Chapter 11: Another Fine Mess

Jake and Phinn moved slowly to their right in a semicircle. They had a plan to catch the mysterious watcher before he noticed them approaching. Despite the city boys’ limited experience in nature, they had a good chance of sneaking up unnoticed due to the show on the gazebo.

SNAP

The sound of a small branch cracking under the stocky detective’s weight roared like a gunshot twenty-five feet away from the watcher. The unexpected noise made the man’s head swing around to find Jake paused comically, one leg raised. Over his shoulder, Phinn saw what should’ve been the watcher’s face under the raised windbreaker’s hood.

Something akin to a beekeeper's mask stared at the teens before the jacket-wearing man turned to bolt into the dense forest. The trampling crackles of the underbrush rang out like bomb bursts.

Jake’s instincts kicked in with a rush of adrenaline. Well-honed from years of gridiron accomplishments and past detective adventures, the stocky sleuth barreled full speed into the underbrush after the watcher.

“Dammit,” Phinn cursed, shaking his head partly as he followed his partner.

Jake and Phinn plunged into the thicket, their eyes locked on the bobbing blue blur of the man's jacket as it weaved through the trees and brush. Unlike the teens, the watcher appeared well-versed in sprinting through thick foliage. While branches slapped against their faces and they ducked under low-hanging limbs, the fleeing man bobbed and weaved expertly. His path was erratic, with sudden turns that challenged the teen's agility.

Still, Jake managed to keep pace, thanks to his football training, treating the terrain as he would crouching blockers or diving tacklers. He leaped over tangles of roots, with soft earth giving way under his heavy feet. Yet, he didn't falter while using the occasional glimpse of the dark blue material in the alternating shadows and sunlight, thanks to the tree canopy.

Slowly falling behind, Phinn breathed in short gasps as his time spent indoors showed. One particularly nasty, thin tree branch flung backward into his face, inadvertently thanks to Jake’s bashing out his way. The thin, whip-like branch nearly knocked the bookworm’s glasses off, causing him to slow down further.

Resuming his efforts, Phinn struggled to keep up with Jake, who continued to fall further behind their target. However, the tide turned slightly about six minutes later after they entered an even thicker portion of the forest. Although Jake struggled mightily in the confined spaces, Phinn excelled by twisting and turning his smaller frame. He found himself on Jake's heels while also able to catch sight of the dark-blue blob. Even the man who'd gracefully sprinted without care earlier now had to pause several times before finding a section of the overgrowth to push through.

Suddenly, Jake caught his left foot on a gnarled root hidden behind a thick batch of weeds and leaves. With a grunt, he pitched forward, arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance. Unfortunately, his windmilling arms didn’t stop his teetering body from tilting past the point of no return. He crashed to the ground face-first, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through his nose and cheekbones.

Phinn skidded to a halt to look down at Jake, sprawled on the uneven ground. One hand covered his aching nose while the other reached for a nearby tree trunk to hoist himself up into a sitting position.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a mix of concern and urgency.

“I’m good!” Jake responded, his voice a bit shakier than he’d like. Still, he waved his partner on. “Go! Don’t lose him.”

Nodding, Phinn hurried off to carry on the chase.

Unfortunately, they’d lost sight of the fleeing man. Slowing for a moment, Phineas leaned his head forward slightly to listen. The rustle of bushes and the occasional snap of a twig provided scant clues to their quarry’s whereabouts. However, those tiny tips were enough for now.

With a grimace, Jake pushed himself to his feet, his hand coming away sticky with blood. He wiped it on his shorts, leaving a crimson smear. Reaching up, Jake tested his previously broken nose, but it didn’t feel the same as it had before.

"It's okay," the investigation-hardened teen muttered, his voice nasally from the impact. "I'm okay."

The pain sharpened his focus, and he took off at a sprint, ignoring the protest of his bruised body. He’d taken tougher blows playing football and worse damage in past cases. It took a lot to knock Jake Magnum out for the count.

Further ahead, Phinn's eyes scanned the ground with broad sweeps while listening for the sounds of the fleeing watcher. The man left scant clues to follow, but the occasional footprint in the soft ground mixed with a broken branch or still disturbed greenery provided a semblance of a trail.

