Page 65 of Silent Bones
Noah crossed his arms. “You’re saying someone made it look like a cryptid attack.”
Langley nodded, still scanning. “They didn’t just want a body count. They wanted mythology. They wanted a spectacle.”
“But the damage to the bodies?”
“A steel baseball bat, a heavy log, many things can break bones.”
Noah’s voice lowered. “Why go through all that trouble?”
Langley glanced up. “Same reason people wear masks, detective. To hide something worse underneath.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the buzz of the festival pressing in from all sides. Laughter, shouts, the faint beat of bad cover music playing near the food tents. Somewhere behind them, someone blew a kazoo shaped like a foot.
Callie stepped aside, the wind tugging at her jacket. “So it’s a smokescreen.”
Langley nodded. “My guess? Your killer isn’t trying to convince anyone Bigfoot’s real. They’re just buying time. Giving people an excuse to chase shadows in the woods instead of the truth. A great example of that would be the Dyatlov pass incident.”
“The what?” Noah asked.
“Dyatlov Pass. Soviet Union. 1959. Nine hikers found dead under bizarre circumstances, crushed ribs, missing eyes, some nearly naked in the snow. Theories ranged from avalanche to secret weapons testing, even UFOs. But one of the earliest headlines claimed they were attacked by a yeti. The Russianversion of Bigfoot. That idea spread like wildfire. Total misdirection.”
McKenzie wandered a few booths down, lured by a stand selling homemade jerky and trail markers. A man with a thick beard and a trucker hat was holding court with a small crowd.
“I’m telling you,” the man was saying, “three sets of eyes. Glowing. Red as fire. They weren’t deer, and they weren’t cats.”
McKenzie smirked. “And how much did those eyes charge for admission?”
The man didn’t blink. “I know what I saw. They circled us. Then vanished.”
Langley, overhearing, leaned toward Noah. “You laugh, but the false reports are useful. They often circle the truth. People misinterpret light, and sound, butwherethey report it? That matters. If enough folks see things in the same place, there’s usually a reason.”
“Like someone’s leaving markers,” Noah said.
“Or rerouting trails. Creating a story.”
Noah nodded slowly. “So this whole thing’s a stage?”
Langley tapped the photo again. “I would need to check that fur in a lab to verify but my instincts say it’s a stage with one hell of a budget.”
“How long would it take to test?”
“Not long. I will be in touch.”
“Thank you,” Noah said.
As the conversation tapered off, Noah felt Callie shift beside him. She was staring past the booths now, toward a gathering crowd near the main field.
She spoke without looking at him. “You don’t have to make it weird.”
He turned slightly. “Me? I’m not.”
She hesitated, arms folded tight against her chest. “Just… don’t think it meant something. Last night, I mean. I didn’t come there because—” She stopped. “I just needed air.”
Noah kept his voice level. “I won’t mention it if you don’t.”
That made her smile, just a little. “Good.”
A long beat passed. Neither moved. The crowd nearby began to grow louder, drawing attention.
