Close to the Truth Read online

  God I hope not.

  He nodded. ‘This year is extra special. I think he knows about our festival.’

  ‘Really?’ Was the River Man going to walk into town and sign autographs? Had people stopped fearing him? She couldn’t imagine the town changing that much.

  ‘Mutilated deer was found near where that hunter Jim … Jimmy Nebbit was killed. That must be a couple of decades ago. His mom just passed.’

  She fought to keep her smile fixed and look curious, not terrified. The River Man was still actively killing.

  ‘Yeah,’ the man kept going. ‘No one is saying it’s the River Man, most people don’t even know it happened, but I have a police scanner. Comes in handy. But it’s the kind of thing he does.’

  ‘Kill deer?’ She forced the words out.

  He nodded. ‘There’s been a deer found every few years. Only ever takes the heart.’ He gave Jasmine a conspiratorial wink.

  That sounded like the River Man was a more active killer than he’d been when she’d lived here. Back then it had been the occasional human killed, and by occasional she meant there would be decades without anything more than a sighting.

  ‘Happy to give you the latest on the River Man, grab a flyer on the festival, but you’ll have to camp out as there are no free rooms in town.’

  ‘Got a reservation.’ She gave the network’s details.

  His eyebrows lifted and he peered a little closer at her as though trying to work out if he should know her. She’d changed her surname when she’d turned eighteen, opened up the phone book and taken a stab … several stabs because she hadn’t liked the first three. ‘You’re that TV scientist.’

  Oh great, they got cable and watched her show. She kept her smile in place and released a tiny sigh of relief. No, not her show, a show.

  ‘I checked out a few clips on the internet after you lot booked.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘First time someone close to famous has stayed here.’

  There was a reason for that. No one came to Bitterwood for fun. There was some fishing, some hiking and the festival. That was it.

  The man handed over the room keys. Luke and Cal shared, and she usually shared with the boom operator who was also female. It wouldn’t have bothered her to share with a guy, but it bothered others. She was pretty sure she didn’t have girl cooties.

  ‘We’ll be around for the rest of the week. Hoping to get some interviews from people who’ve seen him.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the poster.

  ‘There’ll be some of them all right. Although if you ask me, most of the sightings were after too many beers.’ He gave her another wink.

  Jasmine was hoping that there was something wrong with his eye. Maybe he did recognise her and her reputation had survived her absence? ‘We know how to weed them out.’

  Calvin and Luke joined her, carrying all the luggage. They didn’t believe in making second trips. The man gave directions and they made the short trip across the car park to their rooms. She dumped her stuff in her room. Tonight she’d have it to herself. The rest of the crew wouldn’t get here until the day after tomorrow and there were things to film.

  Then she went and knocked on the guys’ door so they could get started. There was a lot of prep work to get done this afternoon. They weren’t getting paid to sit around. Once on location, they had to hit the ground. These days they had a system happening. The door swung open, like her they hadn’t even bothered to open their cases.

  ‘So I set up a meeting with the festival committee for this evening. Mayor will be there so make nice with him.’ Calvin smiled. He’d set up most of the meetings ahead of time. ‘One of the committee members will take us to the locations of the sightings.’ He glanced at her. ‘They didn’t mention any murders.’

  ‘Did they mention a very recent mutilated deer that fit the creature’s MO?’

  Both men looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘That would be a no then?’ She gave them a quick update on the latest gossip. Of course the committee and mayor weren’t going to be spruiking about the River Man’s kills—that might scare people away.

  ‘If this classy website is to believed, there have been six murders, don’t know how many deer.’ Luke had his laptop open. Monster Deaths was a website they had stumbled across more than once. Sometimes it tallied with what they discovered, sometimes it was as wild as the goose they were chasing. This time it was accurate. Bitterwood locals kept tallies. They probably knew exactly how many deer had been found over the years.

  What troubled her was that only the heart was taken. An animal would eat more than that. Then there was the random nature of the kills; animals needed to eat regularly, which meant either there were a whole lot of deer that hadn’t been found or it wasn’t an animal they were dealing with.

  Calvin swore and shook his head. ‘I wanted to be a newsreader, not following up on dead deer.’

  ‘The deer will give us something to talk about, and if there’s a murder this weekend you’ll get to play reporter too.’ Jasmine beamed at him even though a shiver ran down her spine. Her uncle had survived fighting with the monster. But she couldn’t remember any other River Man assaults, only kills. Time to change the topic. ‘So who’s on the festival committee, any vested interests?’

  ‘Pfft. They’re on the committee.’ Luke shrugged. ‘In a town this small there’ll be plenty of conflicts of interest.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Some places didn’t really want their monster investigated even though they said they did.

  ‘They want the River Man looked into, but I got the impression they also want some fluff on the festival,’ Calvin said as he handed out some info on the town.

  ‘That’s a given. But it shouldn’t be hard to work that into the interviews?’ She glanced at Calvin. He just nodded. ‘With luck I’ll be able to get fresh samples or footprint castings … maybe even see the deer.’ She paused while the guys smirked. ‘But I can talk about possible creatures he could be, and also the biology of an amphibian?’

