Image by Lynda Hinton from Unsplash

***

By the time we parked in front of a quaint two-storey building, my heart had calmed. The emergency protein bars I'd stashed in the glove box had chased away any madness my lack of sugar had caused. That was what transpired in the forest, nothing more. The police station had tall windows reminiscent of a 19th-century store. Its rust-coloured bricks were soothing, but it still gave me the chills. The men on the force lingered when I coached soccer games or track meets. 'Nice thing you're doing for the kids,' they'd say, though their eyes conveyed their suspicion.

My problems had worsened since the town had a gruesome murder, and the cops needed a suspect to put the taxpayers at ease. Why not target a newcomer, especially one that was different? 

Police had never had a problem blaming my mom's eccentricities for things she hadn't done. The shame of sitting in the officers' chairs while my mom was locked up and my father tried to defend my mother's innocence still stung. While I wasn't muttering spells and going into trances, the local police force didn't have any LGBT members, at least none that were open about it or attended the community group. People tended to fear and blame what they didn't understand.

Mike squeezed my shoulder. "We'll go in together. They only want a statement." His gaze shifted to the left. I could have missed it if I blinked. We both knew it wouldn't be that simple, but he was reassuring me. "If they ask, we entered the house together, and we discovered her body together."

My skin bristled at the possibility of getting caught lying to the cops. "What if they question you about the house?"

"What was in there?"

"Newspaper on the walls, rotting food and a bloody fingernail on the kitchen floor, and books on the occult."

Once I'd walked him through the layout of the home, he took my hand in his soft one. "Will you tell me what happened in the forest after I left?"

I closed my eyes and inhaled. "Later." I released Mike's grip and petted Milo, who purred in response. His ribs were still too prominent. We'd have to get him real cat food on the drive home.

"We bringing Milo in?" I asked.

"He's Mrs. Crawford's property, so the police will decide what happens with him."

I swore Milo tensed when I did. It was comforting to have a creature reaffirm my feelings. Perhaps the cops would let us care for him, at least until someone else came forward.

"Ready?" Mike asked.

I nodded. 

We entered through the double set of doors into a room with a large front desk and several others set further back and partitioned with wooden dividers. The room had a musty library and stale coffee scent.

Jeanine, the curvy receptionist with flat hair, greeted us with a cheery "G'morning," before diving into a crossword puzzle open on her desk.

"We're here to see Officer Potts," Mike said. The woman continued her puzzle. "About Mrs. Crawford."

She chewed on the cap of her pen. "Three-letter word for a fancy coffee dispenser."

"Pod?" Mike humoured her.

Her red hair stuck to her face as she shook her head and studied the page. "Starts with u."

"Urn." I'd always found it unsettling how the English language couldn't find different words for containers of hot beverages and ashes.

As her lips quirked into a smile, she scribbled the answer and flipped the book shut. "That'll work. Thanks, Winston. Officer Potts swung by the bakery, but should be back soon."

Mike and I shared a look. After calling in a suspicious death, that was the last action we'd expected. Maybe I was worried about false accusations for nothing.

"You said you're here about Mrs. Crawford, right?" When we nodded, she hollered to a guy at a nearby desk. "Jerry, didn't she report that creepy statue recently?"

A man with more wiry beard hair than exposed face lumbered over. He glanced around the empty office and spoke quietly. "Two weeks ago. Trisha and Marvin checked in and only saw those freaky boarded-up windows. They knocked, but when she never responded, they didn't file a report on the statue."

"What did you find at her place?" Jeanine asked.

I glanced at my husband. Would it help or hurt our innocence if we shared the news of what occurred? Gossip passed like viral stomach flu in this town, so it was better to be the source rather than let Officer Potts share his interpretation. Milo squirmed in my arms, and I sat down to settle him. I nodded at Mike, who returned the gesture.

He stepped closer to Jeanine and lowered his voice. "We stopped by this morning to drop her cat off since we found him wandering the woods near our house last night. The winds were pretty nasty, and falling trees destroyed a shed at her place while we were there. When we checked the area, we discovered her body behind it. Her death looked like it had happened some time ago."

Jeanine and Jerry's faces paled.

"Like it could have happened two weeks ago?" she asked.

Mike shrugged. "I'm no expert, but there were bugs and flies and that smell of rotting flesh." We both shuddered, as the scent lingered on our clothes. Milo dug his claws into my leg. "You don't forget that. I hope the detectives can find whoever did this."

"Do you think the statue is cursed?" Jeanine asked, chewing on her fuchsia nails.

"Why?" I said. They couldn't blame a curse for murder.

"Didn't that thing land on the Fisher's door, then their son went missing?" Jeanine said.

I raked my brain for the surnames of the teens I coached, but Fisher sounded unfamiliar. Milo was swatting at my track pants despite my attempts to deter him.

Jerry readjusted his belt and sighed. "That's an open investigation, Jeanine."

"You know Potts isn't taking this seriously enough. Look where he went after getting a call about poor Mrs. Crawford. I want this spookiness to end."

"He'll be here any minute. As for the Fisher kid, he must have run to the city to chase some impossible dream. You remember how it was at that age."

"My cousin hasn't heard from him since he left, and they're good friends," Jeanine said. "And the Andersons reported an eye statue in the park. The next day, people called about those dead birds and raccoons. Now Mrs. Crawford who has seen the statue has been dead for weeks and was only discovered by accident."

I tried to get Milo to lie down on my lap with no success. There had to be an explanation for the deceased animals. Perhaps bears or lynxes were in the area again. But why leave the bodies if they expended the energy to kill them? Did Corbeau Woods have a budding psychopath practicing on animals? I shook my head. Mike's crime drama binging was rubbing off on me.

