Tempting the Light: Legends and Myths Police Squad (L.A.M.P.S. Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter 3

River mastered reading the signs of deception long ago and these two women displayed almost every one. Maybe they had nothing to do with the disappearance of Mr. Livingston, but his intuition said the two ladies were up to no good. The taller blonde covered for Abby. Still, Abby’s cute brown curls almost hid her tiny face, the face of an angel—a fallen angel. If he could get her alone without the Amazon, he’d no doubt coax her into telling the truth. She looked so innocent when he pulled her over yesterday.

White sheets flapped in the light friendly breeze on a clothesline that stretched from an old pine tree to a steel pole. It reminded him of growing up in California. He walked past the giant dinosaur sculpture in the yard—how freaky was that—over to the smoldering ashes in the fire pit. With a long stick, he poked around in the hot embers, denim and a few other scraps of material hid under a burnt log. Someone had tried to burn his or her clothes?

Ever since L.A.M.P.S.—Legends and Myth Police Squad—had reassigned him to Haber Cove to investigate the disappearance of the former missing sheriff, whose place he’d taken, the only calls he received in the past month were to retrieve a jumping Pekinese from a tree. Lord knows how a three-legged dog gets twenty feet in the air. Oh, and he had to write the occasional parking ticket.

Boring.

He’d investigated the missing sheriff’s case and hit nothing but stale ends. Why L.A.M.P.S. got involved in such an investigation was beyond him. If a Cryptid or some other mythical beast were involved, he’d find the monster. That’s what he did. Hell, he’d already captured a Sasquatch and tagged a nest of Thunderbirds this year. L.A.M.P.S. formally honored him as one of their top investigators. He had the email to prove it.

When Mrs. Livingston called to report her husband missing, he had to admit, his adrenalin glands shot out enthusiastic shivers from his toes up to his ears. Two missing person cases in a month’s time? They simply had to be related. Not that he wished anything bad had happened to Mr. Livingston.

Abby stepped out the door carrying a large glass of iced tea. A strange
tsh tsh
rattle accompanied each step she took, her face paler. Her foot caught on a rock and her small body fell smack dab into his arms, the cold iced beverage splashed across his leg. He wrapped his hands around her thin waist and kept them in place to steady her. She wriggled her body trying to free herself from his grasp, and blushed. “Oh shoot. Sorry about that.”

A sudden craving to explore the silky skin underneath his fingertips surprised him. So soft. Worried that he might crush her delicate body, he loosed his grip and placed her on her feet. “Don’t worry about it. Have you lived here a while?”

“Um, no. I moved in yesterday.” Abby pulled a box of Tic Tacs out of her pocket and popped one into her mouth. Ah ha, the mystery of the rattle was solved.

He raised the half-full glass, toast style. “Welcome to Haber Cove. I’m a transplant myself. Been here about a month.” He took a drink of the sweet tea. The ice cold liquid ran down his throat quenching the thirst that came out of nowhere. Probably the best tea he’d tasted in a long time.

Abby whipped out a tube of Chap Stick and ran it along her bottom lip. A kissable soft plump lip. The more he thought about her mouth, the more he wanted to swipe his tongue over it.

Which bothered him. It was totally unprofessional to think sexual thoughts about someone suspicious, but truthfully, he couldn’t help himself
.
When he looked at her mouth—leaping one-eyed lizards—he knew where those lips would look best. His pants tightened. To divert her attention, he pointed at the pickup in the driveway.

The yellow truck sported a logo on the door for
Pepper’s Perky Pets
in blue. In the passenger seat sat a male blow up doll. “I hope she doesn’t use that doll to gain access to the carpool lanes. It’s illegal, you know.”

Abby hesitated then followed River over to the truck. “No. Bob is carjack prevention for Pepper.” She coughed-laughed into her fist. Then smiled. The smile grew revealing her teeth and lighting up her brown eyes to an amber color.

Back to business.

