Read Online Tangled Thing Called Love by Juliet Rosetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Juliet Rosetti
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turnaround used to be the end of their lane. The farm buildings burned down years ago and the fields reverted to wilderness.”
Ben stopped the car, grabbed his camera from the backseat, and got out. The light was fantastic: the sun just setting, flinging bright plumes of gold, salmon, and purple into the sky. He walked around slowly, trying to absorb everything. “Was Fawn’s disappearance covered by the local media?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah—it was pretty sensational, not just locally, but it made the national news,too. TV stations as far away as Alaska were covering the story.”
“Do you know where Fawn’s shoes were found?”
“Sure. Everyone knows. It’s passed into local lore and legend.”
Mazie led him down a narrow path between stands of birch and alder, a trail that appeared to have been trampled down over the years by the curious and the ghoulish. It opened into a small open glade above a sluggish, olive-colored stream whose surface was speckled with dead leaves. A rock the size of a laundry basket thrust up from the creek’s mossy banks.
“This is it right here,” Mazie said, nudging the rock with her toe. “The spot where Fawn’s shoes were found.”
The rock was scrawled with graffiti, some of it fresh, some of it so faded it was unreadable, but the general gist was We Luv U, Fawn! Hope U.R. OK . Other sentiments were cruder and lewder. Faded plastic flowers were stuck in the dirt around the rock, Mardi Gras beads were strung across it, a stuffed kitten was half-buried in weeds at the base, and scraps of a bright helium balloon lay scattered among the used condoms.
Ben began moving around the rock, snapping shots from several angles. “Okay, Mazie Maguire, girl detective—what’s your take on Fawn’s disappearance?”
Mazie picked up the kitten and brushed off the dirt. “It’s possible she just drove out here on an impulse that night. Maybe the turnaround was her favorite place—a quiet place to think. She might have wandered down to the creek, waded in, lost her balance, and drowned.”
“But they dragged the creek, right? They would have found her body.”
“Not necessarily. It could have snagged on an underwater log or—what are you doing?”
Ben was shucking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his jeans legs. When he finished, he stepped into the creek and slogged through the water to the opposite bank, a distance of about twelve feet, the water never higher than his mid-calf. “She’d have had to be pretty clumsy to drown here. It’s not deep.”
“Maybe she was drunk,” Mazie suggested.
“You knew this girl, right?”
“A little. We rode the bus together. She was a year ahead of me in school.”
“Was she the type to get drunk by herself?”
“No,” Mazie admitted.
Standing on the opposite bank, Ben lined up a shot of the clearing, making Mazie the focal point. “Don’t move,” he ordered. “You’re Fawn.”
A crashing sound came from the woods behind Mazie. She whirled around with a startled yelp. Ben reacted immediately, plunging into the water, lunging across the creek and up onto the bank. Something large was bashing through the undergrowth a few yards away.
“Probably a deer,” Mazie quavered, and Ben was gratified to discover that she’d instinctively moved close to him. They stood still for a moment, then the thrashing noises stopped.
“Your brother told me there are bears and wild pigs around here,” Ben said in a low voice. “Was he shining me on?”
“No—they’ve been sighted here, but I’ve never heard of them attacking people.” Mazie looked up at him with a mischievous look. “Of course it could be the Coulee Devil.”
“Snipe hunt.” He grinned. “See if the dumb city slicker falls for it.”
“The Coulee Devil is a kind of Sasquatch creature that’s supposed to live in these woods. It walks upright; it has yellowish-gray fur and glow-in-the-dark eyes, and it reeks like sulfur.”
“Some idiot in a gorilla
Ben stopped the car, grabbed his camera from the backseat, and got out. The light was fantastic: the sun just setting, flinging bright plumes of gold, salmon, and purple into the sky. He walked around slowly, trying to absorb everything. “Was Fawn’s disappearance covered by the local media?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah—it was pretty sensational, not just locally, but it made the national news,too. TV stations as far away as Alaska were covering the story.”
“Do you know where Fawn’s shoes were found?”
“Sure. Everyone knows. It’s passed into local lore and legend.”
Mazie led him down a narrow path between stands of birch and alder, a trail that appeared to have been trampled down over the years by the curious and the ghoulish. It opened into a small open glade above a sluggish, olive-colored stream whose surface was speckled with dead leaves. A rock the size of a laundry basket thrust up from the creek’s mossy banks.
“This is it right here,” Mazie said, nudging the rock with her toe. “The spot where Fawn’s shoes were found.”
The rock was scrawled with graffiti, some of it fresh, some of it so faded it was unreadable, but the general gist was We Luv U, Fawn! Hope U.R. OK . Other sentiments were cruder and lewder. Faded plastic flowers were stuck in the dirt around the rock, Mardi Gras beads were strung across it, a stuffed kitten was half-buried in weeds at the base, and scraps of a bright helium balloon lay scattered among the used condoms.
Ben began moving around the rock, snapping shots from several angles. “Okay, Mazie Maguire, girl detective—what’s your take on Fawn’s disappearance?”
Mazie picked up the kitten and brushed off the dirt. “It’s possible she just drove out here on an impulse that night. Maybe the turnaround was her favorite place—a quiet place to think. She might have wandered down to the creek, waded in, lost her balance, and drowned.”
“But they dragged the creek, right? They would have found her body.”
“Not necessarily. It could have snagged on an underwater log or—what are you doing?”
Ben was shucking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his jeans legs. When he finished, he stepped into the creek and slogged through the water to the opposite bank, a distance of about twelve feet, the water never higher than his mid-calf. “She’d have had to be pretty clumsy to drown here. It’s not deep.”
“Maybe she was drunk,” Mazie suggested.
“You knew this girl, right?”
“A little. We rode the bus together. She was a year ahead of me in school.”
“Was she the type to get drunk by herself?”
“No,” Mazie admitted.
Standing on the opposite bank, Ben lined up a shot of the clearing, making Mazie the focal point. “Don’t move,” he ordered. “You’re Fawn.”
A crashing sound came from the woods behind Mazie. She whirled around with a startled yelp. Ben reacted immediately, plunging into the water, lunging across the creek and up onto the bank. Something large was bashing through the undergrowth a few yards away.
“Probably a deer,” Mazie quavered, and Ben was gratified to discover that she’d instinctively moved close to him. They stood still for a moment, then the thrashing noises stopped.
“Your brother told me there are bears and wild pigs around here,” Ben said in a low voice. “Was he shining me on?”
“No—they’ve been sighted here, but I’ve never heard of them attacking people.” Mazie looked up at him with a mischievous look. “Of course it could be the Coulee Devil.”
“Snipe hunt.” He grinned. “See if the dumb city slicker falls for it.”
“The Coulee Devil is a kind of Sasquatch creature that’s supposed to live in these woods. It walks upright; it has yellowish-gray fur and glow-in-the-dark eyes, and it reeks like sulfur.”
“Some idiot in a gorilla
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