Close to the Truth, page 9
‘It’s cosy.’ And not at all what she’d expected from Gil. She’d thought his place would be more modern somehow. The half a bottle of wine buzzed through her blood. Nerves wrapped around her stomach. She probably shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t resist Gil, she’d never been able to.
He gave her a small smile. ‘I know it looks like an old person’s apartment.’
Her lips curved. ‘No time to redecorate?’
‘That and I didn’t know what to do with it … so I thought I’d leave it until I felt inspired. I’ll give you the grand tour.’
The tour took about three minutes. There was one bathroom, two bedrooms, possibly a third up in the roof but it was being used for storage. The rest of the apartment was made up of living spaces. As they went around, Gil drew the curtains.
‘Did you want a drink?’ he asked when they made it back to the kitchen.
The tension between them was getting strained. They’d done this before, it shouldn’t be this awkward. Maybe it was awkward because they’d done this before.
‘No.’ She took a step toward him.
Gil pulled her close. His lips brushed hers. ‘I don’t want to rush this.’
They didn’t really have a choice. They had days, that was all. They both knew it could never be more.
‘I’ve been waiting ten years.’ She didn’t realise how true that was until the words left her mouth. She’d been hoping to see him again—part out of longing for what they’d once had and part out of fear that he’d remember exactly what they’d had. But time had been kind to their memories.
He didn’t say that she could’ve come back anytime. If she’d come back sooner, she wouldn’t have been ready to face him. She wouldn’t have been who she was now. It was only now she was able to keep her head high and glare down the gossips who’d wanted her to fail.
He deserved better than being the centre of the last round of gossip, but he’d chosen her. Again. He could’ve had anyone.
Her hand slid under his shirt. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips. He was familiar, yet strange. Not the boy she’d left behind, but there were glimpses of him. He’d been tempered by what his father had done and was stronger for it. Did he understand that his father had done them both a favour and made them better people?
His kisses deepened and they shrugged out of clothing, leaving shirts and jeans on the wooden floor. She almost tripped on the edge of a rug as they made it to his bedroom. His bed was huge, leaving only a foot of space around the edges. This piece of furniture wasn’t old—so perhaps he was in the process of updating the apartment.
She sprawled in the middle. ‘Why the ocean of sheets?’
‘Because.’ He crawled over her. ‘I spent too many years sleeping in a single bed where my toes touched the end without me even stretching.’ He kissed her again, then worked his way down her throat, to her collarbone. ‘Now I can spread out.’
She did her best starfish impersonation and her fingers didn’t reach the sides. She was about to make a joke about him overcompensating, but she knew that was a lie. Even at sixteen she’d seen enough naked guys to know he didn’t need to worry in that department. ‘I like it.’
She liked him. She’d wondered if the old chemistry would still be there or if it had been a fond memory, but it was still there. She shivered at his touch as his kisses went lower. Then he drew her panties down. Nice sensible cotton briefs, because that was what she travelled with. She rarely picked up when working. That wasn’t what she did.
He didn’t say a word about her underwear—smart man. He kissed the crease of her inner thigh and she held her breath.
‘I think what we had was pretty one-sided back then.’ His finger traced over her belly to her mound, then dipped lower.
She closed her eyes and swallowed. It had been. She’d given him his first head job, introduced him to sex. But they’d never gotten around to him going down on her. It had been another three years later before a guy had done that.
He pulled her panties all the way off and settled between her legs. ‘I think I owe you one … at least.’
‘At least.’ But then she couldn’t put thoughts together. Her nails pressed into his shoulders. She was drowning in the roiling lust. And she let herself be swept away.
***
Gil handed over the receipt to the camper who’d forgotten his tent pegs. The town was getting full and he was getting extra business, but he always did this time of year. He made sure to stock up on tent pegs and camp stoves and other camping paraphernalia in the lead up to the festival.