“She named him Bob?” He opened the passenger door, and Bob fell out and flopped to the ground. River grabbed the doll and stuffed him back into the seat and slammed the door. He cleared his throat, took off his hat, and scratched the back of his head. “Um . . . Has she been carjacked before?”

“No, she attributes the success to Bob. Where are you from?” She shoved her hands into her front pockets, which revealed about an inch of smooth stomach skin.

His fingers twitched, yearning for another feel, just a quick touch. “Born and raised in California. My parents were hippies. They named me River and changed our last name to Stone.” Why the hell was he rambling, spilling his life story to the woman he needed to interrogate? What the hell was wrong with him?

Lust.
That’s what the hell was wrong.

Pepper came barreling out of the house. River looked up and held in a grin. He’d wager a week’s salary, that one always preferred dramatic entrances. “Hey, sorry about that. I got a phone call from someone wanting to adopt one of the puppies I rescued yesterday.”

“What wonderful news.” Abby’s smile cast a soft inner glow across her face, highlighting her cheeks.

He nodded. “Good news.” Then he switched tracks. “The reason I came over was to let you know that I’m setting up a search party for Mr. Livingston. Would you be able to help?”

“Sure, we’ll help. What time?” Pepper looked at the battered leather watch strapped on her wrist.

River glanced at Abby, waiting for her answer.

“Yeah. Sure.” Her answer held an uncertain, reluctant, and scared tone that prodded his inner creature of suspicion, waking it from sleepy to lets-go-hunt.

Something was up with Abby.

Whatever the pretty little nymph was hiding he’d discover it. Right after they found Mr. Livingston;
if
they found Mr. Livingston.

Maybe he should ask her out? Yep. His deep down voice told him, if he could get her alone he would get the scoop. First, though, he’d verify her single status.

“Everyone is meeting at the Livingston’s ranch at three p.m. What about that guy?” He pointed to a silhouette of a man sitting in the third floor window. “Could he help? We need all the manpower we could get.”

Abby burst out laughing. A delicate shade of pale pink draped over her face, which made her light freckles darken a shade.

“Oh, is that another Bob?” His voice broke like Peter Brady’s in the Brady Bunch song “Time to Change.” What was it with these women and blow up dolls?

Pepper grinned wide. “No, that’s Arnold. He’s a mannequin. I usually live alone. A girl has to take all the precautions she can.”

He nodded toward the window. “Wouldn’t a house alarm be better?”

“So far the home alone,” she made quotation signs in the air with her fingers, “technique has worked pretty well. People think I have company.”

Or she could be Norman Bates’ sister. Or, could the alleged mannequin be Mr. Livingston?

River walked over to the fire pit and poked around in the ashes until a swatch of the denim snagged on the stick. He raised the suspicious material and gestured to Pepper and Abby. “Can you two come over here a minute?”

Both women walked over to him. Abby’s lips disappeared in her mouth, and her eyes grew in the uh-oh way.

Protectiveness surged through him. For some reason he wanted to gather Abby in his arms, stroke those brown curls, and tell her it would be all right. He wanted to make whatever was bothering her better. Whatever she’d done, she couldn’t have done it on purpose. It must have been an accident.

The two women stopped beside him and observed the scrap of material on the stick.

Pepper scratched her elbow. “The funniest thing happened. Abby was cleaning the horse stables and the wheelbarrow of manure fell over on her. Her clothes stunk so bad we had to burn them.”

River fought his frown and wore his neutral facemask. Bullshit not horse shit.

“Is that what happened, Abby?”

She nodded. “For some reason, I’ve been attracting shit lately.” Her voice flat-lined with defeat.

“Yep, if I wanted to catch flies I’d use Abby as bait.” Pepper’s southern accent became thicker before she let out a laugh bordering on nervous and irritating but leaned more toward downright annoying.

River studied the two women’s actions. Abby didn’t confirm Pepper’s story, nor deny it. Both fidgeted. “What were you girls up to last night?”

“What do you mean?” Abby twirled a curl between two fingers, her eyes innocent and bright.

“We sat by the campfire most the night, made s’mores, and caught up on girl talk,” Pepper said.

