Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

16- The Lumber Camp Again

Stone ignored the stares as he and Moses strode into the logging camp. In any event, he doubted many of the looks were for him. Unlike the other lumberjacks he’d seen in Rockmire, there was not a brown face among this crew.

Wood smoke hung low in the damp air, carrying an acrid scent to his nostrils. Over the years he’d developed heightened senses, which was not always a pleasant thing. Beneath the smoke and the damp, earthy smell hung the foul aroma of human habitation: body odor, cheap whiskey, tobacco smoke, and the reek of a nearby latrine. He ignored it all, keeping his eyes trained on a big, blond man who sat on a stump, drinking from a tin cup.

The man’s eyes widened as he spotted the newcomers. The fellow stood, his gaze uncertain. This was Davis, the foreman.

“You two lost?”

“We’re right where we intended to be,” Stone said. “I’ll make this brief. We’re looking for a friend.” He described Trinity, and saw a spark of recognition in the man’s eyes.

“I don’t…” Davis started to shake his head, but froze beneath Stone’s icy glare. “I don’t know where she is,” he amended. “She did stop by about five days back, maybe a week? Said she was a reporter.”

“What was she inquiring about?” Stone asked.

“Deaths. Well, the rumors of deaths. It’s all a bunch of lies, though. This is a safe camp.” Davis’s gaze flicked up and to the side and he blinked several times before continuing. “I answered her questions and she left. Said she was going back to Washington. DC.”

“Maybe the ape men got her,” a burly blond-haired man rumbled in a heavy German accent. Several of the lumberjacks let out raucous laughs.

“Shut your mouths,” Davis snapped.

The men ignored their foreman, and continued to laugh, but fell silent under Stone’s cold stare. He turned back to Davis.

“I need your help.” His tone said it was anything but a request.

Davis looked around at his men, then nodded. “Walk with me.” He put his hands in his pockets and walked out of camp at a relaxed gait, as if he were out for an evening stroll. When they were out of earshot, he finally spoke.

“The townsfolk are always trying to blame their troubles on us. But it’s their women who are disappearing, not our lumberjacks.”

“Missing women?” Stone asked.

“A few women have gone missing and some of the drunks in the saloon blame it on Bigfoot.” He made a face to show what he thought of the idea.

“What do you think happened to them?”

“I know for a fact that one of them made off with a lumberjack, skin as dark as this fellow here.” He inclined his head in Moses’s direction. “Her old man is too ashamed to admit it. He’d rather people think she made off with an ape man.” Davis forced a grin.

“You haven’t had a single man vanish?” Stone asked.

“That’s why I wanted to speak to you in private. We did have one man disappear a few months back. I told the men that a company man had taken him away. They do that from time to time. The truth is, he wandered off one day and was never heard from again. The men are so superstitious about Bigfoot, and the Indians have been filling their heads with stories about sightings in the area where Klaus disappeared.”

“What did he look like?” Stone asked.

“Like a bear with mange. Huge German, reddish brown hair everywhere but on his head.” Davis frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“When I was in Seattle I met a man by that name who fits the description to a T. You don’t know a man named Ward, do you?”

Davis flinched, then froze beneath Stone’s cold stare. After a silent second, he cleared his throat. “Never heard of him. Now, I need to be getting back. I hope you find your girl. She’s a pretty one.”

Stone knew the man was hiding something, but at the moment there was nothing to be gained from further questions. He would have to conduct his own investigation.

“Thanks for your time. You might see me again.” He shook the man’s hand, giving it an unnecessary squeeze. Davis winced, but whether it was from the handshake or the thought of Stone coming back, who could say?