Read Online Tangled Thing Called Love by Juliet Rosetti - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Juliet Rosetti
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suit.”
“Reliable witnesses swear they’ve seen it—a sheriff’s deputy, a school bus driver—”
“I suppose this thing dragged Fawn off and ate her for supper. A Sasquatch running around in the backwoods—mind-blowing!”
“You don’t seriously believe there’s a Coulee Devil?”
“Doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what people want to believe. A maiden and a monster. Beauty and the Beast. The Devil and the Damsel. People eat this stuff up.”
Ben walked ahead, holding aside branches for Mazie as they took the trail back toward the road. When they broke out of the trees Ben halted so abruptly Mazie rear-ended him.
A man stood a few feet away, holding a strung arrow on a high-powered bow,aiming it directly at Ben’s heart.
Chapter Ten
“Who the hell’re you ?” snarled the man.
He was tall and gaunt, probably in his early fifties, with gray-brown hair scraggling to his shoulders and a mouthful of bad teeth in a long, lean face. He wore a hunter’s camouflage shirt with the sleeves ripped off, jeans, and neon orange sneakers that must have scared off wild game for miles around. A leather arrow quiver was strapped across his back.
“Mr. Fanchon?” Mazie asked shakily. “Gil Fanchon?”
He squinted at her, keeping his arrow aimed at Labeck. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Mike Maguire’s daughter. I’m Mazie.”
“Mike’s girl?” He lowered the bow, though he still kept the arrow on the string. He pointed to Labeck. “Who’s that, then? Can’t be a Maguire, not with that size on him.”
“He’s with me. His name is Ben Labeck. Ben, this is Gil Fanchon, Fawn’s dad.”
Ben nodded but kept his eyes on the bow.
“Well, I guess you two’s all right, then.” Fanchon lowered the bow. “I wouldn’t’ve really skewered you. I just use the bow to scare off those goddamn kids that go down by the crick, drink and smoke dope and holler, ‘Fawn, you out there? Come on out, Fawn—I want to kiss a ghost.’ And other stuff I won’t repeat in front of a lady.”
All the light had seeped from the sky. As it grew dark the spring peepers stepped up their volume, and they had to raise their voices to be heard.
“Know what the worst thing is?” Gil Fanchon released the arrow from the bow and carefully set it back in his quiver. “When them kids bring teddy bears and what-all and set ’em on Fawn’s rock. Like at those highway sites where somebody got killed. That rock down there ain’t a grave site. Because my Fawn isn’t dead.”
He clamped his hand over his heart. “I’d feel it in here if my baby girl was gone. I walk down here to the crick every night because it makes me feel close to her.”
“You still live nearby, don’t you?” Mazie asked.
“Yup. Just a couple miles.”
“Can we offer you a lift back to your place?” Ben asked.
“Why, I appreciate that. Been a long day, and my legs ain’t what they used to be.”
Gil sat in the backseat and gave Ben directions. He lived in a trailer on a blacktop road that ran along the perimeter of the swamp. “You two come on in now,” Gil ordered as they stopped in the trailer’s dirt driveway. He got out of the car, carefully holding his bow. “I’ll pay you back for that ride with a nice glass of iced tea.”
Ben cocked an eyebrow at Mazie, a gesture that meant: I want to do this, okay?
He wasn’t doing this just to be polite, she guessed; he was after something.
They followed Gil into the trailer, its living room crammed with furniture he’d evidently purchased at Big Howie’s House o’ Tacky Taste. Green vinyl sofa and recliner with built-in cup holders, chrome coffee table, and floor-to-ceiling entertainment center with a large television perched precariously on a too-small pedestal. Mazie looked around the trailer for signs of kids, but the place had a bachelor air—no skateboards, backpacks, or sneakers strewn around.
Gil placed his bow in a rack on the wall and went to the refrigerator. The kitchen
“Reliable witnesses swear they’ve seen it—a sheriff’s deputy, a school bus driver—”
“I suppose this thing dragged Fawn off and ate her for supper. A Sasquatch running around in the backwoods—mind-blowing!”
“You don’t seriously believe there’s a Coulee Devil?”
“Doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what people want to believe. A maiden and a monster. Beauty and the Beast. The Devil and the Damsel. People eat this stuff up.”
Ben walked ahead, holding aside branches for Mazie as they took the trail back toward the road. When they broke out of the trees Ben halted so abruptly Mazie rear-ended him.
A man stood a few feet away, holding a strung arrow on a high-powered bow,aiming it directly at Ben’s heart.
Chapter Ten
“Who the hell’re you ?” snarled the man.
He was tall and gaunt, probably in his early fifties, with gray-brown hair scraggling to his shoulders and a mouthful of bad teeth in a long, lean face. He wore a hunter’s camouflage shirt with the sleeves ripped off, jeans, and neon orange sneakers that must have scared off wild game for miles around. A leather arrow quiver was strapped across his back.
“Mr. Fanchon?” Mazie asked shakily. “Gil Fanchon?”
He squinted at her, keeping his arrow aimed at Labeck. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Mike Maguire’s daughter. I’m Mazie.”
“Mike’s girl?” He lowered the bow, though he still kept the arrow on the string. He pointed to Labeck. “Who’s that, then? Can’t be a Maguire, not with that size on him.”
“He’s with me. His name is Ben Labeck. Ben, this is Gil Fanchon, Fawn’s dad.”
Ben nodded but kept his eyes on the bow.
“Well, I guess you two’s all right, then.” Fanchon lowered the bow. “I wouldn’t’ve really skewered you. I just use the bow to scare off those goddamn kids that go down by the crick, drink and smoke dope and holler, ‘Fawn, you out there? Come on out, Fawn—I want to kiss a ghost.’ And other stuff I won’t repeat in front of a lady.”
All the light had seeped from the sky. As it grew dark the spring peepers stepped up their volume, and they had to raise their voices to be heard.
“Know what the worst thing is?” Gil Fanchon released the arrow from the bow and carefully set it back in his quiver. “When them kids bring teddy bears and what-all and set ’em on Fawn’s rock. Like at those highway sites where somebody got killed. That rock down there ain’t a grave site. Because my Fawn isn’t dead.”
He clamped his hand over his heart. “I’d feel it in here if my baby girl was gone. I walk down here to the crick every night because it makes me feel close to her.”
“You still live nearby, don’t you?” Mazie asked.
“Yup. Just a couple miles.”
“Can we offer you a lift back to your place?” Ben asked.
“Why, I appreciate that. Been a long day, and my legs ain’t what they used to be.”
Gil sat in the backseat and gave Ben directions. He lived in a trailer on a blacktop road that ran along the perimeter of the swamp. “You two come on in now,” Gil ordered as they stopped in the trailer’s dirt driveway. He got out of the car, carefully holding his bow. “I’ll pay you back for that ride with a nice glass of iced tea.”
Ben cocked an eyebrow at Mazie, a gesture that meant: I want to do this, okay?
He wasn’t doing this just to be polite, she guessed; he was after something.
They followed Gil into the trailer, its living room crammed with furniture he’d evidently purchased at Big Howie’s House o’ Tacky Taste. Green vinyl sofa and recliner with built-in cup holders, chrome coffee table, and floor-to-ceiling entertainment center with a large television perched precariously on a too-small pedestal. Mazie looked around the trailer for signs of kids, but the place had a bachelor air—no skateboards, backpacks, or sneakers strewn around.
Gil placed his bow in a rack on the wall and went to the refrigerator. The kitchen
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