Bigfoot CSI

By K. Osborn Sullivan

If a bigfoot dies in the forest, but no one is there to see, does it still leave a body?
When 16-year-old Piper O’Connell moved with her family to the quaint town of Senoia, Georgia, she never expected to find a community of the legendary bigfoot in her own backyard. Now, a few short months later, she is playing a vital role in keeping the creatures secret from human hunters who would expose them. Not that she wants the job. It’s dangerous, the hours stink, and bigfoot look down on the “scrubs” who dispose of their dead.
The job's only perk is Sam, her tall, dark, handsome, and genetically complicated partner. When someone close to Sam is murdered, Piper must find the killer before Piper herself becomes the next victim and the race of bigfoot is discovered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K. Osborn Sullivan
• Release date: Jan 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781732152830

K. Osborn Sullivan

K. Osborn Sullivan's first novel is the hilarious and exciting young adult fantasy, Stones of Abraxas. Since the book's original release, Kim has won praise from readers and reviewers alike for creating likeable characters, nonstop action, and overall great fantasy. She also writes nonfiction for teens, and both fiction and nonfiction for adults.Kim grew up on the Southwest side of Chicago, and now lives near Atlanta, Georgia with her family and an assortment of rescued cats. She holds a Ph.D. in political science and has spent many years as a college instructor.For more information about K. Osborn Sullivan and her work, including excerpts and some admittedly lousy advice for students and aspiring writers, please visit www.KOsbornSullivan.com.

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BIGFOOT CSI

A FLASHFIRE NOVEL

K. Osborn Sullivan

Young Adult

Contemporary Fantasy

Copyright © 2018 by K. Osborn Sullivan

Cover design by LadyLight at SelfPubBookCovers.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Please respect the hard work of this author by purchasing and reading only legal, authorized copies of this book.

Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any similarity to actual events, locations, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

In memory of Vigo—

A gentle soul

Acknowledgements

It took years to write this book and even more years to see it published. The only thing that kept me going through the seemingly endless process was a firm belief in this story. Many thanks to everyone who encouraged me with their exclamations of What a unique idea! and Can you get me Bigfoot’s autograph? I appreciate the support, even if everyone secretly questioned my fascination with cryptozoology.

Thanks to my extraordinary and extraordinarily patient beta readers and editors. Veronica Osborn, Chris Sullivan, Cree Sullivan, Wendy Keener, and Lynn Horton all provided invaluable feedback, insights, and proofreading skills.

I love my writing group! The Senoia Writing Group is full of supportive, talented, creative people who I am privileged to know. Thank you for your help in streamlining stories and serving as a sounding board for book-related questions. Group member Tae McDaniel gets a special shout-out because her suggestion solved a big problem and led to the all-important elk.

Even though they say we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, everyone does anyway. That’s why it’s vital to have a beautiful cover to pique readers’ interest. This exceptional cover design was created by LadyLight at SelfPubBookCovers.com, I’m thrilled with it. The artist somehow knew exactly what I wanted the face of my book to look like. Thank you!

Finally, thanks to my husband Chris for his never-ending encouragement. Over the years, he has listened to a million story ideas, from dragons to psychics to zombies, and now Bigfoot. I am grateful.

"I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animal, the moral sense of conscience is by far the most important....It is the most noble of all the attributes of man."

- Charles Darwin

1. The Rug named tu

The shot was awkward. Piper’s striped ball needed to sail over a sea of glossy solids to land in the far corner pocket. It might have been possible if Piper were a decent pool player. Which she was not.

The stakes could not have been higher. This game’s winner would claim the last remaining fresh-baked, chocolate-frosted brownie. It teased Piper from the coffee table where a fudge-smeared plate sat next to a pile of abandoned textbooks and chemistry notes.

Piper’s friend Steve regarded her from across the pool table as she tried to find a comfortable angle for her cue.

Maybe you’d like some help? Steve suggested. It would be a shame to lose your chance at that delicious brownie. My mom doesn’t bake them often, so if you blow it, who knows when there’ll be more.

Piper glanced up, trying to keep from grinning. Stop distracting me. That’s cheating.

