Secrets of Ugly Creek (7 page)

****

I rushed through the big glass doors into Ugly Creek General Hospital. To one side I saw Mac talking to a man in a white coat, presumably a doctor. I admit to feeling a huge relief that he was safe.

But somebody was hurt, and I wanted badly to know what happened.

I edged toward the two men, and when White Coat turned and took off, I approached. “Mac.”

He turned toward me, and shocked me by taking my hands in his. “Madison.”

“What happened?”

“Somebody hit Shaun in the back of the head.”

I must have frowned, because a moment later he followed up with, “He took Kevin, the sound guy, to the emergency room to get his arm treated.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “That’s terrible.”

“I’ve already arranged for security for the rest of the shoot, and we’re not going to announce where we’re shooting next. Or even that we are shooting.” He looked into my eyes. “I’m not going to let people get hurt.”

“I know.” Why was I leaning closer to him?

He seemed to hesitate before he said, “Provided Shaun is medically cleared by then, we’re shooting day after tomorrow just south of town at that old railway station.”

It took me a moment to realize the trust in me he’d just shown. “Thank you.”

He swallowed. “I debated telling you.”

Well, his reluctance was understandable. I am press. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“I know that.” He brushed a long strand of hair off my face. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I smiled. “I can take care of myself.”

“Good,” he whispered.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kate Stone’s voice raked over me like a tension headache.

The woman should really have been a shark.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” I said. “Either of you want anything?”

“I’d love a cup,” Mac said.

Kate just stared at me like I was a wounded fish and her inner shark was hungry. “I can’t believe you’re fraternizing with the press, Gib.”

“Madison is a friend,” he said, and smiled at me.

So she called him Gib, and I could see in his expression he didn’t like it. “Maddie,” I said.

“What?”

I smiled slowly with a touch of smirk. “My friends call me Maddie.”

Shark Woman glared even harder. Hard to believe that was even possible.

“I’ll be right back, Mac.” I hurried down the hall before I got my head bitten off. Maybe literally. I couldn’t resist a little smirky smile as I headed off in search of coffee.

There was a coffee machine in the emergency room area, but I needed to do some walking. Mom says my inability to be still is the reason I can eat the way I do and not gain weight. I just hope the looming three-oh doesn’t mean pounds are looming too.

Toward the other side of the huge building I found the coffee machine the nice lady at the help desk told me about. I got a couple of cups and headed back toward the ER. As I walked, I caught a glimpse of a sign for the burn unit. My feet slowed for a moment, but I kicked them in gear and hurried away from that side of the building. Memories from ten years ago lapped at my heels, but I refused to allow them to get hold of me. The past was over, and right now I had things to do.

By the time I got back, the shark was gone, and a handsome man was waiting for me.

“Thanks,” Mac said.

“How’s Shaun?” I asked.

Mac took a sip of coffee. “They’re going to keep him overnight for observation, and he’ll have to take it easy for a while. But, they say he should be ready to go back to work in a couple of days.”

“That’s great.”

He nodded. “Shaun is the youngest member of my crew. He’s barely nineteen, so I like to keep an eye on him.”

I admit I was a little surprised. “That’s nice of you.”

Mac chuckled. “You’ve been listening to the stories about how horrible I am.”

“Ugly rumors?”

“Absolutely.”

I sorely wanted to just sit and enjoy the company, but I was a journalist. “Do you think this attack is related to the others?”

“I don’t know.”

“Makes sense though, doesn’t it?”

Mac let out a long sigh. “None of this makes any sense.”

Boy, wasn’t that the truth. “Any idea who wants the documentary stopped?”

“This is your town, you’d know better than me.”

“Wish I did.”

He took my hand in his. “I’m glad you’ve decided I’m not the devil incarnate.”

My laugh was tempered embarrassment. “I never thought that.”

“Just that I shouldn’t have come to your town.”

His green eyes stared into mine with an intensity that made me struggle to remember he was a journalist too. A voice in my head warned me to watch my words. “It’s my town. I guess I’m protective. And you have to admit you have a reputation.”

Regret washed over his face for a millisecond, and then his expression went stoic. “Are you saying this cute little town has deep dark secrets? Because that’s all I did, you know, exposed a secret that I felt it was important for the public to know. Nothing you haven’t done a time or two.”

My throat went tight as I looked down at my coffee cup. He was right, I’d like to think I would never expose something that would cause the damage he had, but was that really the truth? When we printed somebody else’s secret, we never knew what the consequences would be. “So you’re planning to resume shooting when Shaun is better.”

“Yes, with precautions. I’m not about to let this get too out of hand. It’s just a film, after all. No matter how important it seems to me.” He stared down at his cup.

“I hope you don’t have any more problems.”

“Me too.” He stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a crew member to take care of.”

I saluted him with my coffee without looking into his face.

After he left, I sat for a moment to get my head together. So much for digging for facts. The man had gotten more from me than I had from him.

What kind of pathetic journalist was I? The kind that runs away, that little voice of conscience whispered. I’d left my friend in the burn unit, and my mom grieving for my dad. Wasn’t that as bad as printing secrets without knowing the consequences?

Or was it worse?

****

I was on my way back to my mom’s house when my phone rang. The name on the display sent irritation down my spine. “Hello, Greg.”

“Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Confused and worried. “I’m fine.”

“I miss you.”

“I’ll be back in DC soon.” Why did saying those words make me sad?