“You mean to tell me you both stayed in on a Saturday night? No dates?”

They both shrugged as if it was not out of the ordinary.

He held back on any further questions for two reasons. First, Mr. Livingston might still be alive, and second, he wasn’t sure they were guilty of any crime.

One thing was for certain, he would find out what these two ladies were hiding.

Chapter 4

River pulled his white and black Chevrolet Impala squad car into the Livingston’s driveway. A group of thirty people waited in the front yard talking and mingling and drinking tea. Mrs. Livingston, a silver-haired seventy-year old, dressed in a calf-length black taffeta dress with matching hat and frilly veil beckoned River to come with a single wave of her hand.

River stepped out of the vehicle and strolled down the cement walkway. “Mrs. Livingston, why are you wearing funeral clothes? Most likely your husband is still alive.” The woman was either seeking attention or she knew he wasn’t returning home.

“Oh, I just know my poor Harold couldn’t survive this long alone in the woods. He’s been sick you know.” She dabbed at her tearless eyes with her white lace hanky.

No, he didn’t know. “You would be surprised how a person’s will to live can help them survive.” He wanted to shake the woman. Who gives up hope on a loved one?

“I sure hope so, Sheriff.” She turned to the gathered crowd. “Who would like another glass of tea before the search?” She smiled and clapped her hands once in front of her as if her husband had been forgotten.

L.A.M.P.S. had dropped him into a town of certified crazies. Mrs. Livingston switched emotions like traffic lights changed from red to green, then there were the two women on the ranch with the blow up dolls. Maybe something’s in the water? He’d purchase a water filter.

A familiar rattle interrupted his thoughts. Abby and Pepper strolled up to the huddle of people and greeted Mrs. Livingston.

River whistled using his fingers in his mouth. “Okay everyone, thanks for coming out. I’ll select groups of two and give you an area to check. We’ll meet back here before dusk. If you find Mr. Livingston and if he’s hurt, dial 9-1-1 first, then call me. No one is to wander off alone. Got it? Stay together.” He made sure his voice carried over the murmurs of the crowd.

He paired people together and assigned them a different location on the topographical map. He handed out his business cards. He walked over to Abby. “You’re with me and Pepper, why don’t you pair up with Thomas.” River pointed to a guy standing off to the side.

Pepper’s forehead creased, her palms facing up. “You’re kidding, right? He’s wearing loafers and no socks. How is he supposed to traipse through the forest without the proper shoes?”

Thomas could have worn flip-flops and Madonna boob cones for all he cared, they needed to start the search for Mr. Livingston. Pronto. “Here’s your location.” He pointed to an area on the map.

River smiled at Abby. “We’re going the farthest, so you get to ride in the all-terrain vehicle.” He pointed at the green ATV parked next to the house.

“Sounds good.”

He watched as she headed toward the vehicle, her narrow hips had a slight sway accompanied by a rattle every right step. At least he’d get to spend some alone time with her. Maybe she’d let something slip about why they were acting so peculiar earlier today.

He joined Abby as she sat in the passenger seat of the ATV. She pulled out her lip balm and ran it over her lips. Her right pants pocket had a square outline of a tic-tac box, and her left pocket revealed the outlines of not one, but what appeared to be two ChapSticks.

Did she always carry those? At least she’d never be able to sneak up on him.

River peered at Abby but she turned her head away revealing pale skin and a long, thin neck exhibiting that ever-so-sexy spot where it dipped down by her collarbone. When the image of gliding his lips over that soft skin on her shoulder and trailing down to her small tight breasts appeared in his mind, his mouth parted.
Did they taste like cherries?

“How fast does this thing go?” She straightened her back and her fingers curled around the bottom of the seat.

He looked up from her chest.

Abby pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did I spill something on my shirt?”

Busted.

He shook his head. “Buckle up.”

Click.
As soon as he heard her seat belt latch, he put the vehicle in gear and pressed the accelerator.

“Where are we headed?” She shouted over the hum of the engine.

“The waterfall at the end of the river.” He looked over to Abby. “Have you ever been there before?”

