Bigfoot and the Librarian Read online

  Bigfoot and the Librarian

  Linda Winstead Jones

  Copyright © 2019 by Linda Winstead Jones

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover design by Elizabeth Wallace

  http://designwithin.carbonmade.com/

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Santa and the Snow Witch

  About the Author

  Also by Linda Winstead Jones

  Chapter 1

  This was not what Marnie would call a stellar beginning to her new life. Normally a flat tire wasn’t a disaster, but she was smack dab in the middle of Nowhere, Alabama, parked crookedly on the grassy shoulder of a narrow tree-lined road, with zero cell service. She had maybe an hour before the sun set.

  Her new job at the Mystic Springs Public Library had seemed like such a good idea when she’d set out from Birmingham. It was going to be a new beginning, perhaps even an adventure. She could use a little adventure in her dull life. She’d been happy to leave her old job and her sweet but less-than-brilliant former boyfriend behind, and had actually dreamed of the perfection that was Mystic Springs. It had to be perfect! It was a small town with a well-stocked library manned by a single librarian. That librarian was soon to be her.

  Not that she’d ever actually been to Mystic Springs, knew anyone who lived there, or had ever talked to anyone who’d been there, other than the town council representative who’d offered her the job over the phone, but in theory it was the perfect solution to her current life bump-in-the-road. In theory.

  Could taking on a small-town library really be called an adventure? Why not? Anything was possible.

  Mystic Springs was located south of Eufaula, Alabama. She’d checked it out on an online map before setting out in her usually reliable — but not at all adventurous — car. The small town was bordered on the east by the Chattahoochee River, with two much narrower waterways running along the northern and southern borders. The town was nestled in the horseshoe plot of land between those three flowing bodies of water. Maybe there really was a spring somewhere, mystic or otherwise, but she hadn’t seen it on a satellite image. She’d tried to zoom in, on her phone and again on her laptop, but the picture had remained annoyingly blurry.

  She should’ve done more research on her new home, but she had not. Being laid off just a couple of months after deciding that no matter how sweet and devoted and ripped Jay was she’d never be able to teach him to pronounce the first “r” in “library” or have a meaningful conversation about anything other than his workout sessions or sex, she’d been eager to move on.

  Jay — thirty years old and his mother still called him “JayJay” — would be fine. Before leaving town, Marnie had introduced him to an equally beautiful, and equally dim, woman who didn’t have to worry about pronouncing “library” correctly because she’d never been in one. And never would. Not that Marnie was judgmental or anything, but still…

  Getting fired was never fun, but she had to face facts. It had been time to move on.

  Mystic Springs was the first stop in Marnie Somerset’s well-planned new and improved life. She was twenty-eight years old. Her wild oats and romantic mistakes — ahem, Jay — were behind her. Only great things lay ahead. Head librarian would look great on her resume. If Mystic Springs wasn’t the idyllic place she imagined it to be, it could just be the first stop in this new phase of life. She’d move to a bigger city, by thirty, she imagined, where she’d run one of the premier libraries in the country and marry Mr. Darcy. Well, someone like him. She would fall in love with a man who was cultured, civilized, and romantic, and he would fall in love with her. It wouldn’t hurt at all if he looked hot in a waistcoat.

  Many of her peers disdained Mr. Darcy and said his kind was out of fashion, but not Marnie. She’d always been a bit out of step, had accepted that about herself long ago. Who wanted to be like everyone else? Not her. She’d read Pride and Prejudice at an early age, and had always imagined Darcy as the perfect hero. Maybe in reality he’d need some work, but all in all… yummy.

  In her mind he did look an awful lot like one of the actors who’d played him in a movie, but that was neither here nor there.

  Marnie waited by her gray Nissan with the flat tire for almost forty minutes, hoping a car would drive by. She climbed into the car and sat in the driver’s seat now and then, but it was stifling hot and she didn’t dare keep her car running for the air conditioning. She wasn’t out of gas yet, but she was running low. On occasion she stood by the hood of the car and held her cell phone high in the air, hoping for an errant bit of cell service to miraculously shine down upon her phone. Nada.

  There weren’t a lot of options. By the time she walked back to the highway — and appearances aside it was an official state highway — where she would eventually be able to flag down a car or a truck, it would be dark. She wasn’t sure exactly how far it was to town proper, but it was a walk she wasn’t eager to make. All she could see between her and Mystic Springs was a winding, tree-lined road. And trees. Lots and lots of trees.

  She pushed her glasses up on her nose and looked down at her shoes. Any woman who was five foot two on a good day wore heels as much as possible. Not for hiking, though, not for walking down a narrow road on a warm summer night. She glanced in the direction of town. There were a lot of potholes ahead. It could be dangerous to walk along that road once it got dark. There was a flashlight on her phone, but it wasn’t powerful enough to light more than a step or two ahead. That would be better than nothing, she supposed, but not by much.