“We’ll take a long weekend when you get back. Just you, me, and a beach. Sound good?”

It did, except for one thing. “We need to talk first.”

“We can talk on the beach,” his voice was pitched low and sexy.

Normally that voice wrapped me right around his finger, but today it wasn’t having the effect it usually did. “I’m sorry, Greg, but I need to go.”

“Call me later.”

“If I have time.” I clicked the button before he could protest.

As soon as the line was clear, I called Steve. “I thought you should know one of the film crew was hit on the head tonight.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Should be.” I took a deep breath and dove in. “Steve, I’m worried.”

“About the guy who was attacked?”

“No. Just a feeling about this whole documentary thing.”

Steve laughed, the rat. “Maddie, you are not psychic. The ones you’re worried about will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” I clicked off my phone, still as worried as before I’d called him. In fact, my friend’s casual attitude about the situation somehow caused me to worry even more. Somebody had to do something to protect the non-humans. Even if that somebody was me.

Chapter 8

The next morning, I headed out before the sun was up. The back road was dirt packed and seemed to go on forever. I might not be psychic, but I saw a bath in my poor Aveo’s near future.

The road abruptly ended, and I waited for the dust to settle before I got out of the car. A deep breath and off I went on my morning adventure. Even in my Nike sneakers, Calvin Klein jeans, and a cute T-shirt I snagged on sale a couple of weeks ago, the hike through the thick woods was long and hard. And rather unnerving. I knew where I was going—mostly—but I’d never actually been there.

There wasn’t an actual trail. Just weeds, flowers I couldn’t identify, rocks and tree roots to trip over, and bugs. Lots of creepy crawling and flying bugs. Grrr.

I was so busy scanning the ground for snakes, rocks, and big bugs that I almost missed the slim, gorgeous woman standing not five feet from me. “Hello,” I managed. I’d barely seen a faery before, never spoken with one, and certainly not in their own territory.

She dipped her head to one side and studied me. “Welcome,” she said.

I’d spoken to politicians, sports stars, actors, heroes, but I’d never been this nervous. “I’d like to talk with someone in charge.”

“You may speak with me. My name is Shaylee.”

I pulled back my shoulders. “My name is Madison Clark. I’ve come because I’m worried for your kind.”

“We have been expecting a human,” she tipped her head again. “But not you. You have never been in our realm before. Would you like to explain this concern for us?”

Now that I was here, standing in front of what was likely a big-shot faery, my determination to handle this thing alone was waning. Almost as fast as the bugs were multiplying. Well, I was here, so I had to try. I swallowed hard. “There is a human making a film in Ugly Creek; a documentary.”

Shaylee nodded curtly. “Yes, we are aware.”

“A couple of days ago, near the the filming, I saw one of your kind.”

I don’t think she so much as blinked. “You must be mistaken.”

“I wasn’t. Yesterday an outsider saw one of you. Both times it was just before an attack on the filmmakers.”

There was a reaction this time; her upper body leaned back, as if dodging something. “Are you saying our people are responsible for attacks on humans?”

“Of course not.” Hey, I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to make an accusation. “I just mean it is dangerous to be around the filming, especially when these attacks are happening. I’m worried about any non-humans being seen by outsiders.”

“We appreciate your concern.” Shaylee turned, her wings unfolded, and she vanished on the wind, wrapped in the glow of shining emerald and tangerine wings.

“You’re welcome,” I told the wind, and turned back the way I’d come.

It sounds easy enough, just go back the way you came. The thing is, high grass, no trail, and myriad insects don’t really give you any idea of where you’d been.

No, I’m not an idiot. I’ve lived next to the forest my entire life, and I had my trusty compass with me. I trudged through the meadow-woods area, which was thick with high grass that was full of the ubiquitous bugs, and easy for snakes to hide in.

Finally, I reached a more normal forest with moss, logs and, of course, more bugs.

I finally came out of the woods about three hundred feet from my car, I could see it in the distance, and there was nothing to do but to trudge through the dusty road in that direction. I was looking forward fondly to a shower, food, and a nap.

My phone buzzing didn’t help my exhaustion any. “Hi, Steve.”

“What do you think you’re doing, talking to Shaylee?”

I stopped in the middle of the rarely traveled, dirt road. “Good grief, I’m not even back to my car yet.”

I head a sigh through the phone. “I’m serious, Maddie. There’s a delicate balance between us and other groups. You need to leave it to the experts to handle things.”

I ground my teeth. Where was he and his experts when I needed them? “I was trying to help.”

“Maddie…”

I started walking again, tossing up dust with every stomp. “I know you think I’m nuts, but I’m worried about them.”

“Channels, Clark. You have to go through channels for things like this.”

“I tried. Nobody listened.” I hung up the phone and jerked open the door of my car. Tears stung my eyes, and I swiped at my face.

Great, now I’d made a good friend angry, and he would tell Liza, and she would be mad too. Maybe I was wrong and everybody else was right.

No
. I couldn’t set back and let the non-humans be put in danger.

No matter what I lost in the process.

****

I paced back and forth, trying like crazy to push my mental gerbil off its wheel. I was getting tired of thinking the same thing over and over. There had to be something I hadn’t thought of yet. “Why won’t they listen to me?”

“Maybe because you’re hysterical?” Gizmo looked up at me from where he sat on my bed.

“I’m not hysterical,” I told him.

“Not now.”

I eyed the little fuzzball. “I don’t get hysterical.”