  ‘Yeah, once I get into the local lore we should be able to spin up something. I wonder if it goes back more than a century?’

  ‘You thinking First Nation?’ Calvin made some notes.

  ‘I’ll look into it. Ask the committee. Some of these creatures have been around for a while. Remember Champ of Lake Champlain?’

  They all nodded. No proof he existed and yet he’d persisted for centuries. They had concluded that he wasn’t a hoax or cryptid, but probably a sturgeon fish. They had then received a bunch of emails from people who’d seen it. Some hadn’t been very nice about getting their point across.

  Every so often they came across something they couldn’t explain and they called it a cryptid. She suspected that this episode would fall into that basket. It was always good to have a balance of results.

  Jasmine leafed through Calvin’s hand-out. She was curious about what he’d included, and more importantly, who was on the festival committee. There was a map with a few River Man sightings marked on it, plus where to find the festival activities.

  She glanced at him. ‘Did you pull this off the town website?’

  ‘They sent it to me. There’s a brief bio of the committee members too as they thought we might find that useful. At the end.’ Calvin flipped her papers.

  One name jumped out at her.

  Gilbert Easton.

  She struggled to focus on the page so she could read his bio. All two lines of it. Owner of Easton’s Hardware and volunteer firefighter. Family has been in Bitterwood for generations.

  It sure had, Easton’s Hardware was on Easton Road.

  Of course he was going to be on the committee. That was exactly the kind of thing he did. He was so much a part of the community, they were symbiotic organisms and they’d die if separated. Even at school he’d been involved in everything. She’d tried once but had quickly discovered that not everyone was welcome. After that she’d given up on fitting in and had done her best to be difficu
lt.

  Jasmine didn’t remember going after Gil, but somehow they had gotten together for a few weeks … it might have even lasted the whole summer if his father hadn’t intervened. Or it might have ended once he grew tired of slumming and paying for every movie.

  ‘So, who’s our guide going to be?’ She hoped her voice sounded casual.

  ‘Gilbert Easton, he’s the Chief of Police’s son.’ Calvin smiled. ‘Guess we’d better be on our best behaviour.’

  That wouldn’t matter as Gil only knew her at her worst.

  Chapter 3

  Gil drummed his fingers on the table in the meeting room in the council offices. It was just past five. He was early. He’d shut the store that had once been his grandfather’s a few minutes before five to make sure he got here early.

  Hoping to catch sight of Jasmine before the meeting?

  Or just trying to get it over with as fast as possible?

  He wasn’t sure. He’d tried to find out where she’d gone when she’d left, but no one had known. She’d just hitched a ride out of Bitterwood and vanished. She’d never even called him to say she was alive. Part of him wasn’t surprised. After what his father had done, Gil had refused to speak to the man.

  Her leaving wasn’t a shock, even though the timing was. He’d always known that she had no roots and no reason to stay. Maybe that had been part of the attraction—unlike some of the girls who were from local and respectable families, she hadn’t wanted anything more than a good time. She had never tried to sink her claws in. He was still fighting off some of those same girls, now women, who thought it was time he settled down.

  While at times he wanted to leave, nowhere else would ever be home. Easton blood had built this town. And now he owned part of it. He couldn’t up stakes and leave. But he’d be damned if he’d marry because it was the right thing, or about time. While he loved the town, his life was not going to be ruled by the committee of busybodies who thought they knew best.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. His fingers never broke their rhythm.

  The mayor had been keen to get Cryptid or Hoax? in. Gil hadn’t been so convinced. The town could come out looking gullible, or worse, the River Man could end up looking like a money-generating gimmick. So he’d researched the show and had nearly choked on his beer when he’d seen her. He’d had to check that it was her and not someone who looked like Jasmine Thorpe.

  It was her. All grown up and with a masters in zoology.

  And a change in surname. She was probably married.

  The girl voted most likely to spend her eighteenth birthday in jail had performed a miracle on herself. While he was as dumb as the boxes of hammers he sold. After falling out with his father, he’d refused to join the police force and had instead agreed to take over the shop from his grandfather. He’d done some online studies about bookkeeping and running a business, even set up online ordering for the farmers so they didn’t have to drive in.

  ‘Gil.’ The mayor clapped a hand on Gil’s shoulder as he walked past. ‘Not putting yourself forward to be a councillor?’

  ‘No, sir, got too much else to do.’ He was going to leave that for the folks with twenty years on him. He still wasn’t sure how he’d got roped into being on this committee. Guess someone had to do it and if everyone chipped in there was less work to go around.

  The other committee members bustled in. Nancy who’d been acting as secretary for over thirty years, the bar owner Greg and a couple of other store owners … geez, it looked as though the festival committee was made up of proprietors looking for a quick tourist buck.

  He knew that wasn’t true; the River Man was local legend and the festival had started out as a glorified market day and a chance to remember the victims. Would Jasmine defend the place she’d grown up in or throw Bitterwood under the bus, the way it had done to her?

  Gil had no idea. They’d been kids who hadn’t spent a vast amount of time talking.

