Lucinda paced the room, from stone wall to stone wall, periodically peering through the wavy glass covering the narrow windows, her footsteps muffled by the wall to wall Persian rug.
Hearing the lower door slam and the sound of someone running up the stone stairs she moved to stand in the centre of the room, face expressionless, shoulders back, the energy around her crackled with anticipation.
Seated in the back booth at Mulligans Tavern and Grill, surrounded by the low hum of conversation and mellow 80’s rock coming from the speakers, the mouth-watering scent of hot wings and fries in the air and drinks on the table.
The good news is that Mrs. Miller will be okay, antibiotics for the infection, rehydration and rest. They are concerned about her mental state, she’s been talking about shadows and demons cutting off her hand. And I can’t tell them she’s probably right.
Running through the long white hallway, dodging people and equipment, spotting Rose sitting outside a room.
“What happened, how is she?” panting slightly, “where’s the doctor?”
“She’ll be fine, they weren’t intending to kill her.
And I don’t know what to freak out about, you screaming at shadows with teeth that aren’t there, a kid chewing a finger, oh a dismembered finger, or hands without bodies. Oh! I know, how about an envelope full of hair and teeth. That’s probably enough spooky stuff to start with.
Rattling the keys and moving to the back of the house, “let’s get this done, I’ll check out the suite, yell if you find anything.”
The basement suite was accessed from outside, stepping out of the back door and looking around the lights from the kitchen showed a narrow path along the side of the house, leading to the back yard. A quick look revealed a snow-covered space, a dilapidated shed against the back fence, a rope swing hanging from a tree branch.
Hanging up the phone and throwing some bills on the table “We gotta get back, there’s been another tip about something over at the equestrian centre, might be nothing but still gotta check it out, and the bite reports been leaked. Calls from media coming into the station asking for corroboration, they know about the three sets of marks, and that one is likely a child. Damn it!”
A week later and the media was in a frenzy.
Speculation ranged from the likelihood that the culprit was a large cat that had escaped from a traveling circus in the summer and was still on the loose, to that the urban myth about a cult of cannibals living in the mountains was true, and they had finally grown tired of hikers.