Expecting to Die

Tophman? Crap. That jerk-wad!
“And he gave you my number?” She was pissed.
“Yes, he did.”
“Why?” she asked, getting a bad feeling about all of this. “Why are you
calling me?”
“Well, see, Bianca, I’d like to talk to you, in person. Hear your story and,
y’know, I thought maybe you’d like to come speak at our next meeting.”
“Speak? As in give a lecture?”
“Nothing that fancy.” He gave a raspy cough. “Just come in and tell the group
what you saw. Over at the Sons of Grizzly Falls Hall. Tuesday night. Seven

---

sharp, but you should show up a few minutes earlier, y’know, to get set up.”
Was he crazy? Probably. She was shaking her head.
As if he could see through the wireless connection, Jeffe upped the ante. “We
serve coffee, soda, and cookies. And we’ve got some people who’re interested in
what you’ve got to say. Important people.”
Oh. Like. Sure. “No.”
“Now, darlin’, come on, it would really help us. There’s been a rogue Big Foot
seen up around Cougar Pass, and this may be the same one. A rogue. Loner. Any
information you might have would be a big help.”
Darlin’? Seriously?
No way would she be a part of his carnival. She flashed on the massive smelly
beast and his one glowing eye that had crashed through the underbrush while
running after her. A shiver ran up her spine. “I don’t know what I saw last night,”
she admitted.
“Maybe I can help you with that.”
“No!” she said, then, “No,” again and hung up. She dropped her phone as if it
were radioactive. It was one thing for her to “think” she may have been accosted
by a creature that was more myth than substance, another to have a complete
stranger call her and invite her to speak at a meeting.
And the next time she ran across Bryant Tophman, she was going to ream him
out but good for giving out her number. “Idiot,” she muttered and glanced at the
TV with its silent screen. A yearbook photo of Destiny Montclaire filled the
screen. Bianca turned on the sound.
“. . . discovered last night at Reservoir Point. Police are still searching the area
where the body was found, trying to determine if the girl died from natural
causes or if foul play was involved. If anyone has any information—”
Her phone rang and she saw her mother’s number appear on the screen. “Hi,”
she answered, still watching the newscast.
“How’re ya doing?”
“Okay.”
“The ankle?”
“Still hurts. Bad.”
“Probably will for a while.”
“Great.”
“How about the rest of you?”
“My lip hurts, too and my shoulder—” She glanced in the mirror, where she
saw a bruise forming under the strap of her T-shirt. “It’s turning black and blue.
And green.”
“I was talking about your emotions. How’re you feeling? Detective Alvarez

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needs to talk to you and so we’ll be home in . . . probably about forty-five
minutes. Maybe an hour.”
“I know. She called.” She glanced at the television again. A video of Reservoir
Point rimmed in trees, the reporter walking up the path that bordered the creek
where Destiny’s body had been caught in the roots of a tree.
“I’ll be here,” she said and clicked off the television.
* * *
Pescoli hung up from Bianca and tried to tell herself that her daughter’s
conversation with Alvarez was no big deal, that it happened all of the time, but
she couldn’t convince herself. The fact that her daughter’s name was in the
slightest way linked to the homicide investigation was unsettling.
Bianca wasn’t under suspicion of anything, of course, but still . . . it was hard
being on the other side of the interrogation table.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that the scone on the way to work and a
candy bar later in the day weren’t enough to sustain her and the baby that was
due to arrive in the next three weeks. Scrounging in her bag, she located a
protein bar deep in the bottom of her purse, then made a trip to the lunchroom,
where she found a jar of instant decaffeinated coffee crystals that made the low-
octane cup she’d grabbed at The Buzz seem like rocket fuel.
Back at her desk, she’d no more than unwrapped the oat and peanut butter bar
when her phone rang. She answered only to discover Manny Douglas on the
other end of the connection.
Her already bad day took a decided turn for the worse.
The reporter was always looking for a big scoop, and she wasn’t in the mood
today. Nor was she any day for that matter. She didn’t have a lot of use for the
press and certainly not for Manny Douglas. He was a weasel of a man, a reporter
who slanted everything he wrote while looking like a model for L.L. Bean or
Orvis with his ever-present khakis, flannel shirts, and down vests.
After identifying himself, he got right down to brass tacks. “I’m working on a
piece for the Reporter about the body found up near Reservoir Point this
morning. A young girl, in her teens, who has been identified as Destiny Rose
Montclaire. Can you confirm?”
“I’m sure the sheriff will hold a press conference about it.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Cause of death?”
“Unknown.”

---

“But there’s going to be an autopsy, yes?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“And then you’ll know cause of death and whether or not this is a homicide.”
“You know how it works. Again, the sheriff, or maybe the PIO, will speak to
the press.” Currently there was no public information officer—the last one had
quit earlier in the year—but Pescoli wasn’t about to elaborate.
Ignoring her dodge, he plowed on, “There was a teen party up at the reservoir
last night. Drinking, drugs.”
“I can’t confirm that.”
“And your daughter, Bianca, she was up there?”
Pescoli’s irritation catapulted to anger. “No comment,” she said tightly. Bianca
was a minor, and her name would be kept out of the papers. At least for now.
“Rumor has it she thinks she was chased by a Big Foot.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“It’s all over social media. Could go viral.”
“Oh, come on.”
“People all over the world are interested in the creature.”
“The ‘creature’ doesn’t exist.”
“Is that what your daughter says?” he asked.
She wasn’t going to be lured back into that conversation. “Look, Manny, I’m
busy here with a homicide investigation. If you want more information, call the
sheriff.” She hung up, steamed, then forced herself to relax. There was a helluva
lot of work yet to be done, and she didn’t have time for Manny Douglas and the