  Talking and footsteps made his fingers still. Nancy glanced at him. Did they all remember her and what had happened? The urge to fidget made his leg jump, but otherwise he kept his discomfort safely suppressed. He didn’t like being the focus of attention.

  Jasmine had, but it had always been for the wrong reasons.

  Two men and a woman entered the meeting room. They all held take-out coffees—did they think the council’s wouldn’t be up to scratch? And they all wore cargo pants and shirts with the TV show logo on. Subtle.

  He tried to give all three a casual once-over but his gaze snapped back to Jasmine. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose knot, her outgrown bangs swept the side of her face. There was no dyed chunk of hot pink or whatever colour was her new favourite and no red lipstick. Her make-up was so careful it almost looked as though she wasn’t wearing any.

  She looked polished and professional. He realised then that he didn’t know Jasmine Heydon at all and that Jasmine Thorpe was long gone. And from the polite, yet fixed smile on her lips, she didn’t appear to recognise him either.

  The mayor did the introductions as the three sat.

  They wanted access to archives and the local history centre, if there was one. Names of people who’d seen the River Man. Gil listened. Her voice was the same, but with no swearing punctuating her sentences. The whole time she avoided looking at him and kept on acting as though she didn’t know anyone in the room.

  That was bullshit.

  The mayor had been their math teacher. Nancy’s grandkids had been a year below them at school. He’d known most of the people in the room, enough to recognise and say hi, his whole life.

  ‘Gil has volunteered to spend his day off to take you to the sighting locations. Farmers trust him on their land.’ The mayor smiled as though everything was peachy. What was implied was that they weren’t welcome to go gallivanting all over the town on their own.

  Gil wished he’d never volunteered but he’d thought the best way to keep an eye on the TV show was to be super helpful. If he’d known Jasmine was involved, he’d have never volunteered. Protecting the town was coming back to bite him on the ass already.

  All eyes turned to him. Including hers. There was a flicker of something before she lowered her gaze to her coffee and took a sip.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll pick you up at eight am, there’s a bit of ground to cover if you want to go all the way back to the first sightings.’

  ‘And the most recent.’ Jasmine smiled.

  Did she know about the deer? Gil glanced at the mayor who had paled and was struggling to find some words.

  Gil gave a reluctant nod. If they already knew, there was no harm.

  ‘And I’d like to see the carcass and any photos.’ Another smile that was cool and professional. She knew all about the deer.

  The mayor coughed. ‘That won’t be possible. It’s already been destroyed. Health hazard. Gil will take you to the site though.’

  ‘Yes, and I’d like to see any old maps you have to from around the time the River Man first appeared. I’d love to know how the story started. Do you know if there’s any First Nation legends?’ the younger man, Luke, said. He was the one who researched the local lore, making the show a bit of myth and a bit of biology.

  ‘You’d be best heading up to Colville Reservation,’ Nancy said.

  Luke looked at his co-workers. ‘I might skip the tour and take the SUV.’

  Now if Gil could get rid of the other man, he’d have Jasmine to himself and he’d be able to ask why she’d never picked up a phone. He’d thought she was dead. For a while the kids had started a rumour that the River Man had taken her.

  That was probably better than word getting around about what had really happened. Not that his father would have ever admitted to yanking her out of the car half naked—and Gil in much the same state—and threatening her with jail for underage drinking and a whole pile of other charges that would have never held up.

  That hadn’t mattered though. The words that had cut had been personal. His father had threatened her family. Gi
l had never forgotten. ‘If I ever catch you with my son again I will make sure your family pays.’

  Gil had argued with his father as he’d done up his pants.

  His father had claimed that she was just looking to get pregnant and get married. Then he’d pulled out the old not while you’re living in my house routine.

  The next day Gil had moved in with his grandfather, above the shop.

  Jasmine had already left town. It had been a kick to the nuts. People telling him that she was a tramp and had done him a favour hadn’t helped. He knew she’d been nicknamed Jezebel. He knew he wasn’t her first, but she’d been his. He hadn’t cared what people thought of her. He’d known her and she’d have never done anything to put her family at risk.

  He still didn’t care what they all thought of her. When he looked at her across the table that spark of desire reignited in his blood. She was all but ignoring him, acting as though they’d never met. But it was an act, because he’d noticed when she’d snuck glances at him. And only him.

  His gaze lowered to her left hand. No sign of any rings, not even a tan line. Divorced? He wanted to know what had happened to her in the last ten years. Even if it was just a catch-up over coffee. He almost believed that lie, then her gaze met his.

  ‘This is already sounding like a cryptid because of its longevity.’ She smiled and he recognised that look. All trouble, and when it turned on him, all seduction. There was a glimmer in her eyes she couldn’t quite hide. ‘I can’t wait to get to the bottom of this mystery.’

  Neither could he. Because as much as he’d tried not to think about her over the years, the not knowing had been a scab that he’d go back and pick just to see if it still hurt.

  It did.

  She’d been his first lust. They’d never had a chance to become more. Seeing her now though, he knew if she’d stayed for him she’d have been trapped, her wings clipped.

  He wanted to watch her fly and get to know her again.

  Which either made him a masochist or desperate, as she’d flit away as soon as she was done. He wasn’t sure that they were done.