Another five minutes passed, leading Phinn to fear the man had pulled away. He also began to encounter an issue while trying to listen for signs as Jake narrowed the gap from behind. His partner's large frame inevitably made a racket in the confined space.

Then, a glimmer of hope appeared as Phinn caught a flicker of dark blue on what seemed to be a slight ridge in the forest past some more foliage. Needing to take advantage of the break, Phinn kicked in a gear he didn’t know he had. Plunging forward, he felt the pricks of the thick bushes on his bare arms and legs. Ignoring the pain of the minor cuts and scratches, the bespectacled sleuth burst through to find a slight incline.

Racing up the incline, Phinn reached the top, only to immediately trip. Tumbling down the other side, he rolled over four full times before he plummeted into the water. After surfacing, Phinn let out a short shriek before his splashing cut it off. Fortunately, he hadn’t lost his glasses. However, they now had dirty water obscuring his vision.

With hands flailing, they searched for anything to cling to. Unable to swim very well, Phinn began to panic as his hand found a rock, but it slid off the algae-covered slipperiness of the surface. Struggling to tread in the thick, murky water, Phinn went under again momentarily.

Suddenly, a branch struck his head slightly from above. Reacting automatically, Phinn slapped it away. The move caused him to surface again while coughing and spitting out a mouthful of dirty water.

“You’re supposed to grab the branch!” Jake pointed out.

“You hit me in the head with it!” Phinn complained, mumbling about Jake knocking him out as he grabbed the long, thick branch.

“Well, I’m not going in there. It looks nasty,” Jake commented, surveying the murky water. “You know, it’s not that large. Can you stand up?”

“Stand up? I’ve nearly drowned twice!” Phinn spat back. However, after Jake pulled him a little closer, his feet touched the soft bottom. “Maybe. But it was deeper over there!”

Jake didn’t respond, yet after he helped Phinn out of the pit, the wet, muddy teen glanced back to see that his pit wasn’t very wide. Taking off his glasses, Phinn asked if Jake had any tissues, which he used to wipe his glasses. Now able to see again, he scanned the area, spotting footprints on the right side of the pit.

“Those yours?”

“No. I climbed down the left side,” Jake replied, perking up.

Without a word, the investigators began to follow the muddy footprints into an area of high grass. As their luck would have it, the indented footsteps didn’t last for long. Once they entered another thicker section of the forest, the harder ground didn’t give way as easily. Another dense crop of underbrush entirely killed the trail. Stopping, the teens listened intently, hearing only the rustling of leaves from the slight breeze.

“I think…I think we lost him,” Jake admitted.

“It looks that way,” Phinn admitted, groaning while he wrung water from his shirt.

With his gaze lifting, Jake scanned higher into the trees. It might be pointless, but one never knew if they didn’t try. Maybe the guy had climbed a tree. Unfortunately, that didn’t appear to be the case.

“You know, it’s like he knew this place like the back of his hand. He barely stumbled or made many missteps,” Jake noted.

“Good point. Maybe he’s not a paparazzo from Cali,” Phinn added, his observation hanging in the air, thick with implication.

Jake’s eyes narrowed as a deeper realization dawned on him. Swearing under his breath, he murmured, “We both might be onto something. What…What if he’s the killer? He was wearing some crazy mask.”

“It looked like a modified beekeeper mask or something similar,” Phinn said. “It was dark enough to hide his face under the jacket hood.”

“Oh, fuck. He’s got a signature slasher mask,” Jake responded, suddenly performing a slow circle to check their surroundings.

“Lay off the hysteria, okay? You’re already freaked out about a werewolf,” Phinn stated, mulling over which way they should go. “If he is a local, he might have been headed for a trail. Hopefully, one is nearby. We should stay in this general direction for a little longer.”

Nodding at the direction his partner pointed toward, Jake added, “Let’s stick together and keep our eyes peeled. Somebody could be waiting to ambush us.”

Although annoyed with Jake's frequent worrying, Phinn acknowledged the terrain lent itself to a trap. They'd better go slow and steady while keeping their eyes and ears open.

---

“Damn, I don’t think this trail goes anywhere,” Jake decided, stopping to wipe his forehead.