Whatever you say. Just hurry up, okay? My brownie’s getting stale.

Piper stuck out her tongue at him. Behind Steve, movement on the home theater TV caught her eye. On screen, a dark-haired man wearing a camouflage jumpsuit and an absurd black handlebar mustache mugged for the camera, hands on hips.

"Don’t miss the season premier of Chasing Legends with me, Bobby Braver! the man intoned in a cultured English accent. When my team catches the first live bigfoot, you’ll want to be right here to watch every thrilling second!" The man’s voice was at odds with his words. He sounded like he should be discussing a royal wedding rather than hunting hairy mythical creatures.

Ugh, Piper groaned, shifting her focus back to the table. Hasn’t that stupid show been cancelled yet?

I’m afraid not, Steve replied. Bobby Braver’s pointless search for an imaginary bigfoot is one of the most popular shows on cable. America loves a grown man whose mustache looks like a gumball machine prize.

My little brothers worship this guy, but their taste isn’t great. They put ketchup on sirloin steak.

An atrocity! Steve cried in mock outrage, his hazel eyes glittering. He scooped a remote from the coffee table and clicked off the TV. Let’s get rid of that. You need to concentrate.

I’m concentrating fine. I’ve won two out of three games so far, Piper protested.

Beginner’s luck.

Privately, she had to agree. No one was more surprised than Piper that she had beaten her friend on his home table. She bent again, trying to focus on the collection of balls staring back at her. Steve skirted around the table and came to stand behind her. She felt an arm encircle her waist and started at Steve’s touch.

Take it easy, he murmured. I’m just trying to show you something.

Steve leaned close, molding his body to hers as he placed one hand over Piper’s on the pool cue. She tried to relax as he offered instructions on how to balance herself and hold the stick. The advice sounded good, but it felt strange to have Steve so close. They were good friends, though, so what was the harm? He was simply trying to help her game and probably didn’t think anything about such close quarters. As a ballet dancer, Steve probably spent hours every week pressed up against female dance partners.

Piper forced herself to focus on Steve’s instructions. A moment later, she drove her cue into the waiting ball, which pushed its way to the corner pocket. It dropped in with a satisfying clunk.

Yes! Piper cried. She swung to face Steve with a triumphant grin. He stood a couple inches shorter, so she had to tilt her head down to look into his eyes instead of at his brown hair.

Steve was very close. Before Piper could say another word, he tightened his arms around her waist, pulled her to him, and planted a solid kiss on her lips. Piper was so shocked that she froze, unable to push him away or disentangle herself from his arms. Steve seemed to take her response as a positive signal and leaned in for another kiss. That’s when her brain re-engaged.

What are you doing? Piper spluttered. She shrank away, putting a corner of the pool table between them.

I hope I didn’t do it so badly that you really don’t know, Steve said with a wry twist of his mouth.

"I don’t mean what are you doing. I mean why are you doing it? We’re friends! We don’t.… I mean, I don’t.…" Piper trailed off, not sure what she meant or what to say to diffuse the excruciating situation.

I’ve wanted to do that for weeks. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and I feel it’s time to take our relationship to the next level. We could be good together.

Piper gaped at Steve as he ticked off reasons why they could be good together. He had given it a lot of thought; Piper hadn’t given it any. She was unprepared to have her best guy friend rewrite the rulebook like this.

She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that said she shouldn’t have been shocked. This was why he had let her win their pool games. It explained why he had gotten his mom to bake her famous brownies. It solved the mystery of why he smelled subtly of a velvety, expensive aftershave when Steve never wore cologne.

Embarrassed, confused, and angry at both Steve and herself, Piper thundered around the basement rec room, scooping up her books, notes, shoes, and hoodie.

Piper, I’m sorry! Please don’t be upset, Steve said, trailing in the girl’s wake.

I’m fine. I just have to get home, Piper said as she pulled on her tennis shoes and headed for the stairs.

I’ll drive you. Let me get my keys, Steve said.

Not necessary. It’s a short walk.

You can’t walk alone in the dark. If you don’t want me to drive you, then call home for a ride.

