Page 6 of Maddox: Wild Alaska
Main Street is lined with quaint shops and cozy cafés that cater to both locals and visitors. There's a strong sense of community here, and everyone comes together for events like the annual summer festival to name one.
If my great-great-great-grandfather were here today, I think he would be proud of how the town has changed since he made it his own with only a few other settlers back in the day.
Hopefully, future generations will continue to cherish and preserve this town's rich history.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, I enter the sheriff's station and find the front area busy. Four men and one woman are talking to Deputy Landon, all with concerned expressions. I recognize them as guests of the Lavender B&B who have been in town for a couple of days.
Landon glances my way, his eyes begging for an intervention. He seems overwhelmed by the crowd, so I step behind the desk to help defuse the situation. “Can I help?”
"Are you the sheriff?" the older man in the group asks.
I shake my head. "No, that would be my brother. What seems to be the issue? Maybe I can help."
A woman, early twenties, steps forward. “I’m Olivia Denver and this is my dad, Peter, and brothers, Scott, Jason, and Lyle,” briefly pausing she continues, “I saw someone lurking suspiciously behind the B&B last night. The person was huge and had a knife in one hand. It was freaky." The woman said, her expression worried. "I was on the back porch getting some air before bed. I ran inside, went to my room, and looked out the window. The man was staring up at me. I'm scared, okay?"
I frown. “I can see that. Give me a minute to talk with my brother. If he's busy, I'll accompany Deputy Landon to the B&B and check out the area." Landon sighs. The lazy ass can do some work for a change. "Where's the sheriff?" I ask him.
Landon waves behind him, so I head toward my brother's office. He's the oldest, and if you don't know him, you'd think he was a grumpy old man. But he's a teddy bear really—not that I’ll ever let him hear me call him that. I like my face too much.
I knock on his door and waltz right in, only to be greeted with a dark stare. I raise an eyebrow. "What'd you find in your cereal this morning?"
He gives me the finger as I slump into the chair opposite his desk. "Prowler report at the back of Lavender B&B. A woman and her family are out front making a report. I said I'd check it out with Landon if you're busy."
He nods.
I rub a hand over my jaw and hold my brother's gaze. "The girl says she saw him from the back porch. He was huge and had a knife. She ran inside to her room and looked out the window. The guy was staring up at her. It freaked her out."
Branson grunts. "Landon can stay here. You can come with me.” He stands and grabs his hat from the coatrack. "This is the second report I've had about a prowler. Herbert Merryfield reported seeing a large man at the back of his property night before last.”
"Well, shit." I follow my brother out of the room to where the family is waiting. I stand back while he introduces himself and sends the family on their way.
"I'll follow you down the street.” I wince. “Betty won’t be happy with us trampling around the back of her B&B.”
“She’ll be fine.”
I snicker. “She still has a crush on you, huh?”
“Don’t push it, asshole!” He pauses and asks, "Is there an issue up at the lodge?"
"No." I climb into my truck and wait for my brother to get his vehicle turned around before following him to the outskirts of town. I try not to be irritated that my brother thinks I wouldonly visit him if there were trouble. I'm still upset about it when I climb out of my vehicle. I stride over to his door, yank it open, and startle him. "You're my brother! There doesn't need to be trouble for me to come see you!"
I stomp around to the back of the B&B, a three-story brick building, the front clad in wood. It's painted lavender with white trim. I'm not particularly into decorating, but since we built the lodge, I've noticed things whether I want to or not.
Branson catches up to me and, after giving me the eye, moves forward. We tread carefully so as not to disrupt any footprints that might have been left behind. "Did you find anything at Merryfield's place?"
"Size fifteen boot prints."
"So, we're looking for Bigfoot, then?"
I keep my head down, scanning the area, as Branson shoots a dark glare over his shoulder. My brother never smiles and ignores stupid shit.
"Fuck," he curses under his breath. My head shoots up, and my eyes follow his line of sight. About five feet in front of him, there is a large pool of blood, only noticeable because it’s covering pale leaves.
"It could be from an animal," I suggest, even though there's a lot of blood not to have the dead animal here as well.
"Something was butchered here." Branson turns to face me and holds my gaze. "I don't like the look of this." He huffs out a breath. "I have some precipitin tests in the truck. Let me go get one to see what we're dealing with." He winces. "I hope it isn't human blood."
"I'll wait." I pause. "I won't trample your crime scene."