Nancy from the committee bustled her way in. She glanced at him, but didn’t say hello. That was odd. When the mayor walked in, Gil knew something was wrong.
There were a few people browsing and he didn’t want a scene in his store.
‘What’s up?’ He smiled at them both, even though he knew it couldn’t be good news.
The mayor didn’t look at him as he walked over to the till. ‘I’ve heard some unsettling news. I’ve been trying to call you all morning.’
‘It’s been busy in here. I left my cell phone upstairs.’ That’s where he hoped it was anyway. Hopefully it was in yesterday’s pants, which were still on the living room floor from last night. She’d been there when he’d woken up in the morning, but she’d slipped out with a kiss before the sun had even peeked above the hills. He drunk his coffee with a grin as he’d watched the sunrise. He tried hard not to smile about it in front of the mayor. ‘You could’ve called the store line.’
The mayor stared at him as though Gil was supposed know what was going on. Gil stared back. He knew exactly what this was about. Someone had seen Jasmine leave this morning—or had they seen them eating dinner and leaving restraint like an ordinary happy couple? That someone had obviously told the mayor exactly who Jasmine was.
The mayor huffed and lowered his voice. ‘It might be a good idea for you to step down from the festival committee. You seem to have got your interests conflicted.’
The mayor seemed to have got his panties twisted. ‘I’ve been making sure that the TV show does a good job on the River Man, just like you told me to.’ He widened his grin.
The mayor’s eyelid twitched. ‘I know your history with that girl and I know she doesn’t give a damn about this town.’
‘This town never gave a damn about her either, but they’re here to do their job. They’re professionals.’ Who were thinking that the mayor’s precious monster was more human than anyone knew.
It could be anyone. Gil exhaled.
The River Man could literally be anyone in town. Anyone with a vested interest in keeping the myth alive. But why so many deer kills over the last ten years? There was no need. People already knew the legend, and around here the murder from twenty years ago was still considered fresh.
‘Their job was to talk about the festival, not pull apart our River Man. How deep are they digging?’
He knew he should tell the mayor that it might be called a hoax, but the words didn’t form. The mayor wanted him off the committee so he didn’t need to say anything, that must be that conflict of interest. ‘No idea. I was too busy to ask.’
Nancy hovered not far behind the mayor now. She managed to look both concerned and scandalised. ‘We didn’t want to do this to you, but you left us no choice. We can’t have the committee associated with those people.’
Gil looked at her. ‘Those people? What, the TV show that you were so happy to have here?’
‘You know who I mean,’ Nancy said. ‘You should be thinking about yourself. You don’t need that trouble. Your grandfather would be appalled.’
Gil laughed. His grandfather would be thrilled with the disruption to those who thought they ran the town. He wished the old man was still here. He’d know a few River Man tales.
‘This is serious, son,’ the mayor said. ‘You are either on the committee and keeping away from her, or you are—’
‘I got it. Pick a side.’ He shouldn’t be having to pick sides. They were on the same side. The mayor should be wanting to find out the truth. Unless he already knew. ‘Without me, I doubt the crew will talk freely to the committee.’
The mayor hesitated. ‘Well, they can talk to Nancy if they need anything.’
‘I’ll let Jasmine know.’ Gil said coolly. He hoped that they had everything they needed, because he doubted the committee would be helpful now they knew who Jasmine was. They’d scuttle their five minutes of TV fame because of her. He saw how deep the hatred ran; it was no wonder she’d left and not looked back. It was a shame the people his age had been fed the same poison and would no doubt feed it to their kids without ever knowing why. Why were the Royles and Thorpes so hated?
The mayor turned to leave. Which was a good thing as there were now a couple of customers waiting to be served, pretending that they weren’t listening to every word.
Gil couldn’t resist one last strike. ‘You know, I didn’t believe her when she said people here don’t forgive or forget. Guess she was right. I was hoping she’d be wrong.’