“No.” She picked at her thumbnail with her finger.

“I heard it was beautiful.” He cleared his throat. “Did you know Mr. Livingston?”

Abby shook her head and kept watch for the missing man.

After a while, River slowed the vehicle to a crawl while he concentrated on the landscape and the underbrush to search for tracks. The thick brush indicated that this area hadn’t been traveled in a long time. The small saplings and brittle leaves popped and snapped as they foraged their way deeper into the forest.

Every once in a while he would stop the vehicle and take a stroll around the area to see if there were any foot prints or broken twigs, any evidence that would indicate Mr. Livingston had gone through there, but he didn’t see anything of the sort.

The birds chirped happy tweets and every so often deer darted in the distance. The clean crisp piney air filled his lungs. River loved the hunt. It’s what he craved. He enjoyed the wilderness and the wildness, but he only killed things that went bump in the night. The mystical creatures that invaded the campfire stories children and adults told in the dark. The thing was, they existed. Creatures lurked out there at night that would scare the bejesus out of a grown man. Creatures that could tear a man’s arm from his body and eat it for an afternoon munch-fest. His job was to capture or terminate the dangerous ones and catalogue the friendly ones.

He glanced over at Abby. She smeared lip balm over her mouth several times then slid her lips back-and-forth against each other. What was up with her? She tapped her small hiking boot on the floorboard. They were the cutest and sexiest little feet he had ever seen. He had never been a foot person, but God, he wanted to unlace those red laces to see her tiny toes naked. He tore his attention away and looked up to the falls as they approached.

The waterfall cascaded over twenty feet, and crashed into the stream below. Ferns and wildflowers surrounded the blue green pool. The tumble of the water brought a serene feeling to the fairy tale setting. His shoulders relaxed to the sound.

“Oh my gosh. This is beautiful.” Her eyes grew wider, mirroring her smile.

River nodded, and took a moment to let the natural beauty of the place sink in, but then his trained eyes spotted the tracks leading away from the falls. Child-size shoe prints about three inches in length followed along the river and disappeared into the forest. He walked around the area and checked under the bushes. The tracks vanished there. He needed to photograph and document these because he doubted a child would be alone in the woods. Nope, something more dubious was obviously at work here.

River turned his attention to Abby. “Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Abby picked a dog hair off her orange tank top.

“Earlier, you seemed nervous.”

Her brown eyes flickered up to him, and then away. “Yeah, well . . . I had a bad morning.”

“You know you can confide in me, right? If you need to talk about anything.” He lifted her chin with the side of his finger.

She let out an I-doubt-that laugh and shook her head slowly. “I’m fine.” Then she plastered on a fake smile, one that didn’t hit her eyes but showed her teeth.

“If you’re in any kind of trouble . . .” His phone rang, interrupting him.

“Sheriff Stone,” he answered.

A guy from one of the other search parties fired his words at a frantic rate. “Sheriff, we found Mr. Livingston. He’s okay. A little delusional, but alive.”

“He might be dehydrated. What did he say?”

“He said a Gnome and the Jersey Devil attacked his dog.”

“I see.” River glanced over at Abby who sat on a boulder throwing pebbles into the water.

“I told you he wasn’t making sense.”

“Get him to the hospital and I’ll meet him there.”

“I already called the ambulance. Thanks, Sheriff.”

Relieved, River pressed the end button terminating his call and faced Abby. “They found Mr. Livingston. We need to leave.”

“Is he okay?” She asked, her expression hopeful.

“He seems to be okay, but they’re taking him to the hospital to be sure.”

A genuine smile spread across her face showcasing the cute dimples in her cheeks. “That’s a relief. I mean, I’m glad they found him.”

“That makes two of us. Come on let’s go back.” He motioned to the vehicle.

River drove the ATV back to the Livingston’s home. Abby sat perfectly quiet next to him. He needed to get to the hospital immediately so he could talk to Mr. Livingston. If the old codger did see the Jersey Devil and a Gnome, he had a busy week ahead of him.