No, really. Not a problem. With that, Piper darted out into the cool October evening.

She started half walking, half running through the subdivision, her primary goal to put distance between herself and Steve so he couldn’t follow her. A full moon offered enough light for Piper to find her way to the golf cart path that cut through the woods. An easy one-mile walk along the paved path, and Piper would be home. No problem.

By the time she reached the path, she regretted not calling for a ride. The dense trees on both sides filtered out much of the moonlight, plus the deserted path and nighttime noises felt like the start of a horror movie. She hadn’t wanted to wait at Steve’s for someone to pick her up, though. Now that she was out in the woods alone, it was too late to call because she’d have to explain where she was and why. It would be beyond humiliating.

When the smell first hit Piper, she staggered back. Her messenger bag full of homework thudded hard against her backside. An overpowering wall of scent had come out of nowhere and slapped her full in the face. It oozed out of the woods to her right, like a boneless, undulating entity.

The smell wasn’t bad, just intense and unique. In fact, if it wasn’t so strong, it might have been appealing. She detected pine needles and the acrid sulfur of a struck match, along with an undercurrent of something else. Maybe incense? Or pipe tobacco?

The odor coming from the woods was enough to distract Piper from obsessing over what Steve had done and what it meant for their friendship. She forgot that she was walking alone through the woods at night. She didn’t even pay attention to which way she was going or whether she could find her way out again. Tracking the scent became a single-minded obsession as she hitched up her messenger bag and veered off the path into the dark woods in hot pursuit.

Branches caught at her hoodie and tangled in the long strands of her red hair, but she barely noticed. The odor grew stronger, dragging Piper along like a trout on a hook. If she had paused to consider the situation, Piper might have realized she was in the grip of a compulsion the likes of which she had never experienced before. But there was no time for reflection. All she could think about was following the compelling smell, no matter where it led.

After Piper had gone some distance, a break in the trees opened ahead. The moon shone directly overhead to illuminate a rough circle of scrubby weeds, pine needles, and red dirt. Towering Georgia pines ringed the area. Piper paused, drawing in another breath and studying the clearing before stepping out of the forest’s shadows. The smell enveloped her here, as if a wet, woolen blanket had been tossed over her head.

Lying in the center of the clearing was a rectangular heap that resembled a ratty, rolled-up rug. Piper’s first thought was what something like that would be doing out there. Who would drag a heavy rug to the middle of the woods? This didn’t seem like a convenient dumping ground.

Piper studied the scene for a moment and noticed a fine mist rising from the rug. That didn’t make any more sense than the presence of the rug in the first place; it hadn’t rained, and there was no evident moisture anywhere else.

What Piper wanted to do was dart into the clearing and unroll the rug to see what was causing that smell, but she forced her feet to stay planted. What if there was something dangerous inside? Piper’s family had moved to Georgia from Northern Wisconsin only a few months earlier, so she wasn’t familiar with all the local wildlife. She had recently learned about a terrifying type of red and black striped insect called a cow killer wasp; the name came from its excruciatingly painful sting. Who knows what other treats the South had in store?

Maybe there was something gross and dead decaying in the rug. What if the mob had dumped a body, hoping it would never be found out in the woods? Or it could be a prank that her maniacal little brothers were playing so they could video her reaction and use it to humiliate her.

While Piper mulled these unappealing options, she heard the crunch of leaves coming from the other side of the clearing. A weak glow moved through the trees; maybe a flashlight?

Piper considered running away but knew that would make a lot of noise and draw the attention of whoever was coming. Plus, the obsession that had led her on a wild chase through the trees kept her in place. What was stinking up the woods?

It sounded like one set of footsteps accompanied by a scratchy, grumbling voice. Whoever was coming possessed an impressive vocabulary of obscenity and insults. Even her brothers could learn something from this person.

An older woman crashed through the brush across the clearing, brandishing a sturdy red Maglite. She shone the light around the clearing, pausing over the rug. The woman wore loose jeans rolled at the ankles, an Atlanta Falcons windbreaker, and hiking boots. A shabby Army-green backpack was slung over one shoulder.

