Georgeanne rose from the lake, shivering. Naked. “That water is cold.”
I tried not to stare. Rachel elbowed my ribs. “Stop gawking. You’ve seen a naked woman before.”
Georgeanne was tall and blond. She winked as she strode up the sand and grabbed a towel. “Go on in. It’ll wake you up.”
We were camping in northern Wisconsin. Me and Rachel, and Georgeanne and her new girlfriend Hannah. Rachel and I had met Georgeanne while I was working a case for the Rossini, a family fighting a doomsday cult (long story). Georgeanne was a flirt—although whether she was flirting with me or Rachel wasn’t clear.
Anyway, she’d invited us up to the wilderness. A nice relaxing weekend with no electricity, an ice-cold lake to wash up in, and only a Porta-Potty up the trail next to the cars, unless we wanted to use the nearby trees. Perfect, right?
But after a few rough cases, roughing it in the wilderness actually sounded reasonable and relaxing. I stood up and pushed my sweatpants down. “Let’s go.”
Rachel grinned.
We jumped into the lake in our underwear. The water was searing cold. Rachel yelped. We swam for as long as we could stand the cold, then ran up the sand to grab our towels and dry off.
Hannah was cooking eggs in a cast-iron frying pan on the big charcoal grill. She was short and husky, with curly brown hair and a blunt nose, in a sweatshirt and camouflage cargo pants. Her dog sat next to her—Hawk, a black Akita, with big ears and a stubby tail. Hannah looked up at Rachel. “Breakfast’s almost ready.”
“I can’t wait.” I dropped my towel and pulled my sweatpants up. “Is there coffee?”
“Hot water.” She pointed to a steaming pot. “There’s the Mrs. Folgers. The best. There’s granola bars over there.”
I scooped instant coffee into two mugs, carefully poured the scalding water, and handed a mug to Rachel. “Granola bar?”
She shook her head. “This is fine. Thanks.”
I was starving, so I grabbed a peanut butter bar. Then I noticed movement in the trees just beyond our campsite. “Wait a minute. What’s—”
A tall hairy creature stood in the trees. Six feet tall or so, on two legs, covered in red fur, with a long thick face and big ears, and bright yellow eyes, blinking as it stared at us.
Hawk jumped up, peering and sniffing. But he stayed near Hannah, and he didn’t growl.
“What is it, boy?” Hannah patted his shoulder. “Oh. Wow.”
I wished for my phone to take a picture. But it was in my jeans. In our tent.
Georgeanne came out of her tent. “Is the water ready?”
The creature ducked down and disappeared. A leaf falling from a pine tree was the only clue that it was moving away. Or it might just have been the breeze.
Rachel draped a towel over her shoulders. “Was that . . .”
“What was that?” Georgeanne peered into the forest.
Hannah kept one eye on the fire as she checked the woods. “I think . . .”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Bigfoot.”
“I thought the sasquatch all lived in the Northwest.” Georgeanne sipped her instant coffee. She wore boots, cargo shorts, and a khaki jacket over a red T-shirt.
“Maybe they’ve had to move.” I stabbed a fork into my egg. “Climate change, development . . .”
Rachel nudged me. She’d gotten dressed in jeans and a red plaid shirt. “How much do you know about them?”
“I read a lot of books in high school about . . . paranormal stuff.” Thinking back, that might have been my intro into the supernatural world. “Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, chupacabra—cryptids, they call them.”
“This is when you weren’t sneaking looks at your father’s Playboys?” She raised an eyebrow. Hannah giggled.
I shrugged. “I was a teenager. Curious about everything.”
“Should we go looking for it?” Hannah stroked Hawk’s fur. “What do you think, boy?”
“Leave him be.” Georgeanne finished her coffee. “There’s a couple of good hiking trails we could—”
A rifle shot blasted the air. Hawk jumped and growled.
“Or we could just hang out here and play cards.” Georgeanne stood. “I’ll be right back.”
She scampered into her tent while Hannah calmed Hawk. When she crawled out, she was strapping her handgun under her arm in a military-style shoulder holster. “A girl can’t be too careful.” She zipped her jacket up.