After another thirty minutes of slogging through the forest, they'd come across a narrow game trail. Pulling his compass from his waterproof backpack, Phinn grimaced. The trail widened as it headed southwest slightly. Despite leading in the opposite direction for them to return to Ellison House, Phinn agreed with Jake to take the trail. It might connect to another path or lead to a different paved road.

After nearly another hour, Jake began to complain that he’d been wrong. The trail had widened slightly more, yet that also allowed sunlight to peek through in increasing amounts. Now, around mid-afternoon, the sleuths reluctantly admitted they didn’t have a clue to their whereabouts.

“It better lead somewhere,” Phinn groused, kicking a small pebble.

“We should eat the snacks we brought,” Jake suggested for the third time.

“Not yet. We don’t know how long we’ll be stuck out here.”

“It’s not like anyone knows what direction we went,” Jake groaned. “I’m almost hoping Yvonne or Flamand saw us chasing that guy.”

“Well, I don’t. We need Flamand in the dark about our motives for as long as possible,” Phinn replied. “That’s especially true after we saw what one of his sessions was like.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Aunt Yvonne sure shocked me,” Jake declared.

“I don't like the vibes I got. It’s like a mix of Repington and Farlow,” Phinn suggested, referring to two previous culprits from past cases.

An ex-circus ringmaster, Repington had been an expert in discovering people’s needs and desires to exploit. On the other hand, Farlow had been a master manipulator and burgeoning demagogue.

“It felt creepy,” Jake revealed, shuddering.

“Very cultish, I think.” Although the subject of a cult had been thrown out as a possibility very early in the case, Phinn now began to wonder about its potential validity.

“Like in a sex cult?!”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Phinn warned, holding up a hand. “Let’s confer with Leighton and Paisley once we get back.”

“If we ever do,” Jake moaned.

Eventually, the game trail headed directly south. The journey finally paid off, as the path ended at a dirt road that appeared to run east-west. On the side opposite to the trail the teens had left, lay a vast area of wet marshlands.

“Good thing you didn’t fall into that,” Jake joked. When his partner didn’t laugh, he looked over, expecting to see Phinn’s scowl. Instead, he found his best friend looking west with a curious expression. Following his gaze, Jake’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”

“It looks like a shack,” Phinn observed. “Let’s check it out.”

“But…Fine,” Jake said after pointing east down the road.

If Paisley had called Mama Yawa’s cabin a shack, then she’d likely called this tiny building a shed or outhouse. It certainly looked as old, if not older, than Jake’s stop yesterday. It also sat even closer to the murky water’s edge than Mama Yawa’s had.

Opening the door, Phinn found a small windowless room. Check that, he immediately noted. There was a pair of mini-shutters on the left-hand side that could be opened to provide air or light. On the same side, in a rear corner, sat an old wood stove with a hot plate on top. On the opposite wall, they saw an old rusty bed frame minus a mattress. A pair of cupboards was on the wall above it. The final pieces of furniture sat in the middle of the shack: a small square table and two round chairs.

“Is this a hunting shack?” Jake asked, peering around.

“Could be,” Phinn replied, sniffing the air. “Smell that?”

“Besides slamming my nose into the ground, I’m also dealing with allergies,” Jake responded, shaking his head.

“Smells like perfume or cologne.”

“Do you recognize it?” Jake queried, waiting several seconds as his partner sniffed the air in several spots.

“No. It’s just a slight whiff. Just enough to reveal that somebody was in here wearing something,” Phinn declared, already walking toward a blanket in the corner behind the bed frame.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," Jake warned, his face showing disgust as his partner did so.

“Voilà!” Phinn announced, tossing the blanket on the bed frame.

“Is that a cooler?”

"It is," Phinn said, pulling it out from the corner. "It's heavy, too."

“Hold on! I wouldn’t open it. What if there is…a head inside or something?”

"It sloshed, Jake," Phinn revealed. Unlocking and lifting the lid, the brainy detective nodded as if he'd guessed correctly. Dipping a finger inside, he noted, "The ice has melted, but the water is still cool."

“Damn, are those water bottles? Give me one!”

