year? Besides, I thought the only time a Sasquatch was human-shaped aboveground was when…” She paused and Liberty guessed she was doing her best to be tactful. “You know.”
“When they’re dead?”
“Yeah, that. I didn’t want to say it.”
“Well, we don’t know all there is to know in the world, do we? Besides, he thinks she recognized him, too.” Liberty told her about the note.
“Let me get this right. According to Adrian, his girl, the one who might be Sage,” Becky made sure to emphasize might. “Was out with some human boy. And then she made eye contact with a Sasquatch, and instead of her screaming, Adrian thinks he saw recognition in her human face?”
“Uh huh.” Liberty didn’t like the way she’d spelled it out.
Becky sat back, picked up her cup and said, “Look, I don’t mean to be a Debby Downer here, but I think you’ve been through enough already and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m beginning to feel like I’m talking to Nathaniel,” Liberty snapped. “Why aren’t you being supportive?”
“I am. I truly am. But we’re talking Adrian here, aren’t we? Let’s face it, he’s been less than reliable in the past. Right?”
“Adrian had nothing to gain by telling us he saw Sage and, in fact, he never mentioned it until he’d been confronted with the photograph.”
“Sounds like he was backstroking. Trying to save his ass.”
Liberty didn’t respond, just stared, wanted Becky to get to the point.
After Becky noticed Liberty wasn’t going to respond, or attempt to defend Adrian’s behavior, she continued, “I think it’s a little…” She opened her arms wide. “Out there.”
“The fact my daughter may be alive? Or that she may be human?”
“Both, actually.”
“And sitting here drinking coffee with a Sasquatch woman, in the basement of a kennel in Fairfield, Pennsylvania…you don’t think that’s a little ‘out there’?” Liberty made little air quotes.
“You got me there.” Becky frowned and looked down at her hands, silent for a moment.
Liberty watched her and nervously sipped her coffee, wondered if she’d made a mistake in sharing the story.
Becky raised her head, met Liberty’s eyes. “Okay. What do you want to do?”
“Seriously?” She grinned from ear to ear. “Go meet Adrian. Find my daughter. That’s all.”
Becky sighed, got up from her chair, and started to pace. Her platform sneakers squeaked on the linoleum and she bobbed her head with every step, running her hand through short blond wisps. Finally, Becky stopped, bit the corner of her lip, and blinked several times. Then her eyes lit up. “Do you have the photo of Adrian?”
Liberty pulled the sheet out of her pocket. “Yeah, why?”
“I want to see where it was taken.”
“Oh, I already know. Adrian told us it was at the campground pavilion.”
Becky didn’t reply. She unfolded the paper and set it down on the table underneath the overhead light. She smoothed out the creases, peered closer. “Hot damn.”
“What?”
She turned the photo toward Liberty and pointed at some fine print in the bottom left-hand corner of the picture. “You see that? The ‘V. Jenkins’?”
Liberty looked closer and nodded. “Yeah, what is it?”
“It’s a watermark. I think I know who took this picture.”
“I knew better than to trust that cowboy,” The muscles in Becky’s face twitched.
“Who?” Liberty asked.
“Russ Jenkins. He and his son moved into the old Marvin place and took over the business. A taxidermy shop no less.” Becky shivered. “He’s a regular at the River. And this…” She tapped at the watermark with a pink-painted nail. “This has to be his son. I mean, how many Victor Jenkinses can there be? Right?”
The River was a little whiskey joint on the outskirts of Fairfield, and Becky worked the dinner crowd before she came to the kennel.
Liberty looked at the photo again and then back at her friend. “So you think they’re not good people?”
Becky nodded, her face all twisted up, like when she spoke of her philandering ex-husband. “That’s right, I don’t. The eerie way his smile stops at his lips and hangs there like a scythe. It nowhere near reaches his eyes.”
“You pick up evil in smiles?” Liberty frowned, she learned something new about humans on a regular basis. “All I have are auras.”
“Oh, there are vibes, too.” Becky arched an eyebrow. “You know? I may not have a visual clue, like you, but I do get ‘em. Invisible, but usually as apparent.”
“Sure,” Liberty said. She reconsidered. “No, not really.”
“Well.” Becky grabbed their cups and refilled them. “It’s like this.” She handed Liberty her mug and sat back