Georgeanne was a soldier with the Rossini. Hannah was an architect. They’d met while Hannah was doing a redesign on the Rossini house in Urbana, Illinois, after an attack. She had to know a lot about the situation—she didn’t flinch as Georgeanne adjusted her weapon.
Gray clouds covered the sky as we cleaned up—paper plates in one bag, plastic utensils and other recycles in another, washing out everything lese in the lake. Hannah went swimming in the lake—not naked, but in a tight blue one-piece suit. She seemed to be keeping an eye on Georgeanne and Rachel playing backgammon on a blanket as she swam in circles, throwing a ring for Hawk to fetch in the water.
I got a book from our tent. One day I was going to finish Infinite Jest.
But not today. I fell asleep after half an hour, just like the last time I tried to read it. But I woke up to the sound of a motor roaring on the road above our camp.
Our cars were parked up the road. I heard doors slamming, and then two men stalked down the trail from the pull-out.
They wore heavy red hunting vests and combat-style boots. One had a thick black beard and sunglasses, despite the clouds. The other wore a Milwaukee Brewers baseball cap.
“Hi!” The bearded guy smiled. “I’m Boris. This is Gabe. Got a minute?”
Georgeanne stood up carefully, her jacket half unzipped. “I’m Georgeanne. What do you want?”
“Well . . .” Boris chuckled. “This is going to sound a little strange, but—have you guys seen any weird animals around here?”
“Weird how?” Rachel looked them over.
“Just like . . . a strange animal? A gorilla or an orangutan or something?” He looked around the trees.
“Did something escape from a zoo?” Hannah came out of the water, dripping and shivering. She grabbed a towel. Hawk rushed to her side.
“No, ma’am.” Gabe checked her out for a moment, then looked around the trees. “We’re just—interested.”
“We haven’t seen anything.” I stood up. “I’m Tom.”
“Hi, Tom.” Boris nodded. “We’ve just been, you know, looking for something.”
“What kind of something?” Too many years as a reporter and private detective have trained me to ask questions without thinking.
Boris scowled. “All right, Bigfoot. We’re hunting Bigfoot. Have you seen one?”
“Hunting?” Rachel stood up. “You want to kill it?”
Gabe scuffed a boot in the dirt. Boris glared.
“We haven’t seen anything.” Georgeanne shook her head. “Sorry. Just playing games and stuff. Enjoying the weekend.”
They looked at each other. Then Boris clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go, then. Thanks, ladies.” He smiled at Georgeanne and Rachel, then glanced at Hannah. Then he looked at me. “I mean—”
“Yeah.” I waved a hand. “Have a good day.”
They headed back up the trail. After a moment, we heard their vehicle drive away.
Hannah and Hawk went to Georgeanne. I looked at Rachel. “So? Did you get anything on them?” Rachel’s kind of psychic.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, they want to kill themselves a Bigfoot.”
“Well, that was kind of obvious.” Hannah hugged the towel over her shoulders. “What do we do, G?”
Georgeanne looked at me. “Do we do anything, Tom?”
She was asking me? I hesitated. “The sasquatch have been hiding for years. I mean, we could go looking for him, like those guys, but chances are he’s better at hiding than we are at looking. Or those two.”
Hannah folded her arms. “I hope you’re right.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
After lunch—sandwiches, vegetables, and hummus—Rachel and I went for a short hike up a nearby hill. At the top, we sat down and looked out over the lake.
“So what do you think?” I sipped from my water bottle.
She leaned forward, looking down at the forest. “He’s out there somewhere. And he’s not alone.”
My spine stiffened. “Are we in danger?”
She shook her head. “He’s just scared. Those guys . . .” She shuddered.
“Yeah.” I don’t like guns, but I was glad Georgeanne had her weapon.
“Anyway . . .” Rachel wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I just thought those two crazy kids might enjoy some time alone together.” She kissed me.
“Uh, great.” I kissed her back. “So what about us?”
She smiled. “They’re not the only ones.”
We made out. Just when it was getting interesting, two rifle shots pierced the air.
“Way to kill the mood.” Rachel sat up and buttoned her shirt.
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