False Pretense (A Murder in the Mountains Book 4) by Heather Day Gilbert

Author:Heather Day Gilbert [Gilbert, Heather Day]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WoodHaven Press
Published: 2022-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

The day passes with no follow-up calls from George, thank goodness. I listen to a few of Iris' newlywed podcasts, but her voice strikes me as a little abrasive, which makes it hard to pay attention to the content.

Everything's relatively quiet until Zeke clomps in wearing his faded combat boots. He shoots me a frazzled look and sinks into the spare chair by the door. He works his bearded jaw, and I know he's wishing for a chew of tobacco. Thanks in part to my relentless prodding, he gave up chewing, but on the really rough days, I can tell he's pining for it. His wife thanks me often, saying I probably saved him from getting cancer of the mouth and leaving her a younger widow.

Knowing he's mulling things over and might not be ready to share, I type away on the computer. Finally, with no preamble, he starts talking.

"I spoke with Will Snyder, the wildlife management director. He says he keeps a loose patrol on the area, and he's never seen hide nor hair of the Mothman. He's guessing some crackpot from out of state decided to come and play dress-up—maybe trying to revive the Mothman legend for a chance at internet fame."

I ponder that theory, but it doesn't seem to hold water. The way the family described events in the park today, it sounded like the creature had flown straight up—without flapping its wings—just before shooting along after them at an unnatural speed. Unless someone had rigged up some kind of zipline ahead of time, I couldn't figure out how that could be accomplished by a regular dude in a costume.

"How's your friend Bruce?" I ask.

"They said that all that sudden exertion gave him heart palpitations. I guess his blood pressure plunged, too, so they're monitoring everything overnight and running tests. I think he's going to be fine. But, still...it's just not right. His poor daughter was beside herself."

"I'll bet. The mental strain of seeing something that horrific coming straight at you is enough to make anyone lose it. Viola May had a really hard time after seeing it in the woods near her place."

Zeke's attention is temporarily diverted. "That's right—have you talked to her lately? Maybe she's recalled something she forgot. I assume she hasn't seen it since?"

"She hasn't seen it again, and she hasn't mentioned any new details. I spoke to her last night, and she did say she's finally sleeping better. But her husband's switched to day shift for awhile so he can be home nights with her."

"Good man," Zeke comments. He stands and deposits his interview notebook on the desk. "I'll leave this here, so you can enter the hikers' interviews tomorrow. Since I came in so early this morning, I'm heading home to some brown beans, cornbread, and a little time with my wife." He gives me a concerned look. "Are you okay, though? You look a little peaked."

Pronounced "peek-uhd," I knew this word meant I looked pale, and I probably did. "I'm fine, and I'm actually leaving soon myself.

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