“Hang on. There are also several bottles of juice. Hmm,” Phinn mused, scratching his chin. “This might not be a hunter’s.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t see any beer. How many hunters do we know that don’t use it as an excuse to sit around and drink?”

"That's true. Who else might have left it here? That guy we chased?" Jake questioned.

“I don’t know. Let’s look around,” Phinn directed, shutting the cooler’s lid.

Standing up, he searched behind the bed frame while Jake opened the stove and peered inside. Then, he pulled a pan that hung on the wall off its hook as Phinn opened the cupboard’s doors. Inside the left cupboard, he found two small plates, sets of utensils, and the same number of cups. The right side held several cans of beans and something far more interesting.

“Whoa!” Jake sounded, causing Phinn to turn around.

“Don’t!” Phinn ordered before Jake could pick up the item he found leaning against the corner behind the door. “Use a tissue.”

“Oh, right,” Jake agreed, digging in his pocket for a facial tissue.

“Give me one if you have another,” Phinn said, holding out his hand. “I doubt the sheriff will ever dust for prints, but we don’t want to be the reason.”

He watched as Jake picked up the long object to check over. Opening a section, he looked up with a serious expression.

“It’s an air rifle, alright.”

“What’s the odds that it’s not the same one used to shoot Queenie?” Phinn responded sarcastically. Then, he reached inside the cupboard to pull out an item with the tissue.

“Whoa!” Jake sounded. “Is that…”

“It sure looks like night vision goggles,” Phinn said, examining it for a couple of minutes. “I wonder why it’s needed.”

“We should take it. I need a pair to watch for the werewolf.”

"Jake, we're not stealing any–fine, we're not borrowing anything," Phinn clarified upon seeing his friend open his mouth. "We're putting these back where we found them until we know more."

“Can’t we borrow a bottle of water? The ones we brought are getting low.”

“Let me see.” Opening the cooler again, Phinn counted the items inside. “I think we’re safe taking one water and one juice. Which one do you–”

“The juice,” Jake interrupted.

"Alright. Let's not talk about you-know-what, but this is a good place to eat and catch our breath," Phinn said, taking off his backpack.

Jake opened the shutters to let in more air and left the front door open, while Phinn replaced the cooler, blanket, and goggles. Sitting in the two chairs, they welcomed the chance to get off their feet after the long trek through the woods.

Most of the conversation focused on Jake asking for more details about the other day’s tanning session and last night's tryst at the loft. Despite preferring not to talk about the case inside the shack, Phinn provided some details about the women. He figured it skirted their actual case and would shut Jake up. However, the former continued to try to steer the conversation back to regular events in their hometown and Jake's plans for the summer.

They rested for an hour before admitting they needed to get moving. Phinn preferred they’d reach the main road before dark, yet he wasn’t hopeful. Cleaning up the shack, they placed the garbage in a spare plastic bag to put inside their backpacks. Once outside and away from any possible listening devices, Phinn stopped to open his bag again. He dug around for a small baggie with three different pieces of colored chalk.

“You want to leave a trail?” Jake double-checked.

“Yes. We might need to find our way back here,” Phinn responded, handing Jake his blue chalk. He started by selecting a tree about twenty-five feet away from the shack. Jake nodded as Phinn chose a location for his pink mark that they could easily locate but might not be spotted by others quickly.

They continued leaving chalk marks every twenty-five to thirty-five feet. Frequently, they had to climb through some brush to reach a large enough tree on the north side of the road. The dirt road primarily followed an eastern direction, with occasional bends in northern or southern directions, depending on the marshland. Early on, it became apparent that the road followed the edge of the watery area. In several places, the marsh had shifted since the road had been built, leading them to walk through ankle-deep water.

Eventually, the sun started to lower on the horizon. That brought a welcome relief from the direct sunlight. It also brought new concerns for Jake, who glanced in the opposite direction at the rising moon. While it was still light out, the stocky detective decided to take a pee break before any werewolves came out to hunt.

Waving his hand at the nonsense, Phinn sat down in a grassy spot to relax as Jake went over the marsh water. Once out of sight, several moments passed until Jake shouted. Jumping up, Phinn stopped when his best friend said he needed to finish first. Once he'd been given the okay, Phinn walked briskly to see what startled his partner.