  It had seemed like such a good idea to ship almost all her things ahead. Sensible walking shoes — along with all her other stuff, from furniture to knick-knacks — awaited her in her new home, a small house no more than two blocks from the library. She had never imagined she’d find a job in the field she loved that came with a more than decent salary and a house. How lucky was that?

  Efficient movers had come to her apartment on Friday and packed up almost everything she owned, and then Marnie had spent the weekend with her best friend, Chelsea. They’d eaten nachos and drunk too many margaritas and watched sappy movies on television. Chelsea had taken today off, so they could have coffee and cookies and one last hug, before Marnie headed out for her new job and her new home.

  The councilwoman who had hired Marnie, Susan Tisdale, had sent a photo of the house by email. That pic had been grainy — who didn’t have a decent camera on their cell phone? — and only of the charming outside. Grainy or not, the cottage looked like something out of a fairy tale, or a BBC period drama. In reality the place might need work, she really had no idea, but it would be the first time since she’d left her dad’s house that her home wasn’t an apartment. She wouldn’t have to smell what the neighbors were having for dinner, or know precisely when the woman upstairs exercised.

  Zumba.

  All Marnie had with her was
her purse, her laptop, and a small overnight bag with an impressively stocked cosmetics bag and a couple changes of clothes. There was one extra pair of shoes in the bag, uncomfortable but really cute sandals with kitten heels.

  Why hadn’t she shipped her makeup ahead and kept a pair of running shoes in the car? Not that she ever actually ran…

  “I give up,” she said, resorting to talking to herself. Car locked, purse strap on her shoulder and damned useless cell phone in her hand, Marnie started walking toward town. She was used to the heels, she normally wore them at work all day, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was cursing her preferred footwear. Optimistic, she held her head high and took long strides down the deserted road. A horrible thought crossed her mind. What if she’d taken a wrong turn? What if Mystic Springs wasn’t straight ahead? To the right, the land was undeveloped and thickly wooded. To the left, some attempt had been made to clear away the brush here and there. Still, there was no sign of life.

  She’d been walking ten minutes — seemed more like thirty but the clock on the phone still worked — when she approached a turnoff on the left side of the road. Overgrown shrubs and a stand of spindly trees hid what was beyond the gravel road until she was right upon it.

  Marnie stopped. Blinked. Stared. Then she sighed in dismay. The windowless building, which was about the size of an average convenience store, sported one bare lightbulb near a rusted metal door. A single — also rusted — red pickup had been parked near that door. Did someone live there? Was it a business of some kind? Maybe it was a workshop, or a warehouse. For a few seconds she considered walking to that building, whatever it might be, and knocking on the door. The rusty truck belonged to someone. That someone had to be in the creepy building.

  She lifted her cell phone high and prayed for a signal. Just one bar, please. Just one single bar. Nothing.

  From beyond the rusted building, something unseen howled. A shiver walked down Marnie’s spine.

  That building was not at all appealing. It didn’t even look safe. The truth was, the entire area kind of gave her the willies, even without the distant howl. But she’d come this far. She could walk a while longer. She couldn’t be far from town!

  Not far past the creepy building stood a corroded metal sign welcoming her and anyone else who might venture down this road to Mystic Springs. It leaned crookedly to one side and was mostly covered by tall, climbing weeds. She was, so far, unimpressed. Still, the sign was a, well, sign, that she was close to her destination, that this was indeed the correct road.

  She walked another five minutes, noting the encroaching darkness, looking left and right hoping for some indication of life. A subdivision that backed up to the road, just on the other side, maybe. A small business or cabin or RV tucked in the woods. There had to be someone out here! That search was as fruitful as her quest for a cell signal. Holy cow, what had she gotten herself into? Had she really been hoping for an adventure? This was definitely not what she’d had in mind.

  She was not a fan of sweat, but she was sweaty now. Years ago, before she’d run off to Colorado with her old high school boyfriend, Marnie’s mother had told her women didn’t sweat, they glowed. That had pretty much been the extent of Carolyn Somerset’s motherly advice. Marnie had never glowed so much. Her blouse stuck to her back, and a trickle of sweat ran down from her temple to her chin. Her favorite bra, the one that offered support while actually being somewhat comfortable, had moved beyond slightly sticky to damp.

  Finally, she caught a hint of motion out of the corner of her eye. Just ahead, to the right, something moved. Leaves rustled. Something… breathed? Snorted? She stopped, peered into the shadowy woods for a long moment and then called out a hopeful, “Hello?” as she tried to scan the darkness beyond the road. She held her breath and listened hard for an answer. Did she want someone — or something — to answer, or not?