The mayor broke step but didn’t turn. Nancy followed him out like an obedient dog. Now he wasn’t on the committee, he had a whole lot more free time. Guess they wouldn’t be inviting him back next year either.
Or the year after.
He was now one of those people.
Chapter 8
The ranger was a middle-aged man, who’d taken his hat off and rubbed his hair so many times it looked like he’d rubbed the front half of his hair off. Jasmine sipped her coffee. Living in Seattle, she’d become a bit of a coffee snob. She liked the expensive stuff, simply because she could afford it and she’d gone without for so long.
The best part of meeting the ranger was Simon wasn’t a local. He wasn’t bound up by generations of talk and local lore. ‘Do you have any photos of the deer kills?’
‘I can do better. I kept the deer.’
She almost dropped her coffee. ‘What?’
She’d been told it had been destroyed. Did the mayor know that the ranger had kept the deer and then lied to her? Or was Simon acting alone?
‘I knew you people were coming and I wanted you to see it. But this has to be off the show. You can’t tell anyone I have it because everyone wanted it gone. They like to pretend these things aren’t happening.’
‘Where is it?’ Hopefully in a freezer, but from the look on Simon’s face that wasn’t going to be the answer.
‘Out the back. It’s a bit ripe.’
It would be after sitting around for a few days. But she was okay with dead things and the bugs that liked to colonise them. ‘That’s okay. What will you do with it once I’ve had a look?’
She wished he’d spoken to her sooner, but maybe that would’ve looked suspicious and he was already wary, insisting nothing was recorded.
‘Bury it like I was supposed to. I had dug the hole and everything.’
She’d seen the pictures Gil had taken, but he hadn’t been taking them with a scientific eye. ‘Did it look like a bear attack to you?’
A bear was one of the theories that had been floated, even though the creature was called the River Man. Lumbering gait had come up a few times, and he was heavy set. Both of which matched up with what she remembered. She was keen to eliminate things from the list of possibilities. Posing logical suggestions and then discounting them made for good TV, it allowed people to think about it at home.
Simon shook his head. ‘I’ve seen bear attacks. This was no bear.’
The carcass was probably so contaminated it wouldn’t be worth getting samples. ‘You didn’t happen to take any swabs or tissue samples?’
Simon shook his head. ‘If they knew I had the carcass, they’d find a way to run me out of town.’
She didn’t doubt that at all. Conform or get out seemed to be the way they liked it in Bitterwood. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you could find out who’s behind this.’
‘Who?’ Her eyebrows lifted. Simon seemed pretty sure that a human was behind the deaths. Part of her knew that made the most sense too, but she didn’t want to believe it. The hoax had been running for too long.
‘Don’t tell me you believe this River Man nonsense? There’s some sick bastard out there killing deer and it’s only a matter of time until he kills a person.’
‘The River Man has killed people.’ There were several deaths attributed to the legend, stretching back a hundred years.
The ranger shook his head. ‘I know they think he has. But I think some of them can be chalked up to misadventure.’ He drained his coffee. ‘When I first moved up here, I took an interest in the local legend. I wanted to see if I could find it. Fancied myself an amateur sleuth. I read up on those murders. You know the whole heart missing thing only started twenty years ago with that last fellow. Before that it was just death by cuts.’
‘Fascinating.’ She wasn’t even faking it. She downed the rest of her coffee. Simon could be full of all kinds of interesting facts. ‘Probably should have had that after looking at the carcass, not before.’
‘I have whisky for after that. You’ll need it.’
He had no idea how strong her stomach was, but she smiled anyway. ‘I like the way you think.’
He beamed. ‘You know what I said about sleuthing?’
‘Yes.’ What other surprises did he have for her? Her heart gave a flip. She could actually be talking to the man posing as the River Man—Simon did know rather a lot about the creature’s habits. And no one knew who the killer was, or if there was a killer at all. As Simon had said, misadventure could explain most of the deaths. But peoples’ hearts didn’t just fall out by themselves. That was a new twist.