“There,” Jake pointed toward a large batch of reeds near the water’s edge.

“What?” Phinn asked, noticing only a swath of trampled reeds. He moved closer to Jake in his direction. “Holy shit.”

Past the reeds, the rear end of a car sat raised slightly into the air. Its front section appeared to be somewhat submerged in the murky water. Upon a second look, the car was a silver sedan.

“What do you think?” Phinn asked, as his partner was their car expert.

“I’d say it’s a Corolla. Maybe a Civic. Hard to tell with the mud splatters,” Jake speculated on the vehicle’s model.

“It doesn’t look to have been out there long.”

“Maybe a week or two.”

The pair of investigators shared a look at the time frame. Both understood the possibility.

“We’d better take a look,” Phinn announced.

“We?”

“I already fell into the water once…and that’s pretty far out,” Phinn added.

“You really need to take more swimming lessons,” Jake said, sighing.

“Hey, I need to take driving lessons first. I can only do so much in a day,” Phinn argued while Jake took his backpack off and emptied his pockets’ contents to place inside the bag. Handing it over to Phinn, Jake decided to take his new flashlight.

“Take mine,” Phinn directed, pulling out his regular-sized flashlight. “That lantern one is too bulky to carry out there.”

“I guess,” Jake admitted reluctantly. “We don’t have much time before darkness.”

“Maybe thirty minutes tops,” Phinn speculated, checking the sky and the actual time. “Be careful.”

“What should I–”

“Driver’s side. Check the center console and unlock the passenger door. Don’t check the glove box from the driver’s side. It looks half-submerged. Oh, pop the trunk before going to the passenger side, but save the trunk for last,” Phinn rattled off, concerned about the vehicle sinking deeper and the lessening light.

“Right,” Jake responded, starting to walk into the brownish-green water. After ten feet, he glanced over his shoulder. “I better not find a body inside.”

“I think we both suspect we already found the corpse,” Phinn pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah, we hope.”

Wary of water, not afraid of it, Phineas watched worriedly as his best friend slowly waded further out. The observer cringed as Jake slightly stumbled as he neared the reeds.

“You okay?”

“Just stepped on a soft spot.”

“Here, see if this helps,” Phinn called out, turning on Jake’s lantern-style flashlight. The large beam provided additional light at dusk as Jake entered the reeds.

“I'd better not meet any creatures out here,” Jake called back.

“You know, this reminds me of Artoo on Dagobah.”

“What?!” Jake challenged, turning around to face Phinn.

“Don’t stop. You need to hurry before the underwater monsters show up in the dark,” Phinn teased.

“The hell?”

"Don't worry. I'm sure it'll spit you out, too. But hurry to the X-wing, I mean car," Phinn cracked. "But don't attack the little green guy if you see him."

“This isn’t helping,” Jake responded, slapping the air in his partner’s direction before continuing forward.

“Hey, I’m trying to take your mind off things.”

“You’re making it worse.”

“Oh, c’mon. R2D2 never makes it worse. Mentioning the cops finding the submerged car at the end of Psycho would make it worse,” Phinn clarified.

“Dammit, Phinn, you’re going to pay for this!” Jake yelled back.

“You know, Dusty would’ve found this funny.”

“I’m not Dusty! And you know what? I’m going to get my ****,” Jake vowed, almost past the reeds.

“How?” Phinn mocked. His best friend didn’t realize it, but their banter did help Jake hurry to the vehicle without panicking over every detail.

“I’ll…I’ll tell your mom about your crush on Harper.”

“I have no such crush on Harper Townsend!” Phinn denied while slightly blushing.

“Sure you don’t. And I bet Pamela will see right through your denials.”

“Oh…Fucking hurry up out there!” Phinn responded, shining the flashlight directly at the back of Jake’s head.

The next few minutes passed in silence as Jake approached the sedan. Eventually, he yelled over that it was a Corolla. Then, he added that the front driver’s side window was either down or broken.

“Likely rolled down to allow the water inside. Any other windows down?”

“I think the passenger side might be,” Jake responded, unsure from his vantage point. “The car is only flooded up to the bottom of the window. The backseat only has a small amount.”