  She was an optimist most of the time, but when there was no answer she began to wonder if maybe she shouldn’t have braved the creepy building. Who — what — was out there? Anyone? Anything? Silly, she chided herself, working to make her heart return to a normal rhythm. The disturbance in the woods was just an animal. Nothing more. A squirrel, or maybe a raccoon. Nothing larger, she was sure of it. Birds! Yes, that was it. Birds could make a lot of noise in the brush.

  Just ahead, movement again drew her attention. The leaves of a tree near the road shimmied and shook. That was not her imagination! It wasn’t a bird in the brush, either; it was far too big. Had to be a man. She smiled, lifted her hand to wave — and dropped it again as the hairy thing stepped into the road directly ahead.

  What the hell? Marnie straightened her glasses, leaned forward a little, and squinted. Whatever that thing was it was seven feet tall, hairy from head to toe, and it stopped in the middle of the road to turn and look directly at her.

  She quit breathing for a long moment. If that beast rushed her, she wouldn’t have a chance. Even without the heels, her legs were too short to outrun something like that. Her imagination whispered Bigfoot. Her logical brain whispered no way.

  Her primitive survival instincts whispered run.

  She did.

  Clint pulled his truck into the back parking lot of Harry’s, the only bar in Mystic Springs, and the only place in town to buy a hot meal after 7 pm. Monday wasn’t the busiest night of the week for the bar and grill, but there were a couple of cars in the back lot. Like most of the locals, he parked in the back and entered through the unmarked side door that squealed as it swung open.

  From the outside Harry’s was unimpressive, to say the least. It was purposely uninviting; there wasn’t even a sign indicating that it was open to the public. Beyond the door the bar-and-grill was sparkling clean, with four cushy booths, a half dozen tables, a polished wood bar, and a retro juke box. The floor was black and white tile squares; the booths were red and the tables gray. More than one neon sign lit the bar, as well as a few overhead lights that were bright, but not too bright.

  He saw her right away. Who wouldn’t? Strangers didn’t come to Mystic Springs often. It was too far off the beaten path. And a stranger who looked like her? Never.

  The brunette had thick, wavy hair, dark-rimmed glasses that complemented her pixie face, a summery blue outfit — the short skirt showed off her fine legs — and matching blue high heels. She stood in one corner of the bar with her cell phone held high.

  “There!” she said, relief in her voice. “A signal! Just one bar, but…” She smiled for a moment, but too soon the smile vanished. “And it’s gone.”

  She turned around and looked critically at the handful of men in the bar. Harry stood behind the bar, ignoring her. Jim and George — two old coots who were on those same stools six nights a week — continued with their conversation, also ignoring her. She likely wasn’t accustomed to being ignored, especially by men.

  Strangers weren’t welcomed in Mystic Springs. Not even when they looked like this one. Strangers were definitely not welcomed at Harry Milhouse’s place.

  Idiots. If they helped her, she’d be on her way. The longer she was here, the more likely it was that she’d see something she shouldn’t.

  Her gaze continued to sweep the room and they stopped on him. Her eyes, so wonderfully dark he could tell even from here, widened. She pushed the glasses up on her nose, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and gave him a look that was absolutely, positively pitiful.

  He should follow the example of the other locals and ignore her. She was trouble; he could tell that with one glance.

  He walked toward her, his steps slow and hesitant. What the hell? “You look lost. Can I help you?”

  Wow. Chiseled jaw, dark blond hair, and all of six foot… three? Four? However tall he was, this guy was all muscle. In blue jeans and a button-up checkered shirt, he looked kind of like a lumberjack. As far as she knew, there weren’t a lot of lumberjacks in Alabama.

  Marnie took a deep breath. She did not need another good-looking, mus
cle-bound, sex-on-a-stick man to get under her skin. Not even for a minute. She did her best to ignore the fact that she was sweaty and flustered, tried to keep her voice cool as she answered his question. “I’ve had a flat tire, and I can’t get enough of a cell signal to call AAA.” She held the phone up, as if offering proof. “My car’s just down the road, but…”

  She should’ve walked back to the highway, she knew that now. Too late.

  The three men who’d been here when she walked in had been less than happy to see her. Jerks. The interior of the rusted building was much nicer than she’d imagined it could be, but the people were not. The guy behind the bar had been pissed that she didn’t want to order a drink, as though alcohol would make things better at this point. She’d asked him if he had Merlot, or any other red wine, because it did seem like she should order something. He’d laughed at her. The same way he’d laughed when she’d asked if he had a phone.

  The glass of water he had grudgingly served her had been lukewarm.

  “Do you have a spare?” the new, hot, lumberjacky guy asked.

  Marnie nodded. “Of course. Not that I know what to do with it.” She felt like such a girl. After this, she was going to learn how to change a tire! She didn’t really want to have to change a tire, but it would be a skill in her toolbox. A new skill for a new life.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  So, chivalry was not entirely dead, after all. It was just on life-support. “I hate to ask…”