“Hi, Suzanne.” Katie picked up several outdated magazines, cradling them in the crook of her arm. “If you’re looking for Shawn, I think he’s in the café.”
“You mean he didn’t go with the others?” She flattened a hand against her stomach, sounding relieved. “I got wind Duncan and Donnie were telling everyone they shot the Mothman.”
Katie nodded. “Things have mostly calmed down since then. Duncan and Donnie went to the TNT and took a bunch of the guys with them.”
“I was sure Shawn would go.” Biting her lip, Suzanne took a hesitant step forward. A mixture of pride and jumpiness warred in her gaze. She was obviously flustered by something.
“He wanted to, but Ryan Flynn talked him out of it.” Katie didn’t add it was because Shawn had downed too much beer to be traipsing around in the woods with a loaded gun. If he didn’t fall flat on his face, he’d likely shoot himself.
Suzanne closed her eyes. “Thank God.” She flattened her hand against her stomach a second time before seeming to realize her voice betrayed too much. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin. “I mean… That’s nice.”
Katie experienced a moment of sympathy. “I’m sorry about Duke. Ryan told me what happened.”
“Thanks. I miss that big smelly dog.” A faint smile touched Suzanne’s lips before her gaze drifted in the direction of the café. “I should probably go round up Shawn. It’s getting late for a work night. If he wants to kick back with a few cold ones, he can do it tomorrow on a Friday.” Having said her piece, she started past Katie. She was halfway across the lobby when she halted. “I heard Ryan’s been visiting you a lot.”
Katie stiffened, immediately defensive. It was no one’s business if Ryan came to see her. She was about to blurt something about small town gossip when Suzanne’s face softened with a smile.
“You know how people change when they get older?’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ryan’s the same kind-hearted, decent guy he was when he was a kid. If I were you, I’d hang on to him.”
There was nothing smug or threatening in the observation, not even a challenge he might still be fair game. Before Katie could say anything in return, Suzanne left and headed down the short hallway to the café. Bewildered, Katie listened to the door swing open. The din of voices grew louder with the barrier removed, one rising above all the others.
“Look who it is,” Shawn Preech slurred. “My lovely wife. And mother-to-be.”
Caden reached the TNT before anyone else. Starting with the empty shell of the old north power plant off Fairgrounds Road, he explored the crumbling interior, using a flashlight to guide his way through the dark. The beam sent some small creature scurrying deeper into shadow, but he discovered nothing to suggest the winged humanoid had been there. Later, he checked the igloo where he’d run afoul of the oracle-like being who lurked inside. Nothing.
He attempted to communicate with the thing, hoping to discover where the Mothman was hidden, but the igloo was empty, silent as a tomb. It would only be a matter of time before Duncan and Donnie returned with a lynch-mentality search party. Legally, there was nothing he could do to stop them from roaming the grounds, but the situation felt primed for disaster. Hopefully, the patrols Weston promised would arrive first, the police presence enough to keep any thrill-seekers in order.
After driving for some time, randomly pulling off here and there to investigate trails cut between the trees, he decided he was going about it all wrong. Once or twice, he heard the distant rumble of a car engine or caught a flash of light deep in the woods, alerting him others had arrived. If the Mothman was out there, he wasn’t going to find the cryptid playing needle in a haystack. In every encounter he’d had—except the first, when he’d helped the creature—it had come to him. Maybe it would do the same again.
Caden drove farther down the road, then pulled off in an area void of trails. An owl hooted somewhere off to his right. Leaving the vehicle behind, he wound his way through a knotted tangle of pine, firs, and oaks, heading deeper into the endless labyrinth of trees. The air was heavy with the scent of dried leaves and dark loam, the wind rustling branches overhead. Old wood clacked together with the sound of hollow bones. A full moon helped guide his way, and the beam of his flashlight sliced a trail through the dark.
Careful to note his path, he headed in a southwesterly direction for about five minutes. It was easy to get turned around in the woods, especially at night. Depending on how far you ventured, the ground could quickly turn into marshy soil or boggy wetlands. Eventually, he paused, waiting for any unusual noise. When nothing came, he flicked off the flashlight and waited.
You’ve got to be out there somewhere.
Most people who’d seen the Mothman claimed to have spotted it more than once. A few eyewitnesses from the sixties adamantly maintained the cryptid had been trying to communicate with them. Some believed it had attempted to warn the town of the Silver Bridge disaster before the collapse. Others insisted the monster was a harbinger of evil and had caused the tragedy.
Duncan and Donnie had spotted the Mothman last June. How ironic if the thing returned in an attempt to communicate with them and the idiots had shot it instead. For all he knew, the creature had secreted itself away in isolation to die. Caden’s life had been in danger every time the creature appeared. Is that why he couldn’t find it now…because there was no threat of harm?
The hum started as a low vibration.