That lousy inconsiderate hairball! the woman groused. Dragging me all the way out here in the dark! Falcons on Sunday Night Football be damned, he thinks! My pizza’s gonna be as cold and stiff as him by the time I get home!

The woman marched up to the rug and stood over it, looking down. She mumbled something Piper couldn’t hear, then crouched next to the thing and ran her hand over the top of it. It looked like she was petting it. She reached down and grasped a piece of the rug. It sagged in her hand as the woman closed her eyes and shook her head. She gently released the section back to the ground and stood up.

You’re really gone, Tu. Imagine a tough old thing like me outliving a tough old thing like you, she said with a sigh.

Piper held her breath as the woman pulled off her backpack and reached inside. She extracted a wide-mouthed perfume bottle. Moonlight reflected on its thick blue glass and silver inlay. The woman turned off her flashlight and slipped it into a deep pocket of her windbreaker.

Hands free, the woman removed the bottle’s cork and began to walk in a slow circle around the rug, sprinkling gray powder on it. The powder shimmered as it fell, stopping the mist from rising where it landed.

As the rug became coated in powder, Piper detected a change in the strange scent. There was less of the earthy pine fragrance and more of the sulfuric match smell. The woman took a step back from the rug as she stowed her blue bottle in the backpack. Then she took another step back.

A spark burst from the rug, followed by another one. Then several at once. Suddenly, the whole thing erupted in a concentrated burst of light that looked like a Fourth of July fireworks display right on top of the old rug. Piper gasped, jumped back, and shielded her eyes.

She wasn’t the only one taken off guard. All the usual nighttime animal chatter had stopped; the woods were silent. That’s when Piper realized the light hadn’t made any of the earth-shattering noises that accompany fireworks. There was some low crackling and sputtering like a campfire, but that was all.

Piper peeked through her fingers to see the rug still smoldering and sparking in spots, but most of it had been reduced to a rectangular pile of gray ash. She shifted her eyes to the old woman, and Piper’s heart sank. The woman stared grim-faced through the trees directly at her.

You wanna see what’s goin’ on, sugar? Why don’t you come in for a closer look? the woman called. Her voice wasn’t unkind, but there was an edge to it, like she had drawn the short straw and now had to do an unpleasant task. Piper felt both wary and fascinated. The smell was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Come along, darlin’. I’m not gonna bite, the woman urged.

Piper bit her lip and made a rash decision; she stepped into the clearing.

I’m sorry, she began, I didn’t mean to intrude. As she approached, she could see the woman more clearly. She wasn’t as old as Piper had first thought. She looked to be in her 50s, with a long, steel-gray braid dangling over one shoulder.

You didn’t mean to, sugar, but you did, the woman replied. As she spoke, she reached into her backpack again and began fumbling around. It’s a pity, too, ‘cause you just saw something you shouldn’t.

I’m sorry, Piper repeated. I was wondering what that smell was, and then I saw you set the rug on fire. What was that all about?

The woman abruptly stopped searching in her pack and withdrew an empty hand.

You smelled somethin’, did you? And you felt you had to follow it? Well, that’s a blessing. And a curse. It changes things, doesn’t it? Why don’t you come a little closer and see for yourself what it was.

The woman gestured to the ashes at her feet. The pile was even bigger than it had looked from the other side of the trees.

What is it? Piper asked.

Now it’s a pile of ashes, but a minute ago it was a dead sasquatch.

Piper’s eyes shot up to the stranger’s face. Huh?

A sasquatch. Sometimes called bigfoot. I call ‘em squatch for short. This one was named Tu.

Piper barked out a laugh. No, really. It looked like an old rug, but why would you burn a rug in the woods? Did you drag it out here by yourself?

I’m perfectly serious. That was a squatch. And the scent you followed was the essence they give off when they die. You can see it risin’ from the bodies if you look close. Scrubs feel a pull to follow the scent, which allows us to find the remains and destroy ‘em before other humans stumble across the bodies.