Abby hopped out of the vehicle when they arrived at the Livingston house. “See you later.” She disappeared without looking back at him.

“Bye, Abby,” he called after her.

River jumped in the squad car and drove to the hospital in record time. He broke the speed limit a few times, but he didn’t care. His position as Sheriff offered some perks after all.

Once there he rushed up to Mr. Livingston’s room.

Mr. Livingston sat propped up sleeping in his hospital bed. A doctor hovered beside him typing on a computer tablet.

He nodded to the doctor. “How’s he doing?” River shut the door behind him.

“I ran a few tests on him. He’s dehydrated, but otherwise doing good.” The doctor closed the cover on the tablet and walked out the door.

Mr. Livingston’s eyes opened. “Sheriff, there’s monsters in the forest.”

River leaned in closer and pulled out a note pad. “What happened out there?”

“I was hunting with my dog and this Gnome attacked him. A hideous little creature, you know like on those travel commercials. Then this huge beast, the Jersey Devil, swooped down and started fighting with it. I think they were fighting over Champ. I think they were trying to eat my dog.” Mr. Livingston struggled to sit up. “You have to believe me.”

“Can you describe the creatures?”

“Well, the Gnome was about three-and-a- half foot tall, blue overalls, and white hair with a beard. He had one large hooked claw on his thumb.” He scratched his head. “The Jersey Devil had a body and the head of a horse with these huge skin wings, like a bat. Its hands were like bird feet, and it walked on hooves. Everyone is going to think I’m crazy, but I swear to you, that’s what I saw.”

River had no doubt Mr. Livingston saw the creatures, but
two
Cryptids sharing the same forest was almost unheard of. He needed to find out more about the Gnome.

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“I shot at them and hid under the rocks until the searchers found me.” He reached over and picked up his glass of water. Livingston’s hand shook so hard the water sloshed out of the glass onto his chest.

River picked up a towel nearby and dabbed the liquid on Mr. Livingston’s chest. “Thank you. I’ll check it out. In the meantime, you need to get some rest.” He closed his note pad.

“Sheriff, you have to believe me.” Mr. Livingston grabbed his hand and squeezed.

River grimaced, nodding. He did believe him, but needed to keep this quiet even if it meant making the town think Mr. Livingston was crazy.

River sat in his office. He thumbed through his Cryptozoology book and re-read the chapter on the Jersey Devil. The myth stated that about two hundred years ago, Mrs. Leeds, a woman who lived in these woods, was pregnant for the thirteenth time. Distraught, she called out “Oh please, let this be the Devil.” She gave birth to a hideous creature that promptly flew out the window. Over time, the book stated that people had reported sightings, farmers claimed the creature ate their livestock, but River found no reports of human casualties.

Sometimes people made up stories to explain the Cryptids, especially in the olden days. Folklore and myths were filled with that sort of thing. He continued reading.

Information on the Gnome was harder to find. What he found made the pulse in his temple drum.

Contrary to common knowledge, Gnomes are not cute statues dressed in overalls with pointed hats that watch over home gardens. They were man-eaters equipped with a large hooked Velociraptor type claw. Gnomes used the claw to pierce their prey’s skull so they could stick their hollow tongue in the head to suck out brain matter.

River looked up.
They use their tongue like a straw?
Nasty buggers. According to the text, no Gnome sightings had been recorded in over a hundred years. Gnomes originated from Europe, where they hunted for treasure to hoard in caves.

He rubbed the knot forming in the back of his neck. He’d have to call his boss at L.A.M.P.S. This didn’t make any sense, but if anyone could sort this out it was Ottar.

While dialing his boss’s phone number, he popped two aspirins in his mouth.

“Ottar here.” A gruff Australian voice growled back at him. River pictured him out in a field hiding behind tall grass with camouflage paint on his face, binoculars raised, hunting Cryptids. Ottar was the only other man he’d met who loved the hunt even more than he did.

“It’s River. I may have a situation here.” He looked back at the Gnome picture in his book.

“What’s going on?”

“I have two different Cryptids occupying the same forest.”