Still, there seemed to be nothing there. I saw no glowing eyes, smelled no scents but those of the sequoias, and listened hard for heartbeats, hearing nothing but the wind as it whispered through the leaves. Prosper Creek was filled nearly to overflowing with snowmelt at this time of year but the sound of water rolling over its bed of river rocks held no secrets either. Oddly, I still felt eyes on me.
I didn’t take the time to slip into my tennies. Instead, I ran around the front of the car, yanked the door open, and jumped into the driver’s seat, shoving the key into the ignition. Something with no scent was out there. I didn’t know what it was, but it was something I’d never encountered. I pulled the car out onto the road and hit the gas pedal with my bare foot, churning up a cloud of dust and gravel. I looked into the rearview mirror and confirmed there was nothing following me.
Something had been there.
I just knew it in my little bunny bones.
Chapter One
Prosper Woods Chronicle. Letters to the editor:
“Last night I looked through my window and was almost certain I saw a racoon with yellow eyes staring at me as I bathed. I find it very disturbing that the townsfolk continue to put up with these pests as we groom sensitive areas. Someone should do something.” Signed, “A concerned shaver.”
Romeo
My first impression of Prosper Woods, California was that it was exactly as I’d hoped. As I drove my old pickup down main street, headed for the sheriff’s station, I passed a gas station, a local bar, and the general store. A man stood on the sidewalk outside the store, sweeping. He glanced up at me as I passed and instead of returning my friendly wave, he glared at me and huffed.
Well then.
I parked in front of a brick building and shut off my truck, looking through the windshield at the sign which read Prosper Woods Sheriff Station and smiled. It had taken me a long time to make the decision to leave Los Angeles which had been my home for the last thirty-two years. I sure hope I made the right one. I swung the door to my pickup open and stepped out, stretching my back and legs as my feet hit the asphalt.
Prosper Woods, California is located in the great sequoia forests north of the twin national parks, Sequoia and Yosemite. It is a very small town—population 1,593 at the last census—and from the little I’d seen of it so far, the town has retained the feel of stepping back in time to another era. I had a feeling living here was going to be a life changing experience for me. I was excited.
I reached into the bed of my truck and plucked my duffel from the back, turning as I heard a door squeak on hinges that sounded like they hadn’t been oiled in a good long while. When I glanced over, a woman stood there with her hands on her wide hips and to my relief, I was greeted with a smile. The screen door to the sheriff’s office banged shut behind her.
“Hey there,” she said, “are you Romeo Harmon?”
I grinned back at her, taking several steps toward her with an outstretched hand. “I am, but please call me Rome. You must be Sally?”
“Sally Winters, your deputy.” She shook my hand with a strong grip as she craned her neck up to look me in the eye. “Tall drink of water, huh?”
I smiled. I was taller than most men at six three but not as big as some of the guys I’d served with overseas. I let go of her hand with a short nod and her apple cheeks blushed bright red to match her hair.
“Well, come on in. It’s a bit chilly out here and I just brewed a fresh pot.” She stepped aside with an elegant flourish of her hand toward the creaky screen door.
I pulled the door open and stepped back like a gentleman, letting her walk past me into the warm office. It smelled of cinnamon orange potpourri and fresh coffee. I was grateful. My last cup had been nothing more than dregs from the ampm where I’d gassed up two hours before.
“Are you used to the altitude?” Sally asked. “Most folks new to town find it a challenge until they get used to it. Pretty sure if you’re not used to it, it’ll take some time for you too, Sheriff. Anyway, let’s get that coffee.”
I followed the little chatterbox to the back of the small station realizing that my new deputy didn’t really want me to answer her questions. I wondered whether she was the type who liked to hear herself talk just for the sake of it. We turned down a hallway and the coffee scent got stronger. She threw a smile over her shoulder as she stopped at an open door.
“This is the breakroom,” she said. “Not much since it’s only you, me, and Precious most days. Dave comes in three days a week but that’ll be your call, obviously. He wants more hours but most of
