I find Josie’s car the same way we left it. I half expected the bear to come back, but the site is clear. I’m not sure if it’s the same one, but bears have gone bananas recently. I’d say for a few years now. A bear has been spotted walking down Main Street a few times over the years. Nonsense, considering they leave us alone if we leave them be. Freya claims that the very same bear always shows up at their cabin and occasionally in town when she’s there. Alex says he’s seen him a few times too, but the animal never comes close when he’s around.
I don’t know what’s happening with animals in this town, but looks like they’ve decided on some sort of riot.
I park behind Josie’s tin and climb out of my cruiser. It’s been raining most of the night, and the road hasn’t improved even after a few hours of sun.
Looking around to make sure no one sees me, I pull plastic bags over my feet since I forgot my fishing boots, tighten them, and trudge through the thick mud toward the passenger side. I assume this is where she lost them.
When I reach it, I don’t see anything sticking out from the brown mess, but they have to be here. I roll up my sleeves and push my hand into the mud. It’s here. Pulling it out, I shake the remnants of the dirt. I remember the shoe—it’s the same one she wore when she was escaping me. The very same one that drove me insane.
I should bury the shoe right here, along with the leftovers of my emotions from that day, but I don’t. Instead, I train my eyes on the mud around it, looking for the other one. The second one takes a bit longer to find, but I place both shoes in a plastic bag with a satisfied smile on my face.
And I feel it. A stare. Turning toward the area where the feeling is coming from, I find a moose about thirty feet away from me. The moose everyone calls Frank. Why the whole town is obsessed with the damn thing, I’ll never know. But every single woman in Little Hope adores the beast, and he seems to be very affectionate in return.
I don’t like him.
Even though I owe him for steering me toward this road when Josie needed help.
I don’t know how he knew it, but when I was driving, the damn thing stood in the middle of the road, not letting me pass. It was right before the turn into this muddy road. I don’t know why I was coming this way anyway. Maybe I really wanted to make sure she wasn’t a liar, which would be pointless because I already verified that part with Archie. I still can’t believe the fucker didn’t tell me about her coming to town. I called Leila too, asking why they kept it from me, but she just gave me some weird, Leila-style, vague answer.
So yeah, I mostly needed to check on her. I couldn’t sleep if I knew the woman was in the middle of nowhere by herself. At some point, I feared I’d look like a creep, so I decided to turn around and drive back to town.
He didn’t let me. I tried to pass him. Tried to shoo him away. But he just stood there like an unmoving statue until I turned toward the road to the Ghost House.
So yeah, I kind of owe him. Even though I’m one hundred percent sure it was just a coincidence because there is no way a moose was deliberately trying to influence my path just so I could get to Josie on time. I mentally shudder at what could have happened to her if I didn’t listen to him.
A loud snort brings me back to reality, and I shamefully look around, trying to find what’s making the sound. I tried being discreet, but looks like someone got me.
After a quick assessment, I find no one besides the moose. Another snort comes, and my head snaps toward the sound. It is the moose. The moose just fucking snorted.
“What?” I ask, feeling like an idiot for talking to an animal.
Obviously, he doesn’t respond and just watches me with his big, dark eyes.
“I’m an idiot,” I mumble to myself.
… And the fucking thing snorts again.
I tilt my head to the side, watching him, and I swear he does the same. I purse my lips. He beats his hoof on the muddy ground. I narrow my eyes. His ears flop, almost as if annoyed. I roll my eyes at myself but do it anyway—I start talking to a moose.
“Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth. He’s waiting. “What?”
He’s waiting.
“Thank you,Frank.”
He beats the hoof, turns around, and walks away. I blink. Then I blink some more, trying to understand if I’m going insane, and walk back to my cruiser before Bobby arrives. Throwing the bag with the shoes into the passenger seat, I take the bags off my feet and place them in the designated trash bag and hide it in the compartment in the door just in time for Bobby’s arrival.
He jumps out of his truck.
“Hey, Sheriff. Need help with your girlfriend’s car?” he asks smugly.
Here we go.
I groan loudly. “What have you heard?”
He cackles. “Not much. Just that Mrs. Roberts came to ask you for sugar this morning and found you and your girlfriend engaged in some ‘gross,’” he makes air quotes, “activities.”
“Yeah?” I ask, squinting. “How does she know what we were engaged in if we were inside my house?”