Piper’s first thought was whether this woman was dangerous. Her heart thudded, and she realized she was in the middle of the woods with a complete stranger who was delusional. Sure, Piper was close to home, but too far away for her family to hear if she screamed. Plus, it would be at least an hour before anyone noticed she was late coming back from Steve’s. By then….

Okay, thanks for telling me about the rug named Tu, Piper began. I’d love to stay, but I’ve got to get home before my brothers come looking for me. They’re all very big and strong and protective of their darling little sister. Have a nice evening. Before Piper took a step, the woman’s voice stopped her.

I’m not crazy. I’m tellin’ the truth, whether you like it or not. And like it or not, you’ve just fallen ass over teakettle into the most important moment of your life. The woman paused, then almost as an afterthought, she added, My name’s Maggie Krause. What’s yours?

Caught by surprise, Piper blurted, Piper O’Connell. Then she mentally kicked herself for giving her real name. Now this lady could come find her. What would she tell her dad tomorrow morning when a strange woman turned up on their porch demanding coffee and spouting nonsense about bigfoot? Her little brothers would never let her hear the end of it.

Pleased to meet you, Piper. How old are you, sugar?

Um, sixteen. Why?

That’s when it happened to me, too. A scrub’s sense of smell develops fully a few years after her first period, Maggie explained. Now, back to business. If you can smell dead bigfoot, then you’re one of a small group of scrubs like me. It’s our job to track down deceased legendary creatures like Tu here and destroy their bodies before they’re found by other humans. You just proved you’re one of us by tracking this scent, and now you need to understand that it’s your duty to help protect the entire race of bigfoot.

Piper watched the woman, trying to keep her face expressionless. All the words were a blur. Squatch? Scrub? And why was this stranger talking about her period? Highly creepy. Piper decided the conversation had gone far enough.

I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong girl. No disrespect, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. How about if I just mosey on home while you play with your pile of ashes, and we’ll both pretend this never happened? Good luck with your squatches, Maggie.

Piper intended to tell her dad about Maggie when she got home, partly because there was an insane person in the woods who might be a danger to herself and others, and partly because she felt sorry for the woman and wanted to see her get help. Maybe Maggie just needed to be put back on her medications. Or maybe she had Alzheimer’s and had escaped from her nursing home. In any case, Piper knew she couldn’t help anyone if she hung around and let herself get murdered.

Maggie seemed about to reply when she shifted her attention to a spot over Piper’s head.

Evenin’, Miss Maggie, a deep voice drawled.

Piper swung to find a young brown-haired man standing in the clearing. Where did he come from? She hadn’t heard anyone walking through the woods.

The newcomer tilted his head as his dark eyes ran from Piper’s head down to her feet and back again. She had a sudden understanding of how it felt to be given the once over. She bristled and glared up at him.

He looked about eighteen, with a strong jaw covered in several days’ growth of dark stubble. This wasn’t the cheesy wannabe beard that some guys at school were pretending to grow; this was the real deal.

Evenin’, Sam, Maggie said. It’s a shame about Tu. You been tracking him long?

Sam glanced at the pile of ashes. Yes, ma’am. He was sick and hadn’t been eating. The newcomer’s gravelly voice was low. It made him sound older than he looked. He moved fast, though. Lost me when I stopped for a deer that got clipped by a car.

The guy glanced away from Maggie and back down at Piper. She had to look up—way up—at him. He was nearly a foot taller than she was.

Hello, he said, his dark eyes boring into her blue ones. Even though Piper had been insulted by the way this newcomer had looked her up and down, she had to admit he was great looking. Her mouth was hanging open, and she shut it with a snap.

Sam, this is Piper O’Connell. She’s a scrub, Maggie said.

One of Sam’s full, brown eyebrows shot up, then he gave Piper another once over.

No, I’m not, Piper insisted with heat. I don’t even know what a scrub is. And I’m definitely not one. I just happened to stumble on this, she gestured toward the pile of ashes, and I was saying goodbye to Maggie when you showed up.

You don’t know? Sam asked Piper in a quiet tone that made her want to lean in to catch every word.

