Secrets of Ugly Creek (2 page)

He glared at me. “I do what I say I’m going to do.”

“Good.”

I headed toward my cute red Aveo, where I grabbed an old blanket I kept in the trunk. I used the blanket to put on my seat to keep it clean. Man I was a mess.

Me covered in mud. What a way to start the most crucial assignment of my career.

Chapter 2

I was staying at my mom’s house while I was in Ugly Creek on this assignment. It was convenient, comfortable, and I had a chance to spend some quality time with my mom—one reason I’d requested this gig. That and a desire to protect my hometown from the likes of McFain. Right now, though, I hoped she was busy, and I could slip in without her seeing me.

As soon as I opened the door, Mom, AKA Margaret Clark, peeked in from the kitchen. Her eyes went wide, and she hotfooted it down the short hall into the foyer. “What happened to you?”

“Would you believe I was attacked by a flying saucer and knocked into the mud, only to be rescued by the unprincipled rat I came here to report on?”

“Rescued you, huh?” Mom looked for a second like she was going to smile, but wisely, she thought better of it. “So, maybe he isn’t as much of a rat as you thought?”

“I’d better get these clothes off before I get mud all over your stuff.”

I started up the stairs, only to find Mom tagging along behind. “In my experience,” she said, “people are usually far more complex and interesting than you might think at first.”

I grabbed some clothes before I turned to her. “Mom, I’m a journalist. I understand people are complex.”

“I’m sure you do.” She was fighting a smile. I could tell by the twitching of the corners of her lips.

“He’s an unethical lowlife and an embarrassment to journalism.”

“But good looking.”

“No, he isn’t.” I headed for the bathroom, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the smirk on my mom’s face. Dang, did she always have to be right?

****

The second day of my adventure in trying to simultaneously work an assignment and watch out for Ugly Creek found me in a little wooded park just outside town. Gibson McFain was speaking into the camera, and I listened as he gave what amounted to a lecture on my part of the world.

“The Appalachian Mountain Range runs almost two thousand miles from Canada to central Alabama. The high peaks, lakes, and state parks are some of the most beautiful places in the world. Known widely for their contradictory beautiful scenery and abject poverty, the Appalachians are much more than either. Tucked within the nooks and crannies are amazing little towns. This documentary series is designed to take you, the viewer, to places you’ve never seen, people like no others, and sights and sounds that will take your breath away.”

I watched with interest as Gibson McFain handled his job, both behind and in front of the camera like the seasoned professional he was. His deep voice sent shivers up and down my spine. Great, I liked the rat’s voice. He wasn’t such a bad looking dude either. I wasn’t attracted to him, though. Honest, I wasn’t. Well, not much anyway.

“The town of Ugly Creek,” he said, “took its name from an actual stream named, of course, Ugly Creek.” He pointed to the brown and bronze sign that told the story of the little Tennessee town. “The town itself, as we will see, is anything but ugly.” He smiled. “And so is the creek, actually.” He directed the videographers to film the creek area.

I sat on the bench of one of the three picnic tables and watched the proceedings. I have to admit, having someone talk about our town in such a complimentary fashion was pretty dang cool. Unlike some people I know, including my good friend Stephie (from Crooked Tree Hollow, Alabama), I happen to be proud of my Southern heritage, proud to come from a town that, strange name notwithstanding, is a great place to live.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

The little man couldn’t have been much over four feet tall, had ripe-tomato colored hair, and wore jeans, a brown T-shirt, and an Atlanta Braves cap. He turned and glared at those of us who were local. “What’s a herd of outsiders doing here?”

The little man marched right up to the mayor, glaring hard. “I heard you were gonna let ’em make a movie thing here. What were you thinking? We don’t need no stinking outsiders coming in here and poking their cameras in where they got no business.”

“Now, Duffy, calm down. This documentary will be good for the town, bring in tourists—with money.”

Duffy gripped his diminutive fists. “I don’t care about stupid tourists.”

