Completely out of patience at this point, I hurl my paper cup of terrible coffee at the back of the closed door, only slightly satisfied at the mess the dark liquid makes as it splatters around the room and pools on the floor.
I never fucking said 'Bigfoot.'
I said "something."
Men took Astrid. Normal, human men. With guns. Thensomethingwent after them as they disappeared into the forest.
Something that looked plenty human enough from what I saw; walking upright on two legs and all. It's just that it was really tall and maybe its arms hung too far down, and it leftclawmarks on the tree trunk as it took off running into the shadows.
Stupid me. I thought running back to the trailhead and flagging down a ranger was therightthing to do when someone grabs your hiking partner and marches them into the woods at gunpoint.
Kicking the desk in frustration, I finally jump to my feet and grab the door handle, utterly shocked when it turns out it's not locked.
Why the hell do they keep having to knock to be let out if the door's not locked?
"Hey! Is anybody listening to me? My friend waskidnappedout there!"
The police station in Paradise Point is an old, brick building that was updated sometime in the nineteen seventies to make the interior office space as miserable as possible. The ceilings are dropped down with acoustic tiles and fluorescent lights that flicker and buzz while filling the rooms with an utterly sickening quality of light.
No wonder the people that work here are so grumpy.
It must suck to be stuck in this place when right outside your door is a gorgeous mountain landscape full of fresh air and real sunlight.
The room I was in was a windowless closet with dark wood paneling on the walls and a metal desk bolted to the floor. Finding my way through the hallway and back into the main lobby isn't too difficult, I can hear voices around the corner ahead of me as I burst into the bullpen still screaming about sending someone up to our camp to find Astrid.
Until the two uniformed officers that have shown zero interest in my story turn away from the man at the counter in front of them and all of them stop talking to stare at me.
"No one's gone out to check her story?"
The man at the counter sounds pissed as he stares at me first, then turns toward the officers.
The scrawny guy that smirked at me earlier suddenly seems a lot less cocky.
"The uh, ranger went back up to take a look," he tells the man, his voice cracking nervously under the man's glare.
"You have a missing woman in your woods and an eye witness who says her friend was abducted at gun point andyou're acting like it's a goddamn practical joke? Is this how Paradise Point handles missing persons reports?"
"They think I'm high." I tell him as I join their group.
"Are you?"
Whoever this guy is, he's obviously used to being in charge. He's got apresenceto him, if you know what I mean. Under entirely different circumstances, I'd be happy to get on my knees and call him daddy.
He's jacked, with muscles that are putting a serious strain on the gray t-shirt that's practically painted over his torso, dark cargo pants cover his lower half. The tactical kind, tucked into tall hunting-- or more like combat-- boots.
With the cropped hair cut that's only slightly longer on top than a buzz cut and only a shadow of scruff on his very square jaw, he looks military.
Now might be an inappropriate time to have my body light up with need, but damn-- this man has me ready to be very inappropriate.
"No." I answer his question, putting extra emphasis on the single word for the sake of the officers in the room who clearly don't believe me.
Ice blue eyes regard me carefully.
I stand straight and stare right back.
Hoping he can tell I'm dead cold sober, and doesn't notice the way my nipples have hardened like they're begging for his approval.
"We'll release her to you if you're willing to take responsibility for her."