Jerry scratched at his beard and glanced at the front doors. His voice lowered. "It could be a coincidence. People have been calling in sightings from all over town. New location every night. The damned thing must have legs or be remote-controlled."

"We should hold a town meeting," Jeanine declared.

Jerry shook his head. "You'll just incite panic. Let Potts hear the details and decide."

As the front door swung open, Jerry stiffened and Jeanine rubbed her belly and pouted, knocking ten years off her face. "We can't wait too long."

"Can't wait that long for what?" Officer Potts strolled in with a cardboard box and tray of four coffees. Even though the man was in his forties, he had the body of a twenty-year-old athlete. Milo perked up and sniffed the air. "Hot chocolate for you," he handed a cup to Jeanine.

"Thanks. We need to discuss the connection between the statues and dead bodies."

"Bodies?" Potts raised an eyebrow at Mike. "Wasn't there just one or did you discover another?"

"And the animals in the park," Jeanine said.

"Let's not jump to conclusions." Potts gave Jerry two drinks before the bearded man returned to his cubicle. The officer set the box near her, and she opened it in a flash.

He turned to Mike and me. "I'm not usually one for sweets, but Louisa's started making these sugar-free protein donuts once a week, and once you start, you can't stop." He gestured for us to try one.

My husband laughed as I tucked Milo under my arm and dove into the treats. I was quite conscientious about what I consumed. It didn't matter if Potts was lying because every carb distanced me from what occurred in the woods. Mike eyed me, and I knew we'd discuss this later.

"Eat another, Winston. You'll need the energy for the game today, assuming these winds die down."

My eyes widened as I licked the sweet pistachio residue from my lips. I'd forgotten about this afternoon's game in the chaos. It would be an excellent distraction if the team could play. Milo shifted in my arms, likely growing tired of being held.

"Step into my office, and we'll get your statements."

Once we sat down in the vinyl chairs across from Pott's neat desk, Mike walked the man through how we found Milo, our decision to return him today, and due to our concern for Mrs. Crawford's well-being, we entered her house but saw no signs of her, just a potential struggle. He explained how we followed a crash outside to recover Milo where we discovered Mrs. Crawford's body.

Once Potts finished typing he asked, "Did you notice anything off in or around the house?"

Mike looked at me. I took a deep breath. "There was a bloody fingernail and rotting food in the kitchen like there'd been a struggle." But if there was a struggle, why had the front door been closed? Had a killer been covering their tracks and if they had why leave the body so close to the home?

As I stroked his ears, Milo mewled.

"Anything else?"

"The walls were covered in newspaper, and the windows were boarded up," Mike added.

"Maybe she wanted to keep out unwanted visitors." Potts grinned and his tone was light, but I detected the undertone of hatred directed at us. The pistachio residue in my mouth grew acrid.

"It's impossible to know," Mike said. 

Potts attention returned to his screen. Maybe I was imagining things again as I had in the forest.

"Were all the windows boarded up?"

Had she missed any? Was that how the attacker got in? My mother had sworn spirits could pass through the thinnest crack. I pinched my leg. I couldn't turn into her. Not here, not ever.  

"I believe so," Mike answered.

Officer Potts' fingers clacked on the keyboard. "Was the door open when you arrived?"

"No, I knocked, and it was unlocked, but shut."  As I stroked Milo's soft fur, he stood, circling on my lap before settling again.

"Was it normal for her to leave her door unlocked?" Potts asked.

Mike looked at me, and I shrugged. "I've never been inside the house before. We usually spoke to her in passing."

Potts asked us more about Mrs. Crawford's body and what we'd touched on the scene, but without leveraging any more threats. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anything else you want to add to your statement before I print it out?" Potts' eyes met mine like he sensed more to our story. The voices in the forest weren't relevant, and they could find that busted rock structure without my help. I needn't memorialize my hallucinations in a police report and become a suspect.

"I vomited when I saw her," I added in case that came back to bite me.

"Explains your appetite. Anything more?"

He readjusted a picture of him and three other officers with arms around each other's shoulders. Two of the cops in that picture were regularly uncomfortable fixtures at my games.

Milo stared at me with those evergreen eyes, and my stomach rumbled as if to counter the cat's argument. Stressful situations caused many reactions in people. The stone platform and voices were my imagination at work too.

"What do we do with her cat, Milo?" Mike asked.

Potts ran a hand over his buzzed hair and eyed the skinny animal. "You like cats?"

I scratched Milo's head. "He's been through a lot. If it saves him from being neglected, we'll take him in."

The officer nodded. "That's great, you'd be doing us a solid. We'll let you know if you need to bring Milo in or if the family wants to keep it."

The cat purred in my lap like he understood and settled.

"If you have nothing else to add, I'll get you to sign the statement, and we'll call you in if we have follow-up questions after our investigation."

Mike stood. "Thank you, Officer Potts. We're prepared to help in any way we can."

I tried not to cringe at the ass-kissing. Potts grabbed a few papers from his printer and gave us each one with a pen. Mike signed his within seconds while I read through it to make sure the cop had added nothing odd. He had copied down our statement word for word. I endorsed it and handed it back. His cold hand touched mine as I passed him the pen.

"We'll be seeing you soon," he said, which made his smile even more sinister.

I tensed. Was he on to me? "Excuse me?"

His grin broadened. "At the game, my nephew is your best defenseman."

My brain was too sluggish to respond anything more than, "Go crows!" as I fled the office.