Mayor Stump’s smile was slipping. I knew he must have been having a hard time holding his temper. “This town relies heavily on tourist money to survive.”

“I heard leprechauns had quick tempers,” a woman’s voice whispered near my ear. “Seems there’s something to that rumor.”

I grinned at one of my bestest friends. The sneaky girl had come up behind me without my noticing. “Hi, Liza. Come to see the big movie deal?”

She flipped her shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair. “I figured the odds of being ‘discovered’ were better than the odds of me finishing my work before time to go home.”

“I don’t know, maybe you should stick to computer stuff.”

She widened her eyes in mock horror. “What, you don’t think my acting is wonderful?”

I let out a snort in spite of myself. “Not really, no.”

“Some friend you are.” She crossed her arms in an over-the-top huff.

The leprechaun and the mayor were still going at it, but at least the mayor had managed to move the discussion away from where the film folks were trying to get started again.

I decided to change the subject before Liza got mad at me for real. “Is Steve pushing you too hard at work? I’d be happy to smack him a good one.”

Liza’s clear laugh caught the attention of one of the sound people, and he sent the two of us a serious glare. She lowered her voice. “That’s one of the perks of working for your husband at his computer programming and forensics business. He won’t push too hard if he knows what’s good for him after the lights go out.”

“Got him tied around your little finger, huh?”

“You betcha.”

I tried to think of something else to talk about. I didn’t want to hear any more about Liza and Steve’s great life. Yeah, okay, it reminded me that my four closest friends were married. Liza to Steve, and recently Stephie to Jake. Everybody was married but me. Oh crap, I wasn’t going there.

“Let’s move back away from where they’re working,” I suggested. I figured we’d do the sound guy a favor while gaining more privacy so I could speak to Liza about something more important than my pathetic single state.

We walked back into a grove of trees where we were out of the way, and I could talk more freely. “You know Mr. McDuffy has a point.”

Liza frowned and gave her head a shake. “What are you talking about?”

My stomach did a twist, but I didn’t let that stop me. “Ugly Creek is special.” I sent her a look that I hoped communicated all that I meant.

She raised one eyebrow. “Yeah. So?”

“So is it really a good idea for strange folks to be poking around with video cameras?”

Liza did a quick glance around us before she spoke. “Maddie, Ugly Creek has been keeping its secrets safe for a long time.”

I leaned toward her. “Not from the likes of Gibson McFain.”

Liza’s forehead wrinkled. “Yeah, I heard what he did to Senator Carson. Lies, corruption, even found out she had a mentally disabled sister she’d paid a fortune to keep tucked away and secret. What a mess.”

“That’s what he does, Liza. That’s why I wanted Ace to do the photography, not somebody from
Capitol Spy Weekly
. Unfortunately he doesn’t want the gig.”

“Too bad Stephie’s on her honeymoon.” Liza grinned.

“On a cruise, no less. I can’t even contact her.”

My friend’s eyes widened and her mouth slacked. “You wouldn’t ask Stephie to come home from her
honeymoon
to take a few pictures. I don’t believe that.”

“This is serious crap we’re talking about here.” I sighed. “But no, I wouldn’t. She and Jake deserve happiness.”

A quick bark caught my attention, and I saw a hairy mutt about twenty feet away. He seemed to be looking at me, then deeper into the woods. “What is he doing here?”

“Who?”

“That dang dog of Ace’s.” I took off toward the mutt, afraid that he’d run from me, but he just stood there. As I got closer, I saw him look deeper into the woods, then back to me. He did it a couple of times, and I worried that he was about to run.

He continued to stand still, looking at me, then into the woods. Of course, my gaze followed his, and I gasped in spite of myself. Leaning against a tree maybe thirty feet from us was a young Bigfoot.

With no idea what else to do, I scooped up the dog and headed back to my friend. As I walked, I held the varmint out away from my navy blue Donna Karan suit.