She glanced at Simon. No, he wasn’t local. He had no ties and no reason to kill. But then, no one came to Bitterwood for fun. Had he been coming here for the last twenty years before finally getting a job? If she was looking for a killer, she couldn’t rule out anyone. Simon’s insistence that nothing be recorded and his name be kept out of the show cast another shadow of doubt. If he was an amateur sleuth, wouldn’t he want his moment in the spotlight?
‘Well, I set up some cameras at the most popular sites.’ Simon beamed as though expecting a reward.
‘Oh my God, you have footage!’ She could’ve kissed him.
He seemed to get as excited as her. ‘I’ve been wanting to share this for so long. And I didn’t know who to trust. If I can’t trust Cryptid or Hoax? who can I trust?’
Her apprehension settled. He was just a ranger who was filling in his spare time looking into cryptids. ‘You a fan of the show?’
‘A little.’ Red crept over his cheeks. He wasn’t just a little fan.
‘I might have a spare hat or T-shirt at the motel.’
He walked over to his desk and pulled a thumb drive out of the drawer. ‘This is from the evening the deer was killed.’
‘Can I use it in the show?’
‘Only if you don’t say where it came from.’
‘I can do that.’ She wanted to shove it into the computer and check out the footage now, but she settled herself. Corpse first. ‘Let’s look at the deer.’
Out the back turned out to be a half-hour hike. The digger sat by the hole ready to bury the deer. As they got closer, she didn’t see the deer. Her steps slowed. ‘Where is it?’
‘It’s in the hole.’
She glanced at the ranger, then pulled out her phone to take some pictures.
‘I’ll just let the guys know that I’m going to be late.’ And where she was, just in case she ended up in the hole with the deer.
***
Gil closed the shop at lunchtime. He didn’t usually, he just ate his lunch when he could and got on with it. He didn’t want to get on with it today. He was still fuming that the mayor had come into his shop and told him how to behave, like he was some schoolkid.
Was Bitterwood really that shallow? Were the people he had called friends so desperate to maintain their moral high ground that they didn’t care if people changed.
Maybe they were jealous that Jasmine had left and returned a success, proving them all wrong and reminding everyone that people can change. A smile twisted his lips. Yeah, maybe it was those who didn’t change who were the real worry.
As he walked through the town, there were plenty of people he didn’t recognise, those who were just here for the festival. It was a nice feeling not to know everyone, something he hadn’t paid attention to in previous years. The centre of town was being transformed with the stage for music and the stalls along the streets, now closed to traffic. He kept going and noticed that when he smiled at people he knew, they weren’t exactly welcoming. If they did smile, it was brief before they suddenly found something else to occupy their attention.
News really did travel fast.
Had the mayor expected him to tuck tail and obey?
That was exactly what had been expected of him. For the first time in his life he wasn’t one of them. He was the kind of person that didn’t get a warm welcome and who was treated with suspicion. How long it would last he had no idea. Until the TV show left?
Oh God, and when they proclaimed the River Man a hoax?
He stopped and looked back at the town centre filled with much-needed tourists and their dollars. They would all blame him. He’d be the only one here to blame and they would want a scapegoat. Jasmine had warned him she’d be leaving, and he’d be left to pick up the pieces. He was just starting to see what those pieces looked like. Had the committee known all along that having the show here would bring no good? Or had this been a convenient way of casting blame aside if having the show went badly?
If the River Man was a hoax, someone must know. That kind of thing would be hard to keep a secret. Surely the mayor would know it couldn’t be real. Was it a publicity stunt to grow the festival, thus the extra deer deaths? But then why agree to letting the TV show come?
Did his father know who was killing the deer? As Chief of Police, he should at the very least have an idea. Gil was very tempted to go to the police station and find out. But he didn’t. He made his way to where the TV crew were doing interviews with locals. They had whittled yesterday’s line down to half a dozen.
