Book #3)

CAN’T SLEEP (Book #4)

CAN’T FORGET (Book #5)

KELSEY HAWK MYSTERY

DEAD INSIDE (Book #1)

DEAD RECKONING (Book #2)

DEAD TO ME (Book #3)

DEAD SILENCE (Book #4)

DEAD TO DAWN (Book #5)

DEAD END (Book #6)

DEAD OF NIGHT (Book #7)

DEAD CALM (Book #8)

DEAD AND GONE (Book #9)

DEAD WRONG (Book #10)

DEAD COLD (Book #11)

DEAD QUIET (Book #12)

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

NOWHERE PURE (Book #8)

NOWHERE SOUND (Book #9)

NOWHERE SANE (Book #10)

NOWHERE TRUE (Book #11)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

IN HIS MIND (Book #4)

IN HIS WAY (Book #5)

IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #6)

IN HIS DREAMS (Book #7)

DYLAN FIRST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

OUT OF REACH (Book #1)

OUT OF TOUCH (Book #2)

OUT OF TIME (Book #3)

OUT OF BOUNDS (Book #4)

OUT OF LUCK (Book #5)

LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

SOMETHING WRONG (Book 3)

SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)

SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)