“Oh how cute!” Liza squealed. “Can I hold him?”

“Sure, you can have all the fur and muddy paw prints.”

“Oh, you are adorable.” She took the dog from me and cuddled him in her arms, seemingly oblivious to the fur attaching to her awesome jacket. Diane Von Furstenberg, maybe?

I leaned closer and lowered my voice. “Liza, Abukcheech is in the woods. Hiding behind a tree.”

Liza’s eyes widened. “I’ll pass the word to Steve, and make sure word gets to Abukcheech’s parents.”

Ah, so Steve was part of the communication network. “The whole tribe needs to be extra careful.”

“They will be. They’re used to hiding.” Liza put a hand on my arm.

“They aren’t used to the likes of Gibson McFain. When he decides to find something out, he finds it out. And puts it on film.”

The dog barked.

“I’ll tell Steve.”

“Thanks.” I saw a familiar head. “There’s Ace over there. Wanna give him back his mutt?”

“Sure.”

Just as Liza turned, cute and furry jumped out of her arms and right into mine. “Fine, I’ll take him.”

Liza giggled as I headed toward Ace. I would have told her off, but the soft, warm feel of the little dog snuggled against me quickly calmed my temper. Yeah, he was getting fur on me, but that’s what my lint brush was for, right?

I headed toward the photographer.

He must have heard me coming, because he turned and looked my way. “Where did you find Gizmo?”

“He was in the woods.” I reached to give Ace back his dog, but the fuzzy bundle scrambled up onto my shoulder.

“So his name is Gizmo, huh?” The name fit with his brown coat and the stripe of white from his nose to his forehead, which made him look like the Gizmo character in the movie
Gremlins
.

“I should change his name to Houdini. I have no idea how he gets out of the fence.” Ace tried to pick him off my shoulder, but Gizmo ducked away from his hands. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with that dog.”

“It’s okay, he’s pretty cute and stuff.” I put on what I hoped was my best smile.

“He is, isn’t he?” Ace scratched Gizmo’s head.

“What kind of dog is he?”
When have I ever been interested in dog breeds?

“He’s a mini dachshund.”

Gizmo licked my cheek, and I laughed in spite of myself. As I put a hand up to wipe at the spot, I caught a glimpse of my watch. “Crap, I gotta go. I have an interview with Mr. McFain.” I tried again to hand Cute Stuff to him, but Gizmo clung to me. I just didn’t have the heart to force him.

Ace eyed the camera I had around my neck. “Did you ever get a photographer?”

I looked at my shoes as I shook my head. “No.”

“I’m not interested.”

I met his eyes then. “I know. I just…well, you’re local. And Ugly Creek’s a little…different.”

He sighed. “Look, how about I grab a couple of shots to go with your interview.” His gaze went hard. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for bringing me my dog. Speaking of which, I have a leash in my car. I’ll meet you.”

My furry fashion accessory and I headed toward the filming area. McFain and a tall, dark-haired woman were having a discussion. From the body language, I’d say it was not the friendliest chat in the world. My interest button flashed, and I slowed my steps while pretending to be highly interested in a nearby pine tree. I soon edged near enough to them I could hear their conversation.

“Kate, you work for me, not the other way around,” McFain said.

“Good leaders listen to the people around them.” She turned and stomped away, right in my direction.

The woman almost knocked me down, and I’m not sure she ever saw me at all. I remembered her from the welcome, Kate Stone, Gibson McFain’s assistant. I wondered what had wadded her thongs.

Mr. McFain stepped toward me, his expression guarded. “Hello, Madison Clark, from
Capitol Spy Weekly
.”

“Hello again, Mr. McFain.” I shifted Gizmo so I could hold out my hand. I was actually surprised when he was willing to shake hands.

“I told you to call me Mac.” He held out his fingers so Gizmo could sniff him, then scratched the dog’s head. “Interesting partner you’ve got there.”