Maggie said, I explained, but she’s in denial. You can’t blame the girl. She focused on Piper. Sugar, I’m sorry, but I’ve never had to brief a new scrub before. Each girl I’ve met was lucky enough to be found by someone smarter and better with words than me. Maybe you’ll listen to someone your own age. Sam here can tell you everything and more. He’s a sasquatch.

2. crows and vultures

Maggie’s joke about the very cute, very human guy being bigfoot caught Piper by surprise, and she bit out a laugh. It sounded like a snort. Charming.

You think that’s funny? Sam asked.

Um, yeah. Maggie is pretty deadpan, so I wasn’t expecting her to make jokes about you being a sasquatch. I mean, where’s your fur? Too late, Piper realized how that sounded, and she snorted again.

I’m a hybrid squatch. My dad’s human. He stated it matter-of-factly, as though he were just saying he liked his eggs scrambled.

Hybrid? Piper repeated, her overloaded brain feeling slow. But sluggish mental processes or not, it took her only seconds to realize the implication of what Sam had said. You mean sasquatches and humans…? She trailed off, her face flaming scarlet.

Sometimes, Sam said with a negligent shrug. He added, For the record, we have hair, not fur, and I guarantee you don’t want to see mine.

Piper’s mouth dropped open again as she stared up at him. It was ludicrous. This guy in faded Levi’s and Doc Martens could not be bigfoot. There was something unusual about Sam’s deep-set eyes, though. They were vigilant and wary, reminiscent of a wild animal surveying its surroundings, but that could just mean he drank too much coffee. His dark brown hair was thick and on the long side, but it wasn’t enough to land him in a cage at the zoo.

Speechless, Piper turned to Maggie for help.

A secret smile spread across Maggie’s thin lips. I guess it’s what you’d call animal magnetism, sugar.

Piper gaped at Maggie, then up at Sam again. He was tall and broad-shouldered and gazed down at her with intensity. Animal magnetism, indeed. The red in Piper’s cheeks deepened as she turned away.

What Piper wanted was time to think all of this through. Part of her was sure it was some elaborate practical joke that her little brothers had concocted to torment her. Another part of her was inclined to believe the story because both Sam and Maggie seemed so sincere. Of course, that would mean accepting the fact that this seemingly normal guy could be related to the pile of hair that Maggie had called Tu the Sasquatch. And part of her was embarrassed right down to her bones about asking to see a stranger’s fur. Maybe she’s the one who should be locked in a cage at the zoo.

Before making a fool of herself again, Piper decided it was time to go. Now there were two people trying to get her to drink their Kool-Aid, which meant she was outnumbered. It was time to put safety first and get out of there.

You’ve both given me a lot to think about. How about if we meet here again tomorrow night and talk about it some more? Same time, same channel, and all that. Piper edged backward toward the trees so she could escape without attracting notice.

Maggie must have been accustomed to people trying to flee from her, because she wasted no time picking up on what was happening. Maybe the creatures she set fire to didn’t always go as quietly as poor Tu.

Wait! Don’t leave! Maggie cried. Don’t you want to know what that smell was? And what about the fire that burned in seconds without making noise? How’d I do that?

Piper paused. She mentally kicked herself because she wanted to walk away, but Maggie had raised some excellent questions. Piper knew she’d drive herself crazy wondering about them if she didn’t get answers.

With a sigh of resignation, Piper said, Okay, what was that smell? And how did you burn the rug so quickly without matches or anything?

Maggie smiled. She seemed both saddened and relieved by Piper’s interest.

The smell was the essence given off by a dead sasquatch. They start to decay as soon as they die, just like any creature, but they give off a unique scent that most humans can’t detect.

That’s bizarre.

Not really, Sam replied. Crows and vultures smell decaying animals from hundreds of feet in the air. This is the same idea.

Maggie shot Sam a glare, and he inhaled sharply, as if realizing he had said the wrong thing. What was it that Maggie didn’t like? Or was it something she didn’t want Piper to hear?

When a squatch is dead, the scent attracts scrubs—girls and women like us—who will dispose of the bodies, Maggie explained. "Now that your sense of smell has developed enough to recognize it, you must always follow that scent because it tells you there’s a dead squatch nearby that