Grabbing the handle, Jake opened the door more easily than he expected. However, the move allowed a slight amount of additional water to fill the car. Unsure if this year’s model had a trunk release down on the side of the front seat, Jake felt around until he found a lever. Pulling it, he looked back to see the small gas door open. Another try found the proper lever. After he heard the trunk pop open, Jake gingerly reached inside to open the center console. Reaching inside, he pulled out a wad of wet napkins and tissues.

“Nothing in the console is worthwhile!” Jake called out. “I’ll check the glove box next.”

“Alright, be careful,” Phinn reminded, leading Jake around in the increasingly darkening twilight with the flashlight.

With a hand for leverage against the sedan, Jake told himself to be careful around the rear. He didn’t want to lean on the trunk and accidentally shut it. After nearly tripping on the uneven bottom, the teen also noticed that the sedan had sunk slightly more.

Eventually, he decided to reach in through the passenger window to open the glove box. A quick search in the mostly dry compartment found the owner’s manual and a sealed bag of additional papers. Pulling it out, Jake nodded.

“I think I found a rental agreement!”

“Oh, if the renter is still alive, this is going to be costly!” Phinn noted.

On the shore, Phinn watched as Jake opened the trunk. He couldn’t see much, but his partner appeared to search inside before stepping back and slamming the trunk shut. Jake didn’t say anything, so Phinn assumed the trunk search came up empty. Still, a rental agreement should provide a name as a lead.

It took Jake ten minutes to wade close enough to fling the bag at Phinn. Catching it, he immediately moved closer to the dirt road. Placing the large flashlight down, he opened the seal to pull out the documents.

“Grover Atwood! That’s the name of the person who rented it. Eleven days ago in Darlingport,” Phinn called over.

Out of the dirty water, Jake stumbled over before dropping to sit next to Phinn.

“We got a problem,” Jake announced, holding out his hand. Opening it, a necklace dangled down. The flashlight's light revealed a transparent yellow crystal.

“Citrine,” Phinn said, recognizing the necklace due to its duplicate.

“Yeah, I found Adora’s missing necklace in the trunk,” Jake revealed glumly.

The final forty-minute walk to the main road proved to be a somber one. Jake fretted that if Grover Atwood was the corpse they found on their first day, then he'd found evidence of Adora Rose's guilt. Only after Phinn pointed out that the necklace might not mean anything, or it could implicate Troy, did Jake relax slightly.

Unfortunately, to take his mind off Adora, Jake doubled down on his werewolf paranoia. In the dark of night, he insisted they walk on the centerline of the road and use both flashlights and several of the items Jake had purchased the previous day.

Phinn agreed only to use a flashlight, out of concern that a car might hit them on the road. However, he shook his head in embarrassment as Jake tied a plastic mistletoe decoration around his neck and gripped one of the forks in his free hand.

“How much longer until we reach the house?” Jake asked for seemingly the tenth time while shining his flashlight into the brush at every real or imagined sound.

“I don’t know. Everything looks the same. Calm down.”

“Calm down? We’re sitting ducks out here!”

“We’re not sitting ducks.”

“You’re right. We’re fresh meat!”

After teasing Jake at the marsh water, Phinn held back his retort. Still, he felt a sigh of relief several minutes later.

“Okay, this looks familiar. I think we’re about a hundred yards from the trail where we found the body,” Phinn observed.

“Good. But don’t drop your guard,” Jake warned.

Fifty yards out from the hiking trail, a long, drawn-out wail pierced the night’s silence.

"What fuck is that?!" Jake screeched, slinging his lantern flashlight around in a circle.

“Relax. It's a coyote. They do live in…”

“Ahhhhh,” Jake sounded faintly as he spotted what caused Phinn to trail off.

Forty yards in front of them, a creature hopped into the street from the left side. It was on all fours until it stood up on two legs. Sniffing the air, it unleashed another howl before dropping down to all fours again and hopping to their right onto the trail.

“The fuck,” Phinn muttered.

The creature had been a man or a cross of man and animal. It had long hair hanging down from its scalp and patches of hair around its body.

“You see? Werewolves do exist!” Jake exclaimed.