Page 64 of Squatch Out!
The well-worn fabric is soft against my skin and warms me quickly. As I make my way to his attached bathroom, I imagine some of the heat from his body is still infused within the fibers.
When I tiptoe from the bathroom, Sean hasn’t moved. His breathing is deep and even as I head for the hallway.
The kitchen looks even worse in the early morning light. The air still smells strongly of burnt pizza, and the oven is coated in a fine white powder from the fire extinguisher. Scanning the small space, I try to decide where to start first. My eyes pause on the coffee maker, and I decide that nothing is going to get done before I get some caffeine in me.
There is no milk in the fridge, so I add a couple heaping spoonfuls of sugar and then make my way out to the porch to enjoy the quiet morning. The sky is streaked with vivid pink and orange as bright sunlight filters through the trees. The brisk air smells clean and fresh, and I lean against the railing as I sip my coffee.
God, did I miss this.
The birds sing loudly all around me as squirrels and chipmunks dart up and down the trees and through the grass. Something else catches my eye through the trees, and I squint after it. I’m expecting to find a deer making its way past the house, but whatever it is disappears amongst the trees, almost as if it’s hiding. Which is weird. A deer wouldn’t do that. At least I don’t think–
A flash of color out of the corner of my eye has me turning just as a man darts out of the trees and straight toward me.
It takes a moment for my sleep-fogged brain to catch up with what’s happening, and by then, he’s already hurtled the steps. I stumble back, but he’s faster and grabs my arm, yanking me away from the railing.
Coffee sloshes over the side of the cup, but I barely register the burn as it hits my skin because he’s clamping his hand over my mouth. Muffling my screams as he pulls me backward off the porch.
“Don’t make a fucking sound!” The man’s hot, fetid breath hits the side of my face, and I do the only other thing I can think of. I throw my mug at the side of the house.
I aim for the glass door, hoping the crash might be loud enough to wake Sean, but the man’s arms are banded around me so tightly, it falls woefully short. Instead, the mug bounces uselessly across the porch. The damn thing doesn’t even have the decency to break.
“I told you to shut the fuck up!” he grunts as I continue to scream against his sweaty palm. Kicking my legs and digging my fingernails into his arm, I scratch and twist. Doing whatever I can think of to break free of him.
We’re almost to the trees, and my heart is close to pounding out of my chest as I dig my bare feet into the soft ground, trying to slow him.
Who the hell is this guy and where did he come from?
My screams turn to frantic sobs when he drags me into the woods and then keeps going until I lose sight of Sean’s house. With a jarring shift, he pushes my chest against the rough bark of a red cedar, nearly knocking the wind out of me. He’s hot and sweaty against my back as he leans into me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Olivia. I just want your boyfriend.”
I go stiff, and my head snaps over my shoulder to get a look at the man behind me. He’s mostly out of my view, but there is something about his voice that makes me say, “Darren?”
He steps to the side, and I get my first good look at him.
Goddamn, I wouldn’t have recognized him if he hadn’t called me by name. His blond hair is shaggy and matted around his head. His face is covered in a thick, unkept beard, and going by the dirt and his stink, he hasn’t had a shower or changed his clothes since I last saw him.
“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth,” he tells me quietly, like he’s talking to a small child. “If you scream, I’ll knock you unconscious. Do you understand?”
The way he says it so nonchalantly, I don’t doubt him. So much for not wanting to hurt me, I think sourly as I remember how easily he held a knife to my throat. I force myself to nod.
Slowly, he peels his hand back, and it takes everything I have not to lick my lips. God knows where he’s been or what he’s touched. When he’s certain I’m going to do as I’m told, he pulls a length of rope from the pocket of his filthy jacket.
“Darren, this is crazy. What are you doing?” I ask him as he pulls my arms around the trunk and ties my wrists together, securing me to the tree. “Have you been out here this whole time?”
“I need proof,” he mutters as he tests the ropes to make sure I can’t escape. And fuck if he didn’t actually do a good job. “I need to clear my name. To prove it wasn’t me who killed Johnny. I need to bring them a sasquatch.”
I blink at him. My stomach twists, and bile burns the back of my throat. “It doesn’t work like that. They are shifters, even if you kill one, they just return to their human form.”
“Like I’m going to believe anything you say,” he snaps at me and pulls the ropes even tighter, making me yelp in pain.
“It’s true!” I croak. “Why do you think no one has ever found definitive proof? It’s because there literally isn’t any.”
Darren watches me for a moment and then shakes his head. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t change anything.”
I bang my head against the tree in frustration. “You’re making a huge mistake. Do you really want another death on your conscience?”
“I never said I was going to kill him. I only need proof that will clear my name.”
I don’t believe him. Whatever proof he wants, or how he plans to get it, can’t be good for Sean.
